Человек в высоком замке

           Buthecouldnotfreehimself.

           Itinmygrip,Iinits,hethought.

           HaveIthenlostmydelightedattitude?heaskedhimself.IsallinstinctpervertedfromthememoryofwhatIdid?Allcollectingdamaged,notmerelyattitudetowardthisoneitem?Mainstayofmylife…area,alas,whereIdweltwithsuchrelish.

           Hailingapedecab,hedirectedthedrivertoMontgomeryStreetandRobertChildan’sshop.Letusfindout.Onethreadleft,connectingmewiththevoluntary.Ipossiblycouldmanagemyanxiousproclivitiesbyaruse:tradetheguninonmorehistoricitysanctioneditem.Thisgun,forme,hastoomuchsubjectivehistory…allofthewrongkind.Butthatendswithme;nooneelsecanexperienceitfromthegun.Withinmypsycheonly.

           Freemyself,hedecidedwithexcitement.Whenthegungoes,itallleaves,thecloudofthepast.Foritisnotmerelyinmypsyche;itis—ashasalwaysbeensaidinthetheoryofhistoricity—withinthegunaswell.Anequationbetweenus!

           Hereachedthestore.WhereIhavedealtsomuch,heobservedashepaidthedriver.Bothbusinessandprivate.Carryingthebriefcasehequicklyentered.

           There,atthecashregister,Mr.Childan.Polishingwithclothsomeartifact.

           "Mr.Tagomi,"Childansaid,withabow.

           "Mr.Childan."He,too,bowed.

           "Whatasurprise.Iamovercome."Childanputdowntheobjectandcloth.Aroundthecornerofthecounterhecame.Usualritual,thegreeting,etcetera.Yet,Mr.Tagomifeltthemantodaysomehowdifferent.Rather—muted.Animprovement,hedecided.Alwaysatrifleloud,shrill.