Philip K. Dick - In Milton Lumky Territory

Dicks abundant storytelling gifts and the need to express his inner struggles combined to produce some of the most groundbreaking novels and ideas

Waterstones Guide to Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror

In all his work he was astonishingly intimate, self exposed and very dangerous. His dreads were our own, spoken as we could not have spoken them

The Encyclopedia of Science Fiction

For everyone lost in the endlessly multiplicating realities of the modern world, remember: Philip K. Dick got there first

Terry Gilliam

Dick quietly produced serious fiction in a popular form and there can be no higher praise

Michael Moorcock

Also by Philip K. Dick

Solar Lottery (1955)

The World Jones Made (1956)

The Man Who Japed (1956) (1976)

Eye in the Sky (1957)

Dr. Futurity (1959)

Time Out of Joint (1959)

Vulcans Hammer (1960) (1982)

The Man in the High Castle 1962)

The Game-Players of Titan (1963)

The Simulacra (1964)

Martian Time-Slip (1964)

Clans of the Alphane Moon (1964)

The Penultimate Truth (1964)

The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch (1965)

Dr. Bloodmoney, or How We Got Along After the Bomb (1965)

Cantata-140 (The Crack in Space) (1966)

Now Wait for Last Year (1966)

The Ganymede Takeover (with Ray F. Nelson)

The Zap Gun (1967)

Confessions of a Crap Artist (1975)

Deus Irae (with Roger Zelazny)

The Cosmic Puppets (1957)

A Scanner Darkly (1977)

The Divine Invasion (1981)

Valis (1981)

The Transmigration of Timothy Archer

Lies, Inc (1984)

The Man Whose Teeth Were All Exactly Alike (1984)

Puttering About in a Small Land (1985)

Radio Free Albemuth (1985 Humpty Dumpty in Oakland (1986)

Mary and the Giant (1987)

The Broken Bubble (1988)

Short Story Collections

The Variable Man (1967)

A Handful of Darkness (1966)

The Turning Wheel (1977)

Counter-Clock World (1967)

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? (1968)

Galactic Pot-Healer (1969)

Ubik (1969)

Our Friends From Frolix 8 (1970)

A Maze of Death (1970)

We Can Build You (1972)

Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said (1974)

The Best of Philip K. Dick (1977)

The Golden Man (1980)

Minority Report (2002)

The Collected Stories of Philip K. Dick

1. Beyond Lies the Wub (1987)

2. Second Variety (1987)

3. The Father Thing (1987)

4. The Days of Perky Pat (1987)

5. We Can Remember it for You Wholesale (1987)

Philip K. Dick

A Gollancz eBook

Copyright (c) Philip K. Dick 1985
All rights reserved.

The right of Philip K. Dick to be identified as the author
of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the
Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

This edition first published in Great Britain in 2005 by
Gollancz
The Orion Publishing Group Ltd
Orion House
5 Upper Saint Martins Lane
London, WC2H 9EA
An Hachette UK Company

This eBook first published in 2010 by Gollancz.

A CIP catalogue record for this book
is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 0 575 09826 8

This eBook produced by Jouve, France

All characters and events in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any from or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

www.orionbooks.co.uk

A UTHORS F OREWORD:

This is actually a very funny book, and a good one, too, in that the funny things that happen happen to real people who come alive. The ending is a happy one. What more can an author say? What more can he give?

A T SUNSET , acrid-smelling air from the lake puffed along the empty streets of Montario, Idaho. With the air appeared clouds of sharp-winged yellow flies; they smashed against the windshields of cars in motion. The drivers strove to clear them away with their wipers. As the street lights lit up Hill Street, stores began to close until only the drugstores - one at each end of town - remained open. The Luxury movie theater did not open until six-thirty. The several cafes did not count as parts of the town; open or shut, they belonged to the highway, US 95, which made use of Hill Street.

Hooting and clacking and sliding along the northernmost of fourteen parallel tracks, the Union Pacific sleeper appeared, passing from Portland to Boise. It did not stop, but at the Hill Street crossing it slowed until the mail car appeared to be a dingy-green metal building among the brick warehouses along the track, scarcely in motion, with its doors open and two trainmen in striped suits hanging out with their hands dangling down. A middle-aged woman, wrapped up in quilted wool to keep warm, stepped forward at the sidewalk and deftly handed several letters up to one of the trainmen.

The wig-wag signal bonged and the red light flashed for a considerable period after the last car of the train had gone off out of sight.

At the lunch counter in his drugstore, Mr. Hagopian ate a small fried hamburger steak and canned string beans while he read a copy of Confidential taken from the rack by the front door. Now, at six, no customers bothered him. He sat so that he could see the street outside. If anyone came along he intended to stop eating and wipe his mouth and hands with a paper napkin.

Far off, running and whirling about to run backwards with his head up, came a boy wearing a Davy Crockett cap with tail. The boy circled his way across the street, and Mr. Hagopian realized that he was coming into the drugstore.

The boy, hands in his pockets, his motions stiff and jerky, stepped into the store and to the candy bars all intermingled under the sign, 3 for 2SC. Mr. Hagopian continued eating and reading. The boy at last picked out a box of Milk Duds, a package of M & M chocolates, and a Hershey bar.

Fred, Mr. Hagopian called.

His son Fred pushed the curtains aside, from the back room, and came out to wait on the boy.

At seven oclock Mr. Hagopian said to his son Fred, You might as well go on home. There wont be enough more tonight to make it worth both our time. He felt irritable, thinking about it. Nobody of consequence is going to show up and buy anything the rest of tonight.

Ill stick around awhile longer, Fred said. I dont have anything to do anyhow.

The telephone rang. It was Mrs. de Rouge, on Pine Street, wanting a prescription filled and delivered. Mr. Hagopian got out the book, and when he looked up the number he found that it was for Mrs. de Rouges pain pills. So he told her that Fred would bring them by eight oclock.

While he was making up the pills - capsules of codeine - the door of the drugstore opened and a young man, well-dressed in a single-breasted suit and tie, stepped in. He had a sandy, bony nose and short-cropped hair; by that, Mr. Hagopian recognized him, and also by his smile. He had good strong white teeth.

Can I help you, sir? Fred said.

Just looking right now, the man said. Hands in his pockets he moved over to the magazine racks.

I wonder why he hasnt been in here for awhile, Mr. Hagopian thought to himself. He used to come in here all the time. Since he was a kid. Has he been taking his business up to Wickleys? At that, the old man felt growing indignation. He finished up Mrs. de Rouges pills, dropped them into a bottle, and walked to the counter.