A Maze of Death by Philip K. Dick

Author:Philip K. Dick
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub, azw3
Tags: Fiction - Science Fiction, Crime & mystery, Philip K. - Prose & Criticism, Dick, l, General, Science Fiction, Science Fiction - Genera, SciFi-Masterwork, Crime & Thriller, Fiction
ISBN: 9780679752981
Publisher: Vintage Books
Published: 1994-02-15T05:00:00+00:00

NINE

"So now we can see it," Seth Morley said. At last. It makes a noise, he thought, like a thousand cosmic babies dropping an endless number of giant pot lids onto a titanic concrete floor. What are they doing in there? he asked himself, and started toward the front face of the structure, to see what was inscribed over the entrance.

"Noisy, isn't it?" Wade Frazer shouted.

"Yes," he said, and was unable to hear his own voice over the stupendous racket of the Building. He followed a paved road that led along the side of the structure; the others tagged after him, some of them holding their ears. Now he came out in front, shielded his eyes and peered up, focused on the raised surface above the closed sliding doors.

WINERY

That much noise from a winery? he asked himself. It makes no sense. A small door bore a sign reading: Customers' entrance to wine and cheese tasting room. Holy smoke, he said to himself, the thought of cheese drifting through his mind and burnishing all the shiny parts of his conscious attention. I ought to go in, he said to himself. Apparently it's free, although they like you to buy a couple of bottles before you leave. But you don't have to. Too bad, he thought, that Ben Tallchief isn't here. With his great interest in alcoholic beverages this would constitute, for him, a fantastic discovery.

"Wait!" Maggie Walsh called from behind him. "Don't go in!"

His hand on the customers' door, he half-turned, wondering what was the matter.

Maggie Walsh peeped up into the splendor of the sun and saw mixed with its remarkably strong rays a glimmer of words. She traced the letters with her finger, trying to stabilize them. What does it say? she asked herself. What message does it have for us, with all we yearn to know?

WITTERY

"Wait!" she called to Seth Morley, who stood with his hand on a small door marked: Customers' entrance. "Don't go in!"

"Why not?" he yelled back.

"We don't know what it is!" She came breathlessly up beside him. The great structure shimmered in the mobile sunlight which spilled and dribbled over its higher surfaces. As if one could walk up on a single mote, she said to herself longingly. A carrier to the universal self: made partly of this world, partly of the next. Wittery. A place where knowledge is accumulated? But it made too much noise to be a book and tape and microfilm depository. Where witty conversations take place? Perhaps the essences of man's wit were being distilled within; she might find herself immersed in the wit of Dr. Johnson, of Voltaire. But wit did not mean humor. It meant perspicacity. It meant the most fundamental form of intelligence coupled with a certain amount of grace. But, over all, the capacity of man to possess absolute knowledge. If I go in there, she thought, I will learn all that man can know in this interstice of dimensions. I must go in. She hurried up to Seth Morley, nodding.

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