Collected Stories 2 - Second Variety and Other Classic Stories

by Philip K. Dick

  "How will we know?"

  "We'll have to take more looks. It's the only way to find out."

  Ryan selected the year 2051.

  In 2051 the first claws had begun to appear. The Soviets had almost won the war. The UN was beginning to bring out the claws in the last desperate attempt to turn the tide of the war.

  Ryan landed the time ship at the top of a ridge. Below them a level plain stretched out, criss-crossed with ruins and barbed wire and the remains of weapons.

  Kastner unscrewed the hatch and stepped gingerly out onto the ground.

  "Be careful," Ryan said. "Remember the claws."

  Kastner drew his blast gun. "I'll remember."

  "At this stage they were small. About a foot long. Metal. They hid down in the ash. The humanoid types hadn't come into existence, yet."

  The sun was high in the sky. It was about noon. The air was warm and thick. Clouds of ash rolled across the ground, blown by the wind.

  Suddenly Kastner tensed. "Look. What's that? Coming along the road."

  A truck bumped slowly toward them, a heavy brown truck, loaded with soldiers. The truck made its way along the road to i the base of the ridge. Ryan drew his blast gun. He and Kastner stood ready.

  The truck stopped. Some of the soldiers leaped down and started up the side of the ridge, striding through the ash.

  "Get set," Ryan murmured.

  The soldiers reached them, halted a few feet away. Ryan and Kastner stood silently, their blast guns up.

  One of the soldiers laughed. "Put them away. Don't you know the war's over?"

  "Over?"

  The soldiers relaxed. Their leader, a big man with a red face, wiped sweat from his dirty forehead and pushed his way up to Ryan. His uniform was ragged and dirty. He wore boots, split and caked with ash. "That war's been over for a week. Come on! There's a lot to do. We'll take you on back."

  "Back?"

  "We're rounding up all the outposts. You were cut off? No communications?"

  "No," Ryan said.

  "Be months before everyone knows the war's over. Come along. No time to stand here jawing."

  Ryan shifted. "Tell me. You say the war is really over? But -"

  "Good thing, too. We couldn't have lasted much longer." The officer tapped his belt. "You don't by any chance have a cigarette, do you?"

  Ryan brought out his pack slowly. He took the cigarettes from it and handed them to the officer, crumpling the pack carefully and restoring it to his pocket.

  "Thanks." The officer passed the cigarettes around to his men. They lit up. "Yes, it's a good thing. We were almost finished."

  Kastner's mouth opened. "The claws. What about the claws?"

  The officer scowled. "What?"

  "Why did the war end so - so suddenly?"

  "Counter-revolution in the Soviet Union. We had been dropping agents and material for months. Never thought anything would come of it, though. They were a lot weaker than anyone realized."

  "Then the war's really ended?"

  "Of course." The officer grabbed Ryan by the arm. "Let's go. We have work to do. We're trying to clear this god damn ash away and get things planted."

  "Planted? Crops?"

  "Of course. What would you plant?"

  Ryan pulled away. "Let me get this straight. The war is over. No more fighting. And you know nothing about any claws? Any kind of weapon called claws?"

  The officer's face wrinkled. "What do you mean?"

  "Mechanical killers. Robots. As a weapon."

  The circle of soldiers drew back a little. "What the hell is he talking about?"

  "You better explain," the officer said, his face suddenly hard. "What's this about claws?"

  "No weapon was ever developed along those lines?" Kastner asked.

  There was silence. Finally one of the soldiers grunted. "I think I know what he means. He means Dowling's mine."

  Ryan turned. "What?"

  "An English physicist. He's been experimenting with artificial mines, self-governing. Robot mines. But the mines couldn't repair themselves. So the Government abandoned the project and increased its propaganda work instead."

  "That's why the war's over," the officer said. He started off. "Let's go."

  The soldiers trailed after him, down the side of the ridge.

  "Coming?" The officer halted, looking back at Ryan and Kastner.

  "We'll be along later," Ryan said. "We have to get our equipment together."

  "All right. The camp is down the road about half a mile. There's a settlement there. People coming back from the Moon."

  "From the Moon?"

  "We had started moving units to Luna, but now there isn't any need. Maybe it's a good thing. Who the hell wants to leave Terra?"

  "Thanks for the cigarettes," one the soldiers called back. The soldiers piled in the back of the truck. The officer slid behind the wheel. The truck started up and continued on its way, rumbling along the road.

  Ryan and Kastner watched it go.

  "Then Schonerman's death was never balanced," Ryan murmured. "A whole new past -"

  "I wonder how far the change carries. I wonder if it carries up to our own time."

  "There's only one way to find out."

  Kastner nodded. "I want to know right away. The sooner the better. Let's get started."

  Ryan nodded, deep in thought. "The sooner the better."

  They entered the time ship. Kastner sat down with his briefcase. Ryan adjusted the controls. Outside the port the scene winked out of existence. They were in the time flow again, moving toward the present.

  Ryan's face was grim. "I can't believe it. The whole structure of the past changed. An entire new chain set in motion. Expanding through every continuum. Altering more and more of our stream."

  "Then it won't be our present, when we get back. There's no telling how different it will be. All stemming from Schonerman's death. A whole new history set in motion from one incident."

  "Not from Schonerman's death," Ryan corrected.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Not from his death but from the loss of his papers. Because Schonerman died the Government didn't obtain a successful methodology by which they could build an artificial brain. Therefore the claws never came into existence."

  "It's the same thing."

  "Is it?"

  Kastner looked up quickly. "Explain."

  "Schonerman's death is of no importance. The loss of his papers to the Government is the determining factor." Ryan pointed at Kastner's briefcase. "Where are the papers? In there. We have them."

  Kastner nodded. "That's true."

  "We can restore the situation by moving back into the past and delivering the papers to some agency of the Government. Schonerman is unimportant. It's his papers that matter."

  Ryan's hand moved toward the power switch.

  "Wait!" Kastner said. "Don't we want to see the present? We should see what changes carry down to our own time."

  Ryan hesitated. "True."

  "Then we can decide what we want to do. Whether we want to restore the papers."

  "All right. We'll continue to the present and then make up our minds."

  The fingers crossing the time map had returned almost to their original position. Ryan studied them for a long time, his hand on the power switch. Kastner held on tightly to the briefcase, his arms wrapped around it, the heavy leather bundle resting in his lap.

  "We're almost there," Ryan said.

  "To our own time?"

  "In another few moments." Ryan stood up, gripping the switch. "I wonder what we'll see."

  "Probably very little we'll recognize."

  Ryan took a deep breath, feeling the cold metal under his fingers. How different would their world be? Would they recognize anything? Had they swept everything familiar out of existence?

  A vast chain had been started in motion. A tidal wave moving through time, altering each continuum, echoing down through all the ages to come. The second part of the war had
never happened. Before the claws could be invented the war had ended. The concept of the artificial brain had never been transformed into workable practice. The most potent engine off war had never come into existence. Human energies had turned from war to rebuilding of the planet.

  Around Ryan the meters and dials vibrated. In a few seconds they would be back. What would Terra be like? Would anything be the same?

  The Fifty Cities. Probably they would not exist. Jon, his son, sitting quietly in his room reading. USIC. The Government. The League and its labs and offices, its buildings and roof fields and guards. The whole complicated social structure. Would it all be gone without a trace? Probably.

  And what would he find instead?

  "We'll know in a minute," Ryan murmured.

  "It won't be long." Kastner got to his feet and moved to the port. "I want to see it. It should be a very unfamiliar world."

  Ryan threw the power switch. The ship jerked, pulling out of the time flow. Outside the port something drifted and turned, as the ship righted itself. Automatic gravity controls slipped into place. The ship was rushing above the surface of the ground.

  Kastner gasped.

  "What do you see?" Ryan demanded, adjusting the velocity of the ship. "What's out there?"

  Kastner said nothing.

  "What do you see?"

  After a long time Kastner turned away from the port. "Very interesting. Look for yourself."

  "What's out there?"

  Kastner sat down slowly, picking up his briefcase. "This opens up a whole new line of thought."

  Ryan made his way to the port and gazed out. Below the ship lay Terra. But not the Terra they had left.

  Fields, endless yellow fields. And parks. Parks and yellow fields. Squares of green among the yellow, as far as the eye could see. Nothing else.

  "No cities," Ryan said thickly.

  "No. Don't you remember? The people are all out in the fields. Or walking in the parks. Discussing the nature of the universe."

  "This is what Jon saw."

  "Your son was extremely accurate."

  Ryan moved back to the controls, his face blank. His mind was numb. He sat down and adjusted the landing grapples. The ship sank lower and lower until it was coasting over the flat fields. Men and women glanced up at the ship, startled. Men and women in robes.

  They passed over a park. A herd of animals rushed frantically away. Some kind of deer.

  This was the world his son had seen. This was his vision. Fields and parks and men and women in long flowing robes. Walking along the paths. Discussing the problems of the universe.

  And the other world, his world, no longer existed. The League was gone. His whole life's work destroyed. In this world it did not exist. Jon. His son. Snuffed out. He would never see him again. His work, his son, everything he had known had winked out of existence.

  "We have to go back," Ryan said suddenly.

  Kastner blinked. "Beg pardon?"

  "We have to take the papers back to the continuum where they belong. We can't recreate the situation exactly, but we can place the papers in the Government's hands. That will restore all the relevant factors."

  "Are you serious?"

  Kastner stepped back, whipping out his blaster. Ryan lunged. His shoulder caught Kastner, bowling the little businessman over. The blaster skidded across the floor of the ship, clattering against the wall. The papers fluttered in all directions.

  "You damn fool!" Ryan grabbed at the papers, dropping down to his knees.

  Kastner chased after the blaster. He scooped it up, his round face set with owlish determination. Ryan saw him out of the corner of his eye. For a moment the temptation to laugh almost overcame him. Kastner's face was flushed, his cheeks burning red. He fumbled with the blaster, trying to aim it.

  "Kastner, for God's sake -"

  The little businessman's fingers tightened around the trigger. Abrupt fear chilled Ryan. He scrambled to his feet. The blaster roared, flame crackling across the time ship. Ryan leaped out of the way, singed by the trail of fire.

  Schonerman's papers flared up, glowing where they lay scattered over the floor. For a brief second they burned. Then the glow died out, flickering into charred ash. The thin acrid smell of the blast drifted to Ryan, tickling his nose and making his eyes water.

  "Sorry," Kastner murmured. He laid the blaster down on the control board. "Don't think you better get us down? We're quite close to the surface."

  Ryan moved mechanically to the control board. After a moment he took his seat and began to adjust the controls, decreasing the velocity of the ship. He said nothing.

  "I'm beginning to understand about Jon," Kastner murmured. "He must have had some kind of parallel time sense. Awareness of other possible futures. As work progressed on the time ship his visions increased, didn't they? Every day his visions became more real. Every day the time ship became more actual."

  Ryan nodded.

  "This opens up whole new lines of speculation. The mystical visions of medieval saints. Perhaps they were of other futures, other time flows. Visions of hell would be worse time flows. Visions of heaven would be better time flows. Ours must stand some place in the middle. And the vision of the eternal unchanging world. Perhaps that's an awareness of non-time. Not another world but this world, seen outside of time. We'll have to think more about that, too."

  The ship landed, coming to rest at the edge of one of the parks. Kastner crossed to the port and gazed out at the trees beyond the ship.

  "In the books my family saved there were some pictures of trees," he said thoughtfully. "These trees here, by us. They're pepper trees. Those over there are what they call evergreen trees. They stay that way all year around. That's why the name."

  Kastner picked up his briefcase, gripping it tightly. He moved toward the hatch.

  "Let's go find some of the people. So we can begin discussing things. Metaphysical things." He grinned at Ryan. "I always did like metaphysical things."

  The Cosmic Poachers

  "What kind of ship is it?" Captain Shure demanded, staring fixedly at the viewscreen, his hands gripping the fine adjustment.

  Navigator Nelson peered over his shoulder. "Wait a minute." He swung the control camera over and snapped a photograph from the screen. The photograph disappeared down the message tube to the chart room. "Keep calm. We'll get a determination from Barnes."

  "What are they doing here? What are they after? They must know the Sirius system is closed."

  "Notice the balloon sides." Nelson traced the screen with his finger. "It's a freighter. Look at the bulge. It's a cargo carrier."

  "And while you're looking, notice that." Shure whirled the enlarger. The image of the ship bloated, expanding until it filled the screen. "See that row of projections?"

  "So?"

  "Heavy guns. Countersunk. For deep-space firing. It's a freighter, but it's also armed."

  "Pirates, maybe."

  "Maybe." Shure toyed with the communications mike. "I'm tempted to put a call back to Terra."

  "Why?"

  "This may be a scout."

  Nelson's eyes flickered. "You think they're in the process of sounding us out? But if there are more, why don't our screens pick them up?"

  "The rest may be out of range."

  "More than two light years? I have the screens up to maximum. And they're the best screens available."

  The determination popped up the tube from the chart room, skidding out on the table. Shure broke it open and scanned it rapidly. He passed it to Nelson. "Here."

  The ship was Adharan design. First-class, from a recent freighter group. Barnes had noted in his own hand: "But not supposed to be armed. Must have added the cannon. Not standard equipment on Adharan freighters."

  "Then it's not bait," Shure murmured. "We can rule that out. What's the story on Adhara? Why would an Adharan ship be in the Sirius system? Terra has closed this whole region off for years. They must know they can't trade here."

  "No one kno
ws much about Adharans. They participated in the All-galaxy Trade Conference, but that's all."

  "What race are they?"

  "Arachnid type. Typical of this area. Based on the Great Murzim Stem. They're a variant of the Murzim original. They keep mostly to themselves. Complex social structure, very rigid patterns. Organic-state grouping."

  "You mean they're insects."

  "I suppose. In the same sense we're lemurs."

  Shure turned his attention back to the viewscreen. He reduced magnification, watching intently. The screen followed the Adharan ship automatically, maintaining a direct alignment with it.

  The Adharan ship was heavy and black, awkward in comparison to the sleek Terran cruiser. It bulged like a well-fed worm, its somber sides swollen almost to a full sphere. An occasional guide light blinked on and off as the ship approached the outermost planet of the Sirius system. It moved slowly, cautiously, feeling its way along. It entered the orbit of the tenth planet and began maneuvering for descent. Brake jets burst on, flashing red. The bloated worm drifted down, lowering itself toward the surface of the planet.

  "They're landing," Nelson murmured.

  "That's fine. They'll be stationary. Good target for us."

  On the surface of the tenth planet the Adharan freighter lay resting, its jets dying into silence. A cloud of exhaust particles rose from it. The freighter had landed between two mountain ranges, on a barren waste of gray sand. The surface of the tenth planet was utterly barren. No life, atmosphere or water existed.

  The planet was mostly rock, cold gray rock, with vast shadows and pits, a corroded sickly surface, hostile and bleak.

  Abruptly the Adharan ship came to life. Hatches popped open. Tiny black dots rushed from the ship. The dots increased in number, a flood of specks pouring out of the freighter, scurrying across the sand. Some of them reached the mountains and disappeared among the craters and peaks. Others gained the far side, where they were lost in the long shadows.

  "I'll be damned," Shure muttered. "It doesn't make sense. What are they after? We've gone over these planets with a fine tooth comb. There's nothing anyone would want, down there."

  "They may have different wants, or different methods."