The Penultimate Truth

by Philip K. Dick

With a pencil he drew lines connecting the three indicated arsenals, then, with the edge of a book plucked from a nearby table, he measured off a line which ended at the hypothetical locus which would transform the visible triangle into a square. In five hours, Foote realized, I can have a work detail of leadies digging at that spot; they can sink a shaft and in fifteen minutes determine if a fourth depot, that of medical, hospital emergency equipment, exists there. The chances are—he calculated. About forty percent favorable. But—digs had been essayed on far slimmer evidence in the past, and by his corporation. Some paid off; some did not. But it would be of incalculable value if he were to locate a store of artiforgs. Even a few, three or four . . . even that meager handful would break Brose’s monopoly.