Philip Dick - Progeny

“Get in. Get inside.” Ed moved over. “Come on. We have places to go.”

The boy was looking at him again. Suddenly Ed was conscious of his baggy suit, his unshined shoes, his gray stubbled chin. He flushed, yanking out his red pocket-handkerchief and mopping his forehead uneasily. “I just got off the ship, Pete. From Proxima. I haven’t had' time to change. I’m a little dusty. Long trip.”

Peter nodded. “4.3 light years, isn’t it?”

“Takes three weeks. Get in. Don’t you want to get in?”

Peter slid in beside him. Ed slammed the door.

“Let’s go.” The car started Up. “Drive—” Ed peered out the window. “Drive up there. By the hill. Out of town.” He turhed to Pete. “I hate big cities. I can’t get used to them.”

“There are no large cities in the colonies, are there?” Peter murmured. “You’re unused to urban living.”

Ed settled back. His heart had begun to slow down to its normal beat. “No, as a matter of fact it’s the other way around, Pete.” “How do you mean?”

“I went to Prox because I couldn’t stand cities.”

Peter said nothing. The surface car was climbing, going up a steep highway into the hills. The Station, huge and impressive, spread out like a heap of cement bricks directly below them. A few cars moved along the road, but not many. Most transportation was by air, now. Surface cars had begun to disappear.

The road levelled off. They moved along the ridge of the hills. Trees and bushes rose on both sides of them. “It’s nice up here,” Ed said.

“Yes.”

“How—how have you been? I haven’t seen you for a long time. Just once. Just after you were bom.”

“I know. Your visit is listed in the records.”

“You been getting along all right?”

“Yes. Quite well.”

“They treating you all right?” “Of course.”

After awhile Ed leaned forward. “Stop here,” he said to the robot driver.

The car slowed down, pulling over to the side of the road. “Sir, there is nothing—”

“This is fine. Let us out. We’ll walk from here.”

The car stopped. The door slid reluctantly open. Ed stepped quickly out of the car, onto the pavement. Peter got out slowly after him, puzzled. “Where are we?”

“No place.” Ed slammed the door. “Go on back to town,” he said to the driver. “We won’t need you.”

The car drove off. Ed walked to the side of the road. Peter came after him. The hill dropped away, falling down to the beginnings of the city below. A vast panorama stretched out, the great metropolis in the late afternoon sun. Ed took a deep breath, throwing his arms out. He took off his coat and tossed it over his shoulder.

“Come on.” He started down the hillside. “Here we go.”

“Where?”

“For a walk. Let’s get off this damn road.”

They climbed down the side of the hill, walking carefully, holding onto the grass and roots jutting out from the soil. Finally they came to a level place by a big sycamore tree. Ed threw himself down on the ground, grunting and wiping sweat from his neck.

“Here. Let’s sit here.”

Peter sat down carefully, a little way off. Ed’s blue shirt was stained with sweat. He unfastened his tie and loosened his collar. Presently he searched through his coat pockets. He brought out his pipe and tobacco.

Peter watched him fill the pipe and light it with a big sulphur match. “What’s that?” he murmured.

“This? My pipe.” Ed grinned, sucking at the pipe. “Haven’t you ever seen a pipe?”

“No.”

“This is a good pipe. I got this when I first went out to Proxima. That was a long time ago, Pete. It was twenty-five years ago. I was just nineteen, then. Only about twice as old as you.”

He put his tobacco away and leaned back, his heavy face serious, preoccupied.

“Just nineteen. I went out there as a plumber. Repair and sales, when I could make a sale. Terran Plumbing. One of those big ads you used to see. Unlimited opportunities. Virgin lands. Make a million. Gold in the streets.” Ed laughed. “How did you make out?”

“Not bad. Not bad at all. I own my own line, now, you know. I service the whole Proxima system. We do repairing, maintenance, building. Construction. I’ve got six hundred people working for me. It took a long time. It didn’t come easy.”

“No.”

“Hungry?”

Peter turned. “What?”

“Are you hungry?” Ed pulled a brown paper parcel from his coat and unwrapped it. “I still have a couple sandwiches from the trip. When I come in from Prox I bring some food along with me. I don’t like to buy in the diner. They skin you.” He held out the parcel. “Want one?”

“No thank you.”

Ed took a sandwich and began to eat. He ate nervously, glancing at his son. Peter sat silently, a short distance off, staring ahead without expression. His smooth handsome face was blank.

“Everything all right?” Ed said. “Yes.”

“You’re not cold, are you?” “No.”

“You don’t want to catch cold.” A squirrel crossed in front of them, hurrying toward the sycamore tree. Ed threw it a piece of his sandwich. The squirrel ran off a way, then came back slowly. It scolded at them, standing up on its hind feet, its great gray tail flowing out behind it.

Ed laughed. “Look at him. Ever see a squirrel before?”

“I don’t think so.”

The squirrel ran off with the piece of sandwich. It disappeared among the brush and bushes.

“Squirrels don’t exist out around Prox,” Ed said.

“No.”

“It’s good to come back to Terra once in awhile. See some of the old things. They’re going, though.” “Going?”

“Away. Destroyed. Terra is always changing.” Ed waved around at the hillside. “This will be gone, someday. They’ll cut down the trees. Then they’ll level it. Someday they’ll carve the whole range up and carry it off. Use it for fill, someplace along the coast.”

“That’s beyond our scope,” Peter said.

“What?”

“I don’t receive that type ofmaterial. I think Doctor Bish told you. I’m working with bio-chemistry.”

“I know,” Ed murmured. “Say, how the hell did you ever get mixed up with that stuff? Bio-chemistry?” “The tests showed that my abilities lie along those lines.”

“You enjoy what you’re doing?” “What a strange thing to ask. Of course I enjoy what I’m doing. It’s the work I’m fitted for.”

“It seems funny as hell to me, starting a nine year old kid off on something like that.”

“Why?”

“My God, Pete. When I was nine I was bumming around town. In school sometimes, outside mostly, wandering here and there. Playing. Reading. Sneaking into the rocket launching yards all the time.” He considered. “Doing all sorts of things. When I was sixteen I hopped over to Mars. I stayed there awhile. Worked as a hasher. I went on to Ganymede. Ganymede was all sewed up tight. Nothing doing there. From Ganymede I went out to Prox. Got a work-away all the way out. Big freighter.”

“You stayed at Proxima?”

“I sure did. I found what I wanted. Nice place, out there. Now we’re starting on to Sirius, you know.” Ed’s chest swelled. “I’ve got an outlet in the Sirius system. Little retail and service place.”

“Sirius is 8.8 light years from Sol.”

“It’s a long way. Seven weeks, from here. Rough grind. Meteor swarms. Keeps things hot all the way out.”

“I can imagine.”

“You know what I thought I might do?” Ed turned toward his

son, his face alive with hope and enthusiasm. “I’ve been thinking it over. I thought maybe I’d go out there. To Sirius. It’s a fine little place we have. I drew up the plans myself. Special design to fit with the characteristics of the system.” Peter nodded.