The Zap Gun by Philip K. Dick Read Free Book Online

"Items 221," he said. "The Ionizing Fish that decomposed to the molecular level, drifted as gas—"
    "Shut up," Pete said harshly.
    They finished their coffee in silence.

6
    That evening Lars Powderdry met his mistress Maren Faine at the Paris branch of Mr. Lars, Incorporated, where Maren maintained an office as elaborate as—He searched for the metaphor, but Maren's esthetic tastes eluded description. Hands in his pockets he gazed around him as Maren disappeared into the powder room to make ready for the real world. For her, existence began when the workday ended. And this despite the fact of her high managerial position. Logically she should have been career-oriented, as involved in her vocation as the darkest, most sullen Calvinist.
    But it had not worked out that way. Maren was twenty-nine, slightly tall—she stood five-seven barefoot—with luminous red hair. No, not red; it was mahogany in tone, polished, not like the artificial, photograph-grained plastic but the real thing. Yes, Maren's coloration had been proved authentic. She woke up illuminated, eyes bright as—hell, he thought. What did it matter? Who cared at seven-thirty in the morning? A beautiful, alert, slightly-too-tall woman, colorful and graceful and muscular at that time of day, was an offense to reason and an abomination to sexuality, in that what did one do with her? At least after the first few weeks. One could hardly go on and on...
    As Maren reentered the office, coat over her shoulders, he said, "You really don't care what goes on here."
    "You mean the enterprise? The incorporated?" Her cat-eyes flew wide, merrily; she was way ahead of him. "Look, you have my soma at night and my mind all day long. What else do you want?"
    Lars said, "I hate education. I'm not kidding. Soma. Where'd you learn that?" He felt hungry, irritable, at loose ends. Due to the buggery of contemporary time-zone computation he had in actuality been on his feet sixteen hours.
    "You hate me," Maren said, in the tone of a marriage counselor, I know your real motivations, the tone implied. And it also implied: And you don't.
    Maren gazed at him squarely, unafraid of anything he might do or say. He reflected that although technically he could fire her by day, or kick her out of his Paris conapt by night, he had really no hold over her. Whether her career meant anything to her or not, she could get a good job anywhere. Any time. She did not need him. If they parted company she would miss him for a week or so, grieve to the extent of bawling unexpectedly after the third martini... but that would be it.
    On the other hand, if he were to lose her the wound would never close.
    "Want dinner?" he said unenthusiastically.
    Maren said, "No. Want prayer."
    He stared at her. "W-what?"
    Calmly she said, "I want to go to church and light a candle and pray. What's so strange about that? I do it a couple of times a week, you know that. You knew it when you first—" Delicately she finished, "Knew me. In the Biblical sense. I told you that first night."
    "Candle for what?" Lighting a candle had to be for something.
    Maren said, "My secret."
    Feeling baffled he said, "I'm going to bed. It may be six o'clock to you but it's past two a.m. for me. Let's go to your conapt and you can fix me something light to eat and then I'll get some sleep and you can go pray." He started toward the door.
    "I heard," Maren said, "that a Soviet official managed to get to you today."
    That startled him. "Where'd you hear that?"
    "I got a warning. From the Board. An official reprimand to the firm, telling us to beware of short old men."
    "I doubt it."
    Maren shrugged. "The Paris office ought to be informed, don't you agree? It did happen in a public place."
    "I didn't seek the idiot out! He approached me—I was just having a cup of coffee." But he felt uneasy. Had the Board really transmitted an official reprimand? If so, it ought to have come to his attention.
    "That general," Maren said, "whose name I always