Read Online Selected Stories of Philip K. Dick by Philip K. Dick - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip K. Dick
Tags: Science-Fiction
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equal control of the Company?”
Jennings nodded.
“You would never be satisfied to go back as a mechanic, would you? The way you were before.”
“No. To get booted out again?” Jennings smiled. “Anyhow, I know he intended better things than that. He laid careful plans. The trinkets. He must have planned everything long in advance. No, I'm not going back as a mechanic. I saw a lot there, level after level of machines and men. They're doing something. And I want to be in on it.”
Kelly was silent.
“See?” Jennings said.
“I see.”
He left the apartment, hurrying along the dark street. He had stayed there too long. If the SP found the two of them together it would be all up with Rethrick Construction. He could take no chances, with the end almost in sight.
He looked at his watch. It was past midnight. He would meet Rethrick this morning and present him with the proposition. His spirits rose as he walked. He would be safe. More than safe. Rethrick Construction was aiming at something far larger than mere industrial power. What he had seen had convinced him that a revolution was brewing. Down in the many levels below the ground, down under the fortress of concrete, guarded by guns and armed men, Rethrick was planning a war. Machines were being turned out. The time scoop and the mirror were hard at work, watching, dipping, extracting.
No wonder he had worked out such careful plans. He had seen all this and understood, begun to ponder. The problem of the mind cleaning. His memory would be gone when he was released. Destruction of all the plans. Destruction? There was the alternate clause in the contract. Others had seen it, used it. But not the way he intended!
He was after much more than anyone who had come before. He was the first to understand, to plan. The seven trinkets were a bridge to something beyond anything that—
At the end of the block an SP cruiser pulled up to the curb. Its doors slid open.
Jennings stopped, his heart constricting. The night patrol, roaming through the city. It was after eleven, after curfew. He looked quickly around. Everything was dark. The stores and houses were shut up tight, locked for the night. Silent apartment houses, buildings. Even the bars were dark.
He looked back the way he had come. Behind him, a second SP cruiser had stopped. Two SP officers had stepped out onto the curb. They had seen him. They were coming toward him. He stood frozen, looking up and down the street.
Across from him was the entrance of a swank hotel, its neon sign glimmering. He began to walk toward it, his heels echoing against the pavement.
“Stop!” one of the SP men called. “Come back here. What are you doing out? What's your—”
Jennings went up the stairs, into the hotel. He crossed the lobby. The clerk was staring at him. No one else was around. The lobby was deserted. His heart sank. He didn't have a chance. He began to run aimlessly, past the desk, along a carpeted hall. Maybe it led out some back way. Behind him, the SP men had already entered the lobby.
Jennings turned a corner. Two men stepped out, blocking his way.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped, wary. “Let me by.” He reached into his coat for the Boris gun. At once the men moved.
“Get him.”
His arms were pinned to his sides. Professional hoods. Past them he could see light. Light and sound. Some kind of activity. People.
“All right,” one of the hoods said. They dragged him back along the corridor, toward the lobby. Jennings struggled futilely. He had entered a blind alley. Hoods, a joint. The city was dotted with them, hidden in the darkness. The swank hotel a front. They would toss him out, into the hands of the SP.
Some people came along the halls, a man and a woman. Older people. Well dressed. They gazed curiously at Jennings, suspended between the two men.
Suddenly Jennings understood. A wave of relief hit him, blinding him. “Wait,” he said thickly. “My pocket.”
“Come
Jennings nodded.
“You would never be satisfied to go back as a mechanic, would you? The way you were before.”
“No. To get booted out again?” Jennings smiled. “Anyhow, I know he intended better things than that. He laid careful plans. The trinkets. He must have planned everything long in advance. No, I'm not going back as a mechanic. I saw a lot there, level after level of machines and men. They're doing something. And I want to be in on it.”
Kelly was silent.
“See?” Jennings said.
“I see.”
He left the apartment, hurrying along the dark street. He had stayed there too long. If the SP found the two of them together it would be all up with Rethrick Construction. He could take no chances, with the end almost in sight.
He looked at his watch. It was past midnight. He would meet Rethrick this morning and present him with the proposition. His spirits rose as he walked. He would be safe. More than safe. Rethrick Construction was aiming at something far larger than mere industrial power. What he had seen had convinced him that a revolution was brewing. Down in the many levels below the ground, down under the fortress of concrete, guarded by guns and armed men, Rethrick was planning a war. Machines were being turned out. The time scoop and the mirror were hard at work, watching, dipping, extracting.
No wonder he had worked out such careful plans. He had seen all this and understood, begun to ponder. The problem of the mind cleaning. His memory would be gone when he was released. Destruction of all the plans. Destruction? There was the alternate clause in the contract. Others had seen it, used it. But not the way he intended!
He was after much more than anyone who had come before. He was the first to understand, to plan. The seven trinkets were a bridge to something beyond anything that—
At the end of the block an SP cruiser pulled up to the curb. Its doors slid open.
Jennings stopped, his heart constricting. The night patrol, roaming through the city. It was after eleven, after curfew. He looked quickly around. Everything was dark. The stores and houses were shut up tight, locked for the night. Silent apartment houses, buildings. Even the bars were dark.
He looked back the way he had come. Behind him, a second SP cruiser had stopped. Two SP officers had stepped out onto the curb. They had seen him. They were coming toward him. He stood frozen, looking up and down the street.
Across from him was the entrance of a swank hotel, its neon sign glimmering. He began to walk toward it, his heels echoing against the pavement.
“Stop!” one of the SP men called. “Come back here. What are you doing out? What's your—”
Jennings went up the stairs, into the hotel. He crossed the lobby. The clerk was staring at him. No one else was around. The lobby was deserted. His heart sank. He didn't have a chance. He began to run aimlessly, past the desk, along a carpeted hall. Maybe it led out some back way. Behind him, the SP men had already entered the lobby.
Jennings turned a corner. Two men stepped out, blocking his way.
“Where are you going?”
He stopped, wary. “Let me by.” He reached into his coat for the Boris gun. At once the men moved.
“Get him.”
His arms were pinned to his sides. Professional hoods. Past them he could see light. Light and sound. Some kind of activity. People.
“All right,” one of the hoods said. They dragged him back along the corridor, toward the lobby. Jennings struggled futilely. He had entered a blind alley. Hoods, a joint. The city was dotted with them, hidden in the darkness. The swank hotel a front. They would toss him out, into the hands of the SP.
Some people came along the halls, a man and a woman. Older people. Well dressed. They gazed curiously at Jennings, suspended between the two men.
Suddenly Jennings understood. A wave of relief hit him, blinding him. “Wait,” he said thickly. “My pocket.”
“Come
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