Mary and the Giant (GOLLANCZ S.F.) by Philip K. Dick

Author:Philip K. Dick [Dick, Philip K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473206724
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2015-02-26T23:00:00+00:00

At one-thirty in the afternoon the girl returned, wearing a cotton skirt and a short-sleeved blouse. Her hair was brushed back and her face was shiny with eagerness; she looked ready to go to work. But with her was an indolent-looking young man.

‘Where can I put my things?’ she asked, meaning her purse. ‘In the back?’

Schilling showed her the steps leading to the basement stockroom. ‘That’s the safest place, down there.’ Reaching into the stairwell, he snapped on the light. ‘The bathroom’s down there, and a closet. Not very large, but enough for coats.’

While Mary Anne was absent, the young man sauntered up to him. ‘Mr Schilling, they told me you’d give me the word on music.’

From his coat pocket the man got out a crumpled envelope; he began flattening it on the counter. It was a list of composers, Schilling saw; all contemporary and all individualistic experimentalists.

‘You’re a musician?’ Schilling asked.

‘Yeah, I play bop piano over at the Wren.’ He scrutinized Schilling. ‘Let’s see how good you are.’

‘Oh,’ Schilling said, ‘I’m good, all right. Ask me something.’

‘Ever heard of a fellow named Arnie Scheinburg?’

‘Schönberg,’ Schilling corrected. He couldn’t tell if he was being made fun of. ‘Arnold Schönberg. He wrote the Gurrelieder.’

‘How long have you been in this racket?’

He computed. ‘Well, in one form or another since the late twenties. This is my first retail shop, though.’

‘You like music?’

‘Yes,’ Schilling said, worried in an obscure way. ‘Very much.’

‘Don’t you do anything else? Don’t you get outdoors?’ The young man strolled around, taking in the store. ‘This is an elegant little shop. Shows good taste. But tell me, Schilling, don’t you sometimes feel cut off from the broad masses?’

Mary Anne appeared from the back. ‘Well? Let’s get with it.’

Having loaded the young man up with records, Schilling steered him into a booth. At the counter Mary Anne was busily opening the cash register.

‘Friend of yours?’ Schilling asked, amused that, in her world, introductions did not exist.

‘Paul plays over at the Wren,’ she answered, starting to count the one-dollar bills. As soon as she had left the store she had gone home to her apartment, changed, and then hurried to the Wren to pay Paul back his ten dollars … money that had kept her going since she cashed her final check from the telephone company.

‘That place?’ Nitz had said. ‘That record shop? That’s the fellow they said I should talk to.’

‘Come along,’ Mary Anne had urged him, timid at the idea of returning to the store alone. ‘Please, Paul. As a favor to me.’

He had raised an eyebrow. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing.’

‘You scared?’

‘Sure I’m scared. It’s a new job; it’s the first day.’

‘What do you know about this character?’

Evasively, she had said; ‘I met him once. He’s an older man.’

Tossing down his paperbacked Western, Paul Nitz had climbed to his feet. ‘Okay, I’ll go along and chaperone you.’ He clapped her warmly on the back. ‘I’ll even challenge him to a duel – just give me the nod.’

‘What are you doing?’ Schilling asked, watching her fingers fly as she counted the bills.

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