Philip Dick - We Can Build You

"I wouldn't count on it working," Maury said. "Some authentic settler might try to sleep with Mrs. Edwards and then he'd find out. You know how life is in housing tracts."

Dave Blunk brayed out in a hee-haw of laughter. "Very good!"

Placidly, Barrows said, "I think it would work."

"You have to," Maury said. "You've got all those parcels of land up there in the sky. So people are loath to emigrate... I thought there was a constant clamor, and all that was holding them back was the strict laws."

"The laws are strict," Barrows said--"but--let's be realistic. It's an environment up there that once you've seen it... well, let's put it this way. About ten minutes is enough for most people. I've been there. I'm not going again."

I said, "Thanks for being so candid with us, Barrows."

Barrows said, "I know that the Government simulacra have functioned to good effect on the Lunar surface. I know what you have: a good modification of those simulacra. I know how you acquired the modification. I want the modification, once again modified, this time to my own concept. Any other arrangement is out of the question. Except for planetary exploration your simulacra have no genuine market value. It's a foolish pipe dream, this Civil War stunt. I won't do business with you on any understanding except as I've outlined. And I want it in writing." He turned to Blunk, and Blunk nodded soberly.

I gaped at Barrows, not knowing whether to believe him; was this serious? Simulacra posing as human colonists, living on the Moon in order to create an illusion of prosperity? Man, woman and child simulacra in little living rooms, eating phony dinners, going to phony bathrooms... it was horrible. It was a way of bailing this man out of the troubles he had run into; did we want to hang our fortunes and lives onto that?

Maury sat puffing away miserably on his cigar; he was no doubt thinking along the lines I was.

And yet I could see Barrows's position. He had to persuade people in the mass that emigration to the Moon was desirable; his economic holdings hinged on it. And perhaps the end justified the means. The human race had to conquer its fear, its squeamishness, and enter an alien environment for the first time in its history. This might help entice it; there was comfort in solidarity. Heat and air domes protecting the great tracts would be built... living would not be physically bad--it was only the psychological reality which was terrible, the aura of the Lunar environment. Nothing living, nothing growing... changeless forever. A brightly-lit house next door, with a family seated at their breakfast table, chatting and enjoying themselves: Barrows could provide them, as he would provide air, heat, houses and water.

I had to hand it to the man. From my standpoint it was fine except for one single joker. Obviously, every effort would be made to keep the secret. But if the efforts were a failure, if news got out, probably Barrows would be financially ruined, possibly even prosecuted and sent to jail. And we would go with him.

How much else in Barrows' empire had been concocted in this manner? Appearance built up over the fake...

I managed to switch the topic to the problems involved in a trip back to Seattle that night; I persuaded Barrows to phone a nearby motel for rooms. He and his party would stay until tomorrow and then return.

The interlude gave me a chance to do some phoning of my own. Off by myself where no one could overhear me I telephoned my dad at Boise.

"He's dragging us into something too deep for us," I told my dad. "We're out of our depth and none of us know what to do. We just can't handle this man."

Naturally my dad had already gone to bed. He sounded befuddled. "This Barrows, he is here flow?"

"Yes. And he's got a brilliant mind. He even debated with the Lirrcoln and thinks he won. Maybe he did win; he quoted Spinoza, about animals being clever machines instead of alive. Not Barrows--Lincoln. Did Spinoza really say that?"

"Regretfully I must confess it."

"When can you get down here?"

"Not tonight," my father said.

"Tomorrow, then. They're staying over. We'll knock off and resume tomorrow. We need your gentle humanism so be damn sure to show up."

I hung up and returned to the group. The five of them-- six, if you counted the simulacrum--were together in the main office, chatting.

"We're going down the street for a drink before we turn in," Barrows said to me. "You'll join us, of course." He nodded toward the simulacrum. "I'd like it to come along, too."

I groaned to myself. But aloud I agreed.

Presently we were seated in a bar and the bartender was fixing our drinks.

The Lincoln had remained silent during the ordering, but Barrows had ordered a Tom Collins for it. Now Barrows handed it the glass.

"Cheers," Dave Blunk said to the simulacrum, raising his whiskey sour.

"Although I am not a temperance man," the simulacrum said in its odd, high-pitched voice, "I seldom drink." It examined its drink dubiously, then sipped it.

"You fellows would have been on firmer ground," Barrows said, "if you'd worked out the logic of your position a little further. But it's too late to accomplish that now. I say whatever this full-sized doll of yours is worth as a salable idea, the idea of utilizing it in space exploration is worth at least as much--maybe more. So the two cancel each other out. Wouldn't you agree?" He glanced inquiringly around.

"The idea of space exploration," I said, "was the Federal Government's."

"My modification of that idea, then," Barrows said. "My point is that it's an even trade."

"I don't see what you mean, Mr. Barrows," Pris said. "_What_ is?"

"Your idea, the simulacrum that looks so much like a human being that you can't tell it from one... and ours, of putting it on Luna in a modern two-bedroom California ranch-style house and calling it the Edwards family."

"That was Louis' idea!" Maury exclaimed desperately. "About the Edwards family!" He gazed wildly around at me. "Wasn't it, Louis?"

"Yes," I said. At least, I thought it was. We have to get out of here, I told myself. We're being backed farther and farther against the wall.

To itself the Lincoln sipped its Tom Collins.

"How do you like that drink?" Barrows asked it. "Flavorful. But it blurs the senses." It continued to sip, however.

That's all we need, I thought. Blurred senses!

At that point we managed to call a halt for the night.

"Nice meeting you, Mr. Barrows," I said, holding out my hand to him.

"Likewise." He shook hands with me, then with Maury and Pris. The Lincoln stood a little apart, watching in its sad way... Barrows did not offer to shake hands with it, nor did he say goodbye to it.

Shortly, the four in our group were walking back up the dark sidewalk to MASA ASSOCIATES, taking in deep breaths of clear cold night air. The air smelled good and it cleansed our minds.

As soon as we were back in our office, without the Barrows crew anywhere around, we got out the Old Crow. Using Dixie cups, we poured ourselves bourbon and water.

"We're in trouble," Maury said.

The rest of us nodded.

"What do you say?" Maury asked the simulacrum. "What's your opinion about him?"

The Lincoln said, "He is like the crab, which makes progress forward by crawling sideways."

"Meaning?" Pris said.

"I know what he means," Maury said. "The man has forced us down so far we don't know what we're doing. We're babes. Babes! And you and I--" He gestured at me. "We call ourselves salesmen. Why, we've been taken to the cleaners; if we hadn't adjourned he'd have the place, lock, stock and barrel right now."

"My dad," I began.

"Your dad!" Maury said bitterly. "He's stupider than we are. I wish we never had gotten mixed up with this Barrows. Now we'll never get rid of him--not until he gets what he wants."