The Simulacra

by Philip K. Dick

  'Cigarette?' Pembroke extended his pack.

  Horrified, Kongrosian leaped back. 'No. They're illegal too dangerous. I wouldn't dare smoke one.'

  'Always danger,' Pembroke said, as he lit up. 'Right? A constantly dangerous world. You must be ceaselessly careful. What you need, Kongrosian, is a bodyguard. A squad of hand-picked, rigorously-trained NP men, with you at all times.' He added, 'Otherwise -- '

  'Otherwise you don't think I have much of a chance.'

  Pembroke nodded. 'Very little, Kongrosian. And I say this on the basis of my use of the von Lessinger apparatus.'

  From then on the two of them descended in silence.

  The elevator stopped. The doors slid back. They were in the subsurface level of the White House. Kongrosian and Pembroke stepped out into the hall. A man, whom both of them recognized, stood waiting for them. 'I want you to listen, Kongrosian,' Bertold Goltz said to the pianist.

  Swiftly, in a fraction of a second, the NP Commissioner had his pistol out. He aimed at Goltz and fired.

  But Goltz had already vanished.

  A piece of folded paper lay on the floor where he had stood. Goltz had dropped it. Stooping, Kongrosian reached for it.

  'Don't touch that!' Pembroke said sharply.

  It was too late. Kongrosian had it, was unfolding it. It read: Pembroke leads you to your death.

  'Interesting,' Kongrosian said. He passed the slip of paper to the NP man; Pembroke put his pistol away and accepted it, scrutinizing it, his face distorted with outrage.

  From behind them, Goltz said, 'Pembroke has waited months for you to be taken into custody, here at the White House. Now there isn't any time left.'

  Spinning, Pembroke snatched at his pistol, brought it out and fired. Again Goltz, grinning with scornful bitterness, disappeared. You'll never get him, Kongrosian realized. Not as long as he has the von Lessinger equipment at his disposal.

  Time left for what? he wondered. What's going to happen? Goltz seemed to know and probably Pembroke knows, too; they have identical equipment available to them.

  And, he thought, how does it involve me? Me -- and my talent, which I've sworn to keep in check.

  Does this mean I'm going to use it? He had no intuition that this was precisely what it meant.

  And there was probably little he could do about it.

  From outside the house Nat Flieger heard children playing.

  They chanted some sort of dirge-like rhythm, unfamiliar to him. And he had been in the music business all his life. No matter how hard he tried he could not make out the words; they were strangely blurred, run-together.

  'Mind if I look?' he asked Beth Kongrosian, rising to his feet from the creaky wicker chair.

  Turning pale, Beth Kongrosian said, 'I -- would rather you didn't. Please don't look at the children. Please!'

  Nat said gently, 'We're a recording company, Mrs Kongrosian. Anything and everything in the way of music is our business.' He absolutely could not refrain from going to the window to look; the instinct, right or wrong, was in his blood -- it came before civility or kindness, before all else. Peering out, he saw them, seated in a circle. And they were all chuppers. He wondered which was Plautus Kongrosian. They all looked so much alike to him. Perhaps the little boy in yellow shorts and T-shirt off to the side. Nat motioned to Molly and Jim; they joined him at the window.

  Five Neanderthal children, Nat thought. Plucked out of time; a sequence from the past snipped out and pasted here in this day and age, in the present, for us of EME to overhear, to record. I wonder what sort of an album cover our art department will want to put on this. He shut his eyes, no longer wishing to face the scene outside the window.

  But we will go ahead, he knew. Because we came here to get something; we can't -- or at least we don't want to -- go back with nothing at all. And this is important.

  This has to be dealt with, professionally. Perhaps it's more important even than Richard Kongrosian, good as he is. And we can't afford the luxury of paying attention to our delicate sensibilities.

  'Jim,' he said presently. 'Get out the Ampek F-a2. Right away. Before they stop.'

  Beth Kongrosian said, 'I won't let you record them.'

  'We will,' Nat said to her. 'We're used to this, in folk music sessions done on the spot. It's been tested in USEA courts many times and the recording firm has always won.'

  He followed after Jim Planck, in order to help assemble their recording gear.

  'Mr Flieger, do you understand what they are?' Mrs Kongrosian called after him.

  'Yes,' he said. And continued on.

  Presently they had the Ampek F-a2 set up; the organism pulsed sleepily, undulating its pseudopodia as if hungry. The moist weather seemed to have affected it little; it was, if anything, torpid.

  Appearing beside them, composed, her face rigid with determination, Beth Kongrosian said in a low voice, 'Listen to me, please. At night, in fact tonight in particular, there's going to be a gathering of them. The adults. At their hall, back in the woods very near here, on the red-rock side road they all use; it belongs to them, their organization. There will be a great deal of dancing and singing. What you want exactly. Much more than what you'll find here with these little children. So please; wait and record that instead.'

  Nat said, 'We'll get both.' And signalled Jim to carry the Ampek F-a2 towards the circle of children.

  'I'll put you up for the night, here in the house,' Beth Kongrosian said, hurrying after him. 'Very late, around two in the morning, they sing wonderfully -- it's hard to understand the words but -- ' She caught hold of his arm. 'Richard and I have been trying to train our child away from this. The children, as young as they are, don't really participate; you won't get the real thing from them. When you see the adults -- ' She broke off and then finished drably, 'Then you'll see what I mean.'

  Molly said to Nat, 'Let's wait.'

  Hesitating, Nat turned to Jim Planck. Jim nodded.

  'Okay,' Nat said to Mrs Kongrosian. 'If you'll take us to their hall, where they meet. And see that we get in.'

  'Yes,' she said. 'I will. Thank you, Mr Flieger.'

  I feel guilty, Nat said to himself. But he said aloud, 'Okay. And you -- ' His guilt overcame him, then. 'Heck, you don't have to put us up. We'll stay in Jenner.'

  'I'd like to,' Beth Kongrosian said. 'I'm terribly lonely; I need the company, when Richard's away. You don't know what it means to have people from -- the outside come in here for a little while.'

  The children, noticing the adults, broke off suddenly, shyly; they peeped at Nat and Molly and Jim wide-eyed. It would probably not have been possible to get them down anyhow, Nat realized. So he had lost nothing by his deal.

  'Does this frighten you?' Beth Kongrosian asked him.

  He shrugged. 'No. Not really.'

  'The government knows about it,' she said. 'There have been many ethnologists and god knows what else sent out here to investigate. They all say it proves one thing; in prehistoric times, during the epoch before Cro-Magnon Man appeared -- ' She ceased, helplessly.

  'They interbred,' Nat finished for her. 'Like the skeletons found in the caves in Israel indicated.'

  'Yes.' She nodded. 'Possibly all the so-called sub-races. The races that didn't survive. They were absorbed by Homo Sapiens.'

  'I'd make a different guess,' Nat said. 'It would seem more to me that the the so-called sub-races were mutations which existed for a short while and then dwindled away because they couldn't adapt as well. Perhaps there were radiation problems in those days.'

  'I don't agree,' Beth Kongrosian said. 'And work they've done with the von Lessinger equipment tends to back me up. By your theory they would just be -- sports. But I believe they're true races ... I think they evolved separately from the original primate, from Proconsul. And at last came together, when Homo Sapiens migrated into their hunting lands.'

  Molly said, 'Could I get another cup of coffee? I'm cold.'

  She shivered. 'This damp air gets me down.'
/>   'We'll go back into the house,' Beth Kongrosian agreed.

  'Yes, you're not accustomed to the weather up here; I understand. I remember how it was when we first moved here.'

  'Plautus was not born here,' Nat said.

  'No.' She nodded. 'We came here because of him.'

  'Wouldn't the government have taken him?' Nat asked.

  'They maintain special schools for radiation survivors.' He avoided using the exact term; it would have been radiation sports.

  'We thought he would be happier here,' Beth Kongrosian said. 'Most of them -- the chuppers, as they speak of themselves -- are here. They've come from every part of the world, during the last two decades.'

  The four of them re-entered the warm, dry house.

  'He's actually a lovely-looking little boy,' Molly said.

  'Very sweet and sensitive-looking, despite -- ' She faltered.

  'The jaw and the shambling gait,' Mrs Kongrosian said matter of factly, 'haven't fully formed. That begins in about the thirteenth year.' In the kitchen she began to heat water for their coffee.

  Strange, what we're going to bring back from this trip, Nat Flieger thought to himself. So different from what we and Leo expected.

  He thought, I wonder how it'll sell.

  Amanda Conner's sweet, pure voice came from the intercom, startling Dr Egon Superb as he sat examining his schedule of tomorrow's appointments. 'Someone to see you, doctor. A Mr Wilder Pembroke.'

  Wilder Pembroke! Dr Superb sat up rigidly, and laid aside his appointment book reflexively. What did the NP official want this tune? He felt immediate, instinctive wariness and he said into the intercom, 'Just a minute, please.'

  Has hefinally come to shut me down? he wondered. Then I must have seen that one, particular patient without realizing it.

  The one I exist to serve; or rather, not to serve. The man I'm here to fail with.

  Sweat stood out on his forehead as he thought, So now my career, like that of every other psychoanalyst in the USEA, ends. What'll I do now? Some of his colleagues had fled to Communist countries, but surely they were no better off there. Several had emigrated to Luna and Mars. And a few a surprisingly large 'few' -- had applied for work with A.G. Chemie, the organization responsible in the first place for the stricture against them.

  He was too young to retire and too old to learn another profession. Bitterly, he thought, so actually I can do nothing. I can't go on and I can't quit; it's a true doublebind, the sort of thing my patients are always getting themselves into. Now he could feel more compassion for them and the messes which they had made of their lives.

  To Amanda he said, 'Send Commissioner Pembroke in.'

  The hard-eyed but quiet-spoken NP man, in ordinary street clothes as before, slowly entered the office and seated himself facing Dr Superb.

  'That's quite a girl you have out there,' Pembroke said, and licked his lips. 'I wonder what will become of her. Possibly we -- '

  'What do you want?' Superb said.

  'An answer. To a question.' Pembroke leaned back, got out a gold cigarette case, an antique from the previous century, lit up with his lighter, also an antique. Blowing smoke he made himself comfortable, crossing his legs. And said, 'Your patient, Richard Kongrosian, has discovered that he can fight back.'

  'Against whom?'

  'His oppressors. Us, of course. Anyone else who comes along, for that matter. Here's what I would like to know. I want to work with Richard Kongrosian but I have to protect myself from him. Frankly, I'm afraid of him, at this point, more afraid of him, doctor, than of anyone else in the world. And I know why -- I've used von Lessinger's equipment and I know exactly what I'm talking about. What's the key to his mind? How can I arrange for Kongrosian to be -- ' Pembroke groped for the word; gesturing, he said, 'Reliable. You understand. Obviously, I don't want to be picked up and set down six feet underground some morning when we have a minor tiff.' His face was pale and he was sitting with brittle stiffness.

  After a pause Dr Superb said, 'Now that I know who the patient is that I'm waiting for. You lied about the failing. I'm not supposed to fail. In fact I'm needed vitally. And the patient is quite sane.'

  Pembroke regarded him intently but said nothing.

  'You're the patient. And you were totally aware of it, all along. Through you I've been misled. From the beginning.'

  After a time Pembroke nodded.

  'And this is not government business,' Superb said. 'This is an arrangement of your own. It has nothing to do with Nicole.' At least not directly, he thought.

  'Be careful.' Pembroke said. He got out his service pistol and held it loosely in his lap, but with his hand close to it.

  'I can't tell you how to control Kongrosian. I can't control him myself; you've seen that.'

  'But you would know,' Pembroke said, 'assuming anyone would, if I can work with him; you know that much about him.' He stared at Superb, his eyes clear and unwinking. Waiting.

  'You'd have to tell me what you intend to propose to him.'

  Pembroke, picking up his gun and holding it pointed directly at Dr Superb, said, 'Tell me how he feels about Nicole.'

  'She's a Magna Mater figure to him. As she is to all of us.'

  ' "Magna Mater." ' Pembroke leaned forward intently.

  'What's that?'

  'The great primordial mother.'

  'So in other words he idolizes her. She's like a goddess to him, not mortal. How would he react -- ' Pembroke hesitated. 'Suppose Kongrosian suddenly became a Ge, a real one, possessing one of the most carefully-guarded government secrets. That Nicole died years ago, that this so-called "Nicole" is an actress. A girl named Kate Rupert.'

  Superb's ears buzzed. He studied Pembroke, and knew one thing, knew it for the absolute reality it was. When this interchange was over, Pembroke would kill him.

  'Because,' Pembroke said, 'that's the truth.' He shoved his gun back into its holster, then, Would he lose his awe of her, then? Would he be able to -- co-operate?'

  After a time Superb said, 'Yes. He would. Definitely so.'

  Visibly, Pembroke relaxed. He ceased to tremble and some colour returned to his thin, flat face. 'Good. And I hope you're disbursing the truth, doctor, because if you aren't I'll make my way back here, no matter what happens, and destroy you.' All at once he rose to his feet. 'Goodbye.'

  Superb said, 'Am I now out of business?'

  'Of course. Why not?' Pembroke smiled composedly.

  'What good are you to anybody? You know that doctor. Your hour has passed. An amusing pun, in that you -- '

  'Suppose I tell you what you just now told me.'

  'Oh, please do. It'll make my job much easier. You see, doctor, I intend to make public that particular Geheimis to the Bes. And, simultaneously, Karp und Sohnen Werke will reveal the other.'

  'What other?'

  'You'll have to wait,' Pembroke said. 'Until Anton and Felix Karp feel themselves ready.' He opened the office door. 'I'll see you again soon, doctor. Thanks for the assistance.' The door closed behind him.

  I have learned, Dr Superb realized, the ultimate secret of the state. I am now at the top rung of Ge society.

  And it doesn't matter. Because there is no way I can use this information as an instrument by which to retain my career. And that is all that counts. As far as I'm concerned.

  My career and nothing else. God damn it, nothing!

  He felt overwhelming, vicious, raw hatred for Pembroke.

  If I could kill him, Superb realized, I would. Right now. Follow after him. 'Doctor,' Amanda's voice sounded from the intercom.

  'Mr Pembroke says that we must close up.' Her voice wavered. 'Is that true? I thought they were going to let you go on for a while.'

  'He's right,' Superb admitted. 'It's all over. You better phone my patients, everyone I have an appointment with, and tell them the story.'

  'Yes, doctor.' Tearfully, Amanda rang off.

  Damn him, Superb said to himself. And there's nothing I can do about it. Nothing at
all.

  The intercom came on once again as Amanda said hesitantly, 'And he also said something else. I wasn't going to say -- but it was about me. I knew it'd make you angry.'

  'What did he say?'

  'He said -- maybe he could use me. He didn't say how but whatever it is I felt -- ' She was silent a moment. 'I felt sick,' she finished. 'In a way I never did before. No matter who was looking at me or talking to me. No matter what anybody said. This -- was different.'

  Rising Superb walked to the office door, opened it. Pembroke had left, of course; he saw only Amanda Conners in the outer office, at her desk, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Superb walked to the front door of the building, opened it and descended the stairs.

  He unlocked the trunk of his parked wheel, got out the jack handle. With it, he started down the sidewalk. The shaft of steel felt slippery and cold within his grip as he searched for Commissioner Pembroke.

  Far off he saw a shrunken figure. Altered perspective, Dr Superb realized. Makes him look little. But he's not. Dr Superb walked towards the NP man, holding the jack handle up. The figure of Pembroke grew.

  Pembroke was paying no attention to him; he did not see Superb coming. Immobile, with a group of other persons, passers-by, Pembroke was gazing fixedly at the headlines displayed by a peripatetic news machine.

  The headlines were huge and ominous and black. As he approached, Dr Superb saw them, made out the words. He slowed, lowered the jack handle, until at last he stood like the others.

  'Karp discloses vast government secret!' the news machine screeched to everyone within hearing distance. 'Der Alte a simulacrum! New one already being built!'

  The news machine began to wheel off in search of other customers. No one was buying here. Everyone had become frozen. It was dream-like to Dr Superb; he shut his eyes, thinking to himself, I have difficulty believing this. Terrible difficulty.

  'Karp employee steals entire plans for next der Alte simulacrum!' the news machine, now half a block away, shrilled.