Humpty Dumpty in Oakland by Philip K. Dick

Author:Philip K. Dick [Dick, Philip K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: General Fiction
ISBN: 9780765316905
Publisher: Tor
Published: 1986-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

On Friday, when he had fairly well given up hoping, a car pulled over to the curb at Al’s Motor Sales, and a young

man in tie and shirtsleeves got out.

“Mr. Miller?” he said.

Coming out of his little building, Al said, “Speaking.”

“I’m from Teach Records,” the young man said. “Mr. Gam has been trying to get hold of you. He’d like you to call him

as soon as you can.”

“All right,” Al said. “Thanks.”

The young man got back in his car and drove off.

This is it, Al said. He walked across the street to the coffee shop and entered the pay-phone booth. A moment later

he was connected with the switchboard girl at Teach Records.

“This is Mr. Miller,” he said. “Mr. Gam asked me to call.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Miller,” the girl said. “We just sent a man down to your place of business. Did he succeed in finding

you?”

“Yes,” Al said.

“Just a moment and I’ll connect you with Mr. Gam.”

Presently a deep middle-aged man’s voice came on the phone. “Mr. Miller,” the man said, “I’m Fred Gam. You were

in discussing a spot with us, with Mr. Harman. If you’re still interested, we’ve batted the idea around among us and

come up with something. It would probably be worth your while to drop by sometime early next week.”

“I could make it today,” Al said. “I’ll cancel all down the line.”

“Fine,” Mr. Gam said. “I’ll look forward to seeing you, say, around four.”

At four, Al closed up his lot and drove over to Teach Records. He found Mr. Gam to be a good-natured heavy-set man

with gray hair, using an office that seemed the same size as Mr. Harman’s.

“Glad to meet you,” Gam said, shaking hands with him. On his desk he had a number of papers, through which he

now glanced. “Well, Mr. Miller,” he said, “you want to join the organization, it seems.”

“Right,” Al said.

“Come along then.” Gam rose, beckoning, and Al followed him down a corridor, past one door after another.

They came out in a huge area in which men were working. The air was heavy with smells of machinery. Noise beat at

Al’s ears, a constant mechanical din.

“This is the operation,” Mr. Gam said. “Where we do the actual pressing.”

It looked to Al like a tire-retreading outfit; he saw the same round machines, a man at each, the tops opening and

shutting.

“You won’t be involved with this end,” Mr. Gam said. He led Al from the area and down another hallway.

Al said, “I consider Chris Harman the most inspiring human being I’ve ever had the privilege to meet. And in my

business I see a good slice of mankind.”

“Yes,” Chris said, “he ran into you at your car lot. You were obviously quite open with Chris, so we’ll be equally open

with you. You came to us at exactly the right moment. You couldn’t have picked it better if you’d had some buddy

planted in the organization. He halted and eyed Al. “This job didn’t exist three days ago, and it has to be filled right

now. It’s a good job, Miller.

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