A Scanner Darkly

by Philip K. Dick

What is identity? he asked himself. Where does the act end? Nobody knows.

“Somebody,” Fred said, “will get us all anyhow eventually.” “It’ll be a relief. A distinct relief.”

They became neutral; they spoke in a neutral fashion; they looked neutral. Gradually it became easy to do so, without prearrangement.

IF I HAD KNOWN IT WAS HARMLESS I WOULD HAVE KILLED IT MYSELF.

Murky again; the same murk that covers them covers me; the murk of this dreary dream world we float around in.

How can days and happenings and moments so good become so quickly ugly, and for no reason, for no real reason?

“The most dangerous kind of person,” Arctor said, “is one who is afraid of his own shadow.”