The Skull - Philip K Dick

Listen Ad Free https://www.solgoodmedia.com - Listen to hundreds of audiobooks, thousands of short stories, and ambient sounds all ad free!

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
The Skull by Philip K. Dick. Conger agreed to kill
a stranger he had never seen, but he would make
no mistakes because he had the stranger's skull under his arm.
What is this opportunity, Conger asked, go on, I'm interested.

(00:25):
The room was silent. All faces were fixed on Conger,
still in the drab prison uniform. The speaker leaned forward slowly.
Before you went to prison, your trading business was paying well,
all illegal, all very profitable. Now you have nothing except
the prospect of another six years in a cell. Conger scowled.

(00:47):
There is a certain situation very important to this council
that requires your peculiar abilities. Also, it is a situation
you might find interesting. You were a hunter, were you not.
You've done a great deal of trapping, hiding in the bushes,
waiting at night for the game. I imagine hunting must
be a source of satisfaction to you. The chase the

(01:08):
stalking Conger sighed, His lips twisted, all right, he said,
leave that out. Get to the point. Who do you
want me to kill? The speaker smiled all in proper sequence,
he said softly. The car slid to a stop. It
was night there was no light anywhere along the street.

(01:29):
Conger looked out, Where are we? What is this place?
The hand of the guard pressed into his arm. Come
through that door. Conger stepped down on to the damp sidewalk.
The guard came swiftly after him, and then the speaker.
Conger took a deep breath of the cold air. He
studied the dim outline of the building rising up before them.

(01:52):
I know this place, I've seen it before. He squinted
his eyes, growing accustomed to the dark. Suddenly he became alert.
This is, yes, the First Church. The speaker walked towards
the steps. We're expected expected here. Yes, the speaker mounted
the stairs. You know we are not allowed in their churches,

(02:15):
especially with guns. He stopped. Two armed soldiers loomed up ahead,
one on each side. All right, The speaker looked up
at them. They nodded. The door of the church was open.
Conger could see other soldiers inside, standing about, young soldiers
with large eyes gazing at the icons and holy images.

(02:36):
I see, he said. It was necessary. The speaker said,
as you know, we have been singularly unfortunate in the
past in our relations with the First Church. This won't help,
but it's worth it. You will see. They passed through
the hall and into the main chamber, where the altarpiece
was and the kneeling places. The speaker scarcely glanced at

(02:58):
the altar as they passed by. He pushed open a
small side door and beckoned Conger through in here. We
have to hurry. The faithful will be flocking in soon.
Conger entered, blinking. They were in a small chamber, low
ceilinged with dark panels of old wood. There was a
smell of ashes and smoldering spices in the room. He sniffed,

(03:20):
what's that the smell cups on the wall. I don't know.
The speaker crossed impatiently to the far side. According to
our information, it is hidden here by this. Conger looked
around the room. He saw books and papers, holy signs
and images. A strange low shiver went through him. Does

(03:42):
my job involve anyone in the church? If it does,
the speaker turned astonished. Can it be that you believe
in the Founder? Is it possible A hunter? A killer? No,
of course not. All their business about resignation to death
and nonviolent. What is it? Then, Conger shrugged. I've been

(04:05):
taught not to mix with such as these, they have
strange abilities, and you can't reason with them. The speaker
studied Conger, thoughtfully, you have the wrong idea. It is
no one here that we have in mind. We've found
that killing them only tends to increase their numbers. Then
why come here? Let's leave. No, we came for something important,

(04:28):
something you will need to identify your man. Without it,
you won't be able to find him. A trace of
a smile crossed the speaker's face. We don't want you
to kill the wrong person. It's too important. I don't
make mistakes. Conger's chest rose. Listen, speaker, this is an
unusual situation, the speaker said. You see, the person you

(04:50):
are after, the person that we are sending you to find,
is known only by certain objects. Here. They are the
only traces, the only means of identification with out them.
What are they? He came toward the speaker. The speaker
moved to one side. Look, he said. He drew a
sliding wall away, showing a dark, square hole in there.

(05:13):
Conger squatted down, staring in. He frowned a skull, a skeleton.
The man you are after has been dead for two centuries,
the speaker said, this is all that remains of him,
and this is all you have with which to find him.
For a long time, Conger said nothing. He stared down
at the bones, dimly visible in the recess of the wall.

(05:36):
How could a man dead centuries be killed? How could
he be stalked and brought down? Conger was a hunter,
a man who had lived as he pleased, where he pleased.
He had kept himself alive by trading, bringing furs and
pelts in from the provinces on his own ship, riding
at high speed, slipping through the customs line around Earth.

(05:57):
He had hunted in the great mountains of the Moon.
He had stalked through empty Martian cities. He had explored.
The speaker said, soldier, take these objects and have them
carried to the car. Don't lose any part of them.
The soldier went into the cupboard, reaching gingerly, squatting on
his heels. It is my hope, the speaker continued softly

(06:20):
to Conger, that you will demonstrate your loyalty to us. Now,
there are always ways for citizens to restore themselves, to
show their devotion to their society. For you, I think
this would be a very good chance. I seriously doubt
that a better one will come along, and for your
efforts there will be quite a restitution, of course. The

(06:41):
two men looked at each other, Conger thin unkempt, the
speaker immaculate in his uniform. I understand you, Conger said,
I mean, I understand this part about the chance. But
how can a man who has been dead two centuries
be I'll explain that later. The speaker said. Right now,
we have to hurry. The soldier had gone out, with

(07:03):
the bones wrapped in a blanket held carefully in his arms.
The speaker walked to the door. Come. They've already discovered
that we've broken in here, and they'll be coming at
any moment. They hurried down the damp steps to the
waiting car. A second later, the driver lifted the car
up into the air above the housetops. The speaker settled
back in the seat. The First Church has an interesting past,

(07:27):
he said, I suppose you are familiar with it, but
I'd like to speak of a few points that are
of relevancy to us. It was the twentieth century that
the movement began, during one of the periodic wars. The
movement developed rapidly, feeding on the general sense of futility,
the realization that each war was breeding greater war with

(07:49):
no end in sight. The movement posed a simple answer
to the problem. Without military preparations weapons, there could be
no war, and without machinery and complaint scientific technocracy, there
could be no weapons. The movement preached that you couldn't
stop war by planning for it. They preached that man
was losing to his machinery and science, that it was

(08:11):
getting away from him, pushing him into greater and greater wars.
Down with society, they shouted, down with factories and science.
A few more wars and there wouldn't be much left
of the world. The founder was an obscure person from
a small town in the American Middle West. We don't
even know his name. All we know is that one

(08:31):
day he appeared preaching a doctrine of non violence, non resistance,
no fighting, no paying taxes for guns, no research except
for medicine. Live out your life quietly, tending de your garden,
staying out of public affairs, mind your own business. Be obscure, unknown, poor,
give away most of your possessions, leave the city. At

(08:54):
least that was what developed from what he told the people.
The car dropped down and landed on a roof. The
founder preached this doctrine, or the germ of it. There's
no telling how much the faithful have added themselves. The
local authorities picked him up at once, of course, apparently
they were convinced that he meant it. He was never released.

(09:14):
He was put to death and his body buried secretly.
It seemed that the cult was finished. The speaker smiled. Unfortunately,
some of his disciples reported seeing him after the date
of his death. The rumor spread he had conquered death,
he was divine. It took hold, grew, and here we

(09:35):
are today with a first church obstructing all social progress,
destroying society, sowing the seeds of anarchy. But the wars,
conger said about them, the wars, well, there were no
more wars. It must be acknowledged that the elimination of
war was the direct result of nonviolence practiced on a

(09:55):
general scale. But we can take a more objective view
of war today. What was so terrible about it? War
had a profound selective value, perfectly in accord with the
teachings of Darwin and Mendel and others. Without war, the
mass of useless incompetent mankind without training or intelligence is
permitted to grow and expand unchecked. War acted to reduce

(10:19):
their numbers, like storms and earthquakes and droughts. It was
nature's way of eliminating the unfit. Without war, the lower
elements of mankind have increased all out of proportion. They
threaten the educated few, those with scientific knowledge and training,
the ones equipped to direct society. They have no regard

(10:39):
for science or for a scientific society based on reason,
and this movement seeks to aid and abet them. Only
when scientists are in full control can the He looked
at his watch and then kick the car door open.
I'll tell you the rest as we walk. They crossed
the dark roof. Doubtless you now know who those bones

(11:00):
belonged to. Who it is that we are after he
has been dead just two centuries now, This ignorant man
from the Middle West, this founder. The tragedy is that
the authorities of the time acted too slowly. They allowed
him to speak, to get his message across. He was
allowed to preach, to start his colt and once such

(11:20):
a thing is under way, there's no stopping it. But
what if he had died before he preached, what if
none of his doctrines had ever been spoken. It took
only a moment for him to utter them. That we
know they say he spoke just once, just one time.
Then the authorities came taking him away. He offered no resistance.

(11:41):
The incident was small, the speaker turned to Conger. Small,
but were reaping the consequences of it to day. They
went inside the building. Inside, the soldiers had already laid
out this skeleton on a table. The soldiers stood around it,
their young faces intense. Conger went over to the table,
pushing past them. He bent down, staring at the bones.

(12:05):
So these are his remains, he murmured the founder. The
church has hidden them for two centuries. Quite so, the
speaker said, But now we have them. Come along down
the hall. They went across the room to a door.
The speaker pushed it open. Technicians looked up. Conger saw
machinery worrying and turning, benches and retorts. In the center

(12:30):
of the room was a gleaming crystal cage. The speaker
handed a slim gun to Conger. The important thing to
remember is that the skull must be saved and brought
back for comparison and proof. Aim low at the chest,
Conger weighed the gun in his hands. It feels good,
he said, I know this gun. That is, I've seen

(12:52):
them before, but I've never used one. The speaker nodded.
You will be instructed on the use of the gun
and the operation of the cage. You will be given
all data we have on the time and location. The
exact spot was a place called Hudson's Field about nineteen
sixty in a small community outside Denver, Colorado. And don't forget.
The only means of identification you will have will be

(13:15):
the skull. There are visible characteristics of the front teeth,
especially the left incisor. Conger listened absently. He was watching
two men in white carefully wrapping the skull in a
plastic bag. They tied it and carried it into the
crystal cage. And if I should make a mistake, pick
the wrong man, then find the right one. Don't come

(13:38):
back until you succeed in reaching this founder. And you
can't wait for him to start speaking. That's what we
must avoid. You must act in advance, take chances. Shoot
as soon as you think you've found him, he'll be
someone unusual, probably a stranger. In the area. Apparently he
wasn't known. Conger listened dimly. I think you have it

(14:00):
all now, the speaker asked, yes, I think so. Conger
entered the crystal cage and sat down, placing his hands
on the wheel. Good luck, the speaker said, We'll be
awaiting the outcome. There's some philosophical doubt as to whether
one can alter the past. This should answer the question
once and for all. Conger fingered the controls of the cage.

(14:24):
By the way, the speaker said, don't try to use
this cage for purposes not anticipated in your job. We
have a constant trace on it. If we want it back,
we can get it back. Good luck. Conger said nothing.
The cage was sealed. He raised his finger and touched
the wheel control. He turned the wheel carefully. He was

(14:45):
still staring at the plastic bag when the room outside vanished.
For a long time, there was nothing at all, nothing
beyond the crystal mesh of the cage. Thoughts rushed through
Conger's mind, helter skelter. How would he know the man?
How could he be certain in advance? What had he
looked like? What was his name? How had he acted
before he spoke? Would he be an ordinary person or

(15:08):
some strange outlandish crank. Conger picked up the slim gun
and held it against his cheek. The metal of the
gun was cool and smooth. He practiced moving the sight.
It was a beautiful gun, the kind of gun he
could fall in love with if he had owned such
a gun in the Martian desert on the long nights,

(15:29):
when he had lain cramped and numbed with cold, waiting
for things that moved through the darkness. He put the
gun down and adjusted the meter reading of the cage.
The spiraling mist was beginning to condense and settle all
at once. Forms wavered and fluttered around him, collars, sounds,
movements filtered through the crystal wire. He clamped the controls

(15:51):
off and stood up. He was on a ridge overlooking
a small town. It was high noon. The air was
crisp and bright. A few automobiles moved along a road.
Off in the distance were some level fields. Conger went
to the door and stepped outside. He sniffed the air.
Then he went back into the cage. He stood before

(16:13):
the mirror over the shelf, examining his features. He had
trimmed his beard. They had not got him to cut
it off, and his hair was neat. He was dressed
in the clothing of the middle twentieth century, the odd
collar and coat, the shoes of animal hide. In his
pocket was money of the times. That was important. Nothing
more was needed, nothing except his ability, his special cunning.

(16:38):
But he had never used it in such a way before.
He walked down the road toward the town. The first
things he noticed were the newspapers on the stands April fifth,
nineteen sixty one. He was not too far off. He
looked around him. There was a filling station, a garage,
some taverns, and a ten cents store. Down the street

(16:59):
was a grocery restore in some public buildings. A few
minutes later, he mounted the stairs of the little public
library and passed through the doors into the warm interior.
The librarian looked up, smiling, Good afternoon, she said. He smiled,
not speaking because his words would not be correct, accented
and strange. Probably. He went over to a table and

(17:22):
sat down by a heap of magazines. For a moment
he glanced through them. Then he was on his feet again.
He crossed the room to a wide rack against the wall.
His heart began to beat heavily, newspapers weeks on end.
He took a roll of them over to the table
and began to scan them quickly. The print was odd,

(17:43):
the letters strange, some of the words were unfamiliar. He
set the papers aside and searched farther. At last he
found what he wanted. He carried the Cherrywood Gazette to
the table and opened it to the first page. He
found what he wanted. Prisoner's self, an unidentified man held
by the County Sheriff's office for a suspicion of criminal syndicalism,

(18:06):
was found dead this morning. By he finished the item,
it was vague, uninforming. He needed more. He carried the
gazette back to the racks, and then, after a moment's hesitation,
approached the librarian more. He asked more papers, old ones.
She frowned, How old? Which papers? Months old? And before

(18:31):
of the gazette? This is all we have. What did
you want? What are you looking for? Maybe I can
help you, he was silent. You might find older issues
at the gazette office, the woman said, taking off her glasses.
Why don't you try there. But if you'd tell me,
maybe I could help you. He went out the gazette

(18:51):
office was down a side street. The sidewalk was broken
and cracked. He went inside. A heater glowed in the
corner of the small office. The heavy set man stood
up and came slowly over to the counter. What did
you want, mister, He said, old papers a month or
more to buy. You want to buy them? Yes, He held

(19:14):
out some of the money he had. The man stared sure,
He said sure, Wait a minute. He went quickly out
of the room. When he came back, he was staggering
under the weight of his armload. His face red. Here
are some, he grunted. Took what I could find, covers
the whole gear, and if you want more. Conger carried

(19:35):
the papers outside. He sat down by the road and
began to go through them. What he wanted was four
months back in December. It was a tiny item, so
small that he almost missed it. His hands trembled as
he scanned it, using them all Dictionary for some of
the archaic terms. Man arrested for unlicensed demonstration. An unidentified

(19:58):
man who refused to give his name, was picked up
in Cooper Creek by special agents of the Sheriff's Office.
According to Sheriff Duff it was said the man was
recently noticed in this area and had been watched continually.
It was Cooper Creek, December nineteen sixty. His heart pounded.
That was all he needed to know. He stood up,

(20:19):
shaking himself, stamping his feet on the cold ground. The
sun had moved across the sky to the very edge
of the hills. He smiled. Already he had discovered the
exact time and place. Now he needed only to go back,
perhaps to November, to Cooper Creek. He walked back through
the main section of town, past the library, past the

(20:40):
grocery store. It would not be hard. The hard part
was over. He would go there, rent a room, prepare
to wait until the man appeared. He turned the corner.
A woman was coming out of the doorway, loaded down
with packages. Conger stepped aside to let her pass. The
woman glanced at him. Suddenly, her face turned one night.

(21:00):
She stared, her mouth opened. Conger hurried on. He looked back.
What was wrong with her? The woman was still staring.
She had dropped the packages to the ground. He increased
his speed. He turned a second corner and went up
a side street. When he looked back again, the woman
had come to the entrance of the street and was

(21:21):
starting after him. A man joined her, and the two
of them began to run toward him. He lost them
and left the town, striding quickly easily up into the
hills at the edge of town. When he reached the cage,
he stopped. What had happened? Was it something about his clothing?
His dress? He pondered. Then, as the sun set, he

(21:44):
stepped into the cage. Conger sat before the wheel for
a moment. He waited, his hands resting lightly on the control.
Then he turned the wheel just a little, following the
control readings carefully. The grainness settled down around him, but
not for very long. The man looked him over critically.

(22:05):
You'd better come inside, he said, out of the cold. Thanks.
Conger went gratefully through the open door into the living room.
It was warm and close from the heat of the
little kerosene heater in the corner. A woman, large and
shapeless in her flowered dress, came from the kitchen. She
and the man studied him critically. It's a good room,

(22:26):
the woman said, I'm missus Appleton. It's got heat. You
need that this time a year, Yes, he nodded, looking around.
You want to eat with us? What you want to
eat with us? The man's brows knitted. You're not a foreigner,
are you, mister? No, he smiled. I was born in
this country quite far west though, California. No, he hesitated,

(22:52):
in Oregon. What's it like up there, missus, Appleton asked,
I hear there's lots of trees and green. It's so
barren here. I come from Chicago myself. That's the Middle West.
The man said to her, you ain't no foreigner. Oregon
isn't foreign either. Conger said, it's part of the United States.

(23:13):
The man nodded absently. He was staring at Conger's clothing.
That's a funny suit you got on, mister, he said,
where'd you get that? Conger was lost. He shifted uneasily.
It's a good suit, he said. Maybe I'd better go
some other place if you don't want me here. They
both raised their hands protestingly. The woman smiled at him.

(23:37):
We'd just have to look out for those reds. You know.
The government is always warning us about them, the reds.
He was puzzled. The government says they're all around. We're
supposed to report anything strange or unusual, anybody doesn't act
normal like me. They looked embarrassed. Well, you don't look

(23:58):
like a red to me, the man said. But we
have to be careful, The Tribune says Conquer half listened.
It was going to be easier than he had thought.
Clearly he would know as soon as the founder appeared,
these people, so suspicious of anything different, would be buzzing
and gossiping and spreading the story. All he had to
do was lie low and listen. Down at the general

(24:20):
store perhaps, or even here in Missus Appleton's boarding house.
Can I see the room? He said, certainly, Missus Appleton
went to the stairs. I'll be glad to show it
to you. They went upstairs. It was colder upstairs, but
not nearly as cold as outside, nor as cold as
the knights on the Martian deserts. For that he was grateful.

(24:45):
He was walking slowly around the store, looking at the
cans of vegetables, the frozen packages of fish and meats
shining and clean in the open refrigerator. Counters Ed Davies
came toward him. Can I help you, he said. The
man was a little oddly dressed and with a beard.
Ed couldn't help smiling nothing, the man said in a

(25:08):
funny voice, just looking sure, Ed said, he walked back
behind the counter. Missus Hackett was wheeling her cart up.
Who's he? She whispered, her sharp face turned, her nose
moving as if it were sniffing. I've never seen him before.
I don't know. Looks funny to me. Why does he

(25:30):
wear a beard? No one else wears a beard. Must
be something the matter with him. Maybe he likes to
wear a beard. I had an uncle, who wait, missus
Hackett stiffened, didn't that what was his name? The red
that old one? Didn't he have a beard? Marks? He
had a beard? Ed laughed, This ain't Karl Marx. I

(25:53):
saw a photograph of him once. Missus Hackett was staring
at him. You did, sure he flushed a little. What's
the matter with that? I'd sure like to know more
about him, missus Hackett said, I think we ought to
know more for our own good. Hey, mister, want a ride?
Conger turned, quickly, dropping his hand to his belt. He relaxed.

(26:16):
Two young kids in a car, a girl and a boy.
He smiled at them. A ride. Sure, Conger got into
the car and closed the door. Bill Wollett pushed the
gas and the car roared down the highway. I appreciate
a ride, Conger said, carefully. I was taking a walk
between towns, but it was farther than I thought. Where

(26:39):
are you from? Laura Hunt asked? She was pretty small
and dark in her yellow sweater and blue skirt from
Cooper Creek. Cooper Creek, Bill said, He frowned. That's funny.
I don't remember seeing you before. Why do you come
from there? I was born there, I know everybody there.

(27:00):
I just moved in from Oregon. From Oregon, I didn't
know Oregon people had accents. Do I have an accent? You? Do?
You use words? Funny? How? I don't know? Doesn't he? Laura?
You slur them, Laura said, smiling, talk some more. I'm

(27:20):
interested in dialects. She glanced at him, white teethed. Conger
felt his heart constrict. I I I have a speech impediment. Oh.
Her eyes widened. I'm sorry. They looked at him curiously
as the car purred along. Conger, for his part, was
struggling to find some way of asking them questions without

(27:41):
seeming curious. I guess people from out of town don't
come here much he said, strangers. No, Bill shook his head,
not very much. I'll bet I'm the first outsider for
a long time, I guess, so, Conger hesitated. A friend
of someone I know might be coming through here. Where

(28:04):
do you suppose I might? He stopped, Would there be
anyone certain to see him? Someone I could ask? Make
sure I don't miss him if he comes. They were puzzled.
Just keep your eyes open. Cooper Creek isn't very big. No,
that's right, they drove in silence. Conger studied the outline

(28:24):
of the girl. Probably she was the boy's mistress. Perhaps
she was his trial wife. Or had they developed trial
marriage back so far he could not remember, But surely
such an attractive girl would be someone's mistress. By this time,
she would be sixteen or so by her looks. He
might ask her some time if they ever met again.

(28:47):
The next day, Conger went walking along the one main
street of Cooper Creek. He passed the general store, the
two filling stations, and then the post office. At the
corner was the soda fountain. He stopped. Laura was sitting
inside talking to the clerk. She was laughing, rocking back
and forth. Conger pushed the door open, warm air rushed

(29:10):
around him. Laura was drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream.
She looked up in surprise as he slid into the
seat beside her. I beg your pardon, he said, Am
I intruding? No? She shook her head. Her eyes were
large and dark, not at all. The clerk came over.
What do you want? Conger looked at the chocolate, same

(29:33):
as she has. Laura was watching Conger, her arms folded
elbows on the counter. She smiled at him. By the way,
you don't know my name, Laura Hunt. She was holding
out her hand. He took it awkwardly, not knowing what
to do with it. Conger is my name, he murmured.

(29:53):
Conger Is that your last or first name? Last or first?
He hesitated last Omar Conger o Mar. She laughed. That's
like the poet Omark I am. I don't know of him.
I know very little of poets. We restored very few
works of art. Usually only the church has been interested enough.

(30:16):
He broke off. She was staring. He flushed, Where I
come from? He finished, the church? Which church? Do you mean?
The church? He was confused. The chocolate came and he
began to sip it gratefully. Laura was still watching him.
You're an unusual person, she said. Bill didn't like you,

(30:39):
but he never likes anything different. He's so so prosaic.
Don't you think that when a person gets older he
should become broadened in his outlook. Conger nodded. He says
foreign people ought to stay where they belong, not come here.
But you're not so foreign. He means orientals, you know.
Conger nodded. The screen door opened behind him. Bill came

(31:03):
into the room. He stared at them, Well, he said,
Conger turned hello. Well, Bill sat down. Hello, Laura. He
was looking at Conger. I didn't expect to see you here.
Conger tensed. He could feel the hostility of the boy.

(31:23):
Something wrong with that, No, nothing wrong with it. There
was silence. Suddenly Bill turned to Laura. Come on, let's
go go. She was astonished. Why just go? He grabbed
her hand. Come on, the car's outside, Why Bill, will it?

(31:43):
Laura said, you're jealous? Who is this guy? Bill said,
do you know anything about him? Look at him? His beard?
She flared, So what just because he doesn't drive a
packard and go to Cooper High? Conger sighed. The boy up.
He was big, big and strong. Probably he was part

(32:04):
of some civil control organization. Sorry, Conger said, I'll go.
What's your business in town? Bill asked, what are you
doing here? Why are you hanging around Laura. Conger looked
at the girl. He shrugged, no reason. I'll see you later.
He turned away and froze. Bill had moved. Conger's fingers

(32:26):
went to his belt. Half pressure, he whispered to himself.
No more, half pressure. He squeezed. The room leaped around him.
He himself was protected by the lining of his clothing,
the plastic sheathing inside. My god, Laara put her hands up.
Conger cursed. He hadn't meant any of it for her.

(32:47):
But it would wear off. There was only a half
amp to it. It would tingle, tingle, and paralyze. He
walked out the door without looking back. He was almost
to the corner when Bill came slowly out, holding onto
the wall like a drunken man. Conger went on. As
Conger walked, restless in the night of form loomed in

(33:08):
front of him, he stopped, holding his breath. Who is it?
A man's voice came. Conger waited, tense, Who is it?
The man said, again. He clicked something in his hand.
A light flashed. Conger moved. It's me, he said, Who
is me? Conger is my name? I'm staying at the

(33:28):
Appleton's place. Who are you? The man came slowly up
to him. He was wearing a leather jacket. There was
a gun at his waist. I'm Sheriff Duff. I think
you're the person I want to talk to. You were
in Blooms today about three o'clock Blooms, the fountain where
the kids hang out. Duff came up beside him, shining

(33:49):
his light into Conger's face. Conger blinked, turn that thing away,
he said, a pause, all right? The light flickered to
the ground. You were there, some trouble broke out between
you and the willet boy. Is that right? You had
a beef over this girl. We had a discussion, Conger said, carefully.

(34:11):
Then what happened? Why? I'm just curious. They say you
did something? Did something? Did what? I don't know, That's
what I'm wondering. They saw a flash and something seemed
to happen. They all blacked out, couldn't move. How are
they now? All right? There was silence? Well, stuff said

(34:33):
what Was it a bomb? A bomb? Conger laughed, No,
my cigarette lader caught fire. There was a leak and
the fluid ignited. Why did they all pass out fumes? Silence?
Conger shifted, waiting, His fingers moved slowly towards his belt.
The sheriff glanced down. He grunted, if you say so,

(34:57):
he said, anyhow, there wasn't any real harm done. He
stepped back from Conger, and that will it is a
trouble maker. Good night, Then Conger said, he started past
the sheriff. One more thing, mister Conger, before you go.
You don't mind if I look at your identification? Do you? No?

(35:17):
Not at all. Conger reached into his pocket. He held
his wallet out. The sheriff took it and shined his
flashlight on it. Conger watched, breathing shallowly. They had worked
hard on the wallet, studying historic documents, relics of the time,
all the papers they felt would be relevant stuff. Handed
it back. Okay, sorry to bother you. The light winked off.

(35:42):
When Conger reached the house, he found the Appletons sitting
around the television set. They did not look up as
he came in. He lingered at the door. Can I
ask you something? He said, Missus Appleton turned slowly. Can
I ask you? What's the date? The eight she studied him,

(36:02):
The first of December? December. First, why it was just November?
They were all looking at him. Suddenly, he remembered. In
the twentieth century they still used the old twelve month system.
November fed directly into December. There was no quarter member between.
He gasped. Then it was tomorrow, the second of December. Tomorrow, thanks,

(36:28):
he said, thanks. He went up the stairs. What a
fool he was forgetting the Founder had been taken into
captivity on the second of December, according to the newspaper records, tomorrow,
only twelve hours. Hence the Founder would appear to speak
to the people and then be dragged away. The day

(36:49):
was warm and bright. Conger's shoes crunched the melting crust
of snow. On he went through the trees heavy with white.
He climbed a hill and strode down the other side,
sliding as he went. He stopped to look around. Everything
was silent. There was no one in sight. He brought
a thin rod from his waist and turned the handle

(37:10):
of it for a moment. Nothing happened. Then there was
a shimmering in the air. The crystal cage appeared and
settled slowly down. Conger sighed, it was good to see
it again, after all, it was his only way back.
He walked up on the ridge. He looked around with
some satisfaction, his hands on his hips. Hudson's Field was

(37:32):
spread out all the way to the beginning of town.
It was bare and flat, covered with a thin layer
of snow. Here the Founder would come. Here, he would
speak to them, and here the authorities would take him.
Only he would be dead before they came. He would
be dead before he even spoke. Conger returned to the
crystal globe. He pushed through the door and stepped inside.

(37:54):
He took the slim gun from the shelf and screwed
the bolt into place. It was ready to go, ready
to fire. For a moment, he considered, should he have
it with him? No, it might be hours before the
Founder came, and suppose someone approached him in the meantime.
When he saw the Founder coming toward the field, then
he could go and get the gun. Conger looked toward

(38:16):
the shelf. There was the neat plastic package. He took
it down and unwrapped it. He held the skull in
his hands, turning it over in spite of himself. A
cold feeling rushed through him. This was the man's skull,
the skull of the Founder, who was still alive. Who
would come here to day this day, Who would stand
on the field not fifty yards away? What if he

(38:40):
could see this, his own skull, yellow and eroded, two
centuries old, would he still speak? Would he speak if
he could see it, the grinning, aged skull? What would
there be for him to say to tell the people?
What message could he bring? What action would not be
futile when a man could look upon his own aged,

(39:00):
yellowed skull better they should enjoy their temporary lives while
they still had them to enjoy. A man who could
hold his own skull in his hands would believe in
few causes, few movements. Rather, he would preach the opposite.
A sound. Conger dropped the skull back on the shelf
and took up the gun. Outside. Something was moving. He

(39:23):
went quickly to the door, his heart beating. Was it
he was it? The Founder? Wandering by himself in the cold,
looking for a place to speak. Was he meditating over
his words? Choosing his sentences. What if he could see
what Conger had held. He pushed the door open. The
gun raised Laura. He stared at her. She was dressed

(39:44):
in a wool jacket and boots, her hands in her pockets.
A cloud of steam came from her mouth and nostrils.
Her breast was rising and falling silently. They looked at
each other. At last, Conger lowered the gun. What is it?
He said? What are you doing here? She pointed. She
did not seem able to speak. He frowned. What was

(40:06):
wrong with her? What is it? He said? What do
you want? He looked in the direction she had pointed.
I don't see anything. They're coming? They who who are coming?
They are the police. During the night, the sheriff had
the state police send cars all around everywhere, blocking the roads.

(40:26):
There's about sixty of them coming, some from town, some
from behind. She stopped gasping. They said, they said what
they said? You were some kind of a communist, they said.
Conger went into the cage. He put the gun down
on the shelf and came back out. He leaped down
and went to the girl. Thanks, you came here to

(40:49):
tell me you don't believe it? I don't know. Did
you come alone? No, Joe brought me in his truck
from town. Joe, who's Joe French? The plumber, He's a
friend of dad's. Let's go. They crossed the snow, up
the ridge and onto the field. The little panel truck

(41:10):
was parked half way across the field. A heavy short
man was sitting behind the wheel, smoking his pipe. He
sat up as he saw the two of them coming
toward him. Are you the one, he said to Conger, Yes,
thanks for warning me. The plumber shrugged. I don't know
anything about this. Lauras says, you're all right. He turned around.

(41:32):
It might interest you to know some more of them
are coming. Not to warn you, just curious more of them.
Conger looked toward the town. Black shapes were picking their
way across the snow. People from town. You can't keep
this sort of thing quiet, not in a small town.
We all listened to the police radio. They heard the
same way Laura did. Someone tuned in spread it around.

(41:56):
The shapes were getting closer. Conger could make out a
couple of them. Bill Willett was there with some boys
from the high school. The Appletons were along, hanging back
in the rear even Ed Davies, Conger murmured. The storekeeper
was toiling onto the field with three or four other
men from the town, all curious as hell. French said, well,

(42:19):
I guess I'm going back to town. I don't want
my truck shot full of holes. Come on, Laura, she
was looking up at Conger wide eyed. Come on, French
said again, let's go. You sure as hell can't stay here.
You know why. There may be shooting. That's what they
all came to see. You know that, don't you, Conger, Yes,

(42:39):
you have a gun? Or don't you care? French smiled
a little. They've picked up a lot of people in
their time. You know you won't be lonely, he cared,
all right, he had to stay here on the field.
He couldn't afford to let them take him away. Any minute,
the founder would appear, would step onto the field. Would
he be one of the townsmen standing silently at the

(43:01):
foot of the field, waiting, watching, or maybe he was
Joe French, or maybe one of the cops. Any one
of them might find himself moved to speak, And the
few words spoke in this day were going to be
important for a long time, and Conger had to be
there ready. When the first word was uttered, I care,

(43:21):
he said, you go back to town, take the girl
with you. Laura got stiffly in beside Joe French. The
plumber started up the motor. Look at them standing there,
he said, like vultures waiting to see someone get killed.
The truck drove away, Laura sitting stiff and silent, frightened now.

(43:42):
Conger watched for a moment, then he dashed back into
the woods between the trees, toward the ridge. He could
get away, of course, any time he wanted. He could
get away. All he had to do was leap into
the crystal cage and turn the handles. But he had
a job, an important job. He had to be here here,
at this place, at this time. He reached the cage

(44:05):
and opened the door. He went inside and picked up
the gun from the shelf. The slim gun would take
care of them. He notched it up to full count.
The chain reaction from it would flatten them all. The police,
the curious, sadistic people. They wouldn't take him. Before they
got him, all of them would be dead. He would

(44:25):
get away, He would escape. By the end of the day.
They would all be dead if that was what they wanted.
And he he saw the skull. Suddenly, he put the
gun down. He picked up the skull. He turned the
skull over. He looked at the teeth. Then he went
to the mirror. He held the skull up, looking in

(44:45):
the mirror, he pressed the skull against his cheek, beside
his own face. The grinning skull leered back at him,
beside his skull, against his living flesh. He bared his teeth,
and he knew it was his own skull that he held.
He was the one who would die, He was the founder.

(45:06):
After a time, he put the skull down. For a
few minutes, he stood at the controls, playing with them idly.
He could hear the sound of motors outside, the muffled
noise of men. Should he go back to the present
where the speaker waited, he could escape, of course, escape.
He turned toward the skull. There it was his skull,

(45:28):
yellow with age. Escape. Escape. When he had held it
in his own hands, what did it matter if he
put it off a month, a year, ten years, even
fifty time was nothing. He had sipped chocolate with a
girl born one hundred and fifty years before his time
escape for a little while, perhaps, but he could not

(45:52):
really escape, no more so than anyone else had ever escaped,
or ever would. Only he had held it in his hands,
his own bones, his own death's head. They had not.
He went out the door and across the field empty handed.
There were a lot of them standing around, gathered together waiting.

(46:13):
They expected a good fight. They knew he had something.
They had heard about the incident at the fountain, and
there were plenty of police, police with guns and tear gas,
creeping across the hills and ridges between the trees, closer
and closer. It was an old story in this century.
One of the men tossed something at him. It fell

(46:33):
in the snow by his feet, and he looked down.
It was a rock. He smiled. Come on. One of
them called, don't you have any bombs? Throw a bomb,
you with the beard, throw a bomb. Let him have it.
Toss a few a bombs. They began to laugh. He smiled.
He put his hands to his hips. They suddenly turned silent,

(46:56):
seeing that he was going to speak. I'm sorry, he said, simply,
I don't have any bombs. You are mistaken. There was
a flurry of murmuring, I have a gun, he went on,
A very good one made by science, even more advanced
than your own. But I'm not going to use that either.
They were puzzled. Why not. Someone called At the edge

(47:18):
of the group, an older woman was watching. He felt
a sudden shock. He had seen her before, where he
remembered the day at the library. As he had turned
the corner he had seen her. She had noticed him
and been astounded. At the time, he did not understand
why Conger grinned so he would escape death, the man

(47:42):
who right now was voluntarily accepting it. They were laughing,
laughing at a man who had a gun but didn't
use it. But by a strange twist of science, he
would appear again a few months later, after his bones
had been buried under the floor of a jail, and
so in a fashion he would escape death. He would die,

(48:02):
but then after a period of months he would live again,
briefly for an afternoon, an afternoon, yet long enough for
them to see him, to understand that he was still alive,
to know that somehow he had returned to life, And
then finally he would appear once more, after two hundred
years had passed. Two centuries later, he would be born again. Born,

(48:25):
as a matter of fact, in a small trading village
on Mars, he would grow up, learning to hunt and trade.
A police car came on the edge of the field
and stopped. The people retreated a little. Conger raised his hands.
I have an odd paradox for you, he said. Those
who take lives will lose their own, those who kill

(48:47):
will die. But he who gives his own life away
will live again. They laughed faintly, nervously. The police were
coming out, walking toward him. He smiled. He had said
everything he intended to say. It was a good little
paradox he had coined. They would puzzle over it, remember it. Smiling,

(49:11):
Conger awaited a death fore ordained. And of the Skull
by Philip K. Dick