Philip Dick - Fair Game

Professor Anthony Douglas lowered gratefully into his red-leather easy chair and sighed. A long sigh, accompanied by labored removal of his shoes and numerous grunts as he kicked them into the corner. He folded his hands across his ample middle and lay back, eyes closed.

Tired? Laura Douglas asked, turning from the kitchen stove a moment, her dark eyes sympathetic.

Youre darn right. Douglas surveyed the evening paper across from him on the couch. Was it worth it? No, not really. He felt around in his coat pocket for his cigarettes and lit up slowly, leisurely. Yeah, Im tired, all right. Were starting a whole new line of research. Whole flock of bright young men in from Washington today. Briefcases and slide rules.

Not

Oh, Im still in charge. Professor Douglas grinned expansively. Perish the thought. Pale gray cigarette smoke billowed around him. Itll be another few years before theyre ahead of me. Theyll have to sharpen up their slide rules just a little bit more

His wife smiled and continued preparing dinner. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the little Colorado town. The sturdy, impassive mountain peaks around them. The thin, chill air. The quiet citizens. In any case, her husband seemed utterly unbothered by the tensions and doubts that pressured other members of his profession. A lot of aggressive newcomers were swelling the ranks of nuclear physics these days. Old-timers were tottering in their positions, abruptly insecure. Every college, every physics department and lab was being invaded by the new horde of skilled young men. Even here at Bryant College, so far off the beaten track.

But if Anthony Douglas worried, he never let it show. He rested happily in his easy chair, eyes shut, a blissful smile on his face. He was tiredbut at peace. He sighed again, this time more from pleasure than fatigue.

Its true, he murmured lazily. I may be old enough to be their father, but Im still a few jumps ahead of them. Of course, I know the ropes better. And

And the wires. The ones worth pulling.

Those, too. In any case, I think Ill come off from this new line were doing just about

His voice trailed off.

Whats the matter? Laura asked.

Douglas half rose from his chair. His face had gone suddenly white. He stared in horror, gripping the arms of his chair, his mouth opening and closing.

At the window was a great eye. An immense eye that gazed into the room intently, studying him. The eye filled the whole window.

Good God! Douglas cried.

The eye withdrew. Outside there was only the evening gloom, the dark hills and trees, the street. Douglas sank down slowly in his chair.

What was it? Laura demanded sharply. What did you see? Was somebody out there?

Douglas clasped and unclasped his hands. His lips twitched violently. Im telling you the truth, Bill. I saw it myself. It was real. I wouldnt say so, otherwise. You know that. Dont you believe me?

Did anybody else see it? Professor William Henderson asked, chewing his pencil thoughtfully. He had cleared a place on the dinner table, pushed back his plate and silver and laid out his notebook. Did Laura see it?

No. Laura had her back turned.

What time was it?

Half an hour ago. I had just got home. About six-thirty. I had my shoes off, taking it easy. Douglas wiped his forehead with a shaking hand.

You say it was unattached? There was nothing else? Just theeye?

Just the eye. One huge eye looking in at me. Taking in everything. As if

As if what?

As if it was looking down a microscope.

Silence.

From across the table, Hendersons red-haired wife spoke up. You always were a strict empiricist, Doug. You never went in for any nonsense before. But this Its too bad nobody else saw it.

Of course nobody else saw it!

What do you mean?

The damn thing was looking at me. It was me it was studying. Douglass voice rose hysterically. How do you think I feelscrutinized by an eye as big as a piano! My God, if I werent so well integrated, Id be out of my mind!

Henderson and his wife exchanged glances. Bill, dark-haired and handsome, ten years Douglass junior. Vivacious Jean Henderson, lecturer in child psychology, lithe and full-bosomed in her nylon blouse and slacks.

What do you make of this? Bill asked her. This is more along your line.

Its your line, Douglas snapped. Dont try to pass this off as a morbid projection. I came to you because youre head of the Biology Department.

You think its an animal? A giant sloth or something?

It must be an animal.

Maybe its a joke, Jean suggested. Or an advertising sign. An oculists display. Somebody may have been carrying it past the window.

Douglas took a firm grip on himself. The eye was alive. It looked at me. It considered me. Then it withdrew. As if it had moved away from the lens. He shuddered. I tell you it was studying me!

You only?

Me. Nobody else.

You seem curiously convinced it was looking down from above, Jean said.

Yes, down. Down at me. Thats right. An odd expression flickered across Douglass face. You have it, Jean. As if it came from up there. He jerked his hand upward.

Maybe it was God, Bill said thoughtfully.

Douglas said nothing. His face turned ash white and his teeth chattered.

Nonsense, Jean said. God is a psychological transcendent symbol expressing unconscious forces.

Did it look at you accusingly? asked Bill. As if youd done something wrong?

No. With interest. With considerable interest. Douglas raised himself. I have to get back. Laura thinks Im having some kind of fit. I havent told her, of course. Shes not scientifically disciplined. She wouldnt be able to handle such a concept.

Its a little tough even for us, Bill said.

Douglas moved nervously toward the door. You cant think of any explanation? Something thought extinct that might still be roaming around these mountains?

None that we know of. If I should hear of any

You said it looked down, Jean said. Not bending down to peer in at you. Then it couldnt have been an animal or terrestrial being. She was deep in thought. Maybe were being observed.

Not you, Douglas said miserably. Just me.

By another race, Bill put in. You think

Maybe its an eye from Mars.

Douglas opened the front door carefully and peered out. The night was black. A faint wind moved through the trees and along the highway. His car was dimly visible, a black square against the hills. If you think of anything, call me.

Take a couple of phenobarbitals before you hit the sack, Jean suggested. Calm your nerves.

Douglas was out on the porch. Good idea. Thanks. He shook his head. Maybe Im out of my mind. Good Lord. Well, Ill see you later.

He walked down the steps, gripping the rail tightly. Good night! Bill called. The door closed and the porch light clicked off.

Douglas went cautiously toward his car. He reached out into the darkness, feeling for the door handle. One step. Two steps. It was silly. A grown manpractically middle-agedin the twentieth century. Three steps.

He found the door and opened it, sliding quickly inside and locking it after him. He breathed a silent prayer of thanks as he snapped on the motor and the headlights. Silly as hell. A giant eye. A stunt of some sort.

He turned the thoughts over in his mind. Students? Jokesters? Communists? A plot to drive him out of his mind? He was important. Probably the most important nuclear physicist in the country. And this new project

He drove the car slowly forward, onto the silent highway. He watched each bush and tree as the car gained speed.

A Communist plot. Some of the students were in a left-wing club. Some sort of Marxist study group. Maybe they had rigged up

In the glare of the headlights something glittered. Something at the edge of the highway.