The Collected Stories of Philip K. Dick 4: The Minority Report

by Philip K. Dick

  "When the land is cleared, certain anthropological remains will be discovered. They have already been placed there. Douglas will lease his land to the Canadian Government for scientific study. The remains found there will cause international excitement in learned circles.

  "A chain of events will be set in motion. Men from numerous countries will come to Canada to examine the remains. Soviet, Polish, and Czech scientists will make the journey.

  "The chain of events will draw these scientists together for the first time in years. National research will be temporarily forgotten in the excitement of these nonnational discoveries. One of the leading Soviet scientists will make friends with a Belgian scientist. Before they depart they will agree to correspond—without the knowledge of their governments, of course.

  "The circle will widen. Other scientists on both sides will be drawn in. A society will be founded. More and more educated men will transfer an increasing amount of time to this international society. Purely national research will suffer a slight but extremely critical eclipse. The war tension will somewhat wane.

  "This alteration is vital. And it is dependent on the purchase and clearing of the section of wilderness in Canada. The old Douglas would not have dared take the risk. But the altered Douglas, and his altered, more youthful staff, will pursue this work with wholehearted enthusiasm. And from this, the vital chain of widening events will come about. The beneficiaries will be you. Our methods may seem strange and indirect. Even incomprehensible. But I assure you we know what we're doing."

  "I know that now," Ed said.

  "So you do. You know a great deal. Much too much. No element should possess such knowledge. I should perhaps call an adjustment team in here…"

  A picture formed in Ed's mind: swirling gray clouds, gray men and women. He shuddered. "Look," he croaked. "I'll do anything. Anything at all. Only don't de-energize me." Sweat ran down his face. "Okay?"

  The Old Man pondered. "Perhaps some alternative could be found. There is another possibility."

  "What?" Ed asked eagerly. "What is it?"

  The Old Man spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "If I allow you to return, you will swear never to speak of the matter? Will you swear not to reveal to anyone the things you saw? The things you know?"

  "Sure!" Ed gasped eagerly, blinding relief flooding over him. "I swear!"

  "Your wife. She must know nothing more. She must think it was only a passing psychological fit—retreat from reality."

  "She thinks that already."

  "She must continue to."

  Ed set his jaw firmly. "I'll see that she continues to think it was a mental aberration. She'll never know what really happened."

  "You are certain you can keep the truth from her?"

  "Sure," Ed said confidently. "I know I can."

  "All right." The Old Man nodded slowly. "I will send you back. But you must tell no one." He swelled visibly. "Remember: you will eventually come back to me—everyone does, in the end—and your fate will not be enviable."

  "I won't tell her," Ed said, sweating. "I promise. You have my word on that. I can handle Ruth. Don't give it a second thought."

  Ed arrived home at sunset.

  He blinked, dazed from the rapid descent. For a moment he stood on the pavement, regaining his balance and catching his breath. Then he walked quickly up the path.

  He pushed the door open and entered the little green stucco house.

  "Ed!" Ruth came flying, face distorted with tears. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. "Where the hell have you been?"

  "Been?" Ed murmured. "At the office, of course."

  Ruth pulled back abruptly. "No, you haven't."

  Vague tendrils of alarm plucked at Ed. "Of course I have. Where else—?"

  "I called Douglas about three. He said you left. You walked out, practically as soon as I turned my back. Eddie—"

  Ed patted her nervously. "Take it easy, honey." He began unbuttoning his coat. "Everything's okay. Understand? Things are perfectly all right."

  Ruth sat down on the arm of the couch. She blew her nose, dabbing at her eyes. "If you knew how much I've worried." She put her handkerchief away and folded her arms. "I want to know where you were."

  Uneasily, Ed hung his coat in the closet. He came over and kissed her. Her lips were ice cold. "I'll tell you all about it. But what do you say we have something to eat? I'm starved."

  Ruth studied him intently. She got down from the arm of the couch. "I'll change and fix dinner."

  She hurried into the bedroom and slipped off her shoes and nylons. Ed followed her. "I didn't mean to worry you," he said carefully. "After you left me today I realized you were right."

  "Oh?" Ruth unfastened her blouse and skirt, arranging them over a hanger. "Right about what?"

  "About me." He manufactured a grin and made it glow across his face. "About … what happened."

  Ruth hung her slip over the hanger. She studied her husband intently as she struggled into her tight-fitting jeans. "Go on."

  The moment had come. It was now or never. Ed Fletcher braced himself and chose his words carefully. "I realized," he stated, "that the whole darn thing was in my mind. You were right, Ruth. Completely right. And I even realize what caused it."

  Ruth rolled her cotton T-shirt down and tucked it in her jeans. "What was the cause?"

  "Overwork."

  "Overwork?"

  "I need a vacation. I haven't had a vacation in years. My mind isn't on the job. I've been daydreaming." He said it firmly, but his heart was in his mouth. "I need to get away. To the mountains. Bass fishing. Or—" He searched his mind frantically. "Or—"

  Ruth came toward him ominously. "Ed!" she said sharply. "Look at me!"

  "What's the matter?" Panic shot through him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

  "Where were you this afternoon?"

  Ed's grin faded. "I told you. I went for a walk. Didn't I tell you? A walk. To think things over."

  "Don't lie to me, Eddie Fletcher! I can tell when you're lying!" Fresh tears welled up in Ruth's eyes. Her breasts rose and fell excitedly under her cotton shirt. "Admit it! You didn't go for a walk!"

  Ed stammered weakly. Sweat poured off him. He sagged helplessly against the door. "What do you mean?"

  Ruth's black eyes flashed with anger. "Come on! I want to know where you were! Tell me! I have a right to know. What really happened?"

  Ed retreated in terror, his resolve melting like wax. It was going all wrong. "Honest. I went out for a—"

  "Tell me!" Ruth's sharp fingernails dug into his arm. "I want to know where you were—and who you were with!"

  Ed opened his mouth. He tried to grin, but his face failed to respond. "I don't know what you mean."

  "You know what I mean. Who were you with? Where did you go? Tell me! I'll find out sooner or later."

  There was no way out. He was licked—and he knew it. He couldn't keep it from her. Desperately he stalled, praying for time. If he could only distract her, get her mind on something else. If she would only let up, even for a second. He could invent something—a better story. Time—he needed more time. "Ruth, you've got to—"

  Suddenly there was a sound: the bark of a dog, echoing through the dark house.

  Ruth let go, cocking her head alertly. "That was Dobbie. I think somebody's coming."

  The doorbell rang.

  "You stay here. I'll be right back." Ruth ran out of the room, to the front door. "Darn it." She pulled the front door open.

  "Good evening!" The young man stepped quickly inside, loaded down with objects, grinning broadly at Ruth. "I'm from the Sweep-Rite Vacuum Cleaner Company."

  Ruth scowled impatiently. "Really, we're about to sit down at the table."

  "Oh, this will only take a moment." The young man set down the vacuum cleaner and its attachments with a metallic crash. Rapidly, he unrolled a long illustrated banner, showing the vacuum cleaner in action. "Now, if you'll just hold this while I plug in the cleaner—"
r />   He bustled happily about, unplugging the TV set, plugging in the cleaner, pushing the chairs out of his way.

  "I'll show you the drape scraper first." He attached a hose and nozzle to the big gleaming tank. "Now, if you'll just sit down I'll demonstrate each of these easy-to-use attachments." His happy voice rose over the roar of the cleaner. "You'll notice—"

  Ed Fletcher sat down on the bed. He groped in his pocket until he found his cigarettes. Shakily he lit one and leaned back against the wall, weak with relief.

  He gazed up, a look of gratitude on his face. "Thanks," he said softly. "I think we'll make it—after all. Thanks a lot."

  THE IMPOSSIBLE PLANET

  "SHE JUST STANDS THERE," Norton said nervously. "Captain, you'll have to talk to her."

  "What does she want?"

  "She wants a ticket. She's stone deaf. She just stands there staring and she won't go away. It gives me the creeps."

  Captain Andrews got slowly to his feet. "Okay. I'll talk to her. Send her in."

  "Thanks." To the corridor Norton said, "The Captain will talk to you. Come ahead."

  There was motion outside the control room. A flash of metal. Captain Andrews pushed his desk scanner back and stood waiting.

  "In here." Norton backed into the control room. "This way. Right in here."

  Behind Norton came a withered little old woman. Beside her moved a gleaming robant, a towering robot servant, supporting her with its arm. The robant and the tiny old woman entered the control room slowly.

  "Here's her papers." Norton slid a folio onto the chart desk, his voice awed. "She's three hundred and fifty years old. One of the oldest sustained. From Riga II."

  Andrews leafed slowly through the folio. In front of the desk the little woman stood silently, staring straight ahead. Her faded eyes were pale blue. Like ancient china.

  "Irma Vincent Gordon," Andrews murmured. He glanced up. "Is that right?"

  The old woman did not answer.

  "She is totally deaf, sir," the robant said.

  Andrews grunted and returned to the folio. Irma Gordon was one of the original settlers of the Riga system. Origin unknown. Probably born out in space in one of the old sub-C ships. A strange feeling drifted through him. The little old creature. The centuries she had seen! The changes.

  "She wants to travel?" he asked the robant.

  "Yes, sir. She has come from her home to purchase a ticket."

  "Can she stand space travel?"

  "She came from Riga, here to Fomalhaut IX."

  "Where does she want to go?"

  "To Earth, sir," the robant said.

  "Earth!" Andrews' jaw dropped. He swore nervously. "What do you mean?"

  "She wishes to travel to Earth, sir."

  "You see?" Norton muttered. "Completely crazy."

  Gripping his desk tightly, Andrews addressed the old woman. "Madam, we can't sell you a ticket to Earth."

  "She can't hear you, sir," the robant said.

  Andrews found a piece of paper. He wrote in big letters:

  CAN'T SELL YOU A TICKET TO EARTH

  He held it up. The old woman's eyes moved as she studied the words. Her lips twitched. "Why not?" she said at last. Her voice was faint and dry. Like rustling weeds.

  Andrews scratched an answer.

  NO SUCH PLACE

  He added grimly:

  MYTH—LEGEND—NEVER EXISTED

  The old woman's faded eyes left the words. She gazed directly at Andrews, her face expressionless. Andrews became uneasy. Beside him, Norton sweated nervously.

  "Jeez," Norton muttered. "Get her out of here. She'll put the hex on us."

  Andrews addressed the robant. "Can't you make her understand? There is no such place as Earth. It's been proved a thousand times. No such primordial planet existed. All scientists agree human life arose simultaneously throughout the—"

  "It is her wish to travel to Earth," the robant said patiently. "She is three hundred and fifty years old and they have ceased giving her sustentation treatments. She wishes to visit Earth before she dies."

  "But it's a myth!" Andrews exploded. He opened and closed his mouth, but no words came.

  "How much?" the old woman said. "How much?"

  "I can't do it!" Andrews shouted. "There isn't—"

  "We have a kilo positives," the robant said.

  Andrews became suddenly quiet. "A thousand positives." He blanched in amazement. His jaws clamped shut, the color draining from his face.

  "How much?" the old woman repeated. "How much?"

  "Will that be sufficient?" the robant asked.

  For a moment Andrews swallowed silently. Abruptly he found his voice. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"

  "Captain!" Norton protested. "Have you gone nuts? You know there's no such place as Earth! How the hell can we—"

  "Sure, we'll take her." Andrews buttoned his tunic slowly, hands shaking. "We'll take her anywhere she wants to go. Tell her that. For a thousand positives we'll be glad to take her to Earth. Okay?"

  "Of course," the robant said. "She has saved many decades for this. She will give you the kilo positives at once. She has them with her."

  "Look," Norton said. "You can get twenty years for this. They'll take your articles and your card and they'll—"

  "Shut up." Andrews spun the dial of the intersystem vid-sender. Under them the jets throbbed and roared. The lumbering transport had reached deep space. "I want the main information library at Centaurus II," he said into the speaker.

  "Even for a thousand positives you can't do it. Nobody can do it. They tried to find Earth for generations. Directorate ships tracked down every moth-eaten planet in the whole—"

  The vidsender clicked. "Centaurus II."

  "Information library."

  Norton caught Andrews' arm. "Please, Captain. Even for two kilo positives—"

  "I want the following information," Andrews said into the vidspeaker. "All facts that are known concerning the planet Earth. Legendary birthplace of the human race."

  "No facts are known," the detached voice of the library monitor came. "The subject is classified as metaparticular."

  "What unverified but widely circulated reports have survived?"

  "Most legends concerning Earth were lost during the Centauran-Rigan conflict of 4-B33a. What survived is fragmentary. Earth is variously described as a large ringed planet with three moons, as a small, dense planet with a single moon, as the first planet of a ten-planet system located around a dwarf white—"

  "What's the most prevalent legend?"

  "The Morrison Report of 5-C2 1r analyzed the total ethnic and subliminal accounts of the legendary Earth. The final summation noted that Earth is generally considered to be a small third planet of a nine-planet system, with a single moon. Other than that, no agreement of legends could be constructed."

  "I see. A third planet of a nine-planet system. With a single moon." Andrews broke the circuit and the screen faded.

  "So?" Norton said.

  Andrews got quickly to his feet. "She probably knows every legend about it." He pointed down—at the passenger quarters below. "I want to get the accounts straight."

  "Why? What are you going to do?"

  Andrews flipped open the master star chart. He ran his fingers down the index and released the scanner. In a moment it turned up a card.

  He grabbed the chart and fed it into the robant pilot. "The Emphor System," he murmured thoughtfully.

  "Emphor? We're going there?"

  "According to the chart, there are ninety systems that show a third planet of nine with a single moon. Of the ninety, Emphor is the closest. We're heading there now."

  "I don't get it," Norton protested. "Emphor is a routine trading system. Emphor III isn't even a Class D check point."

  Captain Andrews grinned tightly, "Emphor III has a single moon, and it's the third of nine planets. That's all we want. "Does anybody know any more about Earth?" He glanced downwards. "Does she know any more about Earth?"

&
nbsp; "I see," Norton said slowly. "I'm beginning to get the picture."

  Emphor III turned silently below them. A dull red globe, suspended among sickly clouds, its baked and corroded surface lapped by the congealed remains of ancient seas. Cracked, eroded cliffs jutted starkly up. The flat plains had been dug and stripped bare. Great gouged pits pocked the surface, endless gaping sores.

  Norton's face twisted in revulsion. "Look at it. Is anything alive down there?"

  Captain Andrews frowned. "I didn't realize it was so gutted." He crossed abruptly to the robant pilot. "There's supposed to be an auto-grapple some place down there. I'll try to pick it up."

  "A grapple? You mean that waste is inhabited?"

  "A few Emphorites. Degenerate trading colony of some sort." Andrews consulted the card. "Commercial ships come here occasionally. Contact with this region has been vague since the Centauran-Rigan War."

  The passage rang with a sudden sound. The gleaming robant and Mrs. Gordon emerged through the doorway into the control room. The old woman's face was alive with excitement. "Captain! Is that—is that Earth down there?"

  Andrews nodded. "Yes."

  The robant led Mrs. Gordon over to the big viewscreen. The old woman's face twitched, ripples of emotion stirring her withered features. "I can hardly believe that's really Earth. It seems impossible."

  Norton glanced sharply at Captain Andrews.

  "It's Earth," Andrews stated, not meeting Norton's glance. "The moon should be around soon."

  The old woman did not speak. She had turned her back.

  Andrews contacted the auto-grapple and hooked the robant pilot on. The transport shuddered and then began to drop, as the beam from Emphor caught it and took over.

  "We're landing," Andrews said to the old woman, touching her on the shoulder.

  "She can't hear you, sir," the robant said.

  Andrews grunted. "Well, she can see."

  Below them the pitted, ruined surface of Emphor III was rising rapidly. The ship entered the cloud belt and emerged, coasting over a barren plain that stretched as far as the eye could see.

  "What happened down there?" Norton said to Andrews. "The war?"