Philip Dick: The Variable Man

Only a few small tools remained. He had lost everything else. But without the cart he was safer, harder to spot. They would have more trouble finding him, on foot.

Cole hurried along, crossing the level fields toward the distant range of hills.

The call came through to Reinhart almost at once. Dixon’s features formed on the vidscreen. “I have a further report, Commissioner.” Dixon scanned the plate. “Good news. The man from the past was sighted moving away from Petersville, along highway 13, at about ten miles an hour, on his horse-drawn cart. Our ship bombed him immediately.”

“Did—did you get him?”

“The pilot reports no sign of life after the blast.”

Reinhart’s pulse almost stopped. He sank back in his chair. “Then he’s dead!”

“Actually, we won’t know for certain until we can examine the debris. A surface car is speeding toward the spot. We should have the complete report in a short time. We’ll notify you as soon as the information comes in.”

Reinhart reached out and cut the screen. It faded into darkness. Had they got the man from the past? Or had he escaped again? Weren’t they ever going to get him? Couldn’t he be captured? And meanwhile, the SRB machines were silent, showing nothing at all.

Reinhart sat brooding, waiting impatiently for the report of the surface car to come in.

It was evening.

“Come on!” Steven shouted, running frantically after his brother. “Come on back!”

“Catch me.” Earl ran and ran, down the side of the hill, over behind a military storage depot, along a neotex fence, jumping finally down into Mrs. Norris’ back yard.

Steven hurried after his brother, sobbing for breath, shouting and gasping as he ran. “Come back! You come back with that!”

“What’s he got?” Sally Tate demanded, stepping out suddenly to block Steven’s way.

Steven halted, his chest rising and falling. “He’s got my intersystem vidsender.” His small face twisted with rage and misery. “He better give it back!”

Earl came circling around from the right. In the warm gloom of evening he was almost invisible. “Here I am,” he announced. “What you going to do?”

Steven glared at him hotly. His eyes made out the square box in Earl’s hands. “You give that back! Or—or I’ll tell Dad.”

Earl laughed. “Make me.”

“Dad’ll make you.”

“You better give it to him,” Sally said.

“Catch me.” Earl started off. Steven pushed Sally out of the way, lashing wildly at his brother. He collided with him, throwing him sprawling. The box fell from Earl’s hands. It skidded to the pavement, crashing into the side of a guide-light post.

Earl and Steven picked themselves up slowly. They gazed down at the broken box.

“See?” Steven shrilled, tears filling his eyes. “See what you did?”

“You did it. You pushed into me.”

“You did it!”’ Steven bent down and picked up the box. He carried it over to the guide-light, sitting down on the curb to examine it.

Earl came slowly over. “If you hadn’t pushed me it wouldn’t have got broken.”

Night was descending rapidly. The line of hills rising above the town were already lost in darkness. A few lights had come on here and there. The evening was warm. A surface car slammed its doors, some place off in the distance. In the sky ships droned back and forth, weary commuters coming home from work in the big underground factory units.

Thomas Cole came slowly toward the three children grouped around the guide-light. He moved with difficulty, his body sore and bent with fatigue. Night had come, but he was not safe yet.

He was tired, exhausted and hungry. He had walked a long way. And he had to have something to eat—soon.

A few feet from the children Cole stopped. They were all intent and absorbed by the box on Steven’s knees. Suddenly a hush fell over the children. Earl looked up slowly.

In the dim light the big stooped figure of Thomas Cole seemed extra menacing. His long arms hung down loosely at his sides. His face was lost in shadow. His body was shapeless, indistinct. A big unformed statue, standing silently a few feet away, unmoving in the half-darkness.

“Who are you?” Earl demanded, his voice low.

“What do you want?” Sally said. The children edged away nervously. “Get away.”

Cole came toward them. He bent down a little. The beam from the guide-light crossed his features. Lean, prominent nose, beak-like, faded blue eyes—

Steven scrambled to his feet, clutching the vidsender box. “You get out of here!”

“Wait.” Cole smiled crookedly at them. His voice was dry and raspy. “What do you have there?” He pointed with his long, slender fingers. “The box you’re holding.”

The children were silent. Finally Steven stirred. “It’s my inter-system vidsender.”

“Only it doesn’t work,” Sally said.

“Earl broke it.” Steven glared at his brother bitterly. “Earl threw it down and broke it.”

Cole smiled a little. He sank down wearily on the edge of the curb, sighing with relief. He had been walking too long. His body ached with fatigue. He was hungry, and tired. For a long time he sat, wiping perspiration from his neck and face, too exhausted to speak.

“Who are you?” Sally demanded, at last. “Why do you have on those funny clothes? Where did you come from?”

“Where?” Cole looked around at the children. “From a long way off. A long way.” He shook his head slowly from side to side, trying to clear it.

“What’s your therapy?” Earl said.

“My therapy?”

“What do you do? Where do you work?”

Cole took a deep breath and let it out again slowly. “I fix things. All kinds of things. Any kind.”

Earl sneered. “Nobody fixes things. When they break you throw them away.”

Cole didn’t hear him. Sudden need had roused him, getting him suddenly to his feet. “You know any work I can find?” he demanded. “Things I could do? I can fix anything. Clocks, type-writers, refrigerators, pots and pans. Leaks in the roof. I can fix anything there is.”

Steven held out his inter-system vidsender. “Fix this.”

There was silence. Slowly, Cole’s eyes focussed on the box. “That?”

“My sender. Earl broke it.”

Cole took the box slowly. He turned it over, holding it up to the light. He frowned, concentrating on it. His long, slender fingers moved carefully over the surface, exploring it.

“He’ll steal it!” Earl said suddenly.

“No.” Cole shook his head vaguely. “I’m reliable.” His sensitive fingers found the studs that held the box together. He depressed the studs, pushing them expertly in. The box opened, revealing its complex interior.

“He got it open,” Sally whispered.

“Give it back!” Steven demanded, a little frightened. He held out his hand. “I want it back.”

The three children watched Cole apprehensively. Cole fumbled in his pocket. Slowly he brought out his tiny screwdrivers and pliers. He laid them in a row beside him. He made no move to return the box.

“I want it back,” Steven said feebly.

Cole looked up. His faded blue eyes took in the sight of the three children standing before him in the gloom. “I’ll fix it for you. You said you wanted it fixed.”

“I want it back.” Steven stood on one foot, then the other, torn by doubt and indecision. “Can you really fix it? Can you make it work again?”

“Yes.”

“All right. Fix it for me, then.”

A sly smile flickered across Cole’s tired face. “Now, wait a minute. If I fix it, will you bring me something to eat? I’m not fixing it for nothing.”