Martian Time-Slip

by Philip K. Dick

From a magazine rack he took a copy of Motor World, and heard, with his trained ears, a switch click. The school had noted his presence. It noted which magazine he selected, how long he sat reading, and what he next took. It measured him. A door opened, and a middle-aged woman wearing a tweed suit, smiling at him, said, “You must be Mr. Yee’s repairman.” “Yes,” he said, standing. “So glad to see you.” She beckoned him to follow her. “There’s been so much fuss about this one Teacher, but it is at the output stage.” Striding down a corridor, she held a door open for him as he caught up. “The Angry Janitor,” she said, pointing. He recognized it from his son’s description. “It broke down suddenly,” the woman was saying in his ear. “See? Right in the middle of its cycle—it had gone down the street and shouted and then it was just about to wave its fist.” “Doesn’t the master circuit know—” “I am the master circuit,” the middle-aged woman said, smiling at him cheerfully, her steel-rimmed glasses bright with the sparkle in her eyes. “Of course,” he said, chagrined.