Free Vintage PKD by Philip K. Dick

real-estate-holdings square, but we had spun an odd number so that put us back on our own board.” She sighed. “I’m glad to be back. It was hard, Hooker; it was a tough game.”
    Hooker Glebe wheezed, “Let’s all get a look at the Connie Companion doll, folks.” To Fran and Norm he said, “Can I lift her up and show them?”
    “Sure,” Norm said, nodding.
    Hooker picked up Connie Companion doll. “She sure is realistic,” he said, scrutinizing her. “Clothes aren’t as nice as ours generally are; they look machine-made.”
    “They are,” Norm agreed. “But she’s carved, not poured.”
    “Yes, so I see.” Hooker turned the doll about, inspecting her from all angles. “A nice job. She’s—um, more filled out than Perky Pat. What’s this outfit she has on? Tweed suit of some sort.”
    “A business suit,” Fran said. “We won that with her; they had agreed on that in advance.”
    “You see, she has a job,” Norm explained. “She’s a psychology consultant for a business firm doing marketing research. In consumer preferences. A high-paying position . . . she earns twenty thousand a year, I believe Wynn said.”
    “Golly,” Hooker said. “And Pat’s just going to college; she’s still in school.” He looked troubled. “Well, I guess they were bound to be ahead of us in some ways. What matters is that you won.” His jovial smile returned. “Perky Pat came out ahead.” He held the Connie Companion doll up high, where everyone could see her. “Look what Norm and Fran came back with, folks!”
    Norm said, “Be careful with her, Hooker.” His voice was firm.
    “Eh?” Hooker said, pausing. “Why, Norm?”
    “Because,” Norm said, “she’s going to have a baby.”
    There was a sudden chill silence. The ash around them stirred faintly; that was the only sound.
    “How do you know?”
    “They told us. The Oaklanders told us. And we won that, too— after a bitter argument that Fennimore had to settle.” Reaching into the wheelbarrow he brought out a little leather pouch; from it he carefully took a carved pink newborn baby. “We won this too because Fennimore agreed that from a technical standpoint it’s literally part of Connie Companion doll at this point.”
    Hooker stared a long, long time.
    “She’s married,” Fran explained. “To Paul. They’re not just going together. She’s three months pregnant, Mr. Wynn said. He didn’t tell us until after we won; he didn’t want to, then, but they felt they had to. I think they were right; it wouldn’t have done not to say.”
    Norm said, “And in addition there’s actually an embryo outfit—”
    “Yes,” Fran said. “You have to open Connie up, of course, to see—”
    “No,” Jean Regan said. “Please, no.”
    Hooker said, “No, Mrs. Schein, don’t.” He backed away.
    Fran said, “It shocked us of course at first, but—”
    “You see,” Norm put in, “it’s logical; you have to follow the logic. Why, eventually Perky Pat—”
    “No,” Hooker said violently. He bent down, picked up a rock from the ash at his feet. “No,” he said, and raised his arm. “You stop, you two. Don’t say any more.”
    Now the Regans, too, had picked up rocks. No one spoke.
    Fran said, at last, “Norm, we’ve got to get out of here.”
    “You’re right,” Tod Morrison told them. His wife nodded in grim agreement.
    “You two go back to Oakland,” Hooker told Norman and Fran Schein. “You don’t live here anymore. You’re different than you were. You—changed.”
    “Yes,” Sam Regan said slowly, half to himself. “I was right; there was something to fear.” To Norm Schein he said, “How difficult a trip is it to Oakland?”
    “We just went to Berkeley,” Norm said. “To the Berkeley Fluke-pit.” He seemed baffled and stunned by what was happening. “My God,” he said, “we can’t turn around and push this wheelbarrow back all the way to Berkeley again—we’re worn out, we need rest!”
    Sam Regan said,