The Game-Players of Titan - By Philip K. Dick Page 0,4

shown.

Behind the maintenance vehicle came a second construct, this one even more elaborate; like a great twenty-legged bug it propelled itself down a driveway, hot on the scent of decay. The repair vehicle would rebuild whatever had fallen into ruin, Pete knew; it would bind up the wounds of the city, halt deterioration before it began. And for what? For whom? Good questions. Perhaps the vugs liked to look down from their observation satellites and see an intact civilization, rather than mere ruins.

Putting out his cigarette, Pete went into the kitchen, hoping to find food for breakfast. He had not inhabited this apartment for several years, but nonetheless he opened the vacuum-sealed refrigerator and found in it bacon and milk and eggs, bread and jam, all in good shape, everything he needed for breakfast. Antonio Nardi had been Bindman in Residence here before Pete; undoubtedly he had left these, not knowing that he was going to lose his title in The Game, would never be coming back.

But there was something more important than breakfast, something Pete had to do first.

Clicking on the vidphone he said, “I’d like Walter Remington in Contra Costa County.”

“Yes, Mr. Garden,” the vidphone said. And the screen, after a pause, lit up.

“Hi.” Walt Remington’s dour, elongated features appeared and he gazed dully at Pete. Walt had not shaved yet this morning; stubble coated his jowls, and his eyes, small and red-rimmed, were puffy from lack of sleep. “Why so early?” he mumbled. He was still in his pajamas.

Pete said, “Do you remember what happened last night?” “Oh yeah. Sure.” Walt nodded, smoothing his disordered hair in place.

“I lost Berkeley to you. I don’t know why I put it up. It’s been my bind, my residence, you know.” “I know,” Walt said.

Taking a deep breath, Pete said, “I’ll trade you three cities in Marin County for it. Ross, San Rafael and San Anselmo. I want it back; I want to live there.”

Walt pointed out, “You can live in Berkeley. As a non-B resident, of course; not as Bindman.”

“I can’t live like that,” Pete said. “I want to own it, not just be a squatter. Come on, Walt; you don’t intend to live in Berkeley. I know you. It’s too cold and foggy for you. You like the hot valley climate, like Sacramento. Where you are now, in Walnut Creek.”

“That’s true,” Walt said. “But—I can’t trade Berkeley back to you, Pete.” The admission was dragged out of him, then. “I don’t have it. When I got home last night a broker was waiting for me; don’t ask me how he knew I’d acquired it from you, but he did. A big wheeler and dealer from the East, Matt Pendleton Associates.” Walt looked glum.

“And you sold Berkeley to them?” Pete could hardly believe it. It meant that someone who was not part of their group had managed to buy into California. “Why’d you do it?” he demanded.

“They traded me Salt Lake City for it,” Walt said, with morose pride. “How could I turn that down? Now I can join Colonel Kitchener’s group; they play in Provo, Utah. Sorry, Pete.” He looked guilty. “I was still a little stewed, I guess. Anyhow it sounded too good to turn down at the time.”

Pete said, “Who’d Pendleton Associates acquire it for?”

“They didn’t say.”

“And you didn’t ask.”

“No,” Walt admitted morosely. “I didn’t. I guess I should have.”

Pete said, “I want Berkeley back. I’m going to track the deed down and get it back, even if I have to trade off all of Marin County. And in the meantime, I’ll be looking forward to beating you at Game-time; look for me to take away everything you’ve got—no matter who your partner is.” Savagely, he clicked off the vidphone. The screen became dark.

How could Walt do it? he asked himself. Turn the title right over to someone outside the group—someone from the East.

I’ve got to know who Pendleton Associates would be representing in a deal like that, he said to himself. He had a feeling, acute and ominous, that he knew.

3

It was a very good morning for Mr. Jerome Luckman of New York City. Because—and it flashed into his mind the moment he awoke—today was the first time in his life that he owned Berkeley, California. Operating through Matt Pendleton Associates he had at last been able to obtain a choice piece of California real estate, and this meant that now he could sit in on the Game-playing of Pretty Blue Fox which met at