Selected Stories of Philip K. Dick (55 page)

Major Casals paused.

“Otherwise they'd serve no purpose,” Mary said.

“Why not?” Major Casals said, and then he colored.

Several uniformed students laughed.

“Information of that type,” Major Casals continued, “is not classified. But a good deal of what you will be learning is classified. This is why the college is under military charter. To reveal or transmit or make public classified information given you during your schooling here falls under the jurisdiction of the military. For a breach of these statutes you would be tried by a military tribunal.”

The students murmured. To himself Bibleman thought, Banged, ganged, and then some. No one spoke. Even the girl beside him was silent. A complicated expression had crossed her face, however; a deeply introverted look, somber and—he thought—unusually mature. It made her seem older, no longer a girl. It made him wonder just how old she really was. It was as if in her features a thousand years had surfaced before him as he scrutinized her and pondered the officer on the stage and the great information hologram behind him. What is she thinking? he wondered. Is she going to say something more? How can she not be afraid to speak up? We've been told we are under military law.

Major Casals said, “I am going to give you an instance of a strictly classified cluster of data. It deals with the Panther Engine.” Behind him the hologram, surprisingly, became blank.

“Sir,” one of the students said, “the hologram isn't showing anything.”

“This is not an area that will be dealt with in your studies here,” Major Casals said. “The Panther Engine is a two-rotor system, opposed rotors serving a common main shaft. Its main advantage is a total lack of centrifugal torque in the housing. A cam chain is thrown between the opposed rotors, which permits the main shaft to reverse itself without hysteresis.”

Behind him the big hologram remained blank. Strange, Bibleman thought. An eerie sensation: information without information, as if the computer had gone blind.

Major Casals said, “The College is forbidden to release any information about the Panther Engine. It cannot be programmed to do otherwise. In fact, it knows nothing about the Panther Engine; it is programmed to destroy any information it receives in that sector.”

Raising his hand, a student said, “So even if someone fed information into the College about the Panther—”

“It would eject the data,” Major Casals said.

“Is this a unique situation?” another student asked.

“No,” Major Casals said.

“Then there're a number of areas we can't get printouts for,” a student murmured.

“Nothing of importance,” Major Casals said. “At least as far as your studies are concerned.”

The students were silent.

“The subjects which you will study,” Major Casals said, “will be assigned to you, based on your aptitude and personality profiles. I'll call off your names and you will come forward for your allocation of topic assignment. The College itself has made the final decision for each of you, so you can be sure no error has been made.”

What if I get proctology? Bibleman asked himself. In panic he thought, Or podiatry. Or herpetology. Or suppose the College in its infinite computeroid wisdom decides to ram into me all the information in the universe pertaining to or resembling herpes labialis … or things even worse. If there is anything worse.

“What you want,” Mary said, as the names were read alphabetically, “is a program that'll earn you a living. You have to be practical. I know what I'll get; I know where my strong point lies. It'll be chemistry.”

His name was called; rising, he walked up the aisle to Major Casals. They looked at each other, and then Casals handed him an unsealed envelope.

Stiffly, Bibleman returned to his seat.

“You want me to open it?” Mary said.

Wordlessly, Bibleman passed the envelope to her. She opened it and studied the printout.

“Can I earn a living with it?” he said.

She smiled. “Yes, it's a high-paying field. Almost as good as—well, let's just say that the colony planets are really in need of this. You could go to work anywhere.”

Looking over her shoulder, he saw the words on the page.

COSMOLOGY COSMOGONY PRE-SOCRATICS

“Pre-Socratic philosophy,” Mary said. “Almost as good as structural engineering.” She passed him the paper. “I shouldn't kid you. No, it's not really something you can making a living at, unless you teach … but maybe it interests you. Does it interest you?”

“No,” he said shortly.

“I wonder why the college picked it, then,” Mary said.

“What the hell,” he said, “is cosmogony?”

“How the universe came into being. Aren't you interested in how the universe—” She paused, eyeing him. “You certainly won't be asking for printouts of any classified material,” she said meditatively.“Maybe that's it,” she murmured, to herself. “They won't have to watchdog you.”

“I can be trusted with classified material,” he said.

“Can you? Do you know yourself? But you'll be getting into that when the College bombards you with early Greek thought.‘Know thyself.' Apollo's motto at Delphi. It sums up half of Greek philosophy.”

Bibleman said, “I'm not going up before a military tribunal for making public classified military material.” He thought, then, about the Panther Engine and he realized, fully realized, that a really grim message had been spelled out in that little lecture by Major Casals. “I wonder what Herbie the Hyena's motto is,” he said.

“‘I am determined to prove a villain,'” Mary said. “‘And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid.'” She reached out to touch him on the arm.“Remember? The Herbie the Hyena cartoon version of
Richard the Third
.”

“Mary Lorne,” Major Casals said, reading off the list.

“Excuse me.” She went up, returned with her envelope, smiling. “Leprology,” she said to Bibleman.“The study and treatment of leprosy. I'm kidding; it's chemistry.”

“You'll be studying classified material,” Bibleman said.

“Yes,” she said. “I know.”

On the first day of his study program, Bob Bibleman set his College input-output terminal on AUDIO and punched the proper key for his coded course.

“Thales of Miletus,” the terminal said. “The founder of the Ionian school of natural philosophy.”

“What did he teach?” Bibleman said.

“That the world floated on water, was sustained by water, and originated in water.”

“That's really stupid,” Bibleman said.

The College terminal said, “Thales based this on the discovery of fossil fish far inland, even at high altitudes. So it is not as stupid as it sounds.” It showed on its holoscreen a great deal of written information, no part of which struck Bibleman as very interesting. Anyhow, he had requested AUDIO.“It is generally considered that Thales was the first rational man in history,” the terminal said.

“What about Ikhnaton?” Bibleman said.

“He was strange.”

“Moses?”

“Likewise strange.”

“Hammurabi?”

“How do you spell that?”

“I'm not sure. I've just heard the name.”

“Then we will discuss Anaximander,” the College terminal said. “And, in a cursory initial survey, Anaximenes, Xenophanes, Paramenides, Melissus—wait a minute; I forgot Heraclitus and Cratylus. And we will study Empedocles, Anaxagoras, Zeno—”

“Christ,” Bibleman said.

“That's another program,”the College terminal said.

“Just continue,” Bibleman said.

“Are you taking notes?”

“That's none of your business.”

“You seem to be in a state of conflict.”

Bibleman said, “What happens to me if I flunk out of the College?”

“You go to jail.”

“I'll take notes.”

“Since you are so driven—”

“What?”

“Since you are so full of conflict, you should find Empedocles interesting. He was the first dialectical philosopher. Empedocles believed that the basis of reality was an antithetical conflict between the forces of Love and Strife. Under Love the whole cosmos is a duly proportioned mixture, called a
krasis
. This
krasis
is a spherical deity, a single perfect mind which spends all its time—”

“Is there any practical application to any of this?” Bibleman interrupted.

“The two antithetical forces of Love and Strife resemble the Taoist elements of Yang and Yin with their perpetual interaction from which all change takes place.”

“Practical application.”

“Twin mutually opposed constituents.” On the holoscreen a schematic diagram, very complex, formed. “The two-rotor Panther Engine.”

“What?” Bibleman said, sitting upright in his seat. He made out the large words
PANTHER HYDDRODRIVE SYSTEM TOP SECRET
above the schematic comprising the readout. Instantly he pressed the
PRINT
key; the machinery of the terminal whirred and three sheets of paper slid down into the
RETRIEVE
slot.

They overlooked it, Bibleman realized, this entry in the College's memory banks relating to the Panther Engine. Somehow the cross-referencing got lost. No one thought of pre-Socratic philosophy—who would expect an entry on an engine, a modern-day top-secret engine, under the category
PHILOSOPHY, PRE-SOCRATIC
, subheading
EMPEDOCLES
?

I've got it in my hands, he said to himself as he swiftly lifted out the three sheets of paper. He folded them up and stuck them into the notebook the College had provided.

I've hit it, he thought. Right off the bat. Where the hell am I going to put these schematics? Can't hide them in my locker. And then he thought, Have I committed a crime already, by asking for a written printout?

“Empedocles,” the terminal was saying, “believed in four elements as being perpetually rearranged: earth, water, air, and fire. These elements eternally—”

Click. Bibleman had shut the terminal down. The holoscreen faded to opaque gray.

Too much learning doth make a man slow, he thought as he got to his feet and started from the cubicle. Fast of wit but slow of foot. Where the hell am I going to hide the schematics? he asked himself again as he walked rapidly down the hall toward the ascent tube. Well, he realized, they don't know I have them; I can take my time. The thing to do is hide them at a random place, he decided, as the tube carried him to the surface. And even if they find them they won't be able to trace them back to me, not unless they go to the trouble of dusting for fingerprints.

This could be worth billions of dollars, he said to himself. A great joy filled him and then came the fear. He discovered that he was trembling. Will they ever be pissed, he said to himself. When they find out,
I
won't be pissing purple,
they'll
be pissing purple. The College itself will, when it discovers its error.

And the error, he thought, is on its part, not mine. The College fucked up and that's too bad.

In the dorm where his bunk was located, he found a laundry room maintained by a silent robot staff, and when no robot was watching he hid the three pages of schematics near the bottom of a huge pile of bedsheets. As high as the ceiling, this pile. They won't get down to the schematics this year. I have plenty of time to decide what to do.

Looking at his watch, he saw that the afternoon had almost come to an end. At five o'clock he would be seated in the cafeteria, eating dinner with Mary.

She met him a little after five o'clock; her face showed signs of fatigue.

“How'd it go?” she asked him as they stood in line with their trays.

“Fine,” Bibleman said.

“Did you get to Zeno? I always like Zeno; he proved that motion is impossible. So I guess I'm still in my mother's womb. You look strange.” She eyed him.

“Just sick of listening to how the earth rests on the back of a giant turtle.”

“Or is suspended on a long string,” Mary said. Together they made their way among the other students to an empty table.“You're not eating much.”

“Feeling like eating,” Bibleman said as he drank his cup of coffee, “is what got me here in the first place.”

“You could flunk out.”

“And go to jail.”

Mary said,“The College is programmed to say that. Much of it is probably just threats. Talk loudly and carry a small stick, so to speak.”

“I have it,” Bibleman said.

“You have what?” She ceased eating and regarded him.

He said, “The Panther Engine.”

Gazing at him, the girl was silent.

“The schematics,” he said.

“Lower your goddam voice.”

“They missed a citation in the memory storage. Now that I have them I don't know what to do. Just start walking, probably. And hope no one stops me.”

“They don't know? The College didn't self-monitor?”

“I have no reason to think it's aware of what it did.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mary said softly. “On your first day. You had better do a lot of slow, careful thinking.”

“I can destroy them,” he said.

“Or sell them.”

He said, “I looked them over. There's an analysis on the final page. The Panther—”

“Just say
it
,” Mary said.

“It can be used as a hydroelectric turbine and cut costs in half. I couldn't understand the technical language, but I did figure out that. Cheap power source. Very cheap.”

“So everyone would benefit.”

He nodded.

“They really screwed up,” Mary said. “What was it Casals told us? ‘Even if someone fed data into the College about the—about it, the College would eject the data.'” She began eating slowly, meditatively. “And they're withholding it from the public. It must be industry pressure. Nice.”

“What should I do?” Bibleman said.

“I can't tell you that.”

“What I was thinking is that I could take the schematics to one of the colony planets where the authorities have less control. I could find an independent firm and make a deal with them. The government wouldn't know how—”

“They'd figure out where the schematics came from,” Mary said. “They'd trace it back to you.”

“Then I better burn them.”

Mary said, “You have a very difficult decision to make. On the one hand, you have classified information in your possession which you obtained illegally. On the other—”