Time Out of Joint by Philip K. Dick Page A

said.
    After Margo had cleared the dinner dishes away and brought in the dessert, Vic said to Ragle, "Make any progress today?"
    "I got it off at six," he answered. "As usual."
    "I mean the other business," Vic said.
    Actually he had done very little. The contest work had tied him up. "I started listing the separate facts in the magazines," he said. "Under different catagories. Until I get it broken down and listed there’s not much I can say." He had set up twelve categories: politics, economics, movies, art, crime, fashions, science, etc. "I got to looking up the different auto dealers in the white section, under their brand names. Chevrolet, Plymouth, DeSoto. They’re all listed except one."
    "Which one?" Vic said.
    "Tucker."
    "That’s strange," Vic said.
    "Maybe the dealer has some personal title," Ragle said. "Such as ’Norman G. Selkirk, Tucker Dealer.’ But anyhow, I pass it along to you for what it’s worth."
    Margo said, "Why do you use the name ’Selkirk’?"
    "I don’t know," he said. "Just selected at random."
    "There’s no random," Margo said. "Freud has shown that there’s always a psychological reason. Think about the name ’Selkirk.’ What does it suggest to you?"
    Ragle thought about it. "Maybe I saw the name when I was going through the phone book." These damn associations, he thought. As in the puzzle clues. No matter how hard a person tried, he never got them under control. They continued to run him. "I have it," he said finally. "The man that the book Robinson Crusoe was based on. Alexander Selkirk."
    "I didn’t know it was based on anything," Vic said.
    "Yes," he said. "There was a real castaway."
    "I wonder why you thought of that," Margo said. "A man living alone on a tiny island, creating his own society around him, his own world. All his utensils, clothes—"
    "Because," Ragle said, "I spent a couple of years on such an island during World War Two."
    Vic said, "Do you have any theory yet?"
    "About what’s wrong?" Ragle inclined his head toward Sammy, who was listening.
    "It’s okay," Vic said. "He’s been following the whole thing. Haven’t you McBoy?"
    "Yes," Sammy said.
    With a wink to Ragle, Vic said to his son, "Tell us what’s wrong, then."
    Sammy said, "They’re trying to dupe us."
    "He heard me say that," Margo said.
    "Who’s trying to dupe us?" Vic said.
    "The—enemy," Sammy said, after hesitating.
    "What enemy?" Ragle said.
    Sammy considered and finally said, "The enemy that’s everywhere around us. I don’t know their names. But they’re everywhere. I guess they’re the Reds."
    To the boy, Ragle said, "And how are they duping us?"
    With confidence, Sammy said, "They’ve got their dupe-guns trained on us dead center."
    They all laughed. Sammy colored and began playing with his empty dessert dish.
    "Their atomic dupe-guns?" Vic said.
    Sammy muttered, "I forget if they’re atomic or not."
    "He’s way ahead of us," Ragle said.
    After dinner Sammy went off to his room. Margo did the dishes in the kitchen, and the two men adjourned to the living room. Almost at once the doorbell rang.
    "Maybe it’s your pal Mrs. Keitelbein back," Vic said, going to the door.
    Standing on the porch was Bill Black. "Hi," he said, entering the house. "I’ve got something for you fellows." He tossed Ragle a couple of objects, which Ragle caught. Ball-point pens, and good ones by their look. "Couple for you, too," Black said to Vic. "Some firm up north mailed them to us, but we can’t keep them. Against a city ruling involving gifts. You have to either eat it up, smoke it up, or drink it up the day you got it, or you can’t keep it."
    "But it’s all right to give them to us," Vic said, examining the pens. "Well thanks, Black. I can use these down at the store."
    I wonder, Ragle wondered. Should we say anything to Black? He managed to catch his brother-in-law’s eye. There seemed to be a nod of approval there, so he said, "You got a minute?"
    "I guess so," Black said.
    "There’s