Philip K. Dick - Fair Game

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FAIR GAME

Philip K. Dick

Professor Anthony Douglas lowered gratefully into his red-leather easy

chair and sighed. A long sigh, accompanied by labored removal of his

shoes and numerous grunts as he kicked them into the corner. He folded

his hands across his ample middle and lay back, eyes closed.

"Tired?" Laura Douglas asked, turning from the kitchen stove a

moment, her dark eyes sympathetic.

"You're darn right." Douglas surveyed the evening paper across from

him on the couch. Was it worth it? No, not really. He felt around in his

coat pocket for his cigarettes and lit up slowly, leisurely. "Yeah, I'm tired,

all right. We're starting a whole new line of research. Whole flock of bright

young men in from Washington today. Briefcases and slide rules."

"Not—"

"Oh, I'm still in charge." Professor Douglas grinned expansively. "Perish

the thought." Pale gray cigarette smoke billowed around him. "It'll be

another few years before they're ahead of me. They'll have to sharpen up

their slide rules just a little bit more. . ."

His wife smiled and continued preparing dinner. Maybe it was the

atmosphere of the little Colorado town. The sturdy, impassive mountain

peaks around them. The thin, chill air. The quiet citizens. In any case, her

husband seemed utterly unbothered by the tensions and doubts that

pressured other members of his profession. A lot of aggressive newcomers

were swelling the ranks of nuclear physics these days. Old-timers were

tottering in their positions, abruptly insecure. Every college, every physics

department and lab was being invaded by the new horde of skilled young

men. Even here at Bryant College, so far off the beaten track.

But if Anthony Douglas worried, he never let it show. He rested happily

in his easy chair, eyes shut, a blissful smile on his face. He was tired—but

at peace. He sighed again, this time more from pleasure than fatigue.

"It's true," he murmured lazily. "I may be old enough to be their father,

but I'm still a few jumps ahead of them. Of course, I know the ropes

better. And—"

"And the wires. The ones worth pulling."

"Those, too. In any case, I think I'll come off from this new line we're

doing just about. . ."

His voice trailed off.

"What's the matter?" Laura asked.

Douglas half rose from his chair. His face had gone suddenly white. He

stared in horror, gripping the arms of his chair, his mouth opening and

closing.

At the window was a great eye. An immense eye that gazed into the

room intently, studying him. The eye filled the whole window.

"Good God!" Douglas cried.

The eye withdrew. Outside there was only the evening gloom, the dark

hills and trees, the street. Douglas sank down slowly in his chair.

"What was it?" Laura demanded sharply. "What did you see? Was

somebody out there?"

Douglas clasped and unclasped his hands. His lips twitched violently.

"I'm telling you the truth, Bill. I saw it myself. It was real. I wouldn't say

so, otherwise. You know that. Don't you believe me?"

"Did anybody else see it?" Professor William Henderson asked, chewing

his pencil thoughtfully. He had cleared a place on the dinner table, pushed

back his plate and silver and laid out his notebook. "Did Laura see it?"

"No. Laura had her back turned."

"What time was it?"

"Half an hour ago. I had just got home. About six-thirty. I had my shoes

off, taking it easy." Douglas wiped his forehead with a shaking hand.

"You say it was unattached? There was nothing else? Just the—eye?"

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Philip K. Dick - Fair Game

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