Read Online Vintage PKD by Philip K. Dick - Free Book Online

later they began wheeling the wheelbarrow up the ramp to the lid at the top, to upstairs. Their journey to the Berkeley Fluke-pit had begun.
    A mile outside the Berkeley Fluke-pit he and Fran began to stumble over empty drop-canisters and some only partly empty: remains of past care parcels such as littered the surface near their own pit. Norm Schein breathed a sigh of relief; the journey had not been so bad after all, except that his hands had become blistered from gripping the metal handles of the wheelbarrow, and Fran had turned her ankle so that now she walked with a painful limp. But it had taken them less time than he had anticipated, and his mood was one of buoyancy.
    Ahead, a figure appeared, crouching low in the ash. A boy. Norm waved at him and called, “Hey, sonny—we’re from the Pinole pit; we’re supposed to meet a party from Oakland here . . . do you remember me?”
    The boy, without answering, turned and scampered off.
    “Nothing to be afraid of,” Norm said to his wife. “He’s going to tell their Mayor. A nice old fellow named Ben Fennimore.”
    Soon several adults appeared, approaching warily.
    With relief, Norm set the legs of the wheelbarrow down into the ash, letting go and wiping his face with his handkerchief. “Has the Oakland team arrived yet?” he called.
    “Not yet,” a tall, elderly man with a white armband and ornate cap answered. “It’s you, Schein, isn’t it?” he said, peering. This was Ben Fennimore. “Back already with your layout.” Now the Berkeley flukers had begun crowding around the wheelbarrow, inspecting the Scheins’ layout. Their faces showed admiration.
    “They have Perky Pat here,” Norm explained to his wife. “But—” He lowered his voice. “Their layouts are only basic. Just a house, wardrobe, and car . . . they’ve built almost nothing. No imagination.”
    One Berkeley fluker, a woman, said wonderingly to Fran, “And you made each of the pieces of furniture yourselves?” Marveling, she turned to the man beside her. “See what they’ve accomplished, Ed?”
    “Yes,” the man answered, nodding. “Say,” he said to Fran and Norm, “can we see it all set up? You’re going to set it up in our pit, aren’t you?”
    “We are indeed,” Norm said.
    The Berkeley flukers helped push the wheelbarrow the last mile. And before long they were descending the ramp, to the pit below the surface.
    “It’s a big pit,” Norm said knowingly to Fran. “Must be two thousand people here. This is where the University of California was.”
    “I see,” Fran said, a little timid at entering a strange pit; it was the first time in years—since the war, in fact—that she had seen any strangers. And so many at once. It was almost too much for her; Norm felt her shrink back, pressing against him in fright.
    When they reached the first level and were starting to unload the wheelbarrow, Ben Fennimore came up to them and said softly, “I think the Oakland people have been spotted; we just got a report of activity upstairs. So be prepared.” He added, “We’re rooting for you, of course, because you’re Perky Pat, the same as us.”
    “Have you ever seen Connie Companion doll?” Fran asked him.
    “No ma’am,” Fennimore answered courteously. “But naturally we’ve heard about it, being neighbors to Oakland and all. I’ll tell you one thing . . . we hear that Connie Companion doll is a bit older than Perky Pat. You know—more, um,
mature
.” He explained, “I just wanted to prepare you.”
    Norm and Fran glanced at each other. “Thanks,” Norm said slowly. “Yes, we should be as much prepared as possible. How about Paul?”
    “Oh, he’s not much,” Fennimore said. “Connie runs things; I don’t even think Paul has a real apartment of his own. But you better wait until the Oakland flukers get here; I don’t want to mislead you—my knowledge is all hearsay, you understand.”
    Another Berkeley fluker, standing nearby, spoke up. “I saw Connie