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

once, and she’s much more grown up than Perky Pat.”
    “How old do you figure Perky Pat is?” Norm asked him.
    “Oh, I’d say seventeen or eighteen,” Norm was told.
    “And Connie?” He waited tensely.
    “Oh, she might be twenty-five, even.”
    From the ramp behind them they heard noises. More Berkeley flukers appeared, and, after them, two men carrying between them a platform on which, spread out, Norm saw a great, spectacular layout.
    This was the Oakland team, and they weren’t a couple, a man and wife; they were both men, and they were hard-faced with stern, remote eyes. They jerked their heads briefly at him and Fran, acknowledging their presence. And then, with enormous care, they set down the platform on which their layout rested.
    Behind them came a third Oakland fluker carrying a metal box, much like a lunch pail. Norm, watching, knew instinctively that in the box lay Connie Companion doll. The Oakland fluker produced a key and began unlocking the box.
    “We’re ready to begin playing any time,” the taller of the Oakland men said. “As we agreed in our discussion, we’ll use a numbered spinner instead of dice. Less chance of cheating that way.”
    “Agreed,” Norm said. Hesitantly he held out his hand. “I’m Norman Schein and this is my wife and play-partner Fran.”
    The Oakland man, evidently the leader, said, “I’m Walter R. Wynn. This is my partner here, Charley Dowd, and the man with the box, that’s Peter Foster. He isn’t going to play; he just guards our layout.” Wynn glanced about, at the Berkeley flukers, as if saying, I know you’re all partial to Perky Pat, in here. But we don’t care; we’re not scared.
    Fran said, “We’re ready to play, Mr. Wynn.” Her voice was low but controlled.
    “What about money?” Fennimore asked.
    “I think both teams have plenty of money,” Wynn said. He laid out several thousand dollars in greenbacks, and now Norm did the same. “The money of course is not a factor in this, except as a means of conducting the game.”
    Norm nodded; he understood perfectly. Only the dolls themselves mattered. And now, for the first time, he saw Connie Companion doll.
    She was being placed in her bedroom by Mr. Foster who evidently was in charge of her. And the sight of her took his breath away. Yes, she was older. A grown woman, not a girl at all . . . the difference between her and Perky Pat was acute. And so life-like. Carved, not poured; she obviously had been whittled out of wood and then painted—she was not a thermoplastic. And her hair. It appeared to be genuine hair.
    He was deeply impressed.
    “What do you think of her?” Walter Wynn asked, with a faint grin.
    “Very—impressive,” Norm conceded.
    Now the Oaklanders were studying Perky Pat. “Poured thermoplastic,” one of them said. “Artificial hair. Nice clothes, though; all stitched by hand, you can see that. Interesting; what we heard was correct. Perky Pat isn’t a grown-up, she’s just a teenager.”
    Now the male companion to Connie appeared; he was set down in the bedroom beside Connie.
    “Wait a minute,” Norm said. “You’re putting Paul or whatever his name is, in her bedroom with her? Doesn’t he have his own apartment?”
    Wynn said, “They’re married.”
    “Married!”
Norman and Fran stared at him, dumbfounded.
    “Why sure,” Wynn said. “So naturally they live together. Your dolls, they’re not, are they?”
    “N-no,” Fran said. “Leonard is Perky Pat’s boyfriend . . .” Her voice trailed off. “Norm,” she said, clutching his arm, “I don’t believe him; I think he’s just saying they’re married to get the advantage. Because if they both start out from the same room—”
    Norm said aloud, “You fellows, look here. It’s not fair, calling them married.”
    Wynn said, “We’re not ‘calling’ them married; they are married. Their names are Connie and Paul Lathrope, of 24 Arden Place, Piedmont. They’ve been married for a year, most