The Book of Philip K Dick (1973) by Philip K. Dick Page B

have to fret all the time? They were pretty well off, as things went. You couldn’t expect to have everything perfect, living undersurface, with an artificial sun and artificial food. Naturally it was a strain, not seeing the sky or being able to go anyplace or see anything other than metal walls, great roaring factories, the plant-yards, barracks. But it was better than being on surface. And some day it would end and they could return. Nobody wanted to live this way, but it was necessary.
    He turned the page angrily and the poor paper ripped. Damn it, the paper was getting worse quality all the time, bad print, yellow tint—
    Well, they needed everything for the war program. He ought to know that. Wasn’t he one of the planners?
    He excused himself and went into the other room. The bed was still unmade. They had better get it in shape before the seventh hour inspection. There was a one unit fine—
    The vidphone rang. He halted. Who would it be? He went over and clicked it on.
    “Taylor?” the face said, forming into place. It was an old face, gray and grim. “This is Moss. I’m sorry to bother you during Rest Period, but this thing has come up.” He rattled papers. “I want you to hurry over here.”
    Taylor stiffened. “What is it? There’s no chance it could wait?” The calm gray eyes were studying him, expressionless, unjudging. “If you want me to come down to the lab,” Taylor grumbled, “I suppose I can. I’ll get my uniform—”
    “No. Come as you are. And not to the lab. Meet me at second stage as soon as possible. It’ll take you about a half hour, using the fast car up. I’ll see you there.”
    The picture broke and Moss disappeared.
    “What was it?” Mary said, at the door.
    “Moss. He wants me for something.”
    “I knew this would happen.”
    “Well, you didn’t want to do anything, anyhow. What does it matter?” His voice was bitter. “It’s all the same, every day. I’ll bring you back something. I’m going up to second stage. Maybe I’ll be close enough to the surface to—”
    “Don’t! Don’t bring me anything! Not from the surface!”
    “All right, I won’t. But of all the irrational nonsense—” She watched him put on his boots without answering.
    Moss nodded and Taylor fell in step with him, as the older man strode along. A series of loads were going up to the surface, blind cars clanking like ore-trucks up the ramp, disappearing through the stage trap above them. Taylor watched the cars, heavy with tubular machinery of some sort, weapons new to him. Workers were everywhere, in the dark gray uniforms of the labor corps, loading, lifting, shouting back and forth. The stage was deafening with noise.
    “We’ll go up a way,” Moss said, “where we can talk. This is no place to give you details.”
    They took an escalator up. The commercial lift fell behind them, and with it most of the crashing and booming. Soon they emerged on an observation platform, suspended on the side of the Tube, the vast tunnel leading to the surface, not more than half a mile above them now.
    “My God!” Taylor said, looking down the tube involuntarily. “It’s a long way down.”
    Moss laughed. “Don’t look.”
    They opened a door and entered an office. Behind the desk, an officer was sitting, an officer of Internal Security. He looked up.
    “I’ll be right with you, Moss.” He gazed at Taylor studying him. “You’re a little ahead of time.”
    “This is Commander Franks,” Moss said to Taylor. “He was the first to make the discovery. I was notified last night.” He tapped a parcel he carried. “I was let in because of this.”
    Franks frowned at him and stood up. “We’re going up to first stage. We can discuss it there.”
    “First stage?” Taylor repeated nervously. The three of them went down a side passage to a small lift. “I’ve never been up there. Is it all right? It’s not radioactive, is it?”
    “You’re like everyone else,” Franks said. “Old