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- Филип Киндред Дик
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"
What
a
surprise
.
I
am
overcome
.
"
Childan
put
down
the
object
and
cloth
.
Around
the
corner
of
the
counter
he
came
.
Usual
ritual
,
the
greeting
,
et
cetera
.
Yet
,
Mr
.
Tagomi
felt
the
man
today
somehow
different
.
Rather
—
muted
.
An
improvement
,
he
decided
.
Always
a
trifle
loud
,
shrill
.
Skipping
about
with
agitation
.
But
this
might
well
be
a
bad
omen
.
"
Mr
.
Childan
,
"
Mr
.
Tagomi
said
,
placing
his
briefcase
on
the
counter
and
unzipping
it
,
"
I
wish
to
trade
in
an
item
bought
several
years
ago
.
You
do
that
,
I
recollect
.
"
"
Yes
,
"
Mr
.
Childan
said
.
"
Depending
on
condition
,
for
instance
.
"
He
watched
alertly
.
"
Colt
.
44
revolver
,
"
Mr
.
Tagomi
said
.
They
were
both
silent
,
regarding
the
gun
as
it
lay
in
its
open
teakwood
box
with
its
carton
of
partly
consumed
ammunition
.
Shade
colder
by
Mr
.
Childan
.
Ah
,
Mr
.
Tagomi
realized
.
Well
,
so
be
it
.
"
You
are
not
interested
,
"
Mr
.
Tagomi
said
.
"
No
sir
,
"
Mr
.
Childan
said
in
a
stiff
voice
.
"
I
will
not
press
it
.
"
He
did
not
feel
any
strength
.
I
yield
.
Yin
,
the
adaptive
,
receptive
,
holds
sway
in
me
,
I
fear
.
"
Forgive
me
,
Mr
.
Tagomi
.
"
