Philip Dick - CANTATA-141

'Yes,' Turpin agreed. 'We put a fortune into those language translating machines, decades ago, and never got anything back. Woodbine, where do you think we are ?

'You figure it out, Turpin,' Woodbine said with a spasmodic grimace. 'After all, you people built the 'scuttler. In fact, you invented it. I don't work by a priori theory; I'm a data type. I have to gather a good deal of information before I can figure out what's going on.' He gestured. 'Like those people who followed us over here.' Behind them the media reporters had appeared, still hard at work at their job of scrutinizing everything in sight. They did not appear very awed by what they had found so far.

'I don't care about the bibs,' Turpin said candidly. He saw no need to obscure his personal convictions. 'And I certainly don't care about what happens to that politician,, whatever his name is. Briskett or Briskman - you know, the one who made the speech. That's not my problem; I've got other things to worry about. For instance ...' He broke off, because a communications systems engineer was coming toward them, temporarily leaving the gear which monitored the satellite.

'Maybe this man can tell us something,' Turpin said. 'But I'll say one thing more: when I look around here all I see is grass and trees, so if it's inhabited, its tenants certainly don't have full control of the environment. That might leave room for limited colonization.'

The com-sys engineer said respectfully, 'Mr. Turpin, you don't know me but I'm Bascolm

Howard; I work for you and have been for years. It's a great honor for me to give you the news that the QB satellite has picked up sequences and arrangements of lights on the dark side of this body. There's absolutely no doubt about it; they're assemblages of habitation. In other words, towns.'

'Well, that's that,' Stanley said.

'Not at all,' Woodbine said sharply. To Howard he said, 'Where are these conglomerations of lights ? Where they're supposed to be ?'

Frowning, Howard said, 'I don't quite...'

'At London ?' Woodbine said. 'Paris ? Berlin ? Warsaw ? Moscow ? All the big centers ?'

'Some are in the right places,' Howard said. 'But some aren't. For instance, we're picking up no lights from the British Isles, and there should be colossal numbers, there. And, oddly, the image transmitted from above Africa shows many lights. Many more than there ought to be. But overall there are distinctly fewer lights than we're accustomed to; we noticed it right away. Perhaps only one third or one fourth as many as anticipated.'

'As anticipated where ?' Woodbine said. 'Back home ? But we're not back home, are we ? Or don't you believe that ? What is your operating theory ? Just where do you imagine you are ?'

Flushing, Howard said, 'It's not my job to figure out where I am; I was told to come here and set up monitoring systems for a QB satellite, and that’s what I've done. We've had sufficient rotations already to assure us that we're on Terra; we've seen all the normal land-mass outlines, all the familiar continents and islands. Personally, I'm content simply to accept the obvious fact that this is our own world, although somehow altered; as, for example, the reformation of lightclusters.

And, in addition, we've not been able to pick up transmissions from any satellite except the QB launched earlier today. The air is dead.'

'On what frequencies ?' Woodbine said.

'On every frequency we've tried. Starting with the thirty-meter band and working on up.'

'Nothing ?' Woodbine persisted. 'Nothing at all ? That's impossible. Unless we're back before the days of radio.' He glanced at Stanley and Turpin. 'Back before 1900. But even so the U.K. should be lit up; it's one of the most densely populated areas in the world and was such back in the

1900s ... back for centuries. I don't understand.'

'Cloud layers ?' Stanley asked Howard. 'Masking the surface ?'

'Possibly,' Howard said. 'But that wouldn't explain the concentration of lights on the African

Continent. Nothing explains that.'

'We must have gone ahead into the future,' Stanley said.

"Then why no radio transmissions on any frequency ?' Woodbine said.

'Maybe they don't need to use the airwaves any more,' Stanley said. 'Maybe they communicate by direct mind-to-mind telepathy or something on that order which we know nothing about.'

'But the sky map,' Woodbine said. 'The stellar charts which your astrophysicists developed distinctly set the time as being identical with ours. We're coeval with this world, whether we like it - or can make up a theory about it - or not. Let's face this fact and not try to weasel around it.

But why waste time theorizing ? All we really have to do is make physical contact with one of these illuminated settlements and we'll know the answers.' He looked extremely impatient. 'Haul some sort of vehicle over here, a jet-hopper perhaps, and let’s get started.'

Stanley said, 'There is a 'hopper over here already. From the beginning, we intended to provide

Mr. Turpin with an aerial view. After all, this entire place, whatever it is, belongs to him.'

Snorting, Woodbine said, "The government may have something to say about that. Especially if

Briskin is elected, which I understand is certain now.'

'We'll fight it in the courts,' Turpin said. 'Typical socialism, bureaucratic governmental interference in the free enterprise system; we've had enough of that. Anyhow, TD and TD alone has the means of getting over here. Or does the fedgov plan to seize the 'scuttler ?'

'Very probably it does,' Woodbine said. 'Or will, after Briskin is in. Even Bill Schwarz may want to; he's not that stupid.'

Bristling, Turpin said, 'Look here, Woodbine, you're working for TD, now. Our opinion is your opinion, whether you like it or not. This place is company property, and no one can come here without TD's permission. And that includes you,' Turpin said, turning toward the news media people. 'So watch your step.'

'Just a moment,' Howard said. "The boys want me back.' He hurried over to his post at the monitoring gear. Presently he returned, a perplexed expression on his face. 'They're picking up no lights from Australia,' he said. 'But a tremendous concentration from Southeast Asia and from the region of the Gobi Desert. The greatest concentrations yet. And all throughout China. But none in Japan.'

'Where are we on the planet's surface ?' Woodbine asked. 'According to the QB ?'

'In North America on the East Coast. Near the Potomac. Where the TD central complex is located - or at least in that vicinity, give or take ten miles.'

'There's no TD here,' Woodbine said. 'And no Washington D.C. So that's that. We haven't gone through a circular doorway and found ourselves led back to a remote area of our own world. This may be Earth, but it's obvious that it isn't our Earth. In that case, whose is it ? And how many

Earths are there ?'

'I thought there was only one,' Turpin said.

'And they used to think that one was flat,' Woodbine reminded him. 'You learn as you go along.

I'd like to get into that jet-hopper right now, if no one objects, and get started surveying. Is that agreeable, Turpin ?'

'Yes, it is,' Turpin said eagerly. 'What do you think we'll find, Frank ? Is this more or less exciting than exploring planets in other star systems ?' He chuckled knowingly. 'I can see you're all steamed up, Frank; this situation has got you hooked.'

Shrugging, Woodbine said, 'Why not ?' He started toward the jet-hopper; Leon Turpin and

Stanley followed. 'I never implied I was jaded; I certainly am not about to fall asleep over this.'

'I know what this is!' Leon Turpin bleated excitedly. 'Listen, this is a parallel Earth, in another universe; do you get it ? Maybe there are hundreds of them, all alike physically but you know, branching off and evolving differently.'