Philip Dick - The Complete Stories of Philip K. Dick Vol. 5 - The Eye of the Sibyl and Other Classic Stories

Then what did he do next?

It was a good question. And one – for the moment – which he could not answer.

That evening the file from Six-planet Educational Enterprises' main personnel offices on Ganymede was delivered by Western Union Messenger to his conapt. He tipped the messenger, seated himself in his living room and opened the file.

It took him only a few moments to certify the fact which he had suspected: the file contained no references to any implantation of a delusional idea. Either the file had been reconstructed or Carol was mistaken. Mistaken – or lying. In any case the file told him nothing.

He phoned the University of California, and, after being switched from station to station, wound up with someone who seemed to know what he was talking about. "I want an analysis," Cupertino explained, "of a written document. To find out how recently it was transcribed. This is a Western Union wire-copy so you'll have to go on word anachronisms alone. I want to find out if the material was developed three years ago or more recently. Do you think you can analyze for so slight a factor?"

"There's been very little word-change in the past three years," the university philologist said. "But we can try. How soon do you have to have the document back?"

"As soon as possible," Cupertino said.

He called for a building messenger to take the file to the university, and then he took time to ponder another element in the situation.

If his experience of Terra was delusional, the moment at which his perceptions most closely approximated reality occurred during his sessions with Dr. Hagopian. Hence if he were ever to break through the delusional system and perceive actual reality it would most likely take place then; his maximum efforts should be directed at that time. Because one fact seemed clearly established: he really was seeing Dr. Hagopian.

He went to the phone and started to dial Hagopian's number. Last night, after the arrest, Hagopian had helped him; it was unusually soon to be seeing the doctor again, but he dialed. In view of his analysis of the situation it seemed justified; he could afford the cost… And then something came to him.

The arrest. All at once he remembered what the policeman had said; he had accused Cupertino of being a user of the Ganymedean drug Frohedadrine. And for a good reason: he showed the symptoms.

Perhaps that was the modus operandi by which the delusional system was maintained; he was being given Frohedadrine in small regular doses, perhaps in his food.

But wasn't that a paranoid – in other words psychotic – concept?

And yet paranoid or not, it made sense.

What he needed was a blood fraction test. The presence of the drug would register in such a test; all he had to do was show up at the clinic of his firm in Oakland, ask for the test on the grounds that he had a suspected toxemia. And within an hour the test would be completed.

And, if he was on Frohedadrine, it would prove that he was correct; he was still on Ganymede, not on Terra. And all that he experienced – or seemed to experience – a delusion, with the possible exception of his regular, mandatory visits to the psychiatrist.

Obviously he should have the blood fraction test made – at once. And yet he shrank from it. Why? Now he had the means by which to make a possible absolute analysis, and yet he held back.

Did he want to know the truth?

Certainly he had to have the test made; he forgot temporarily the notion of seeing Dr. Hagopian, went to the bathroom to shave, then put on a clean shirt and tie and left the conapt, starting toward his parked wheel; in fifteen minutes he would be at his employer's clinic.

His employer. He halted, his hand touching the doorhandle of his wheel, feeling foolish.

They had slipped up somehow in their presentation of his delusional system. Because he did not know where he worked. A major segment of the system simply was not there.

Returning to his conapt he dialed Dr. Hagopian.

Rather sourly Dr. Hagopian said, "Good evening, John. I see you're back in your own conapt; you didn't stay in Los Angeles long."

Cupertino said huskily, "Doctor, I don't know where I work. Obviously something's gone wrong; I must have known formerly – up until today, in fact. Haven't I been going to work four days a week like everyone else?"

"Of course," Hagopian said, unruffled. "You're employed by an Oakland firm, Triplan Industries, Incorporated, on San Pablo Avenue near Twenty-first Street. Look up the exact address in your phone book. But – I'd say go to bed and rest; you were up all last night and it seems obvious that you're suffering a fatigue reaction."

"Suppose," Cupertino said, "greater and greater sections of the delusional system begin to slip. It won't be very pleasant for me." The one missing element terrified him; it was as if a piece of himself had dissolved. Not to know where he worked – in an instant he was set apart from all other humans, thoroughly isolated. And how much else could he forget? Perhaps it was the fatigue; Hagopian might be right. He was, after all, too old to stay up all night; it was not as it had been a decade ago when such things were physically possible for both him and Carol.

He wanted, he realized, to hang onto the delusional system; he did not wish to see it decompose around him. A person was his world; without it he did not exist.

"Doctor," he said, "may I see you this evening?"

"But you just saw me," Dr. Hagopian pointed out. "There's no reason for another appointment so soon. Wait until later in the week. And in the meantime -"

"I think I understand how the delusional system is maintained," Cupertino said. "Through daily doses of Frohedadrine, administered orally, in my food. Perhaps by going to Los Angeles I missed a dose; that might explain why a segment of the system collapsed. Or else as you say it's fatigue; in any case this proves that I'm correct: this is a delusional system, and I don't need either the blood fraction test or the University of California to confirm it. Carol is dead – and you know it. You're my psychiatrist on Ganymede and I'm in custody, have been now for three years. Isn't that actually the case?" He waited, but Hagopian did not answer; the doctor's face remained impassive. "I never was in Los Angeles," Cupertino said. "In fact I'm probably confined to a relatively small area; I have no freedom of motion as it would appear. And I didn't see Carol this morning, did I?"

Hagopian said slowly, "What do you mean, 'blood fraction test'? What gave you the idea of asking for that?" He smiled faintly. "If this is a delusional system, John, the blood fraction test would be illusory, too. So how could it help you?"

He had not thought of that; stunned, he remained silent, unable to answer.

"And that file which you asked Dr. Green for," Hagopian said. "Which you received and then transferred to the University of California for analysis; that would be delusional, too. So how can the result of their tests -"

Cupertino said, "There's no way you could know of that, doctor. You conceivably might know that I talked to Dr. Green, asked for and received the file; Green might have talked to you. But not my request for analysis by the university; you couldn't possibly know that. I'm sorry, doctor, but by a contradiction of internal logic this structure has proved itself unreal. You know too much about me. And I think I know what final, absolute test I can apply to confirm my reasoning."

"What test?" Hagopian's tone was cold.

Cupertino said, "Go back to Los Angeles. And kill Carol once more."

"Good God, how -"

"A woman who has been dead for three years can't die again," Cupertino said. "Obviously it'll prove impossible to kill her." He started to break the phone connection.