Philip Dick - The Philip K Dick Reader

"Gannet and West took him back to the main building. He was too worn out to continue. We almost had it. Gannet's ready to burst a blood vessel, but we'll have to wait."

Patterson grabbed Evelyn Cutter. "I want you to set off a general emer­gency alarm. Have the building surrounded. And hurry!"

Evelyn gaped at him. "But --"

Patterson ignored her and raced out of the therapy house, toward the main hospital building. Ahead of him were three slowly moving figures. Lieutenant West and Gannet walked on each side of the old man, supporting him as he crept forward.

"Get away!" Patterson shouted at them.

Gannet turned. "What's going on?"

"Get him away!" Patterson dived for the old man -- but it was too late.

The burst of energy seared past him; an ignited circle of blinding white flame lapped everywhere. The hunched-over figure of the old man wavered, then charred. The aluminum cane fused and ran down in a molten mass.

What had been the old man began to smoke. The body cracked open and shriveled. Then very slowly, the dried, dehydrated fragment of ash crumpled in a weightless heap. Gradually the circle of energy faded out.

Gannet kicked aimlessly at it, his heavy face numb with shock and disbe­lief. "He's dead. And we didn't get it."

Lieutenant West stared at the still-smoking ash. His lips twisted into words. "We'll never find out. We can't change it. We can't win." Suddenly his fingers grabbed at his coat. He tore the insignia from it and hurled the square of cloth savagely away. "I'll be damned if I'm going to give up my life so you can corner the system. I'm not getting into that death trap. Count me out!"

The wail of the general emergency alarm dinned from the hospital build­ing. Scampering figures raced toward Gannet, soldiers and hospital guards scurrying in confusion. Patterson paid no attention to them; his eyes were on the window directly above.

Someone was standing there. A man, his hands deftly at work removing an object that flashed in the afternoon sun. The man was V-Stephens. He got the object of metal and plastic loose and disappeared with it, away from the win­dow.

Evelyn hurried up beside Patterson. "What --" She saw the remains and screamed. "Oh, God. Who did it? Who?"

"V-Stephens."

"LeMarr must have let him out. I knew it would happen." Tears filled her eyes and her voice rose in shrill hysteria. "I told you he'd do it! I warned you!"

Gannet appealed childishly to Patterson. "What are we going to do? He's been murdered." Rage suddenly swept away the big man's fear. "I'll kill every webfoot on the planet. I'll burn down their homes and string them up. I'll --" He broke off raggedly. "But it's too late, isn't it? There's nothing we can do. We've lost. We're beaten, and the war hasn't even begun."

"That's right," Patterson said. "It's too late. Your chance is gone."

"If we could have got him to talk --" Gannet snarled helplessly.

"You couldn't. It wasn't possible."

Gannet blinked. "Why not?" Some of his innate animal cunning filtered back. "Why do you say that?"

Around Patterson's neck his h-loop buzzed loudly. "Doctor Patterson," the monitor's voice came, "there is a rush call for you from Census."

"Put it through," Patterson said.

The voice of the Census clerk came tinnily in his ears. "Doctor Patterson, I have the information you requested."

"What is it?" Patterson demanded. But he already knew the answer.

"We have cross-checked our results to be certain. There is no person such as you described. There is no individual at this time or in our past records named David L. Unger with the identifying characteristics you outlined. The brain, teeth, and fingerprints do not refer to anything extant in our files. Do you wish us to --"

"No," Patterson said. "That answers my question. Let it go." He cut off the h-loop switch.

Gannet was listening dully. "This is completely over my head, Patterson. Explain it to me."

Patterson ignored him. He squatted down and poked at the ash that had been David Unger. After a moment he snapped the h-loop on again. "I want this taken upstairs to the analytical labs," he ordered quietly. "Get a team out here at once." He got slowly to his feet and added even more softly, "Then I'm going to find V-Stephens -- if I can."

"He's undoubtedly on his way to Venus by now," Evelyn Cutter said bit­terly. "Well, that's that. There's nothing we can do about it."

"We're going to have war," Gannet admitted. He came slowly back to reality. With a violent effort he focused on the people around him. He smoothed down his mane of white hair and adjusted his coat. A semblance of dignity was restored to his once-impressive frame. "We might as well meet it like men. There's no use trying to escape it."

Patterson moved aside as a group of hospital robots approached the charred remains and began gingerly to collect them in a single heap. "Make a complete analysis," he said to the technician in charge of the work-detail. "Break down the basic cell-units, especially the neurological apparatus. Report what you find to me as soon as you possibly can."

It took just about an hour.

"Look for yourself," the lab technician said. "Here, take hold of some of the material. It doesn't even feel right."

Patterson accepted a sample of dry, brittle organic matter. It might have been the smoked skin of some sea creature. It broke apart easily in his hands; as he put it down among the test equipment it crumbled into powdery frag­ments. "I see," he said slowly.

"It's good, considering. But it's weak. Probably it wouldn't have stood up another couple of days. It was deteriorating rapidly; sun, air, everything was breaking it down. There was no innate repair-system involved. Our cells are constantly reprocessed, cleaned and maintained. This thing was set up and then pushed into motion. Obviously, somebody's a long way ahead of us in biosynthetics. This is a masterpiece."

"Yes, it's a good job," Patterson admitted. He took another sample of what had been the body of David Unger and thoughtfully broke it into small dry pieces. "It fooled us completely."

"You knew, didn't you?"

"Not at first."

"As you can see we're reconstructing the whole system, getting the ash back into one piece. Parts are missing, of course, but we can get the general outlines. I'd like to meet the manufacturers of this thing. This really worked. This was no machine."

Patterson located the charred ash that had been reconstructed into the android's face. Withered, blackened paper-thin flesh. The dead eye gazed out lusterless and blind. Census had been right. There was never a David Unger. Such a person had never lived on Earth or anywhere else. What they had called "David Unger" was a man-made synthetic.

"We were really taken in," Patterson admitted. "How many people know, besides the two of us?"

"Nobody else." The lab technician indicated his squad of work-robots. "I'm the only human on this detail."

"Can you keep it quiet?"

"Sure. You're my boss, you know."

"Thanks," Patterson said. "But if you want, this information would get you another boss any time."

"Gannet?" The lab technician laughed. "I don't think I'd like to work for him."

"He'd pay you pretty well."

"True," said the lab technician. "But one of these days I'd be in the front lines. I like it better here in the hospital."

Patterson started toward the door. "If anybody asks, tell them there wasn't enough left to analyze. Can you dispose of these remains?"

"I'd hate to, but I guess I can." The technician eyed him curiously. "You have any idea who put this thing together? I'd like to shake hands with them."

"I'm interested in only one thing right now," Patterson said obliquely. "V-Stephens has to be found."