The Book of Philip K Dick (1973) by Philip K. Dick

flea-bitten rag-bag of a womout old mutt! You failed!”
    The dog dropped and came anxiously back. “I failed, you say? You mean the summons time was—?”
    “You summoned too late.” The Clerk put his watch away slowly, a glazed expression on his face. “You summoned too late. We won’t get A Friend with a Car. There’s no telling what will come instead. I’m afraid to see what eight-sixteen brings.”
    “I hope hell be in Sector T137 in time.”
    “He won’t,” the Clerk wailed. “He won’t be there. We’ve made a mistake. We’ve made things go wrong!”
    Ed was rinsing the shaving cream from his face when the muffled sound of the dog’s bark echoed through the silent house.
    “Damn,” Ed muttered. “Wake up the whole block.” He dried his face, listening. Was somebody coming?
    A vibration. Then—
    The doorbell rang.
    Ed came out of the bathroom. Who could it be? Had Ruth forgotten something? He tossed on a white shirt and opened the front door.
    A bright young man, face bland and eager, beamed happily at him. “Good morning, sir.” He tipped his hat. “I’m sorry to bother you so early—”
    “What do you want?”
    “I’m from the Federal Life Insurance Company. I’m here to see you about—”
    Ed pushed the door closed. “Don’t want any. I’m in a rush. Have to get to work.”
    “Your wife said this was the only time I could catch you.” The young man picked up his briefcase, easing the door open again. “She especially asked me to come this early. We don’t usually begin our work at this time, but since she asked me, I made a special note about it”
    “OK.” Sighing wearily, Ed admitted the young man. “You can explain your policy while I get dressed.”
    The young man opened his briefcase on the couch, laying out heaps of pamphlets and illustrated folders. “I’d like to show you some of these figures, if I may. It’s of great importance to you and your family to—”
    Ed found himself sitting down, going over the pamphlets. He purchased a ten-thousand-dollar policy on his own life and then eased the young man out. He looked at the clock. Practically nine-thirty!
    “Damn.” He’d be late to work. He finished fastening his tie, grabbed his coat, turned off the oven and the lights, dumped the dishes in the sink, and ran out on the porch.
    As he hurried toward the bus stop he was cursing inwardly. Life insurance salesmen. Why did the jerk have to come just as he was getting ready to leave?
    Ed groaned. No telling what the consequences would be, getting to the office late. He wouldn’t get there until almost ten. He set himself in anticipation. A sixth sense told him he was in for it. Something bad. It was the wrong day to be late.
    If only the salesman hadn’t come.
    Ed hopped off the bus a block from his office. He began walking rapidly. The huge clock in front of Stein’s Jewelry Store told him it was almost ten.
    His heart sank. Old Douglas would give him hell for sure. He could see it now. Douglas puffing and blowing, red-faced, waving his thick finger at him; Miss Evans, smiling behind her typewriter; Jackie, the office boy, grinning and snickering; Earl Hendricks; Joe and Tom; Mary, dark-eyed, full bosom and long lashes. All of them, kidding him the whole rest of the day.
    He came to the corner and stopped for the light. On the other side of the street rose the big white concrete building, the towering column of steel and cement, girders and glass windows—the office building. Ed flinched. Maybe he could say the elevator got stuck. Somewhere between the second and third floor.
    The street light changed. Nobody else was crossing. Ed crossed alone. He hopped up on the curb on the far side—
    And stopped, rigid.
    The sun had winked off. One moment it was beaming down. Then it was gone. Ed looked sharply up. Gray clouds swirled above him. Huge, formless clouds. Nothing more. An ominous, thick haze that made everything waver and dim. Uneasy chills plucked at him. What