Selected Stories of Philip K. Dick (5 page)

The street was dark. At the corner a lamppost cast a fitful beam. A few cruisers moved by.

From the apartment building entrance a slim shape came, a young woman in a coat, a purse in her hand. Jennings watched as she passed under the streetlamp. Kelly McVane was going someplace, probably to a party. Smartly dressed, high heels tap-tapping on the pavement, a little coat and hat.

He stepped out behind her. “Kelly.”

She turned quickly, her mouth open. “Oh!”

Jennings took her arm.“Don't worry. It's just me. Where are you going, all dressed up?”

“No place.” She blinked. “My golly, you scared me. What is it? What's going on?”

“Nothing. Can you spare a few minutes? I want to talk to you.”

Kelly nodded. “I guess so.” She looked around. “Where'll we go?”

“Where's a place we can talk? I don't want anyone to overhear us.”

“Can't we just walk along?”

“No. The Police.”

“The Police?”

“They're looking for me.”

“For you? But why?”

“Let's not stand here,” Jennings said grimly. “Where can we go?”

Kelly hesitated. “We can go up to my apartment. No one's there.”

They went up in the elevator. Kelly unlocked the door, pressing the code key against it. The door swung open and they went inside, the heater and lights coming on automatically at her step. She closed the door and took off her coat.

“I won't stay long,” Jennings said.

“That's all right. I'll fix you a drink.” She went into the kitchen. Jennings sat down on the couch, looking around at the neat little apartment. Presently the girl came back. She sat down beside him and Jennings took his drink. Scotch and water, cold.

“Thanks.”

Kelly smiled. “Not at all.” The two of them sat silently for a time. “Well?” she said at last. “What's this all about? Why are the Police looking for you?”

“They want to find out about Rethrick Construction. I'm only a pawn in this. They think I know something because I worked two years at Rethrick's Plant.”

“But you don't!”

“I can't prove that.”

Kelly reached out, touching Jennings's head, just above the ear. “Feel there. That spot.”

Jennings reached up. Above his ear, under the hair, was a tiny hard spot. “What is it?”

“They burned through the skull there. Cut a tiny wedge from the brain. All your memories of the two years. They located them and burned them out. The SP couldn't possibly make you remember. It's gone. You don't have it.”

“By the time they realize that there won't be much left of me.”

Kelly said nothing.

“You can see the spot I'm in. It would be better for me if I did remember. Then I could tell them and they'd—”

“And destroy Rethrick!”

Jennings shrugged. “Why not? Rethrick means nothing to me. I don't even know what they're doing. And why are the Police so interested? From the very start, all the secrecy, cleaning my mind—”

“There's reason. Good reason.”

“Do you know why?”

“No.” Kelly shook her head. “But I'm sure there's a reason. If the SP are interested, there's reason.” She set down her drink, turning toward him. “I hate the Police. We all do, every one of us. They're after us all the time. I don't know anything about Rethrick. If I did my life wouldn't be safe. There's not much standing between Rethrick and them. A few laws, a handful of laws. Nothing more.”

“I have the feeling Rethrick is a great deal more than just another construction company the SP wants to control.”

“I suppose it is. I really don't know. I'm just a receptionist. I've never been to the Plant. I don't even know where it is.”

“But you wouldn't want anything to happen to it.”

“Of course not! They're fighting the Police. Anyone that's fighting the Police is on our side.”

“Really? I've heard that kind of logic before. Anyone fighting communism was automatically good, a few decades ago. Well, time will tell. As far as I'm concerned I'm an individual caught between two ruthless forces. Government and business. The Government has men and wealth. Rethrick Construction has its technocracy. What they've done with it, I don't know. I did, a few weeks ago. All I have now is a faint glimmer, a few references. A theory.”

Kelly glanced at him. “A theory?”

“And my pocketful of trinkets. Seven. Three or four now. I've used some. They're the basis of my theory. If Rethrick is doing what I think it's doing, I can understand the SP's interest. As a matter of fact, I'm beginning to share their interest.”

“What is Rethrick doing?”

“It's developed a time scoop.”

“What?”

“A time scoop. It's been theoretically possible for several years. But it's illegal to experiment with time scoops and mirrors. It's a felony, and if you're caught, all your equipment and data becomes the property of the Government.” Jennings smiled crookedly. “No wonder the Government's interested. If they can catch Rethrick with the goods—”

“A time scoop. It's hard to believe.”

“Don't you think I'm right?”

“I don't know. Perhaps. Your trinkets. You're not the first to come out with a little cloth sack of odds and ends. You've used some? How?”

“First, the wire and the bus token. Getting away from the Police. It seems funny, but if I hadn't had them, I'd be there yet. A piece of wire and a ten-cent token. But I don't usually carry such things. That's the point.”

“Time travel.”

“No. Not time travel. Berkowsky demonstrated that time travel is impossible. This is a time scoop, a mirror to see and a scoop to pick up things. These trinkets. At least one of them is from the future. Scooped up. Brought back.”

“How do you know?”

“It's dated. The others, perhaps not. Things like tokens and wire belong to classes of things. Any one token is as good as another. There,
he
must have used a mirror.”

“He?”

“When I was working with Rethrick. I must have used the mirror. I looked into my own future. If I was repairing their equipment I could hardly keep from it! I must have looked ahead, seen what was coming. The SP picking me up. I must have seen that, and seen what a piece of thin wire and a bus token would do—if I had them with me at the exact moment.”

Kelly considered. “Well? What do you want me for?”

“I'm not sure, now. Do you really look on Rethrick as a benevolent institution, waging war against the Police? A sort of Roland at Roncesvalles—”

“What does it matter how I feel about the Company?”

“It matters a lot.” Jennings finished his drink, pushing the glass aside. “It matters a lot, because I want you to help me. I'm going to blackmail Rethrick Construction.”

Kelly stared at him.

“It's my one chance to stay alive. I've got to get a hold over Rethrick, a big hold. Enough of a hold so they'll let me in, on my own terms. There's no other place I can go. Sooner or later the Police are going to pick me up. If I'm not inside the Plant, and soon—”

“Help you blackmail the Company? Destroy Rethrick?”

“No. Not destroy. I don't want to destroy it—my life depends on the Company. My life depends on Rethrick being strong enough to defy the SP. But if I'm on the
outside
it doesn't much matter how strong Rethrick is. Do you see? I want to get in. I want to get inside before it's too late. And I want in on my own terms, not as a two-year worker who gets pushed out again afterward.”

“For the Police to pick up.”

Jennings nodded. “Exactly.”

“How are you going to blackmail the Company?”

“I'm going to enter the Plant and carry out enough material to prove Rethrick is operating a time scoop.”

Kelly laughed. “Enter the Plant? Let's see you
find
the Plant. The SP have been looking for it for years.”

“I've already found it.” Jennings leaned back, lighting a cigarette. “I've located it with my trinkets. And I have four left, enough to get me inside, I think. And to get me what I want. I'll be able to carry out enough papers and photographs to hang Rethrick. But I don't want to hang Rethrick. I only want to bargain. That's where you come in.”

“I?”

“You can be trusted not to go to the Police. I need someone I can turn the material over to. I don't dare keep it myself. As soon as I have it I must turn it over to someone else, someone who'll hide it where I won't be able to find it.”

“Why?”

“Because,” Jennings said calmly, “any minute the SP may pick me up. I have no love for Rethrick, but I don't want to scuttle it. That's why you've got to help me. I'm going to turn the information over to you, to hold, while I bargain with Rethrick. Otherwise I'll have to hold it myself. And if I have it on me—”

He glanced at her. Kelly was staring at the floor, her face tense. Set.

“Well? What do you say? Will you help me, or shall I take the chance the SP won't pick me up with the material? Data enough to destroy Rethrick. Well? Which will it be? Do you want to see Rethrick destroyed? What's your answer?”

The two of them crouched, looking across the fields at the hill beyond. The hill rose up, naked and brown, burned clean of vegetation. Nothing grew on its sides. Halfway up a long steel fence twisted, topped with charged barbed wire. On the other side a guard walked slowly, a tiny figure patrolling with a rifle and helmet.

At the top of the hill lay an enormous concrete block, a towering structure without windows or doors. Mounted guns caught the early morning sunlight, glinting in a row along the roof of the building.

“So that's the Plant,” Kelly said softly.

“That's it. It would take an army to get up there, up that hill and over the fence. Unless they were allowed in.” Jennings got to his feet, helping Kelly up. They walked back along the path, through the trees, to where Kelly had parked the cruiser.

“Do you really think your green cloth band will get you in?” Kelly said, sliding behind the wheel.

“According to the people in the town, a truckload of laborers will be brought in to the Plant sometime this morning. The truck is unloaded at the entrance and the men examined. If everything's in order they're let inside the grounds, past the fence. For construction work, manual labor. At the end of the day they're let out again and driven back to town.”

“Will that get you close enough?”

“I'll be on the other side of the fence, at least.”

“How will you get to the time scoop? That must be inside the building, someplace.”

Jennings brought out a small code key. “This will get me in. I hope. I assume it will.”

Kelly took the key, examining it. “So that's one of your trinkets. We should have taken a better look inside your little cloth bag.”

“We?”

“The Company. I saw several little bags of trinkets pass out, through my hands. Rethrick never said anything.”

“Probably the Company assumed no one would ever want to get back inside again.” Jennings took the code key from her. “Now, do you know what you're supposed to do?”

“I'm supposed to stay here with the cruiser until you get back. You're to give me the material. Then I'm to carry it back to New York and wait for you to contact me.”

“That's right.” Jennings studied the distant road, leading through the trees to the Plant gate.“I better get down there. The truck may be along any time.”

“What if they decide to count the number of workers?”

“I'll have to take the chance. But I'm not worried. I'm sure
he
foresaw everything.”

Kelly smiled. “You and your friend, your helpful friend. I hope
he
left you enough things to get you out again, after you have the photographs.”

“Do you?”

“Why not?” Kelly said easily. “I always liked you. You know that. You knew when you came to me.”

Jennings stepped out of the cruiser. He had on overalls and workshoes, and a gray sweatshirt. “I'll see you later. If everything goes all right. I think it will.” He patted his pocket. “With my charms here, my good-luck charms.”

He went off through the trees, walking swiftly.

The trees led to the very edge of the road. He stayed with them, not coming out into the open. The Plant guards were certainly scanning the hillside. They had burned it clean, so that anyone trying to creep up to the fence would be spotted at once. And he had seen infrared searchlights.

Jennings crouched low, resting against his heels, watching the road. A few yards up the road was a roadblock, just ahead of the gate. He examined his watch. Ten-thirty. He might have a wait, a long wait. He tried to relax.

It was after eleven when the great truck came down the road, rumbling and wheezing.

Jennings came to life. He took out the strip of green cloth and fastened it around his arm. The truck came closer. He could see its load now. The back was full of workmen, men in jeans and workshirts, bounced and jolted as the truck moved along. Sure enough, each had an arm band like his own, a swathe of green around his upper arm. So far so good.

The truck came slowly to a halt, stopping at the roadblock. The men got down slowly onto the road, sending up a cloud of dust into the hot midday sun. They slapped the dust from their jeans, some of them lighting cigarettes. Two guards came leisurely from behind the roadblock. Jennings tensed. In a moment it would be time. The guards moved among the men, examining them, their arm bands, their faces, looking at the identification tabs of a few.

The roadblock slid back. The gate opened. The guards returned to their positions.

Jennings slid forward, slithering through the brush, toward the road. The men were stamping out their cigarettes, climbing back up into the truck. The truck was gunning its motor, the driver releasing the brakes. Jennings dropped onto the road, behind the truck. A rattle of leaves and dirt showered after him. Where he had landed, the view of the guards was cut off by the truck. Jennings held his breath. He ran toward the back of the truck.

The men stared at him curiously as he pulled himself up among them, his chest rising and falling. Their faces were weathered, gray and lined. Men of the soil. Jennings took his place between two burly farmers as the truck started up. They did not seem to notice him. He had rubbed dirt into his skin and let his beard grow for a day. At a quick glance he didn't look much different from the others. But if anyone made a count—