Philip Dick - We Can Build You

"No," Pris said. "Only I can do that. That's not within your power."

I patted her on the shoulder. "You know, I'm much more sympathetic to you, too, than I was. I think we're beginning to work out a very good, wholesome, stable relationship between us."

"Maybe so," Pris said, unaware of any overtone of sarcasm. She smiled at me. "I hope so, Louis. People should understand one another."

When we got back to MASA, Maury greeted us excitedly. "What took you so long?" He produced a piece of paper. "I sent a wire to Sam Barrows. Read it--here." He pushed it into my hands.

Uneasily, I unfolded the paper and read Maury's writing.

ADVISE YOU FLY HERE AT ONCE. LINCOLN SIMULACRUM IN-

CREDIBLE SUCCESS. REQUEST YOUR DECISION. SAVING ITEM

FOR YOUR FIRST INSPECTION AS PER PHONE CALL. EXCEEDS

WILDEST HOPES. EXPECT TO HEAR FROM YOU WITHIN DAY.

MAURY ROCK,

MASA ASSOCIATES

"Has he answered yet?" I asked.

"Not yet, but we just phoned in the wire."

There was a commotion and Bob Bundy appeared. To me he said, "Mr. Lincoln asked me to express his regrets and find out how you are." He looked pretty shaky, himself.

"Tell him I'm okay." I added, "And thank him."

"Right." Bundy departed; the office door shut after him. To Maury I said, "I have to admit it, Rock. You're onto something. I was wrong."

"Thanks for coming around."

Pris said, "You're wasting your thanks on him." Puffing on his Corina agitatedly Maury said, "We've got a lot of work ahead of us. I know we'll get Barrows' interest now. But what we have to be careful of--" He lowered his voice. "A man like that could sweep us aside like a lot of kindling. Am I right, buddy?"

"Right," I answered. I had thought of that, too.

"He's probably done it a million times to small operators along the way. We got to close ranks, all four of us; five, if you include Bob Bundy. Right?" He looked around at Pris and me and my dad.

My dad said, "Maury, maybe you should take this to the Federal Government." He looked timidly at me. "_Hab' Ich nicht Recht, mein Sohn?_"

"He's already contacted Barrows," I said. "For all we know, Barrows is on his way here."

"We could tell him no," Maury said, "even if he shows up. If we feel this should go to Washington, D.C., instead."

"Ask the Lincoln," I said.

"What?" Pris said sharply. "Oh for god's sake."

"I mean it," I said. "Get its advice."

"What would a hick politician from the last century know about Sam K. Barrows?" Pris shot at me sardonically.

In as calm a voice as possible I said, "Pris, watch it. Honest to god."

Maury said quickly, "Let's not get to quarreling. We all have a right to express our opinions. I think we should go ahead and show the Lincoln to Barrows and if for some crazy reason--" He broke off. The office phone was ringing. Striding over he picked it up. "MASA ASSOCIATES. Maury Rock speaking."

Silence.

Turning toward us Maury mouthed silently: _Barrows_.

That's it, I said to myself. The die is cast.

"Yes, sir," Maury was saying into the phone. "We'll pick you up at the Boise airfield. Yes, we'll see you there." His face glowed; he winked at me.

To my dad I said, "Where's the Stanton?"

"What, _mein Sohn?_"

"The Stanton simulacrum--I don't see it around." Recalling its expression of hostility toward the Lincoln I got up and went over to where Pris stood trying to hear the other end of Maury's phone conversation. "Where's the Stanton?" I said loudly to her.

"I don't know. Bundy put it somewhere; it's probably down in the shop."

"Wait a minute." Maury lowered the phone. To me, with a strange expression on his face, he said, "The Stanton is in Seattle. With Barrows."

"Oh no," I heard Pris say.

Maury said, "It took the Greyhound bus last night. Got there this morning and looked him right up. Barrows says he's been having a good long talk with it." Maury covered the phone with his hand. "He hasn't gotten our wire yet. It's the Stanton he's interested in. Shall I tell him about the Lincoln?"

"You might as well," I said. "He'll be getting the wire."

"Mr. Barrows," Maury said into the phone, "we just sent you a wire. Yes--we have the Lincoln electronic simulacrum operating and it's an incredible success, even more so than the Stanton." Glancing at me with an uneasy grimace he said, "Sir, you'll be accompanied on the plane flight by the Stanton, will you not? We're anxious to get it back." Silence, and then Maury once more lowered the phone. "Barrows says the Stanton told him it intends to stay in Seattle a day or so and look at the sights. It intends to get a haircut and visit the library and if it likes the town maybe even think about opening a law office and settling down there."

"Christ's cross," Pris said, clenching her fists. "Tell Barrows to talk it into coming back here!"

Maury said into the phone, "Can't you persuade it to come with you, Mr. Barrows?" Again silence. "It's gone," Maury said to us, this time not covering the phone. "It said goodbye to Barrows and took off." He frowned, looking deeply distressed.

I said, "Anyhow, finish up as to the flight."

"Right." Maury drew himself together and again addressed the phone. "I'm sure the damn thing'll be all right; it had money, didn't it?" Silence. "And you gave it twenty dollars, too; good. Anyhow, we'll see you. The Lincoln one is even better. Yes sir. Thanks. Goodbye." He hung up and sat staring down at the floor, his lips twisting. "I didn't even notice it was gone. You think it was sore about the Lincoln? Maybe so; it's got one hell of a temper."

"No use crying over spilt milk," I said.

"True," Maury murmured, chewing his lip. "And it's got a battery good for six months! We may not see it until next year. My god, we've got thousands of dollars tied up in it-- and what if Barrows is stringing us? Maybe he's got the thing locked up in a vault somewhere."

"If he had," Pris said, "he wouldn't be coming here. In fact, maybe this is all for the good; maybe Barrows wouldn't be coming here except for the Stanton, what it said and did-- he got to see it and maybe the wire wouldn't have brought him. And if it hadn't run off and ditched him maybe he would have snared it and we'd be out in the cold; right?"

"Yeah," Maury agreed morosely.

My dad said, "Mr. Barrows is reputable, isn't he? A man with so much social concern as he expresses, this letter my son showed me about that housing unit with those poor people he's protecting."

Maury nodded again, still morosely.

Patting my dad on the arm Pris said, "Yes, Jerome; he's a civic-minded fellow. You'll like him."

My dad beamed at Pris and then at me. "It looks as if everything is turning out good, _nicht wahr?_"

We all nodded, with a mixture of gloom and fear.

The door opened and Bob Bundy appeared, holding a folded piece of paper. Coming up to me he said, "Here's a note from Lincoln."

I unfolded it. It was a short note of sympathy:

Mr. Louis Rosen.

My Dear Sir:

I wish to enquire of your condition, with hope that you have

improved somewhat.

Yours Truly,

A. Lincoln

"I'll go out and thank him," I said to Maury.

"Do that," Maury said.

As we waited in the cold wind at the concourse entrance for the flight from Seattle to land I said to myself, How'll he differ from the other people?

The Boeing 900 landed; it taxied along the runway. The ramps were run out, the doors opened, stewardesses helped people out, and at the bottom of each ramp airline employees made sure the passengers did not take pratfalls onto the asphalt ground. Meanwhile, luggage-carrying vehicles raced around like large bugs, and off to one side a Standard Stations truck had parked with its red lights on.