Philip Dick - Solar Lottery

Benteley pulled her to a standing position. "Take it easy."

"I forgot about the low grav." Laughing and excited, she pulled away from him and aimed herself for a deeper section of the webs.. "Come on, it's fun! I never realized, before."

"I'll watch," Benteley said gloomily.

The woman's lithe body disappeared for a time. The web vibrated and bounced; eventually she emerged to the surface and lay stretched languidly out, the artificial sun gleaming from her perspiring back and shoulders. Closing her eyes, she yawned gratefully.

"It's good to rest," she murmured drowsily.

"This is the place for it," Benteley paraphrased Verrick. "If you have nothing else on your mind."

There was no answer. Rita was asleep.

Benteley stood with his hands in his pockets, surrounded by a blur of joyful color and motion. Laughing people romped by him; ceaseless games were started and restarted. In a corner Leon Cartwright was talking with a barrel-chested grim-faced man. Harry Tate, president of the Inter-Plan Visual Industries Corporation, was congratulating Cartwright on his successful bout with his first assassin. Benteley gazed at the two of them until they separated. Finally he turned away from the webs—and found himself facing Eleanor Stevens.

"Who is she?" Eleanor asked in a bright, clipped voice.

"Cartwright's niece."

"Have you known her very long?"

"I just met her."

"She's pretty. She's older than I, isn't she?" Eleanor's small face was frigid as metal; she smiled up at him like a merry tin doll. "She must be thirty, at least."

"Not quite," Benteley said.

Eleanor shrugged. "It doesn't matter." She started away suddenly; after a moment Benteley warily followed. "Want a drink?" she said over her shoulder. "It's so damn hot in here. All the yelling gives me a headache."

"No thanks," Benteley said, as Eleanor hastily scooped a martini from a wall-tray. "I want to stay sober."

Eleanor strolled along, turning the tall glass this way and that between her thin fingers. "They're about to start. They're going to let that stupid old goat decide."

"I know," Benteley said listlessly.

"He hardly knows what's going on. Verrick pulled the wool over his eyes at the Convention; hell do it again. Has there been any news about Moore?"

"Ipvic has their screen set up here, for Cartwright's use. Verrick doesn't care; he didn't interfere."

"What does it show?"

"I don't know. I haven't bothered to look." Benteley came to a halt. Through a half-open door he had caught a glimpse of a table and chairs, ashtrays, recording instruments. "Is that-"

"That's the room they set up." Suddenly Eleanor gave a cry of terror. _"Ted, please get me out of here!"_

Reese Verrick had moved past the door of the room.

"He knows," Eleanor said icily, as she pushed aimlessly among the laughing people. "I came to warn you—remember? Ted, he knows."

"Too bad," Benteley said vaguely.

"Don't you care?"

"I'm sorry," Benteley said. "There's nothing I can do to Reese Verrick. If there was, I suppose I'd do it. Maybe not."

"You can kill him!" Her voice was shrill with hysteria. "You have a gun. You can kill him before he kills both of us!"

"No," Benteley said. "I'm not going to kill Reese Verrick. That's out. I'll wait and see what happens. In any case, I'm finished with that."

"And... with me?"

"You knew about the bomb."

Eleanor shuddered. "What could I do?" She hurried after him, frantic with apprehension, "Ted, I couldn't stop it, could I?"

"You knew that night when we were together. When you talked me into it."

"Yes!" Eleanor slid defiantly in front of him, blocking his way. "That's right." Her green eyes glittered wildly. "I knew. But I meant everything I said to you. I meant it all, Ted."

"Christ," Benteley muttered. He turned away, disgusted.

"Listen to me." She caught imploringly at his arm. "Reese knew, too. Everybody knew. It couldn't be helped—sornebody had to be in it, didn't they? Answer me!" She stumbled after him. "Answer me!" she screamed.

Benteley stepped back, as a grumbling white-bearded little old man pushed angrily past him toward the antechamber. He disappeared inside the room and dropped his heavy book on the table with a thump. He blew bis nose, moved critically around examining the chairs, and finally took a seat at the head of the table. Reese Verrick, standing glumly at the windows, exchanged a few words with him. A moment later Leon Cartwright followed after Judge Waring.

Benteley's heart resumed beating, slowly and reluctantly. The session was ready to begin.

THERE were five people in the room.

Judge Waring sat at one end of the table, surrounded by his law books and tapes. Leon Cartwright faced the massive, ponderous figure of Reese Verrick, separated by two heaped ashtrays and an ugly pitcher of ice water. Benteley and Major Shaeffer sat across from each other at the low end of the table. The final chair was empty; Oster, the ipvic technicians, the Directorate officials, the Hill brass, had been barred. They were in the game room and the gym and basking around the pool. Through the heavy wood door of the ante-chamber filtered the faint vibrations of men and women at play.

"No smoking," Judge Waring muttered. He glared suspiciously from Verrick to Cartwright and back to Verrick. "Is the recording business going?"

"Yes," Shaeffer said.

The recording robot crept agilely along the table and took up a position in front of Reese Verrick. "Thanks," Verrick said, as he collected his papers and prepared to begin.

"Is this the fellow?" Waring asked, indicating Benteley.

"He's the one I came for," Verrick said, with a brief glance at Benteley. "But he's not the only one. They're all breaking their oaths, turning disloyal and betraying me." His voice trailed off vaguely. "Certainly not like the old days." He roused himself and quietly delivered his statement. "Benteley was dropped by Oiseau-Lyre. He was a derelict classified without a position. He came to me at Batavia looking for an 8-8 position; that's his class. Things were bad for me, at that time. I didn't know what lay ahead; I was thinking I might have to lay off some of my own staff. Anyhow, I took him on, in spite of my own uncertainty. I took him into my household, gave him an apartment at Farben."

Shaeffer shot a quick glance at Cartwright; he was ahead of Verrick's spoken words.

"Everything was in disorder, but I gave Benteley what he wanted. I put him on my biochemist research staff. I gave him a woman to sleep with, fed him, and took care of him. I brought him into my biggest project." Verrick raised his voice a trifle. "He was given a responsible position in the project, at his own insistence. He stated he wanted to get in on policy-level. I trusted him and gave him what he asked for. At the crucial moment he betrayed me. He killed his immediate superior, dropped his work, and fled. He was too cowardly to go on, so he broke his oath. The critical project collapsed because of him. He came here aboard a Directorate ship and tried to swear on to the Quizmaster."

Verrick was silent. He had finished.

Benteley heard the words with a kind of dull growing surprise. Was that what had happened? Waring was looking at him curiously, waiting for him to speak. Benteley shrugged; he had nothing to say. It was out of his hands entirely.

Cartwright spoke up. "What was Benteley's job in this project?"

Verrick hesitated. "He was doing substantially the same work as the other class 8-8 people."

"Was there any difference?"

Verrick was silent a moment. "Not that I can recall."

"That's a lie," Shaeffer said to Judge Waring. "He knows of a difference."

Verrick nodded reluctantly. "There was one difference," he admitted. "Benteley asked for and got the initial position. He would have taken the project to its final stage. He was trusted completely."