Philip Dick - THE MAN WHO JAPED

The jungle hadn't been a dream. He had stumbled through the dark, deserted Park, falling among the flowers and grass. Getting up and going on until he came to the boarded-up statue.

"How—did you get it home?" she asked. "In the Getabout." The same Getabout, ironically, that he had rented to visit Sue Frost.

"What'll we do?" Janet said monotonously, her face stricken, caved in by the calamity. "Allen, what'll happen?"

"You get dressed and go wash." He began stripping off his pajamas. "And don't speak to anybody. Not one d--n word."

She gave a muffled yip, then turned, caught up her robe and towel, and left. Alone, Allen selected an undamaged suit and dressed. By the time he was tying his necktie he had remembered the night's sequence pretty much intact.

"Then it's going to go on," Janet said, returning.

"Lock the door."

"You're still doing it." Her voice was thick, suppressed. In the bathroom she had swallowed a handful of sedatives and anti-anxiety pills. "It's not over."

"No," he admitted. "Apparently it's not."

"What comes next?"

"Don't ask me. I'm as mystified as you."

"You'll have to get rid of it." She came toward him accusingly. "You can't leave it lying around like part of a—corpse."

"It's safe enough." Presumably no one had seen him. Or, as before, he would already have been arrested.

"And you took that job. You're this way, doing insane things like this, and you accepted that job. You weren't drunk last night, were you?"

"No."

"So that isn't it. What is it, then?"

"Ask Doctor Malparto." He went to the phone and picked up the receiver. "Or maybe I will. If he's there." He dialed.

"Mental Health Resort," the friendly, bureaucratic voice answered.

"Is Doctor Malparto there today? This is a patient of his."

"Doctor Malparto will be in at eight. Shall I have him call you? Who is calling, please?"

"This is Mr.—Coates," Allen said. "Tell Doctor Malparto I'd like an emergency appointment. Tell him I'll be in at eight. I'll wait there until he can see me."

In his office at the Mental Health Resort, Doctor Malparto said with agitation: "What do you suppose happened?"

"Let him in and ask him." Gretchen stood by the window drinking a cup of coffee. "Don't keep him out there in the lounge; he's pacing like an animal. You're both so—"

"I don't have all my testing apparatus. Some of it's loaned to Heely's staff."

"He probably set fire to the Committee building."

"Don't be funny!"

"Maybe he did. Ask him; I'm curious."

"That night you bumped into him at the statue." He eyed his sister hostilely. "Did you know he had japed the statue?"

"I knew somebody had. No, I didn't know—what's the name you give him here?" She snatched up the dossier and leafed through it. "I was unaware that Mr. Coates was the japer. I went because I was interested. Nothing like that ever happened before."

"Boring world, isn't it?" Malparto strode down the corridor to the lounge and opened the door. "Mr. Coates, you may come in now."

Mr. Coates followed him rapidly. His face was strained and set, and he glared straight ahead. "I'm glad you could see me."

"You told the receptionist that it's urgent." Malparto ushered him into his office. "This is my sister, Gretchen. But you've already met."

"Hello," Gretchen said, sipping her coffee. "What have you done this time?"

Malparto saw his patient flinch.

"Sit down," Malparto said, showing him to a chair. Mr. Coates went obediently, and Malparto seated himself facing him. Gretchen remained at the window with her coffee cup. She obviously intended to stay.

"Coffee?" she asked, to Malparto's annoyance. "Black and hot. Real coffee, too. From vacuum tins, an old U.S. Army supply depot. Here." She filled a cup and passed it to Mr. Coates, who accepted it. "Almost the last."

"Very good," Mr. Coates murmured.

"Now," Malparto said, "I don't as a rule hold sessions this early. But in view of your extreme—"

"I stole the statue's head," Mr. Coates interrupted. "Last night, about three a.m."

Extraordinary, Malparto thought.

"I took it home, hid it in the closet. This morning Janet found it. And I called you."

"Do you—" Malparto hesitated, "have any plans for it?"

"None that I'm aware of."

Gretchen said: "I wonder what the market value would be."

"To help you," Malparto said, glancing irritably at his sister, "I must first gather information about your mind; I must learn its potentialities. Therefore I ask you to submit to a series of tests, the purpose of which is to determine your various psychic capacities."

His patient looked dubious. "Is that necessary?"

"The cause of your complex may lie outside the ordinary human range. It's my personal belief that you contain a unique psychological element." He dimmed the office lights. "You're familiar with the ESP deck?"

Mr. Coates made a faint motion.

"I am going to examine five cards," Malparto said. "You will not see their faces, only the backs. As I study them one by one I want you to tell me what each is. Are you ready to start?"

Mr. Coates made an even fainter motion.

"Good." Malparto drew a star card. He concentrated. "Do you receive an impression?"

Mr. Coates said: "Circle."

That was wrong, and Malparto went onto the next. "What is this one?"

"Square."

The telepathy test was a failure, and Malparto indicated so on his check-sheet. "Now," he stated, "we'll try a different test. This will not involve the reading of my mind." He shuffled the deck and laid five cards face-down on the desk. "Study their backs and tell me each one in order."

His patient got one out of the five.

"We'll leave the deck for a moment." Malparto brought out the dice-rolling cage and set it into motion. "Observe these dice. They fall in a random pattern. I want you to concentrate on a particular showing: seven, or five, anything that can come up."

His patient concentrated on the dice for fifteen minutes. At the end of that time Malparto compared the showing with the statistical tables. No significant change could be observed.

"Back to the cards," Malparto said, gathering up the deck. "We'll give you a test for precognition. In this test I'll ask you what card I'm about to select." He laid the deck down and waited.

"Circle," Mr. Coates said listlessly.

Malparto handed his sister the check-sheet, and he kept the precog test going for almost an hour. At the end of that time his patient was surly and exhausted, and the results were inconclusive.

"The cards don't lie," Gretchen quoted, handing back the sheet.

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean go on to the next test."

"Mr. Coates," Malparto said, "do you feel able to continue?"

His patient blearily raised his head. "Is this getting us anywhere?"

"I think it is. It's clear that you don't possess any of the usual extra-sensory talents. It's my hunch that you're a Psi-plus. Your talent is of a less common nature."

"EEP," Gretchen said tartly. "Extra extra-sensory perception."

"The first of this series," Malparto said, ignoring her, "will involve the projection of your will on another human." He unfolded his blackboard and chalk stick. "As I stand here, you concentrate on forcing me to write certain numbers. It should be your will superimposed over mine."

Time passed. Finally, feeling a few vague tendrils of psychic will, Malparto wrote: 3-6-9.

"Wrong," Mr. Coates mumured. "I was thinking 7,842."

"Now," Malparto said, setting out a small gray stone, "I want you to duplicate this inorganic matter. Try to summon a replica immediately tangent to it."

That test was a failure, too. Disappointed, Malparto put the stone away.

"Now levitation. Mr. Coates, I want you to close your eyes and attempt—psychically—to lift yourself from the floor."