Read Online Our Friends From Frolix 8 by Philip K Dick - Free Book Online
Authors: Philip K Dick
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in North America; for two pops he can use it just by picking up a fone.’
Nick said, ‘We’ll use a fake name.’
‘No.’ She shook her head.
‘Why not?’ His unease became greater; he felt, all at once, as if she were sticking to him like flypaper: he couldn’t pry her loose.
‘I don’t want to be alone,’ Charley said, ‘because if he
does
find me in some motel room, alone, he’ll beat the hell out of me; nothing like you saw, but really. I have to be with someone;I have to have people who—’
‘I couldn’t stop him,’ Nick said, truthfully. Even Zeta, for all his strength, hadn’t been able to hold onto Denny for more than a few minutes.
‘He won’t fight with you. It’s just that he doesn’t want anybody, any third party, to see what he does to me. But—’ She paused. ‘I shouldn’t try to get you involved. It’s not fair to you. Suppose a fight broke out at your place, and we were all bursted by the PSS, and they found that tract on you that you got from us… you know the penalty.’
‘I’ll throw it away,’ he said. ‘Now.’ He rolled down the window of the squib, reached into his cumberbund for the small book.
‘So Eric Cordon comes second,’ Charley said, in a neutral voice, a voice without censure. ‘First comes protecting me from Denny. Isn’t that funny? It’s really funny!’
‘An individual is more important than theoretical—’
‘You’re not hooked yet, sweet. You haven’t read Cordon; when you do, you’ll feel different. Anyhow, I have two tracts in my purse, so it wouldn’t make any difference.’
‘Throw them away.’
‘No,’ Charley said.
Well, he thought, the stuff has hit the fan. She won’t give up the pamphlets and she won’t let me leave her off at a motel. What do I do now? Just drive around and around in this damn in-city traffic until I run out of fuel? And there’s always the chance that Shellingberg 8 will show up and we’ll be finished right then and there; he’ll probably ram us and kill us all. Unless the alcohol has worn off by now.
‘I have a wife,’ he said, simply. ‘And a child. I can’t do anything that—’
‘You did it. By letting Zeta know that you wanted a tract; you were in it the minute you and Zeta knocked on the door of our apartment.’
‘Before that, even,’ Nick said, nodding; it was true.
So fast, he thought. A commitment made in the blink of an eye. But it had been there a long time, building up. The news of Cordon’s pending murder — and that was what it was — had brought him to a decision, and at that moment,Kleo and Bobby were in danger.
On the other hand, the PSS had just now spot-checked him, using Darby Shire as bait. And he — and Kleo — had passed it. So from the standpoint of statistical probabilities, there wasn’t a good chance he’d be investigated soon, again.
But he could not fool himself. They probably watch Zeta, he thought. And they know about the two apartments. They know all there is to know; it’s just a question of when they want to make their move.
In that case, it really was too late. He might as well go all the way; have Charley stay with him and Kleo for a couple of days. The couch in the living room made into a cot; they had had friends stay overnight.
But this situation differed, sharply, from those instances.
‘You can stay with my wife and me,’ he said, ‘if you get rid of the tracts you’re carrying. You don’t have to destroy them — can’t you just drop them off at some place you’re familiar with?’
Charley, without answering, picked up one of the pamphlets, turned the pages, then read aloud. ‘“The measure of a man is not his intelligence. It is not how high he rises in the freak establishment. The measure of a man is this: how swiftly can he react to another person’s need? And how much of himself can he give? In giving that is true giving, nothing comes back, or at least—” ‘
‘Sure; giving gives you something back,’ Nick
Nick said, ‘We’ll use a fake name.’
‘No.’ She shook her head.
‘Why not?’ His unease became greater; he felt, all at once, as if she were sticking to him like flypaper: he couldn’t pry her loose.
‘I don’t want to be alone,’ Charley said, ‘because if he
does
find me in some motel room, alone, he’ll beat the hell out of me; nothing like you saw, but really. I have to be with someone;I have to have people who—’
‘I couldn’t stop him,’ Nick said, truthfully. Even Zeta, for all his strength, hadn’t been able to hold onto Denny for more than a few minutes.
‘He won’t fight with you. It’s just that he doesn’t want anybody, any third party, to see what he does to me. But—’ She paused. ‘I shouldn’t try to get you involved. It’s not fair to you. Suppose a fight broke out at your place, and we were all bursted by the PSS, and they found that tract on you that you got from us… you know the penalty.’
‘I’ll throw it away,’ he said. ‘Now.’ He rolled down the window of the squib, reached into his cumberbund for the small book.
‘So Eric Cordon comes second,’ Charley said, in a neutral voice, a voice without censure. ‘First comes protecting me from Denny. Isn’t that funny? It’s really funny!’
‘An individual is more important than theoretical—’
‘You’re not hooked yet, sweet. You haven’t read Cordon; when you do, you’ll feel different. Anyhow, I have two tracts in my purse, so it wouldn’t make any difference.’
‘Throw them away.’
‘No,’ Charley said.
Well, he thought, the stuff has hit the fan. She won’t give up the pamphlets and she won’t let me leave her off at a motel. What do I do now? Just drive around and around in this damn in-city traffic until I run out of fuel? And there’s always the chance that Shellingberg 8 will show up and we’ll be finished right then and there; he’ll probably ram us and kill us all. Unless the alcohol has worn off by now.
‘I have a wife,’ he said, simply. ‘And a child. I can’t do anything that—’
‘You did it. By letting Zeta know that you wanted a tract; you were in it the minute you and Zeta knocked on the door of our apartment.’
‘Before that, even,’ Nick said, nodding; it was true.
So fast, he thought. A commitment made in the blink of an eye. But it had been there a long time, building up. The news of Cordon’s pending murder — and that was what it was — had brought him to a decision, and at that moment,Kleo and Bobby were in danger.
On the other hand, the PSS had just now spot-checked him, using Darby Shire as bait. And he — and Kleo — had passed it. So from the standpoint of statistical probabilities, there wasn’t a good chance he’d be investigated soon, again.
But he could not fool himself. They probably watch Zeta, he thought. And they know about the two apartments. They know all there is to know; it’s just a question of when they want to make their move.
In that case, it really was too late. He might as well go all the way; have Charley stay with him and Kleo for a couple of days. The couch in the living room made into a cot; they had had friends stay overnight.
But this situation differed, sharply, from those instances.
‘You can stay with my wife and me,’ he said, ‘if you get rid of the tracts you’re carrying. You don’t have to destroy them — can’t you just drop them off at some place you’re familiar with?’
Charley, without answering, picked up one of the pamphlets, turned the pages, then read aloud. ‘“The measure of a man is not his intelligence. It is not how high he rises in the freak establishment. The measure of a man is this: how swiftly can he react to another person’s need? And how much of himself can he give? In giving that is true giving, nothing comes back, or at least—” ‘
‘Sure; giving gives you something back,’ Nick
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