The Man in the High Castle

by Philip K. Dick

Whom to treat politely, whom rudely. Be brusque with the doorman, elevator operator, receptionist, guide, any janitorial person. Bow to any Japanese, of course, even if it obliged him to bow hundreds of times. But the pinocs. Nebulous area. Bow, but look straight through them as if they did not exist.

And then, too, he might see a slave.

Too bad I don’t have my copy of the oracle here, Frink thought. I could consult it on this; take the issue to it for its five thousand years of wisdom.

“Lot of hot blood stirred up in political discussion,” Paul said. “Everywhere you go. Essential to keep head.”

How much I have to learn, Childan thought. They’re so graceful and polite. And I—the white barbarian.

Little kids are that way; they feel if their parents aren’t watching what they do then what they do isn’t real.