The Collected Stories of PKD Vol 4 Minority Report (1987) by Philip K Dick

Author:Philip K Dick [Dick, Philip K]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Philip K Dick
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“You’re right,” Fermeti said. “The memory of this trip must be wiped from his brain.” He turned and walked slowly back to Poul Anderson. “Look here,” he addressed him. “I’m sorry to tell you this, but everything that’s happened to you must be wiped from your brain.”

After a pause, Anderson said, “That’s a shame. Sorry to hear that.” He looked downcast. “But I’m not surprised,” he murmured. He seemed philosophical about the whole affair. “It’s generally handled this way.”

Tozzo asked, “Where can this alteration of the memory cells of his brain be accomplished?”

“At the Department of Penology,” Fermeti said. “Through the same channels we obtained the convicts.” Pointing his sleep-gun at Poul Anderson he said, Come along with us. I regret this… but it has to be done.”

VI

At the Department of Penology, painless electroshock removed from Poul Anderson’s brain the precise cells in which his most recent memories were stored. Then, in a semi-conscious state, he was carried back into the time-dredge. A moment later he was on his trip back to the year 1954, to his own society and time. To the Sir Francis Drake Hotel in downtown San Francisco, California and his waiting wife and child.

When the time-dredge returned empty, Tozzo, Gilly and Fermeti breathed a sigh of relief and broke open a bottle of hundred-year-old Scotch which Fermeti had been saving. The mission had been successfully accomplished; now they could turn their attention back to the Project.

“Where’s the manuscript that he wrote?” Fermeti said, putting down his glass to look all around his office.

There was no manuscript to be found. And, Tozzo noticed, the antique Koyal typewriter which they had brought from the Smithsonian -it was gone, too. But why?

Suddenly chill fear traveled up him. He understood.

“Good Lord,” he said thickly. He put down his glass. “Somebody get a copy of the journal with his article in it. At once.”

Fermeti said, “What is it, Aaron? Explain.”

“When we removed his memory of what had happened we made it impossible for him to write the article for the journal,” Tozzo said. “He must have based Night Flight on his experience with us, here.” Snatching up the August 1955 copy of If he turned to the table-of-contents page.

No article by Poul Anderson was listed. Instead, on page 78, he saw Philip K. Dick’s The Mold of Yancy listed instead.

They had changed the past after all. And now the formula for their Project was gone — gone entirely.

“We shouldn’t have tampered,” Tozzo said in a hoarse voice. “We should never have brought him out of the past.” He drank a little more of the century-old Scotch, his hands shaking.

“Brought who?” Gilly said, with a puzzled look.

“Don’t you remember?” Tozzo stared at him, incredulous.

“What’s this discussion about?” Fermeti said impatiently. “And what are you two doing in my office? You both should be busy at work.” He saw the bottle of Scotch and blanched. “How’d that get open?”

His hands trembling, Tozzo turned the pages of the journal over and over again. Already, the memory was growing diffuse in his mind; he struggled in vain to hold onto it.

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