The Philip K. Dick Megapack Read Online Free PDF

white and sick. “I don’t want to see it.”
    “Me, too,” French said. The men straggled out, murmuring. Peterson lingered at the door.
    “It was talking to me about myths,” he said. “It wouldn’t hurt anyone.”
    He went outside.
    Franco walked toward the wub. The wub looked up slowly. It swallowed.
    “A very foolish thing,” it said. “I am sorry that you want to do it. There was a parable that your Saviour related—”
    It stopped, staring at the gun.
    “Can you look me in the eye and do it?” the wub said. “Can you do that?”
    The Captain gazed down. “I can look you in the eye,” he said. “Back on the farm we had hogs, dirty razor-back hogs. I can do it.”
    Staring down at the wub, into the gleaming, moist eyes, he pressed the trigger.
    * * * *
    The taste was excellent.
    They sat glumly around the table, some of them hardly eating at all. The only one who seemed to be enjoying himself was Captain Franco.
    “More?” he said, looking around. “More? And some wine, perhaps.”
    “Not me,” French said. “I think I’ll go back to the chart room.”
    “Me, too.” Jones stood up, pushing his chair back. “I’ll see you later.”
    The Captain watched them go. Some of the others excused themselves.
    “What do you suppose the matter is?” the Captain said. He turned to Peterson. Peterson sat staring down at his plate, at the potatoes, the green peas, and at the thick slab of tender, warm meat.
    He opened his mouth. No sound came.
    The Captain put his hand on Peterson’s shoulder.
    “It is only organic matter, now,” he said. “The life essence is gone.” He ate, spooning up the gravy with some bread. “I, myself, love to eat. It is one of the greatest things that a living creature can enjoy. Eating, resting, meditation, discussing things.”
    Peterson nodded. Two more men got up and went out. The Captain drank some water and sighed.
    “Well,” he said. “I must say that this was a very enjoyable meal. All the reports I had heard were quite true—the taste of wub. Very fine. But I was prevented from enjoying this pleasure in times past.”
    He dabbed at his lips with his napkin and leaned back in his chair. Peterson stared dejectedly at the table.
    The Captain watched him intently. He leaned over.
    “Come, come,” he said. “Cheer up! Let’s discuss things.”
    He smiled.
    “As I was saying before I was interrupted, the role of Odysseus in the myths—”
    Peterson jerked up, staring.
    “To go on,” the Captain said. “Odysseus, as I understand him—”

THE DEFENDERS
    Taylor sat back in his chair reading the morning newspaper. The warm kitchen and the smell of coffee blended with the comfort of not having to go to work. This was his Rest Period, the first for a long time, and he was glad of it. He folded the second section back, sighing with contentment.
    “What is it?” Mary said, from the stove.
    “They pasted Moscow again last night.” Taylor nodded his head in approval. “Gave it a real pounding. One of those R-H bombs. It’s about time.”
    He nodded again, feeling the full comfort of the kitchen, the presence of his plump, attractive wife, the breakfast dishes and coffee. This was relaxation. And the war news was good, good and satisfying. He could feel a justifiable glow at the news, a sense of pride and personal accomplishment. After all, he was an integral part of the war program, not just another factory worker lugging a cart of scrap, but a technician, one of those who designed and planned the nerve-trunk of the war.
    “It says they have the new subs almost perfected. Wait until they get those going.” He smacked his lips with anticipation. “When they start shelling from underwater, the Soviets are sure going to be surprised.”
    “They’re doing a wonderful job,” Mary agreed vaguely. “Do you know what we saw today? Our team is getting a leady to show to the school children. I saw the leady, but only for a moment. It’s good for the children to