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    Second Variety
    Second Variety
    Second Variety
    Ebook87 pages1 hour

    Second Variety

    By Alex Ebel and Philip K. Dick

    4/5

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateJun 1, 1853

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    Reviews for Second Variety

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    • 5/5
      The setting in Second Variety is a scorched earth. Cities are reduced to rubble and slag. The bones of buildings and people have become part of the drab, desolate land. The sky turned into a swirling grey ash. Soldiers and survivors live in underground bunkers.We are introduced early to the opposing forces, Russians versus Americans. The latter built automated killing machines, the Claws: They burrow under the ash ground, waiting for anybody who isn't wearing a radioactive deterrent tab, rushing toward their target with sharp, rotating blades.Well written and recommended for science fiction fans.
    • 5/5
      There would be little point in giving a synopsis of each of the 24 stories in this book. That would give a false sense of repetition since many feature images of ash and overturned bathtubs -- the aftermath of nuclear war -- or struggles between mutants and normal humans, each fearing their extinction. But they don't seem any more repetitious than a skilled musician working variations on a theme for that is what many are. These stories, written in 1953 and 1954 -- with one exception, are arranged chronologically, so the student of Dick can see him play with an idea for two or three stories in a row.Along the way we get the humor, intricate plotting, and sudden reversals in our moral sympathies characteristic of Dick. And there are the machines that so often are a force of death in Dick though they behave more and more like life. Such is the case with the title story, one of Dick's most paranoid and basis for the movie Screamers. When sophisticated weapons take on human guise and began to stalk man, what Dick calls his grand theme, knowing who is human and who only pretends to be, is starkly exhibited.Other famous stories are "The Golden Man" with its purging of mutants before they infect the human gene pool, "The Father-Thing" which is what a boy realizes has replaced his real father, and "Sales Pitch", a story which anticipates, with its all purpose android advertising its virtues through rather thuggish means, the work of Ron Goulart. There are some memorable stories not so well known. "Foster, You're Dead" was originally conceived as a protest against a remark by President Eisenhower that citizens should be responsible for their own bomb shelters. Its young hero lives terrified in a world where making knives from scratch and digging underground shelters are parts of the school curriculum and each new year brings the newest model of bomb shelter, terrified because his father can't afford to buy one for the family. "War Veteran" reads like a futuristic _Mission Impossible_ episode. The spirit of Charles Fort may be at work in "Null-O", a satire on the absurd philosophy that no distinctions between things are valid, a philosophy practiced by "perfect paranoids". (Fort may have inspired the weakest and first story in the collection, "Fair Game", with its van Vogtian plotting giving way at the end to a silly twist.)Dick fans will see "Shell Game", with its colony of paranoids, as sort of a test run for Dick's Clans of the Alphane Moon, and the time jumping child of "A World of Talent" is reminiscent of Manfred Steiner in Dick's Martian Time-Slip. This collection also features one of Dick's occasional fantasies, "Upon the Dull Earth".Any admirer of Dick will want to read this collection, and those needing an introduction to his work will find no bad stories in this exhibit of 14 months in Dick's career.
    • 5/5
      Awesome- This book is a short story collection by P K. Dick. P.K. Dick has been the writer who inspired all sorts of sci-fi movies. This book claimed to have the story that inspired the movie "Next" in it. (I haven't seen the movie so I couldn't tell you if the story fit or not.) It amazed me how many different types of dystopia he came up with. Dick has imagined the end of civilization probably hundreds of different ways (and disturbing ways.) Some of his stories have a haunting quality that keep me thinking long after I've read them.

    Book preview

    Second Variety - Alex Ebel

    The Project Gutenberg EBook of Second Variety, by Philip Kindred Dick

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

    almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

    re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

    with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net

    Title: Second Variety

    Author: Philip Kindred Dick

    Illustrator: Alex Ebel

    Release Date: April 17, 2010 [EBook #32032]

    [Last updated: May 4, 2011]

    Language: English

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SECOND VARIETY ***

    Produced by Greg Weeks, Barbara Tozier and the Online

    Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

    This etext was produced from Space Science Fiction May 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.

    Left side image

    Right side image

    SECOND VARIETY

    BY PHILIP K. DICK

    ILLUSTRATED BY EBEL

    The claws were bad enough in the first place—nasty, crawling little death-robots. But when they began to imitate their creators, it was time for the human race to make peace—if it could!

    The Russian soldier made his way nervously up the ragged side of the hill, holding his gun ready. He glanced around him, licking his dry lips, his face set. From time to time he reached up a gloved hand and wiped perspiration from his neck, pushing down his coat collar.

    Eric turned to Corporal Leone. Want him? Or can I have him? He adjusted the view sight so the Russian’s features squarely filled the glass, the lines cutting across his hard, somber features.

    Leone considered. The Russian was close, moving rapidly, almost running. Don’t fire. Wait. Leone tensed. I don’t think we’re needed.

    The Russian increased his pace, kicking ash and piles of debris out of his way. He reached the top of the hill and stopped, panting, staring around him. The sky was overcast, drifting clouds of gray particles. Bare trunks of trees jutted up occasionally; the ground was level and bare, rubble-strewn, with the ruins of buildings standing out here and there like yellowing skulls.

    The Russian was uneasy. He knew something was wrong. He started down the hill. Now he was only a few paces from the bunker. Eric was getting fidgety. He played with his pistol, glancing at Leone.

    Don’t worry, Leone said. He won’t get here. They’ll take care of him.

    Are you sure? He’s got damn far.

    They hang around close to the bunker. He’s getting into the bad part. Get set!

    The Russian began to hurry, sliding down the hill, his boots sinking into the heaps of gray ash, trying to keep his gun up. He stopped for a moment, lifting his fieldglasses to his face.

    He’s looking right at us, Eric said.

    The Russian came on. They could see his eyes, like two blue stones. His mouth was open a little. He needed a shave; his chin was stubbled. On one bony cheek was a square of tape, showing blue at the edge. A fungoid spot. His coat was muddy and torn. One glove was missing. As he ran his belt counter bounced up and down against him.

    Leone touched Eric’s arm. Here one comes.

    Across the ground something small and metallic came, flashing in the dull sunlight of mid-day. A metal sphere. It raced up the hill after the Russian, its treads flying. It was small, one of the baby ones. Its claws were out, two razor projections spinning in a blur of white steel. The Russian heard it. He turned instantly, firing. The sphere dissolved into particles. But already a second had emerged and was following the first. The Russian fired again.

    A third sphere leaped up the Russian’s leg, clicking and whirring. It jumped to the shoulder. The spinning blades disappeared into the Russian’s throat.

    Eric relaxed. Well, that’s that. God, those damn things give me the creeps. Sometimes I think we were better off before.

    If we hadn’t invented them, they would have. Leone lit a cigarette shakily. I wonder why a Russian would come all this way alone. I didn’t see anyone covering him.

    Lt. Scott came slipping up the tunnel, into the bunker. What happened? Something entered the screen.

    An Ivan.

    Just one?

    Eric brought the view screen around. Scott peered into it. Now there were numerous metal spheres crawling over the prostrate body, dull metal globes clicking and whirring, sawing up the Russian into small parts to be carried away.

    What a lot of claws, Scott murmured.

    They come like flies. Not much game for them any more.

    Scott pushed the sight away, disgusted. Like flies. I wonder why he was out there. They know we have claws all around.

    A larger robot had joined the smaller spheres. It was directing operations, a long blunt tube with projecting eyepieces. There was not much left of the soldier. What remained was being brought down the hillside by the host of claws.

    Sir, Leone said. If it’s all right, I’d like to go out there and take a look at him.

    Why?

    Maybe he came with something.

    Scott considered. He shrugged. All right. But be careful.

    I have my tab. Leone patted the metal band at his wrist. I’ll be out of bounds.

    He picked up his rifle and stepped carefully up to the mouth of the bunker,

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