The Game-Players Of Titan by Philip K. Dick

Author:Philip K. Dick [Dick, Philip K.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: High Tech, Philip K Dick, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Dystopias
Publisher: Vintage Books
Published: 1963-06-15T07:00:00+00:00

It was a mistake.

Chapter 11

He awoke—and saw, standing by the bed, two figures, a man and a woman. “Be quiet,” Pat McClain said softly, indicating Carol. The man beside her held the heat-needle pointed steadily at Pete. He was a man Pete had never seen before in his life.

The man said, “If you make trouble we'll kill her.” The heat-needle, now, was aimed at Carol. “Do you understand?”

The clock on the bedside table read nine-thirty; bright, pale, morning sunlight spilled into the bedroom from the windows.

“Okay,” Pete said. “I understand.”

Patricia McClain said, “Get up and get dressed.”

“Where?” Pete said, sliding from the bed. “Here in front of the two of you?”

Glancing at the man, Patricia said, “In the kitchen.” The two of them followed after him, from the bedroom to the kitchen; Patricia shut the door. “You stay with him while he dresses,” she said to the man. “I'll watch his wife.” Bringing out a second heat-needle, she returned stealthily to the bedroom. “He won't make any trouble if Carol's in danger; I can pick that up from his mind. It's acutely pronounced.”

As the unfamiliar man held the heat-needle on him, Pete dressed.

“So your wife's had luck,” the man said, “Congratulations.”

Glancing at him, Pete said, “Are you Pat's husband?”

“That's right,” the man said. “Allen McClain. I'm glad to meet you at last, Mr. Garden.” He smiled a thin, brief smile. “Pat's told me so much about you.”

Presently the three of them were walking down the corridor of the apartment building, toward the elevator.

“Did your daughter get home all right last night?” Pete said.

“Yes,” Patricia said. “Very late, however. What I scanned in her mind was interesting, to say the least. Fortunately she didn't go to sleep right away; she lay thinking. And so I got it all.”

Allen McClain said, “Carol won't wake up for another hour. So there's no immediate problem of her reporting him missing. Not until almost eleven.”

“How do you know she won't wake up?” Pete said.

Allen said nothing.

“You're a pre-cog?” Pete asked.

There was no answer. But it was obviously so.

“And,” Allen McClain said to his wife, “he”—he jerked his head at Pete—“Mr. Garden, here, won't try to escape. At least, most of the parallel possibilities indicate that. Five out of six futures. A good statistic, I think.” At the elevator he pressed the button.

Pete said to Patricia, “Yesterday you were concerned about my safety. Now this.” He gestured at the two heat-needles. “Why the change?”

“Because in the meantime you were out with my daughter,” Patricia said. “I wish you hadn't been. I told you that she was too young for you; I warned you away from her.”

“However,” Pete pointed out, “as you read in my mind at the time, I found Mary Anne to be stunningly attractive.”

The elevator came; the doors slid open.

In the elevator stood the detective Wade Hawthorne. He gaped at them, then fumbled inside his coat.

Allen McClain said, “Being a pre-cog helps. You can never be surprised.” With his heat-needle he shot Hawthorne in the head.

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