The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch by Philip K. Dick Page A

head reminded Hnatt of a photograph he had once seen in a textbook; the photo had been labeled
hydrocephalic
. The same enlargement above the browline; it was clearly domelike and oddly fragile-looking and he saw at once why these well-to-do persons who had evolved were popularly called
bubbleheads
. Looks about to burst, he thought, impressed. And—the massive rind. Hair had given way to the darker, more uniform pattern of chitinous shell. Bubblehead? More like a coconut.
    “Mr. Hnatt,” Dr. Denkmal said to Richard Hnatt, pausing. “And Frau Hnatt, too. I’ll be with you in a moment.” He turned back to the man beside him. “It’s just chance that we were able to squeeze you in today, Mr. Bulero, on such short notice. Anyhow you haven’t lost a bit of ground; in fact you’ve gained.”
    However, Mr. Bulero was gazing at Richard Hnatt. “I’ve heard your name before. Oh, yes. Felix Blau mentioned you.” His supremely intelligent eyes became dark and he said, “Did you recently sign a contract with a Boston firm called—” The elongated face, distorted as if by a permanent optically impaired mirror, twisted. “Chew-Z Manufacturers?”
    “N-nuts to you,” Hnatt stammered. “Your Pre-Fash consultant turned us down.”
    Leo Bulero eyed him, then with a shrug turned back to Dr. Denkmal. “I’ll see you in two weeks.”
    “Two! But—” Denkmal gestured protestingly.
    “I can’t make it next week; I’ll be off Terra again.” Again Bulero eyed Richard and Emily Hnatt, lingeringly, then strode off.
    Watching him go, Dr. Denkmal said, “Very evolved, that man. Both physically and spiritually.” He turned to the Hnatts. “Welcome to Eichenwald Clinic.” He beamed.
    “Thank you,” Emily said nervously. “Does—it hurt?”
    “Our therapy?” Dr. Denkmal tittered with amusement. “Not in the slightest, although it may shock—in the figurative sense—at first. As you experience a growth of your cortex area. You’ll have many new and exciting concepts occur to you, especially of a religious nature. Oh, if only Luther and Erasmus were alive today; their controversies could be solved so easily now, by means of E Therapy. Both would see the truth, as
zum Beiszspiel
regard transubstantiation—you know, the
Blut und
—” He interrupted himself with a cough. “In English, blood and wafer; you know, in the Mass. Is very much like the takers of Can-D; have you noticed that affinity? But come on; we begin.” He slapped Richard Hnatt on the back and led the two of them into his inner office, eyeing Emily with what seemed to Richard to be a rather unspiritual, covetous look.
    They faced a gigantic chamber of scientific gadgets and two Dr. Frankenstein tables, complete with arm and leg brackets. At the sight Emily moaned and shrank back.
    “Nothing to fear, Frau Hnatt. Like electro-convulsive shock, causes certain musculature reactions; reflex, you know?” Denkmal giggled. “Now you must, ah, you know: take off your clothes. Each of you in private, of course; then don smocks and
auskommen
—understand? A nurse will assist you. We have your medical charts from Nord Amerika already; we know your histories. Both quite healthy, virile; good Nord Amerikanische people.” He led Richard Hnatt to a side room, secluded by a curtain; there he left him off and returned to Emily. As he entered the side room Richard heard Dr. Denkmal talking to Emily in a soothing but commanding tone; the combination was a neat bit of business and Hnatt felt both envious and suspicious and then, at last, glum. It was not quite as he had pictured it, not quite big-time enough to suit him.
    However, Leo Bulero had emerged from this room so that proved it was authentic big-time; Bulero would never have settled for less.
    Heartened, he began to undress.
    Somewhere out of sight Emily squeaked.
    He redressed and left the side room, boiling with concern. However, he found Denkmal at a desk, reading Emily’s medical chart; she was off, he