Philip Dick - Counter Clock World

But it hath not yet attained tomorrow and hath lost yesterday. And you live no more in this day's life than in that movable and transitory moment.

--Boethius

The TV news announcer said, "On the local scene it seemed as if all Los Angeles turned out tonight to stare at or cheer for the head of the Faith of Udi, his Mightiness Ray Roberts, who touched down at the Los Angeles airport shortly before seven o'clock this evening. On hand to meet him was Mayor Sam Parks of Los Angeles, and, as a special rep of the Governor's Office in Sacramento, Judd Asman." The TV screen showed a great, dense-packed throng of people, many of them howling and waving, others carrying banners with hand-lettered slogans ranging from GO HOME to WELCOME. In general, the people appeared good-natured.

A big event in our meager, paltry lives, Sebastian thought acidly.

"His Mightiness," the announcer continued, "will be whisked by motorcade to Dodger Stadium, where, under the lights, he will deliver a speech to the packed crowd of spectators, mostly his supporters, but not a few of the curious, the just plain interested; this marks the first time in a decade that a major religious leader has visited Los Angeles, and hearkens back to the good old days when Los Angeles was one of the religious capitals of the world." To his companion announcer, the announcer said, "Wouldn't you say, Chic, that the festive, exuberant atmosphere of Dodger Stadium is reminiscent of the days of Festus Crumb and Harold Agee, back in the '80s?"

"Yes I would, Don," Chic said. "With one difference. The crowds which greeted Festus Crumb and to a certain extent Harold Agee had a more militant atmosphere about them; these four million people are here at Dodger Stadium and at the airport for a good time and to see someone famous, someone who delivers a dramatic, notable speech. They've watched him on TV, but somehow this is not the same."

The motorcade had now begun its trip from the airport to Dodger Stadium; all along the way people could be made out.

Idiots, Sebastian thought. Watching that galoomf when the real religious figure is again alive and back with us. Even though the Library has him.

"Of course in seeing Ray Roberts," Chic the announcer said, "one can't help but be reminded of his predecessor, the Anarch Peak."

"Isn't there some talk, Chic, about an imminent return of the Anarch to life?" Don asked. "And a belief current among many that Ray Roberts is here principally to visit with the recently old-born Anarch and perhaps persuade him to return to the Free Negro Municipality?"

"There has been such speculation," Chic said. "And also not a little speculation as to whether it would be in the best interests of Udi--or rather would Ray Roberts consider it in the best interests of Udi--for the Anarch to reappear just at this time. Some think Roberts might try to stall the Anarch's return, if such indeed does occur, as many apparently think." There was temporary silence; the screen still showed the motorcade.

The announcer at the TV station cut back in and said, "Briefly, while we're waiting for Ray Roberts to reach Dodger Stadium, a review of other local news. A Los Angeles police officer, Joseph Tinbane, has been found slain at the Happy Holiday Motel in San Fernando, and the police are speculating that it might be the work of religious fanatics. Other guests at the motel reported seeing a woman in the company of Officer Tinbane at the nearby sogum palace, earlier this evening, but if she exists she has disappeared. More on this, including an interview with the motel owner, during the eleven o'clock news. Floods in the northern hills near--"

Sebastian shut the TV set off. "Christ," he said to the robot, once more Carl Junior. "They've got Lotta and they killed Tinbane." His warning hadn't reached him; it had been futile. Hopeless, he thought as he found a place to sit; he crouched with his head in his hands, staring down at the floor. There's nothing I can do. If they could wipe out a professional like Tinbane they'd have no trouble with me.

"It seems almost impossible," the robot said, "to penetrate the Library. Our efforts to seed a nest of miniaturized robots in Section B dismally failed. We do not know what else to do. If we had someone sympathetic working there--" The robot pondered. "We hoped that Doug Appleford might cooperate; he appeared to be the most reasonable of the librarians. But in that we were disappointed: it was he who expelled our nest." It added, "Turn the TV on again, please; I wish to watch the motorcade."

He gestured. "You turn it on." He did not have the energy to get to his feet again.

The robot turned the TV set back on, and once again Chic and Don held forth.

"... and a good number of whites, too," Don was saying. "So this has turned out to be, as His Mightiness promised, a bi-racial event, although, as we observed shortly ago, Negroes outnumber whites by a ratio of--i'd estimate five to one. What estimate would you give, Chic?"

"I find that about right, Don," Chic said. "Yes, five colored to each--"

Giacometti said, "We must get someone sympathetic into the Library. On its staff." He plucked, scowling, at his lower lip. "Otherwise the Anarch will never emerge again."

"Lotta," Sebastian said. Her, too.

"That is of considerably lesser importance," the robot said. "Although to you subjectively, Mr. Hermes, it undoubtedly looms large." To Giacometti it said, "Can the Rome party be of any use in forging credentials which would admit one of us to the Library? I understand your people are very good at that."

Sardonically, Giacometti said, "Our reputation is undeserved."

"Given time," Carl Junior ruminated, "we could construct a simulacrum robot resembling, for example, Miss Ann Fisher. But that would take weeks. Perhaps, Mr. Giacometti, if we pooi our resources, we can shoot our way into the Library."

"My principal does not operate on that basis," Giacometti said. And that was that. His tone was flat and final.

To the robot, Sebastian said, "Ask Ray Roberts what I can do. To get into the Library."

"At this moment His Mightiness--"

"Ask him!"

"All right." The robot nodded and was silent for several minutes. Sebastian and Giacometti waited. At last the robot spoke up again, its tone now firm. "You are to go to Section B of the Library," it said. "You are to ask to see Mr. Douglas Appleford. Would he know you on sight, Mr. Hermes?"

"No," Sebastian said.

"You are to say," the robot said, "that a Miss Charise McFadden has sent you. Your name will be Lance Arbuthnot and you have written a demented thesis on the psychogenic origins of death by meteor-strike. You are a crank, originally from the F.N.M., but expelled because of your peculiar views. Mr. Appleford is expecting you; Charise McFadden has already sounded him as regards you and your queer thesis. He will not be glad to see you, but in line with his job he must."

Sebastian said, "I don't see that that gets me anywhere."

"It will provide a cover," the robot said, "and a pretext. Your comings and goings, your presence in the Library, will be understandable. It is common for crank inventors to hang around Section B; Appleford is accustomed to their presence. Mr. Giacometti." It turned its attentions toward the advocate of the Rome principal. "Will you and your people cooperate with Udi in preparing Mr. Hermes a survival kit for use within the Library? Our combined resources are required."

After a thoughtful pause Giacometti nodded. "I think we can assist. Providing nothing destructive to human life is involved."

"Mr. Hermes will only be operating defensively," the robot said. "No aggressive program is envisioned. Offensive action on the part of one man against the Library is vainglorious. It could never succeed."