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Authors: Philip K. Dick

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The Short Happy Life of the Brown Oxford and Other Classic Stories (44 page)

BOOK: The Short Happy Life of the Brown Oxford and Other Classic Stories

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I took out my wallet. “All right. If you want to sell it, I might as well be the one who buys it.” I gave him the money and he took it. He showed me where to put in the inanimate matter, how to adjust the dials and meters, and without any warning, he put on his hat and left.

I was alone, with my new Animator. While I was looking at it my wife came downstairs in her bathrobe.

“What’s going on?” she said. “Look at you, your shoes are soaked. Were you outside in the gutter?”

“Not quite. Look at this oven. I just paid five dollars for it. It animates things.”

Joan stared down at my shoes. “It’s one o’clock in the morning. You put your shoes in the oven and come to bed.”

“But don’t you realize—”

“Get those shoes in the oven,” Joan said, going back upstairs again. “Do you hear me?”

“All right,” I said.

It was at breakfast, while I was sitting staring moodily down at a plate of cold eggs and bacon, that he came back. The doorbell commenced to ring furiously.

“Who can that be?” Joan said. I got up and went down the hall, into the living room. I opened the door.

“Labyrinth!” I said. His face was pale, and there were dark circles under his eyes.

“Here’s your five dollars,” he said. “I want my Animator back.”

I was dazed. “All right, Doc. Come on in and I’ll get it.”

He came inside and stood, tapping his foot. I went over and got the Animator. It was still warm. Labyrinth watched me carrying it toward him. “Set it down,” he said. “I want to make sure it’s all right.”

I put it on the table and the Doc went over it lovingly, carefully, opening the little door and peering inside. “There’s a shoe in it,” he said.

“There should be two shoes,” I said, suddenly remembering last night. “My God, I put my shoes in it.”

“Both of them? There’s only one now.”

Joan came from the kitchen. “Hello, Doctor,” she said. “What brings you out so early?”

Labyrinth and I were staring at each other. “Only one?” I said. I bent down to look. Inside was a single muddy shoe, quite dry, now, after its night in Labyrinth’s Animator. A single shoe—but I had put two in. Where was the other?

I turned around but the expression on Joan’s face made me forget what I was going to say. She was staring in horror at the floor, her mouth open.

Something small and brown was moving, sliding toward the couch. It went under the couch and disappeared. I had seen only a glimpse of it, a momentary flash of motion, but I knew what it was.

“My God,” Labyrinth said. “Here, take the five dollars.” He pushed the bill into my hands. “I really want it back, now!”

“Take it easy,” I said. “Give me a hand. We have to catch the damn thing before it gets outdoors.”

Labyrinth went over and shut the door to the living room. “It went under the couch.” He squatted down and peered under. “I think I see it. Do you have a stick or something?”

“Let me out of here,” Joan said. “I don’t want to have anything to do with this.”

“You can’t leave,” I said. I yanked down a curtain rod from the window and pulled the curtain from it. “We can use this.” I joined Labyrinth on the floor. “I’ll get it out, but you’ll have to help me catch it. If we don’t work fast we’ll never see it again.”

I nudged the shoe with the end of the rod. The shoe retreated, squeezing itself back toward the wall. I could see it, a small mound of brown, huddled and silent, like some wild animal at bay, escaped from its cage. It gave me an odd feeling.

“I wonder what we can do with it?” I murmured. “Where the hell are we going to keep it?”

“Could we put it in the desk drawer?” Joan said, looking around. “I’ll take the stationery out.”

“There it goes!” Labyrinth scrambled to his feet. The shoe had come out, fast. It went across the room, heading for the big chair. Before it could get underneath, Labyrinth caught hold of one of its laces. The shoe pulled and tugged, struggling to get free, but the old Doc had a firm hold of it.

Together we got the shoe into the desk and closed the drawer. We breathed a sigh of relief.

“That’s that,” Labyrinth said. He grinned foolishly at us. “Do you see what this means? We’ve done it, we’ve really done it! The Animator worked. But I wonder why it didn’t work with the button.”

“The button was brass,” I said. “And the shoe was hide and animal glue. A natural. And it was wet.”

We looked toward the drawer. “In that desk,” Labyrinth said, “is the most momentous thing in modern science.”

“The world will shake and shudder,” I finished. “I know. Well, you can consider it yours.” I took hold of Joan’s hand. “I give you the shoe along with your Animator.”

“Fine.” Labyrinth nodded. “Keep watch here, don’t let it get away.” He went to the front door. “I must get the proper people, men who will—”

“Can’t you take it with you?” Joan said nervously.

Labyrinth paused at the door. “You must watch over it. It is proof, proof the Animator works. The Principle of Sufficient Irritation.” He hurried down the walk.

“Well?” Joan said. “What now? Are you really going to stay here and watch over it?”

I looked at my watch. “I have to get to work.”

“Well, I’m not going to watch it. If you leave, I’m leaving with you. I won’t stay here.”

“It should be all right in the drawer,” I said. “I guess we could leave it for a while.”

“I’ll visit my family. I’ll meet you downtown this evening and we can come back home together.”

“Are you really that afraid of it?”

“I don’t like it. There’s something about it.”

“It’s only an old shoe.”

Joan smiled thinly. “Don’t kid me,” she said. “There never was another shoe like this.”

I met her downtown, after work that evening, and we had dinner. We drove home, and I parked the car in the driveway. We walked slowly up the walk.

On the porch Joan paused. “Do we really have to go inside? Can’t we go to a movie or something?”

“We have to go in. I’m anxious to see how it is. I wonder what we’ll have to feed it.” I unlocked the door and pushed it open.

Something rushed past me, flying down the walk. It disappeared into the bushes.

“What was that?” Joan whispered, stricken.

“I can guess.” I hurried to the desk. Sure enough, the drawer was standing open. The shoe had kicked its way out. “Well, that’s that,” I said. “I wonder what we’re going to tell Doc?”

“Maybe you could catch it again,” Joan said. She closed the front door after us. “Or animate another. Try working on the other shoe, the one that’s left.”

I shook my head. “It didn’t respond. Creation is funny. Some things don’t react. Or maybe we could—”

The telephone rang. We looked at each other. There was something in the ring. “It’s him,” I said. I picked up the receiver.

“This is Labyrinth,” the familiar voice said. “I’ll be over early tomorrow. They’re coming with me. We’ll get photographs and a good write-up. Jenkins from the lab—”

“Look, Doc,” I began.

“I’ll talk later. I have a thousand things to do. We’ll see you tomorrow morning.” He clicked off.

“Was it the Doctor?” Joan said.

I looked at the empty desk drawer, hanging open. “It was. It was him, all right.” I went to the hall closet, taking my coat off. Suddenly I had an eerie feeling. I stopped, turning around. Something was watching me. But what? I saw nothing. It gave me the creeps.

“What the hell,” I said. I shrugged it off and hung my coat up. As I started back toward the living room I thought I saw something move, out of the corner of my eye.

“Damn,” I said.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all.” I looked all around me, but I could not pin anything down. There was the bookcase, the rugs, the pictures on the walls, everything as it always was. But something had moved.

I entered the living room. The Animator was sitting on the table. As I passed it I felt a surge of warmth. The Animator was still on, and the door was open! I snapped the switch off, and the dial light died. Had we left it on all day? I tried to remember, but I couldn’t be sure.

“We’ve got to find the shoe before nightfall,” I said.

We looked, but we found nothing. The two of us went over every inch of the yard, examining each bush, looking under the hedge, even under the house, but without any luck.

When it got too dark to see we turned on the porch light and worked for a time by it. At last I gave up. I went over and sat down on the porch steps. “It’s no use,” I said. “Even in the hedge there are a million places. And while we’re beating one end, it could slip out the other. We’re licked. We might as well face it.”

“Maybe it’s just as well,” Joan said.

I stood up. “We’ll leave the front door open tonight. There’s a chance it might come back in.”

We left it open, but the next morning when we came downstairs the house was silent and empty. I knew at once the shoe was not there. I poked around, examining things. In the kitchen eggshells were strewn around the garbage pail. The shoe had come in during the night, but after helping itself it had left again.

I closed the front door and we stood silently, looking at each other. “He’ll be here any time,” I said. “I guess I better call the office and tell them I’ll be late.”

Joan touched the Animator. “So this is what did it. I wonder if it’ll ever happen again.”

We went outside and looked around hopefully for a time. Nothing stirred the bushes, nothing at all. “That’s that,” I said. I looked up. “Here comes a car, now.”

A dark Plymouth coasted up in front of the house. Two elderly men got out and came up the path toward us, studying us curiously.

“Where is Rupert?” one of them asked.

“Who? You mean Doc Labyrinth? I suppose he’ll be along any time.”

“Is it inside?” the man said. “I’m Porter, from the University. May I take a peek at it?”

“You’d better wait,” I said unhappily. “Wait until the Doc is here.”

Two more cars pulled up. More old men got out and started up the walk, murmuring and talking together. “Where’s the Animator?” one asked me, a codger with bushy whiskers. “Young man, direct us to the exhibit.”

“The exhibit is inside,” I said. “If you want to see the Animator, go on in.”

They crowded inside. Joan and I followed them. They were standing around the table, studying the square box, the Dutch oven, talking excitedly.

“This is it!” Porter said. “The Principle of Sufficient Irritation will go down in—”

“Nonsense,” another said. “It’s absurd. I want to see this hat, or shoe, or whatever it is.”

“You’ll see it,” Porter said. “Rupert knows what he’s doing. You can count on that.”

They fell into controversy, quoting authorities and citing dates and places. More cars were arriving, and some of them were press cars.

“Oh, God,” I said. “This will be the end of him.”

“Well, he’ll just have to tell them what happened,” Joan said. “About its getting away.”

“We’re going to, not him. We let the thing go.”

“I had nothing to do with it. I never liked that pair from the start. Don’t you remember, I wanted you to get those ox-blood ones?”

I ignored her. More and more old men were assembling on the lawn, standing around talking and discussing. All at once I saw Labyrinth’s little blue Ford pull up, and my heart sank. He had come, he was here, and in a minute we would have to tell him.

“I can’t face him,” I said to Joan. “Let’s slip out the back way.”

At the sight of Doc Labyrinth all the scientists began streaming out of the house, surrounding him in a circle. Joan and I looked at each other. The house was deserted, except for the two of us. I closed the front door. Sounds of talk filtered through the windows; Labyrinth was expounding the Principle of Sufficient Irritation. In a moment he would come inside and demand the shoe.

“Well, it was his own fault for leaving it,” Joan said. She picked up a magazine and thumbed through it.

Doc Labyrinth waved at me through the window. His old face was wreathed with smiles. I waved back halfheartedly. After a while I sat down beside Joan.

Time passed. I stared down at the floor. What was there to do? Nothing but wait, wait for the Doc to come triumphantly into the house, surrounded by scientists, learned men, reporters, historians, demanding the proof of his theory, the shoe. On my old shoe rested Labyrinth’s whole life, the proof of his Principle, of the Animator, of everything.

And the damn shoe was gone, outside someplace!

“It won’t be long now,” I said.

We waited, without speaking. After a time I noticed a peculiar thing. The talk outside had died away. I listened, but I heard nothing.

“Well?” I said. “Why don’t they come in?”

The silence continued. What was going on? I stood up and went to the front door. I opened it and looked out.

“What’s the matter?” Joan said. “Can you see?”

“No,” I said. “I don’t get it.” They were all standing silently, staring down at something, none of them speaking. I was puzzled. I could not make sense out of it. “What’s happening?” I said.

“Let’s go and look.” Joan and I went slowly down the steps, onto the lawn. We pushed through the row of old men and made our way to the front.

“Good Lord,” I said. “Good Lord.”

Crossing the lawn was a strange little procession, making its way through the grass. Two shoes, my old brown shoe, and just ahead of it, leading the way, another shoe, a tiny white high-heeled slipper. I stared at it. I had seen it someplace before.

“That’s mine!” Joan cried. Everyone looked at her. “That belongs to me! My party shoes—”

“Not any more,” Labyrinth said. His old face was pale with emotion. “It is beyond us all, forever.”

“Amazing,” one of the learned men said. “Look at them. Observe the female. Look at what she is doing.”

BOOK: The Short Happy Life of the Brown Oxford and Other Classic Stories

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