Second Variety and Other Stories (50 page)

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Authors: Philip K. Dick

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BOOK: Second Variety and Other Stories
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"It is her wish to travel to Earth," the robant said patiently. "She is three hundred and fifty years
old and they have ceased giving her sustenation treatments. She wishes to visit Earth before she dies."
"But it's a myth!" Andrews exploded. He opened and closed his mouth, but no words came.
"But it's a myth!" Andrews exploded. He opened and closed his mouth, but no words came.
"I can't do it!" Andrews shouted. "There isn't --"
"We have a kilo positives," the robant said.
Andrews became suddenly quiet. "A thousand positives." He blanched in amazement. His jaws
clamped shut, the color draining from his face.
"How much?" the old woman repeated. "How much?"
"Will that be sufficient?" the robant asked.
For a moment Andrews swallowed silently. Abruptly he found his voice. "Sure," he said. "Why
not?"
"Captain!" Norton protested. "Have you gone nuts? You know there's no such place as Earth!
How the hell can we --"
"Sure, we'll take her." Andrews buttoned his tunic slowly, hands shaking. "We'll take her
anywhere she wants to go. Tell her that. For a thousand positives we'll be glad to take her to Earth.
Okay?"
"Of course," the robant said. "She has saved many decades for this. She will give you the kilo
positives at once. She has them with her."
"Look," Norton said. "You can get twenty years for this. They'll take your articles and your card
and they'll --"
"Shut up." Andrews spun the dial of the intersystem vid-sender. Under them the jets throbbed
and roared. The lumbering transport had reached deep space. "I want the main information library at
Centaurus II," he said into the speaker.
"Even for a thousand positives you can't do it. Nobody can do it. They tried to find Earth for
generations. Directorate ships tracked down every moth-eaten planet in the whole --"
The vidsender clicked. "Centaurus II."
"Information library."
Norton caught Andrews' arm. "Please, Captain. Even for two kilo positives --"
"I want the following information," Andrews said into the vidspeaker. "All facts that are known
concerning the planet Earth. Legendary birthplace of the human race."
"No facts are known," the detached voice of the library monitor came. "The subject is classified
as metaparticular."
"What unverified but widely circulated reports have survived?"
"Most legends concerning Earth were lost during the Centauran-Rigan conflict of 4-B33a. What
survived is fragmentary. Earth is variously described as a large ringed planet with three moons, as a small,
dense planet with a single moon, as the first planet of a ten-planet system located around a dwarf white
--"
"What's the most prevalent legend?"
"The Morrison Report of 5-C2 1r analyzed the total ethnic and subliminal accounts of the
legendary Earth. The final summation noted that Earth is generally considered to be a small third planet of
a nine-planet system, with a single moon. Other than that, no agreement of legends could be
constructed."
"I see. A third planet of a nine-planet system. With a single moon." Andrews broke the circuit
and the screen faded.
"So?" Norton said.
Andrews got quickly to his feet. "She probably knows every legend about it." He pointed down
-- at the passenger quarters below. "I want to get the accounts straight."
"Why? What are you going to do?"
Andrews flipped open the master star chart. He ran his fingers down the index and released the
scanner. In a moment it turned up a card.
He grabbed the chart and fed it into the robant pilot. "The Emphor System," he murmured
thoughtfully.
thoughtfully.
"According to the chart, there are ninety systems that show a third planet of nine with a single
moon. Of the ninety, Emphor is the closest. We're heading there now."
"I don't get it," Norton protested. "Emphor is a routine trading system. Emphor III isn't even a
Class D check point."
Captain Andrews grinned tightly, "Emphor III has a single moon, and it's the third of nine planets.
That's all we want.
"Does anybody know any more about Earth?" He glanced downwards. "Does she know any
more about Earth?"
"I see," Norton said slowly. "I'm beginning to get the picture."
Emphor III turned silently below them. A dull red globe, suspended among sickly clouds, its
baked and corroded surface lapped by the congealed remains of ancient seas. Cracked, eroded cliffs
jutted starkly up. The flat plains had been dug and stripped bare. Great gouged pits pocked the surface,
endless gaping sores.
Norton's face twisted in revulsion. "Look at it. Is anything alive down there?"
Captain Andrews frowned. "I didn't realize it was so gutted." He crossed abruptly to the robant
pilot. "There's supposed to be an auto-grapple some place down there. I'll try to pick it up."
"A grapple? You mean that waste is inhabited?"
"A few Emphorites. Degenerate trading colony of some sort." Andrews consulted the card.
"Commercial ships come here occasionally. Contact with this region has been vague since the
Centauran-Rigan War."
The passage rang with a sudden sound. The gleaming robant and Mrs Gordon emerged through
the doorway into the control room. The old woman's face was alive with excitement. "Captain! Is that -is
that Earth down there?"
Andrews nodded. "Yes."
The robant led Mrs Gordon over to the big viewscreen. The old woman's face twitched, ripples
of emotion stirring her withered features. "I can hardly believe that's really Earth. It seems impossible."
Norton glanced sharply at Captain Andrews.
"It's Earth," Andrews stated, not meeting Norton's glance. "The moon should be around soon."
The old woman did not speak. She had turned her back.
Andrews contacted the auto-grapple and hooked the robant pilot on. The transport shuddered
and then began to drop, as the beam from Emphor caught it and took over.
"We're landing," Andrews said to the old woman, touching her on the shoulder.
"She can't hear you, sir," the robant said.
Andrews grunted. "Well, she can see."
Below them the pitted, ruined surface of Emphor III was rising rapidly. The ship entered the
cloud belt and emerged, coasting over a barren plain that stretched as far as the eye could see.
"What happened down there?" Norton said to Andrews. "The war?"
"War. Mining. And it's old. The pits are probably bomb craters. Some of the long trenches may
be scoop gouges. Looks like they really exhausted this place."
A crooked row of broken mountain peaks shot past under them. They were nearing the remains
of an ocean. Dark, unhealthy water lapped below, a vast sea, crusted with salt and waste, its edges
disappearing into banks of piled debris.
"Why is it that way?" Mrs Gordon said suddenly. Doubt crossed her features. "Why?"
"What do you mean?" Andrews said.
"I don't understand." She stared uncertainly down at the surface below. "It isn't supposed to be
this way. Earth is green. Green and alive. Blue water and..." Her voice trailed off uneasily. "Why?"
Andrews grabbed some paper and wrote:
COMMERCIAL OPERATIONS EXHAUSTED SURFACE
COMMERCIAL OPERATIONS EXHAUSTED SURFACE
The robant took her arm. "She had better rest. I'll return her to her quarters. Please notify us
when the landing has been made."
"Sure." Andrews nodded awkwardly as the robant led the old woman from the viewscreen. She
clung to the guide rail, face distorted with fear and bewilderment.
"Something's wrong!" she wailed. "Why is it this way? Why..."
The robant led her from the control room. The closing of the hydraulic safety doors cut off her
thin cry abruptly.
Andrews relaxed, his body sagging. "God." He lit a cigarette shakily. "What a racket she makes."
"We're almost down," Norton said frigidly.
Cold wind lashed at them as they stepped out cautiously. The air smelled bad -- sour and acrid.
Like rotten eggs. The wind brought salt and sand blowing up against their faces.
A few miles off the thick sea lay. They could hear it swishing faintly, gummily. A few birds passed
silently overhead, great wings flapping soundlessly.
"Depressing damn place," Andrews muttered.
"Yeah. I wonder what the old lady's thinking."
Down the descent ramp came the glittering robant, helping the little old woman. She moved
hesitantly, unsteady, gripping the robant's metal arm. The cold wind whipped around her frail body. For a
moment she tottered -- and then came on, leaving the ramp and gaining the uneven ground.
Norton shook his head. "She looks bad. This air. And the wind."
"I know." Andrews moved back toward Mrs Gordon and the robant. "How is she?" he asked.
"She is not well, sir," the robant answered.
"Captain," the old woman whispered.
"What is it?"
"You must tell me the truth. Is this -- is this really Earth?"
She watched his lips closely. "You swear it is? You swear?" Her voice rose in shrill terror.
"It's Earth!" Andrews snapped irritably. "I told you before. Of course it's Earth."
"It doesn't look like Earth." Mrs Gordon clung to his answer, panic-stricken. "It doesn't look like
Earth, Captain. Is it really Earth?"
"Yes!"
Her gaze wandered toward the ocean. A strange look flickered across her tired face, igniting her
faded eyes with sudden hunger. "Is that water? I want to see."
Andrews turned to Norton. "Get the launch out. Drive her where she wants."
Norton pulled back angrily. "Me?"
"That's an order."
"Okay." Norton returned reluctantly to the ship. Andrews lit a cigarette moodily and waited.
Presently the launch slid out of the ship, coasting across the ash toward them.
"You can show her anything she wants," Andrews said to the robant. "Norton will drive you."
"Thank you, sir," the robant said. "She will be grateful. She has wanted all her life to stand on
Earth. She remembers her grandfather telling her about it. She believes that he came from Earth, a long
time ago. She is very old. She is the last living member of her family."
"But Earth is just a --" Andrews caught him. "I mean --"
"Yes, sir. But she is very old. And she has waited many years." The robant turned to the old
woman and led her gently toward the launch. Andrews stared after them sullenly, rubbing his jaw and
frowning.
"Okay," Norton's voice came from the launch. He slid the hatch open and the robant led the old
woman carefully inside. The hatch closed after them.
A moment later the launch shot away across the salt flat, toward the ugly, lapping ocean.
A moment later the launch shot away across the salt flat, toward the ugly, lapping ocean.
"Go on," Andrews said. "What then?"
"That's all. She got out of the launch. She and the robant. I stayed inside. They stood looking
across the ocean. After a while the old woman sent the robant back to the launch."
"Why?"
"I don't know. She wanted to be alone, I suppose. She stood for a time by herself. On the shore.
Looking over the water. The wind rising. All at once she just sort of settled down. She sank down in a
heap, into the salt ash."
"Then what?"
"While I was pulling myself together, the robant leaped out and ran to her. It picked her up. It
stood for a second and then it started for the water. I leaped out of the launch, yelling. It stepped into the
water and disappeared. Sank down in the mud and filth. Vanished." Norton shuddered. "With her body."
Andrews tossed his cigarette savagely away. The cigarette rolled off, glowing behind them.
"Anything more?"
"Nothing. It all happened in a second. She was standing there, looking over the water. Suddenly
she quivered -- like a dead branch. Then she just sort of dwindled away. And the robant was out of the
launch and into the water with her before I could figure out what was happening."
The sky was almost dark. Huge clouds drifted across the faint stars. Clouds of unhealthy night
vapors and particles of waste. A flock of immense birds crossed the horizon, flying silently.
Against the broken hills the moon was rising. A diseased, barren globe, tinted faintly yellow. Like
old parchment.
"Let's get back in the ship," Andrews said. "I don't like this place."
"I can't figure out why it happened. The old woman." Norton shook his head.
"The wind. Radioactive toxins. I checked with Centaurus II. The War devastated the whole
system. Left the planet a lethal wreck."
"Then we won't --"
"No. We won't have to answer for it." They continued for a time in silence. "We won't have to
explain. It's evident enough. Anybody coming here, especially an old person --"
"Only nobody would come here," Norton said bitterly. "Especially an old person."
Andrews didn't answer. He paced along, head down, hands in pockets. Norton followed silently
behind. Above them, the single moon grew brighter as it escaped the mists and entered a patch of clear
sky.
"By the way," Norton said, his voice cold and distant behind Andrews. "This is the last trip I'll be
making with you. While I was in the ship I filed a formal request for new papers."
"Oh."
"Thought I'd let you know. And my share of the kilo positives. You can keep it."
Andrews flushed and increased his pace, leaving Norton behind. The old woman's death had
shaken him. He lit another cigarette and then threw it away.
Damn it -- the fault wasn't his. She had been old. Three hundred and fifty years. Senile and deaf.
A faded leaf, carried off by the wind. By the poisonous wind that lashed and twisted endlessly across the
ruined face of the planet.

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