“If I got mixed up with anybody else,” Herb said, “I know who it would be. But she’d never give me a tumble.”
“That singer?”
“Yes,” he said.
“Try,” Elias said.
“It’s beyond my reach.”
“Nobody knows what’s beyond his reach. God decides what’s beyond a person’s reach”
“She’s going to be galaxy-famous.”
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Elias said, “But she isn’t yet. If you’re going to make a move toward her, do it now.
“The Fox,” Herb Asher said. “That’s how I think of her.” A phrase popped into his mind:
You are with the Fox, and the Fox
is with you!
Not Linda Fox singing but Linda Fox speaking. He wondered where the notion came from, that she would be saying that. Again vague memories, compounded of-he did not know what. A more aggressive Linda Fox; more professional and dynamic. And yet remote. As if from millions of miles off. A signal from a star. In both senses of the word.
From the distant stars, he thought. Music and the sound of bells.
“Maybe,” he said, “I’ll emigrate to a colony world.”
“Rybys is too ill for that.”
“I’ll go alone,” Herb said.
Elias said, “You’d be better off dating Linda Fox. If you can swing it. You’ll be seeing her again. Don’t give up yet. Make a try. The basis of life is trying.”
“OK,” Herb Asher said. “I will try.”
CHAPTER 17
Hand in hand, Emmanuel walked with Zina through the dark woods of Stanley Park. “You are myself,” he said. “You are the Shckhina, the immanent Presence who never left the world.” He thought, The female side of God. Known to the Jews and only to the Jews. When the primordial fall took place, the Godhead split into a transcendent part separated from the world; that was En Sof. But the other part, the female immanent part, remained with the fallen world, remained with Israel.
These two portions of the Godhead, he thought, have been detached from each other for millennia. But now we have come together again, the male half of the Godhead and the female half. While I was away the Shekhina intervened in the lives of human beings, to assist them. Here and there, sporadically, the Sliekhina remained. So God never truly left mankind.
“We are each other,” Zina said, “and we have found each other again, and again are one. The split is healed.”
“Through all your veils,” Emmanuel said, “beneath all your forms, there lay this . . . my own self. And I did not recognize you, until you reminded me.”
“How did I accomplish that?” Zina said, and then she said, “But I know. My love of games. That is your love, your secret joy: to play like a child. To be not serious. I appealed to that; I woke you up and you remembered: you recognized me.” ’99 200 Philip K. DUk
Such a difficult process,” he said. “For me to remember. I thank you.” She had abased herself in the fallen world all this time, while he had left; the greater heroism was hers. Staying with man in all man’s inglorious conditions . . . down into the prison with him, Emmanuel thought. Man’s beautiful companion. At his side as she is now at mine.
“But you are back,” Zina said. “You have returned.”
“That is so,” he said. “Returned to you. I had forgotten that you existed. I only recalled the world.” You the kind side, he thought; the compassionate side. And I the terrible side that arouses fear and trembling. Together we form a unity. Separated, we are not whole; we are not, individually, enough.
“Clues,” Zina said. “I kept giving you clues. But it was up to you to recognize me.
Emmanuel said, “I did not know who I was for a time, and I did not know who you were. Two mysteries confronted me, and they had a single answer.”
“Let’s go look at the wolves,” Zina said. “They are such beautiful animals. And we can ride the little train. We can visit all the animals.”
“And let them free,” Emmanuel said.
“Yes,” she said. “And let them, all of them, free.”
“Will Egypt always exist?” he said. “Will slavery always exist?”
“Yes,” Zina said. “And so will we.
As they approached the Stanley Park Zoo, Emmanuel said, “The animals will be surprised by their freedom. At first they won’t know what to do.”
“Then we will teach them,” Zina said. “As we always have. What they know they have learned from us; we are their guide.”
“So be it,” he said, and placed his hand on the first metal cage. Within it a small animal peered at him hesitantly. Emman- uel said, “Come out of your cage.”
The animal, trembling, came to him, and he took it in his arms.
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From his audio store Herb Asher called Linda at her Sherman Oaks home. It took a little while-two robot secretaries held him up temporarily-but at last he got through.
“Hello,” he said when he had her on the line.
“How’s my sound system coming?” She blinked rapidly and put her finger to her eye. “My contact lens is slipping; just a second.” Her face disappeared from the screen. “I’m back,” she said. “I owe you a dinner. Right? Do you want to fly out to California? I’m still at the Golden Hind; I will be for another week. We’re getting good audiences; I’m trying out a whole lot of new material. I want your reaction to it.”
“Fine,” he said, enormously pleased.
“So can we get together, then?” Linda said. “Out here?”
“Sure,” he said. “You name a time.”
“What about tomorrow night? It’ll have to be before I go to work, if we’re going to have dinner.”
“Fine,” he said. “Around 6 P.M. California time?”
She nodded. “Herb,” she said, “you can stay at my place if you want; I’ve got a big house. Plenty of room.”
“I’d love to,” he said.
“I’ll serve you some very good California wine. A Mondavi red. I want you to like California wines; that French burgundy we had in New York was very nice, but-we have excellent wines out here.”
“Is there a particular place you want to have dinner?”
“Sachiko’s,” Linda said. “Japanese food.”
“You’ve got yourself a deal,” he said.
“Is my sound system coming along okay?” she asked.
“Doing fine,” he said.
“I don’t want you to work too hard,” Linda Fox said. “I have a feeling you work too hard. I want you to relax and enjoy life. There’s so much to enjoy: good wine, friends.”
Herb said, “Laphroaig Scotch.”
In amazement, Linda Fox exclaimed, “Don’t tell me you know about Laphroaig Scotch? I thought I was the only person in the world who drinks Laphroaig!”
“It’s been made in the traditional copper stills for over two
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202 Philip K. Dick
hundred and fifty years,” Herb Asher said. “It requires two dis- tillations and the skill of an expert stiliman.”
“Yes; that’s what it says on the package.” She began to laugh. “You got that off the package, Herb.”
“Yeah,” he said.
“Isn’t my Manhattan apartment going to be great?” she said enthusiastically. “That sound system you’re putting in is what will make it. Herb-” She scrutinized him. “Do you honestly believe my music is good?”
“Yes,” he said. “I know. What I say is true.”
“You are so sweet,” she said. “You see so much ahead for me. It’s like you’re my good luck person. You know, Herb, no one has ever really had confidence in me. I never did well in school . . . my family didn’t think I could make it as a singer. I had skin trouble, too; really bad. Of course I actually haven’t made it yet-I’m just beginning. And yet to you I’m-” She gestured.
“Someone important,” he said.
“And that means so much to me. I need it so bad. Herb, I have such a low opinion of myself; I’m so sure I’m going to fail. Or I used to be so sure,” she corrected herself. “But you give me- Well, when I see myself through your eyes I don’t see a struggling new artist; I see something that . . .” She tried to go on; her lashes fluttered and she smiled at him apprehensively but hopefully, wanting him to finish for her.
“I know about you,” he said, “as no one else does.” And, indeed, that was true; because he remembered her, and no one else did. The world, collectively, had forgotten; it had fallen asleep. It would have to be reminded. And it would be.
“Come on out to the West Coast, Herb,” Linda said. “Please. We’ll have a lot of fun. Do you know California very well? You don’t, do you?”
“I don’t,” he admitted. “I flew out to catch you at the Golden Hind. And I always dreamed of living in California. But I never did.”