[This is the first section of my novelisation of Philip K. Dick’s visit to Vancouver in 1972 written in the style of the author.]
“Would you like a cold beverage Mr Dick?” the voice asked.
From the depths of his Luminal slumber Phil Dick adjusted his vision to focus on the figure standing before him. She seemed familiar, as people you’ve never met before do in dreams. Early 20’s, about 5” 4’, dark hair tucked neatly inside a cap that matched her grey uniform.
“Erm….yes please. Bourbon on the rocks.”
“Certainly Mr Dick. Your drink will be with you in a moment” the woman beamed before shimmering out of view.
Where am I he thought? In the distance, beneath snow-capped mountains, he saw a glimmering white city of high-rise apartments hovering over a vast river that flowed into to the sea. To his left, where a forest of pines met the water, the sand gradually transformed itself into great boulders. He could hear the sound of waves gently lapping the shore and the cry of distant seagulls. To his right a crow bobbed about on one of the many logs that lay on the empty beach.
The words ‘DRINK READY’ flashed into his field of vision. He instantly recognised the familiar notification ping of Freegle, the giant tele-computing company that now controlled almost all the virtual entertainment and personalised data services on the planet. Forcing his eyes to the very upper left he clocked the tell-tale company logo that confirmed he was inside one of their Virtual World packages.
His hands moved nervously as they reached for the device that covered his face.
Until recently removing the Freegle vid goggles had been as automatic as turning off the ignition of a car. But over the last few months the Freegle logo had been appearing in his dreams, especially the most terrifying ones. Then, instead of returning him to the predicable certainties of waking life, clicking on the icon delivered him to a deeper level of nightmare running parallel to it.
Taking a deep breath he lifted the goggles slowly and looked around.
He was on a flight. The passengers around him were either asleep, wearing their goggles or both. All the window screens were drawn but here and there shafts of daylight broke through beneath them. Slowly it came back to him.
He was on his way to Vancouver to be guest of honour at a major science fiction convention. The invitation had arrived six weeks ago and could not have come at a better time. Life in California Free State was a living hell. His home in Marin County had become a half-way house for runaway teenagers, local drug users, their dealers and male in-laws, thrown out by their wives. Phil had welcomed them into his home with open arms. The make-shift community misfits loved listening to Phil’s crack-pot theories about life, death and politics and he adored their adulation. They spent their hours, days, weeks high on weed and blitzed on speed while Phil Indulged them with his peerless collection of classical music recordings. Maybe they would fill the void left when his fourth wife Nancy walked out with their daughter two years ago. His sort-of girlfriend Donna, a teenage biker chic who he believed could save the world, baled on him at the last minute and he had boarded the plane despairing and alone. By the time he found his seat the barbs he’d downed in the waiting area had begun to take effect.
Breathing a sigh of deep relief he sunk back into the reassuring solidity of the business class seat the organisers had paid for.
Continue reading “BC Time-Slip 1: Flight”
Invisible Mirrors 