Philip Dick - The Science Fiction Anthology

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This collection brings together some of the most incredible sci-fi stories ever told in one convenient, high-quality, Kindle volume!
This book now contains several HTML tables of contents that will make reading a real pleasure!
The Sentimentalists, by Murray Leinster
The Girls from Earth, by Frank Robinson
The Death Traps of FX-31, by Sewell Wright
Song in a minor key, by C.L. Moore
Sentry of the Sky, by Evelyn E. Smith
Meeting of the Minds, by Robert Sheckley
Junior, by Robert Abernathy
Death Wish, by Ned Lang
Dead World, by Jack Douglas
Cost of Living, by Robert Sheckley
Aloys, by R.A. Lafferty
With These Hands, by C.M. Kornbluth
What is POSAT?, by Phyllis Sterling-Smith
A Little Journey, by Ray Bradbury
Hunt the Hunter, by Kris Neville
Citizen Jell, by Michael Shaara
Operation Distress, by Lester Del Rey
Syndrome Johnny, by Charles Dye
Psychotennis, anyone?, by Lloyd Williams
Prime Difference, by Alan Nourse
Doorstep, by Keith Laumer
The Drug, by C.C. MacApp
An Elephant For the Prinkip, by L.J. Stecher
License to Steal, by Louis Newman
The Last Letter, by Fritz Lieber
The Stuff, by Henry Slesar
The Celestial Hammerlock, by Donald Colvin
Always A Qurono, by Jim Harmon
Jamieson, by Bill Doede
A Fall of Glass, by Stanley Lee
Shatter the Wall, by Sydney Van Scyoc
Transfer Point, by Anthony Boucher
Thy Name Is Woman, by Kenneth O'Hara
Twelve Times Zero, by Howard Browne
All Day Wednesday, by Richard Olin
Blind Spot, by Bascom Jones
Double Take, by Richard Wilson
Field Trip, by Gene Hunter
Larson's Luck, by Gerald Vance
Navy Day, by Harry Harrison
One Martian Afternoon, by Tom Leahy
Planet of Dreams, by James McKimmey
Prelude To Space, by Robert Haseltine
Pythias, by Frederik Pohl
Show Business, by Boyd Ellanby
Slaves of Mercury, by Nat Schachner
Sound of Terror, by Don Berry
The Big Tomorrow, by Paul Lohrman
The Four-Faced Visitors of…Ezekiel, by Arthur Orton
The Happy Man, by Gerald Page
The Last Supper, by T.D. Hamm
The One and the Many, by Milton Lesser
The Other Likeness, by James Schmitz
The Outbreak of Peace, by H.B. Fyfe
The Skull, by Philip K. Dick
The Smiler, by Albert Hernhunter
The Unthinking Destroyer, by Roger Phillips
Two Timer, by Frederic Brown
Vital Ingredient, by Charles De Vet
Weak on Square Roots, by Russell Burton
With a Vengeance, by J.B. Woodley
Zero Hour, by Alexander Blade
The Great Nebraska Sea, by Allan Danzig
The Valor of Cappen Varra, by Poul Anderson
A Bad Day for Vermin, by Keith Laumer
Hall of Mirrors, by Frederic Brown
Common Denominator, by John MacDonald
Doctor, by Murray Leinster
The Nothing Equation, by Tom Godwin
The Last Evolution, by John Campbell
A Hitch in Space, by Fritz Leiber
On the Fourth Planet, by J.F. Bone
Flight From Tomorrow, by H. Beam Piper
Card Trick, by Walter Bupp
The K-Factor, by Harry Harrison
The Lani People, by J. F. Bone
Advanced Chemistry, by Jack Huekels
Sodom and Gomorrah, Texas, by R. A. Lafferty
Keep Out, by Frederic Brown
All Cats are Gray, by Andre Norton
A Problem in Communication, by Miles J. Breuer
The Terrible Tentacles of L-472, by Sewell Peaslee Wright
Marooned Under the Sea, by Paul Ernst
The Murder Machine, by Hugh B. Cave
The Attack from Space, by Captain S. P. Meek
The Knights of Arthur, by Frederik Pohl
And All the Earth a Grave, by C.C. MacApp
Citadel, by Algis Budrys
Micro-Man, by Weaver Wright
....

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“She’s a great-grandmother,” Clarey said. “She would be too old for you. And I assure you it’s difficult to part her from her money. I’ve tried.”

Everybody laughed. Irik was furious. “I understand that your aunt lives very close to Earth Headquarters!”

Somebody must have followed him on one or more of his trips to Barshwat, Clarey realized. “If the Earthmen chose to establish themselves in the best residential section of Barshwat, then probably my aunt does live near them. She’s not the type to leave a comfortable dome simply because foreigners move into the neighborhood.”

“Perhaps she has more than neighborhood in common with Earthmen.”

The room was suddenly very quiet again.

“She does sometimes go to sleep at concerts,” Clarey conceded.

Irik opened his mouth. Malesor held up a hand. “Before you say anything more against the Earthmen, Irik,” he advised, “you oughta find out more about them. Their cars move faster and higher than ours. Maybe their catapults do, too.”

No one looked at Clarey. Malesor had averted a showdown, he knew, but this was the beginning of the end. And he had a suspicion who was responsible—innocently perhaps, perhaps not. Love does not always imply trust. And when he told Embelsira what had happened in the Furbush, she, too, couldn’t meet his eye. “That Irik,” she said, “I never liked him.”

“I wonder how he knows so much about me.”

“Rini writes him very often,” she babbled. “He must have told him you were responsible for the new music. That would make him hate you. Rini likes to irritate Irik, because he’s always been jealous of him. But the whole thing’s silly. How could you possibly make over the world’s music, even if you were—” Her voice ran down.

“An Earthman?” he finished coldly. “I suppose you went around telling everybody your suspicions, and Rini wrote that to Irik, too?”

“I didn’t tell anybody!” she protested indignantly. “Not a soul!” She met his eye. “Except Mother, of course.”

“Your mother! You might as well have published it in the District Bulletin!”

“You have no right to speak of Mother like that, even if it’s true!” Embelsira began to sob. “I had to tell her, Balt—she kept asking why there weren’t any young ones.”

“You could’ve told her to mind her own business!” he snapped, before he could catch himself. Five years, and he still made slips. It was her business. On Damorlan, it was a woman’s duty not only to have children but to see that her children had children and their children had children.

He made himself look grave and self-reproachful. “I have a confession to make, Belsir. I should have told you when I married you. I can’t have children.”

“I never heard of such a thing! Everybody has children—unless they’re not married, of course,” she added primly.

“It’s an affliction sent by the gods.”

“The gods would never do anything like that!” she declared confidently.

How primitive she is, he thought, and, then, angrily, how provincial I am! He had never stopped to think about it, but he knew of no married couple who had not at least one offspring; he and Embelsira were the only ones. It hadn’t occurred to the X-T specialists that a species whose biological assets were roughly the same might have different handicaps. Apparently there was no such thing as sterility on Damorlan.

“Are you really an Earthman, then, Balt?” she asked timidly.

She had spread the news around, ruined him, ruined the work Earth had been doing, perhaps ruined even more than that—and she hadn’t even been sure to begin with. But it was too late for recriminations. He had to salvage what little he could—time, maybe; that was all.

“Are you going to tell?” he asked.

She hesitated. “Do you swear you don’t mean my people any harm?”

“I swear,” he said.

“Then I swear not to tell,” she said.

He kissed her. After all, he thought, it isn’t a lie. I don’t mean her people any harm. Besides, sooner or later, her mother will get it out of her, so she won’t be keeping her part of the bargain.

The next time he went to Barshwat he knew he would be followed. He tried to shake the follower or followers off, but he couldn’t be sure he’d succeeded.

He found the colonel looking out of the window with an expression of quiet melancholy. If there had been any Earthwomen on Damorlan, Clarey would have thought he’d been crossed in love.

“Things are taking a bad turn, Clarey,” Blynn said. “There have been certain manifestations of hostility from the natives. Get any hint of it?”

“No,” Clarey said, taking his usual chair, “not a whisper.”

The colonel sat down heavily. “Katund’s too out of the way. We should’ve moved you to a city once you’d got the feel of things. But you do go to Zrig occasionally. Haven’t you heard anything there?”

“Only that an Earthman bought out a cloth merchant’s entire stock at one blow.”

Blynn grinned weakly. “Maybe it was rather an ostentatious thing to do, but the fabric’s beautiful stuff.”

He rubbed his nose reflectively. “Fact is, I’ve been hearing disturbing rumors. They say some fellow named Kuhak’s invented a ground car that can run without tracks.”

Clarey almost said “Guhak,” but caught himself in time. “Nonsense,” he scoffed. “The more I know of them, the more surprised I am they ever got as far as inventing the chains.”

“But they did, no getting around that. This is what Earth’s afraid of, you know,” he reminded Clarey—unnecessarily. “This is why you were sent here. And, if the rumor’s true, it looks as if you weren’t needed at all. I got the bad news by myself.”

“But why should it be that upsetting?” Clarey tried to laugh. “You look as if it were the end of the world.”

The colonel gave him a long, level look. “I consider that remark in the worst of taste.”

Clarey stopped laughing.

“Remember,” the colonel reminded Clarey, again unnecessarily, “this is the way we ourselves got started.”

“But the Damorlanti don’t have to move in the same direction. They may look human and even act human, but they don’t think human.”

The colonel clasped his hands behind his head and sighed. “There have been articles against us in the paper, and whenever we go out in the street people—natives, I mean—make nasty remarks and sometimes even faces at us. And what have we done to them? Carefully minded our own business, avoided all cultural contacts except for trade purposes, paid them much more than the going price for their goods, and gave them one or two tips on health and sanitation. As a result, they’re beginning to hate us.”

“But if you send a report, it’ll bring the staff ship in ahead of time. Maybe the whole thing’ll blow over. This way, you’re not giving it a chance to.”

The colonel chewed his lip. “Well,” he finally said, “I might as well wait and see if the rumor’s verified before I report it.”

Clarey went back to Katund. The months went by. The friendly atmosphere in the Furbush had vanished, and not as many people stopped and chatted when they came to the library. But there wasn’t any actual incident until the evening Clarey was walking home after late night at the library and a stone struck him between the shoulder-blades. “Dirty Earthman!” a voice called, and several pairs of feet scuttled off.

He didn’t mention the incident to Embelsira, not wanting to worry her, but the next morning he went to the Village Dome and informed Malesor. “Very bad,” the headman muttered. “ Very bad. Whoever did it will be punished.”

“You won’t be able to catch them,” Clarey said, “and there’d be no point in punishment, anyway. Look at it like this, Mal. Suppose I had been an Earthman, don’t you see how dangerous this would be, not for me but for you? Can’t you imagine the inevitable results?”

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