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- Филип Киндред Дик
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- Человек в высоком замке
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- Стр. 9/275
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He
had
no
lines
to
read
,
no
nines
or
sixes
;
it
was
static
.
So
he
was
through
.
It
did
not
move
into
a
second
hexagram
.
A
new
question
,
then
.
Setting
himself
,
he
said
aloud
,
"
Will
I
ever
see
Juliana
again
?
"
That
was
his
wife
.
Or
rather
his
ex
-
wife
.
Juliana
had
divorced
him
a
year
ago
,
and
he
had
not
seen
her
in
months
;
in
fact
he
did
not
even
know
where
she
lived
.
Evidently
she
had
left
San
Francisco
.
Perhaps
even
the
PSA
.
Either
their
mutual
friends
had
not
heard
from
her
or
they
were
not
telling
him
.
Busily
he
maneuvered
the
yarrow
stalks
,
his
eyes
fixed
on
the
tallies
.
How
many
times
he
had
asked
about
Juliana
,
one
question
or
another
?
Here
came
the
hexagram
,
brought
forth
by
the
passive
chance
workings
of
the
vegetable
stalks
.
Random
,
and
yet
rooted
in
the
moment
in
which
he
lived
,
in
which
his
life
was
bound
up
with
all
other
lives
and
particles
in
the
universe
.
The
necessary
hexagram
picturing
in
its
pattern
of
broken
and
unbroken
lines
the
situation
.
He
,
Juliana
,
the
factory
on
Gough
Street
,
the
Trade
Missions
that
ruled
,
the
exploration
of
the
planets
,
the
billion
chemical
heaps
in
Africa
that
were
now
not
even
corpses
,
the
aspirations
of
the
thousands
around
him
in
the
shanty
warrens
of
San
Francisco
,
the
mad
creatures
in
Berlin
with
their
calm
faces
and
manic
plans
—
all
connected
in
this
moment
of
casting
the
yarrow
stalks
to
select
the
exact
wisdom
appropriate
in
a
book
begun
in
the
thirtieth
century
B
.
C
.
A
book
created
by
the
sages
of
China
over
a
period
of
five
thousand
years
,
winnowed
,
perfected
,
that
superb
cosmology
—
and
science
—
codified
before
Europe
had
even
learned
to
do
long
division
.
The
hexagram
.
His
heart
dropped
.
Forty
-
four
.
Kou
.
Coming
to
Meet
.
Its
sobering
judgment
.
The
maiden
is
powerful
.
One
should
not
marry
such
a
maiden
.
Again
he
had
gotten
it
in
connection
with
Juliana
.
Oy
vey
,
he
thought
,
settling
back
.
So
she
was
wrong
for
me
;
I
know
that
.
I
didn
’
t
ask
that
.
Why
does
the
oracle
have
to
remind
me
?
A
bad
fate
for
me
,
to
have
met
her
and
been
in
love
—
be
in
love
—
with
her
.
Juliana
—
the
best
-
looking
woman
he
had
ever
married
.
Soot
-
black
eyebrows
and
hair
;
trace
amounts
of
Spanish
blood
distributed
as
pure
color
,
even
to
her
lips
.
Her
rubbery
,
soundless
walk
;
she
had
worn
saddle
shoes
left
over
from
high
school
.
In
fact
all
her
clothes
had
a
dilapidated
quality
and
the
definite
suggestion
of
being
old
and
often
washed
.
He
and
she
had
been
so
broke
so
long
that
despite
her
looks
she
had
had
to
wear
a
cotton
sweater
,
cloth
zippered
jacket
,
brown
tweed
skirt
and
bobby
socks
,
and
she
hated
him
and
it
because
it
made
her
look
,
she
had
said
,
like
a
woman
who
played
tennis
or
(
even
worse
)
collected
mushrooms
in
the
woods
.
But
above
and
beyond
everything
else
,
he
had
originally
been
drawn
by
her
screwball
expression
;
for
no
reason
,
Juliana
greeted
strangers
with
a
portentous
,
nudnik
,
Mona
Lisa
smile
that
hung
them
up
between
responses
,
whether
to
say
hello
or
not
.
And
she
was
so
attractive
that
more
often
than
not
they
did
say
hello
,
whereupon
Juliana
glided
by
.
At
first
he
had
thought
it
was
just
plain
bad
eyesight
,
but
finally
he
had
decided
that
it
revealed
a
deep
-
dyed
otherwise
concealed
stupidity
at
her
core
.
And
so
finally
her
borderline
flicker
of
greeting
to
strangers
had
annoyed
him
,
as
had
her
plantlike
,
silent
,
I
’
m
-
on
-
a
-
mysterious
-
errand
way
of
coming
and
going
But
even
then
,
toward
the
end
,
when
they
had
been
fighting
so
much
,
he
still
never
saw
her
as
anything
but
a
direct
,
literal
invention
of
God
’
s
,
dropped
into
his
life
for
reasons
he
would
never
know
.
And
on
that
account
—
a
sort
of
religious
intuition
or
faith
about
her
—
he
could
not
get
over
having
lost
her
.
