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- Филип Киндред Дик
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Curse
at
it
,
he
told
himself
.
Frighten
it
.
"
My
patience
is
running
out
,
"
he
said
sotto
voce
.
And
what
then
?
Fling
you
in
the
gutter
?
Breathe
on
it
,
shake
it
,
breathe
on
it
.
Win
me
the
game
.
He
laughed
.
Addlepated
involvement
,
here
in
warm
sunlight
.
Spectacle
to
whoever
comes
along
.
Peeking
about
guiltily
,
now
.
But
no
one
saw
.
Old
men
snoozing
.
Measure
of
relief
,
there
.
Tried
everything
,
he
realized
.
Pleaded
,
contemplated
,
threatened
,
philosophized
at
length
.
What
else
can
be
done
?
Could
I
but
stay
here
.
It
is
denied
me
.
Opportunity
will
perhaps
occur
again
.
And
yet
,
as
W
.
S
.
Gilbert
says
,
such
an
opportunity
will
not
occur
again
.
Is
that
so
?
I
feel
it
to
be
so
.
When
I
was
a
child
I
thought
as
a
child
.
But
now
I
have
put
away
childish
things
.
Now
I
must
seek
in
other
realms
.
I
must
keep
after
this
object
in
new
ways
.
I
must
be
scientific
.
Exhaust
by
logical
analysis
every
entree
.
Systematically
,
in
classic
Aristotelian
laboratory
manner
.
He
put
his
finger
in
his
right
ear
,
to
shut
off
traffic
and
all
other
distracting
noises
.
Then
he
tightly
held
the
silver
triangle
,
shellwise
,
to
his
left
ear
.
No
sound
.
No
roar
of
simulated
ocean
,
in
actuality
interior
blood
-
motion
noises
—
not
even
that
.
