The Simulacra

by Philip K. Dick

At once he hurried outside onto the loading platform where the police were preparing to begin processing of the individual in question. “Doctor,” he said. “I’m Wilder Pembroke. I’d like to talk to you a moment.” He nodded to the police and they fell back, leaving Dr. Superb unhanded. “Come inside; I’ve got temporary use of a room on the second floor. This won’t take long.” “You’re not one of the City Police,” Dr. Superb said, eyeing him acutely. “Or perhaps you’re NP.” He looked uneasy, now. “Yes, that must be it.” Pembroke, as he led the way to the elevator, said, “Just consider me an interested party.” He lowered his voice as a group of police officials passed them. “Interested in seeing you back in your office, treating your patients.” “You have authority to do that?” Superb asked. “I think so.” The elevator came and the two of them entered it. “It’ll take an hour or so to get you back there, however. Please try to be patient.” Pembroke lit a fresh cigar. He did not offer one to Superb. “May I ask—what agency you are with?” “I told you.” Pembroke felt irritable. “You’re simply to consider me an interested party; don’t you understand?”