Adjustment Team, Adapted For Intermediate Level

                                                      

By Philip K. Dick, 1954

Adapted for intermediate level

 

IT WAS A BRIGHT MORNING. The sun was shining on the wet grass, sidewalks, and shiny parked cars. The Clerk came walking hurriedly, looking at the pages of his instructions with a serious face. He stopped in front of the small green house for a moment, and then turned on to the path, entering the back yard.

The dog was asleep inside his shed, his back turned to the world. Only his big tail showed.

"Hey!" the Clerk said. He hit his pen noisily against the shed. "Wake up."

The dog moved. He came slowly out of his shed, head first. He had just woken up, and with a tired face he looked at the clerk. "Oh, it's you. Already?"

"Big things." The Clerk ran his expert finger down the page of instructions. "They're adjusting Sector T137 this morning. Starting at exactly nine o'clock." He look at his watch. "Three hour alteration. It will finish by noon."

"T137? That's not far from here."

“Of course!” the clerk said ” Why do you think I’m here? I didn’t come to wish you good morning”.

"Our Sector is connected with T137."

"Exactly. Elements from this sector must be used. We must make sure they're properly placed when adjustment begins." The Clerk looked toward the small green house. "Your particular task relates to the man in there. He works for business in Sector T137. He has to be at work before nine o'clock.

The dog looked the house.  The kitchen light was on. Inside, dark forms could be seen, moving around the table. A man and woman. They were drinking coffee.

"There they are," the dog said softly. "The man, you say? He's not going to be harmed, is he?"

"Of course not. But he must be at his office early. Usually he doesn't leave until after nine. Today he must leave at eight-thirty. He must be within Sector T137 before the process begins, or he won't be altered for the new adjustment."

The dog said sadly, "That means I have to call him."

"Correct." The Clerk checked his instructions. "You're to call him at precisely eight-fifteen. You've got that? Eight-fifteen. No later."

"What will an eight-fifteen calling bring?"

The Clerk opened his instruction book, reading the codes. "It will bring A Friend with a Car. To drive him to work early." He closed the book, and prepared to wait. "That way he'll get to his office almost an hour early. Which is essential."

"Essential," the dog said softly. He lay down, inside his shed. His eyes closed. "essential."

"Wake up! This must be done exactly on time. If you call too soon or too late—"

The dog said sleepily. "I know. I'll do it right. I always do it right."

Ed Fletcher poured more cream in his coffee. He sighed, sitting back in his chair. He could smell the warm bread for breakfast. The yellow light above shined down.

"More bread?" Ruth asked.

"I'm full." Ed drank his coffee. "You can have it."

"I got to go." Ruth got to her feet, starting to undress. "Time to go to work."

"Already?"

"Sure. You’re lucky! I wish I could sit around." Ruth moved toward the bathroom, touching her long black hair. "When you work for the government you start early."

"But you get to leave early," Ed said. He looked at the newspaper, examining the sports section. "Well, have a good time today. Don't type any wrong words."

The bathroom door closed, as Ruth began dressing.

Ed looked up at the clock. Plenty of time. Not even eight. He drank more coffee and then touched his chin. He would have to shave. It would take ten minutes, maybe.

Ruth came out of the bathroom and hurried into the bedroom. "I'm late." She rushed rapidly around, getting into her blouse and skirt, her little white shoes. Finally she kissed him. "Goodbye, honey. I'll do the shopping tonight."

"Goodbye." Ed lowered his newspaper and put his arm around his wife, hugging her lovingly. "You smell nice. Don't flirt with the boss."

Ruth ran out the front door, walking down the steps. He heard her loud footsteps go down the sidewalk.

She was gone. The house was silent. He was alone.

Ed got up, moving his chair back. He walked lazily into the bathroom and got his razor. Eight-ten. He washed his face, and began to shave. He shaved slowly. He had plenty of time.

The Clerk looked at his watch nervously. Sweat was on his head. Eight-fourteen. Almost time.

"Get ready!" the Clerk yelled. "Ten seconds to go!"

"It’s time!" the Clerk cried.

Nothing happened.

The Clerk turned, eyes filled with horror. In the little shed, the dog had gone back to sleep.

"TIME!" the Clerk screamed. He kicked wildly at the dog. "In the name of God—"

 

The dog moved. He went out of the shed. "My goodness." Embarrassed, he went quickly to the fence. He opened his mouth wide. "Woof!" he called. He looked embarrassed at the Clerk. "I beg your pardon. I can't understand how—"

The Clerk stared down at his watch. Cold terror hit his stomach. The watch showed eight-sixteen. "You failed," he said. "You failed! You miserable old dog! You failed!"

The dog looked down and came nervously back. "I failed, you say? You mean the call time was—?"

"You called too late." The Clerk put his watch away slowly. "You called too late. We won't get A Friend with a Car. We don’t know what will come instead. I'm afraid to see what eight-sixteen brings."

"I hope he'll be in Sector T137 in time."

"He won't," the Clerk cried. "He won't be there. We've made a mistake. We've made things go wrong!"

Ed was finishing shaving his face when the sound of the dog's bark went through the silent house.

"Damn," Ed thought. "Wake up the whole block." He dried his face, listening. Was somebody coming?

A sound. Then—

The doorbell rang.

Ed came out of the bathroom. Who could it be? Had Ruth forgotten something? He put on a white shirt and opened the front door.

A young man, simple face and energetic, looked at him with a smile. "Good morning, sir. I'm sorry to bother you so early—"

"What do you want?"

"I'm from the Federal Life Insurance Company. I'm here to see you about—"

Ed pushed the door closed. "I don't want any. I'm in a rush. Have to get to work."

"Your wife said this was the only time I could catch you." The young man picked up his briefcase, trying to come through the door open again. "She especially asked me to come this early. We don't usually begin our work at this time, but since she asked me, I made a special note about it"

"Okay." Ed said tiredly, as he let in the young man. "You can explain your insurance policy while I get dressed."

The young man opened his briefcase on the couch, laying out heaps of papers and illustrated folders. "I'd like to show you some of these, if I may. It's of great importance to you and your family to—"

Ed sat down, looking over the documents. He bought a ten-thousand-dollar life insurance policy, and the young man left. He looked at the clock. Almost nine-thirty!

"Damn." He'd be late to work. He finished tying his tie, grabbed his coat, turned off the oven and the lights, put the dishes in the sink, and ran outside.

As he hurried toward the bus stop he was cursing inwardly. Life insurance salesmen. Why did the jerk have to come just as he was getting ready to leave?

Ed was upset. No telling what the consequences would be, getting to the office late. He wouldn't get there until almost ten. He prepared himself. A feeling told him he was in for trouble. Something bad. It was the wrong day to be late.

If only the salesman hadn't come.

 

Ed jumped off the bus a block from his office. He began walking rapidly. The huge clock in front of Stein's Jewelry Store told him it was almost ten.

His heart sank. His boss, old Douglas, would definitely be angry with him. He could see it now. Douglas, yelling and red-faced, waving his big finger at him; Miss Evans, smiling behind her desk; Jack, the office boy, smiling and laughing to himself, and the other staff. All of them, joking with him the rest of the day.

He came to the corner and stopped for the light. On the other side of the street was the big white concrete building, a tower of steel, cement, and glass windows—the office building. Maybe he could say the elevator broke. Somewhere between the second and third floor.

The street light changed. Nobody else was crossing. Ed crossed alone. He jumped up on the curb on the far side—

And stopped, rigid.

The sun had turned off. One moment it was shining down. Then it was gone. Ed looked sharply up. Gray clouds moved above him. Huge, formless clouds. Nothing more. A dark, thick fog that made everything shadowy and dim. He began to feel cold and uneasy. What was it?

He moved forward cautiously, feeling his way through the mist. Everything was silent. No sounds—not even the traffic sounds. Ed looked fearfully around, trying to see through the moving haze. No people. No cars. No sun. Nothing.

The office building was up ahead, looking like a ghost. It was a misty and gray. He put out his hand uncertainly—

A section of the building fell away. It fell down, a mass of particles. Like sand. Ed was shocked. A mass of gray, dropping around his feet. And where he had touched the building, a sharp space was all that was left—an ugly hole in the concrete.

Shocked, he walked to the front steps of the building. He started to walk up the steps. The steps started to fall apart under his feet. His feet sank down. He was moving through sand, weak, old stuff that broke under his weight.

He got into the lobby. The lobby was dark and dim. The overhead lights blinked weakly in the dimness.

He saw the cigar stand. The seller stood silently, resting on the counter, his face blank and gray. He was gray all over.

 

"Hey," Ed said. "What's going on?"

The seller did not answer. Ed reached out toward him. His hand touched the seller's gray arm—and passed right through.

"My God!," Ed said.

The seller's arm fell off of his body. It fell to the floor, breaking into fragments and disappearing. Bits of gray particles. Like dust. Ed's was filled with fear and amazement.

"Help!" he shouted, finding his voice.

No answer. He looked around. A few shapes stood here and there: a man reading a newspaper, two women waiting at the elevator.

Ed walked over to the man. He reached out and touched him.

The man slowly fell apart. He became a pile, a loose pile of gray dust. Particles. The two women also fell apart when he touched them. Silently. They made no sound as they broke apart.

Ed found the stairs. He grabbed hold of the railing and climbed. The stairs fell under him. He hurried faster. Behind him was a broken path—his footprints clearly visible in the concrete. Clouds of ash blew around him as he reached the second floor.

He looked down the silent hallway. He saw more clouds of ash. He heard no sound. There was just darkness—slowly moving darkness.

He climbed unsteadily to the third floor. Once, his shoe broke completely through the stair. For a scary second he hung over a big hole that looked down into a bottomless nothing.

Then he climbed on, and arrived in front of his own office: DOUGLAS AND BLAKE, REAL ESTATE.

The hall was dim with clouds of ash. The overhead lights blinked quickly. He tried to open the door, and pieces of the door fell apart in his hand. He dropped the pieces, and put his hand into the door. The glass broke around and dropped into small gray pieces. He broke the door open and stepped over it, into the office.

Miss Evans sat at her desk. She did not move. She was gray, her hair, her skin, her clothing. She was without color. Ed touched her. His fingers went through her shoulder.

He stepped back, sickened. Miss Evans did not move.

He moved on. He pushed against a desk. The desk broke into dust. Earl Hendricks stood by the water cooler, a cup in his hand. He was a gray statue, unmoving. Nothing moved. No sound. No life. The whole office was gray dust—without life or motion.

Ed walked out into the hallway again. He shook his head, totally confused. What did it mean? Was he going out of his mind? Was he—?

A sound.

Ed turned, and looked into the gray mist. Something was coming, hurrying rapidly. A man—a man in a white robe. Behind him others came. Men in white, with equipment. They were carrying complex machinery.

"Hey—" Ed said weakly.

The men stopped. Their mouths opened. Their eyes showed great surprise.

"Look!"

"Something's gone wrong!"

"One still charged."

"Get the de-energizer."

"We can't continue until—"

The men came toward Ed, moving around him. One carried a long piece of equipment. A cart came up. They shouted instructions rapidly.

Ed broke out of his frozen shock. He was full of fear. Panic. Something horrible was happening. He had to get out. Warn people. Get away.

He turned and ran back down the stairs. The stairs fell under him. He fell half a floor onto a pile of dry ash. He got up and hurried on, down to the ground floor.

The lobby was lost in the clouds of gray ash. He pushed blindly through, toward the door. Behind him, the men in white were coming, dragging their equipment and shouting to each other, hurrying quickly after him.

He reached the sidewalk. Behind him the office seemed to sink slowly, sinking to one side, clouds of ash raining down in piles. He raced toward the corner, the men just behind him. Gray clouds moved around him. He made his way across the street, hands in front of him. He stepped to the opposite curb—

The sun turned on. Warm yellow sunlight fell down on him. Cars honked. Traffic lights changed. On all sides men and women in bright spring clothes hurried and pushed: shoppers, cop in a blue uniform, salesmen with briefcases. Stores, windows, signs ... noisy cars moving up and down the street ...

And overhead was the bright sun and familiar blue sky.

Ed stopped. He was tired from running. He turned and looked back from where he had come. Across the street was the office building—as it had always been. Firm and solid.  Concrete and glass and steel.

He stepped back and crashed into a hurrying person. "Hey," the man said. "Watch out."

"Sorry." Ed shook his head, trying to clear it. From where he stood, the office building looked like it had always, big and serious and firm, rising up impressively on the other side of the street.

But a minute ago—

 

Maybe he was out of his mind. He had seen the building falling into dust. Building—and people. They had fallen into gray clouds of dust. And the men in white—they had chased him. Men in white robes, shouting orders, carrying complex equipment.

He was out of his mind. There was no other explanation. Weakly, Ed turned and walked along the sidewalk, his mind in a panic. He moved blindly, without purpose, lost in confusion and terror.

 

The Clerk was brought into the top-level administrative room and told to wait.

He walked back and forth nervously, holding his hands in a nervous way. He took off his glasses and cleaned them shakily.

My God! All the trouble. And it wasn't his fault. But he would have to take the blame. It was his responsibility to get the instructions followed. The miserable dog had gone back to sleep—and he would have to answer for it.

The doors opened. "All right," a voice said quietly. It was a tired, old voice. The Clerk nervously entered slowly.

The Old Man looked up, put his book aside. He studied the Clerk calmly, his blue eyes mild—a deep, ancient mildness that made the Clerk even more nervous.

"I understand there was a mistake," the Old Man said. "In connection with Sector T137. Something to do with an element from a connecting area."

"That's right." The Clerk's voice was weak and low. "Very unfortunate."

"What exactly occurred?"

"I started out this morning with my instructions. The material about T137 had top priority, of course. I told the Caller in my area that an eight-fifteen call was required."

"Did the Caller understand the urgency?"

"Yes, sir." The Clerk stopped. "But—"

"But what?"

The Clerk looked sick. "While my back was turned the Caller went back in his shed and went to sleep. I was busy, checking the exact time with my watch. I called at the moment—but there was no reply."

"You called at eight-fifteen exactly?"

"Yes, sir! Exactly eight-fifteen. But the Caller was asleep. By the time I managed to wake him it was eight-sixteen. He called, but instead of A Friend with a Car we got a—A Life Insurance Salesman." The Clerk's face was filled with anger. " The Salesman kept the element there until almost nine-thirty. Therefore he was late to work instead of early."

 

For a moment the Old Man was silent. "Then the element was not in T137 when the adjustment began."

"No. He arrived about ten o'clock."

"During the middle of the adjustment." The Old Man got to his feet and walked slowly back and forth, face serious, hands behind his back. His long robe out behind him. "A serious matter. During a Sector Adjustment all related elements from other Sectors must be included. Otherwise, the adjustment will not succeed. When this element entered T137 the adjustment had been in progress fifty minutes. The element entered the Sector at its most de-energized stage. He was there until one of the adjustment teams met him."

"Did they catch him?"

"Unfortunately no. He ran away, out of the Sector. Into a nearby fully energized area."

"What—what then?"

The Old Man stopped walking, his face serious. He moved a heavy hand through his long white hair. "We do not know. We lost contact with him. We will make contact again soon, of course. But for the moment he is out of control."

"What are you going to do?"

"He must be contacted and caught. He must be brought up here. There's no other solution."

"Up here!"

"It is too late to de-energize him. By the time he is re-energized he will have told others. To remove his memories would only complicate matters. Usual methods will not suffice. I must deal with this problem myself."

"I hope he's located quickly," the Clerk said.

"He will be. Every Watcher is alerted. Every Watcher and every Caller." The Old Man's eyes shinned. "Even the Clerks, although we can’t always depend on them."

The Clerk looked down. "I'll be glad when this thing is over," he said lowly.

 

Ruth came down the stairs and out of the building, into the hot afternoon sun. She lit a cigarette and hurried along the walk, enjoying the spring air.

"Ruth." Ed walked up behind her.

"Ed!" She turned, surprised. "What are you doing away from work?"

"Come on." Ed grabbed her arm, pulling her. "Let's keep moving."

"But what happened?"

"I'll tell you later." Ed's face was pale and serious. "Let's go where we can talk. In private."

"I was going down to have lunch at Louie's Cafe. We can talk there." Ruth hurried along breathlessly. "What is it? What's happened? You look so strange. And why aren't you at work? Did you—did you get fired?"

They crossed the street and entered a small restaurant. Men and women were at the tables, getting their lunch. Ed found a table in the back, in a corner away from the other tables. "Here." He sat down quickly. "This will do." She moved into the other chair.

Ed ordered a cup of coffee. Ruth had salad and creamed tuna on toast, coffee and apple pie. Silently, Ed watched her as she ate, his face dark and nervous.

"Please tell me," Ruth said.

"You really want to know?"

"Of course I want to know!" Ruth put her small hand nervously on his. "I'm your wife."

"Something happened today. This morning. I was late to work. An insurance man came by and kept me from leaving. I was half an hour late."

Ruth caught her breath. "Douglas fired you."

"No." Ed broke a paper napkin slowly into bits. He put the bits in the half-empty water glass. "I was worried as hell. I got off the bus and hurried down the street. I noticed it when I stepped up on the curb in front of the office."

"Noticed what?"

Ed told her the whole story. Everything.

When he had finished, Ruth sat back, her face white, hands shaking. "I see," she whispered. "No wonder you're upset." She drank a little cold coffee, the cup shaking against the dish. "What a terrible thing."

Ed moved closely toward his wife. "Ruth. Do you think I'm going crazy?"

Ruth's red lips moved "I don't know what to say. It's so strange..."

"Yeah. Strange is hardly the word for it. I put my hands right through them. Like they were dust. Old dry dust. Dust. Dust figures." Ed lit a cigarette from Ruth's pack. "When I got out I looked back and there it was. The office building. Normal again, like always."

"You were afraid Mr. Douglas would yell at you, weren't you?"

"Sure. I was afraid—and guilty. I know what you're thinking. I was late and I couldn't face him. So I went crazy. Ran from reality." He stopped smoking his cigarette. "Ruth, I've been walking around town since then for two and a half hours. Sure, I'm afraid. I'm afraid like hell to go back."

"Of Douglas?"

"No! The men in white." Ed shook. "God. Coming after me. With their damn equipment."

 

Ruth was silent. Finally she looked up at her husband, her dark eyes bright. "You have to go back, Ed."

"Back? Why?"

"To prove something."

"Prove what?"

"Prove it's all right." Ruth's hand hold his. "You have to, Ed. You have to go back and face it. To show yourself there's nothing to be afraid of."

"The hell with it! After what I saw? Listen, Ruth. I saw the material of reality break open. I saw—behind. Underneath. I saw what was really there. And I don't want to go back. I don't want to see dust people ever again."

Ruth's eyes were looking closely at him. "I'll go back with you," she said.

"For God's sake."

"For your sake. For your sanity. So you'll know." Ruth got quickly to her feet, putting on her coat. "Come on, Ed. I'll go with you. We'll go up there together. To the office of Douglas and Blake, Real Estate. I'll even go in with you to see Mr. Douglas."

Ed got up slowly, looking hard at his wife. "You think I got scared. Couldn't face the boss." His voice was low and nervous. "Don't you?"

Ruth was already getting ready to pay. "Come on. You'll see. It'll all be there. Just like it always was."

"Okay," Ed said. He followed her slowly. "We'll go back there—and see which of us is right."

 

They crossed the street together, Ruth holding on tight to Ed's arm. Ahead of them was the building, the tall structure of concrete and metal and glass.

"There it is," Ruth said. "See?"

There it was, all right. The big building rose up, firm and solid, shining in the early afternoon sun.

Ed and Ruth stepped up onto the curb. Ed was nervous, his body stressed. He felt scared as his foot touched the side walk—

But nothing happened: the street noises continued; cars, people hurrying past; a kid selling papers. There were sounds, smells, the noises of the city in the middle of the day. And overhead was the sun and the bright blue sky.

"See?" Ruth said. "I was right."

 

They walked up the front steps, into the lobby. Behind the cigarette stand the seller stood, listening to the baseball game. "Hi, Mr. Fletcher," he called to Ed. His face lit up happily. "Who's the girl? Your wife knows about this?"

Ed laughed uneasily. They passed on toward the elevator. Four or five businessmen stood waiting. They were middle-aged men, well dressed, waiting impatiently in a group. "Hey, Fletcher," one said. "Where you been all day? Douglas is yelling like crazy."

"Hello, Earl," Ed said quietly. He held Ruth's arm. "I’ve been a little sick."

The elevator came. They got in. The elevator rose.

The elevator let them off at the third floor. Ed and Ruth got out, heading toward the glass door of Douglas and Blake, Real Estate.

Ed halted, breathing quickly. "Wait. I—"

Ruth waited calmly as Ed removed the sweat from his head and neck with his handkerchief. "All right now?"

"Yeah." Ed moved forward. He pulled open the glass door.

Miss Evans looked up, stopping her working "Ed Fletcher! Where on earth have you been?"

"I've been sick. Hello, Tom."

Tom looked up from his work. "Hi, Ed. Douglas is yelling for your head. Where have you been?"

"I know." Ed turned tiredly to Ruth. "I guess I better go in and face him."

Ruth held his arm. "You'll be all right. I know." She smiled, a comforting flash of white teeth and red lips. "Okay? Call me if you need me."

"Sure." Ed kissed her briefly on the mouth. "Thanks, honey. Thanks a lot. I don't know what the hell went wrong with me. I guess it's over."

"Forget it. See you later." Ruth walked back out of the office, the door closing after her. Ed listened to her race down the hall to the elevator.

"Nice little girl," Jackie said.

"Yeah." Ed said, straightening his tie. He moved unhappily toward the inner office, getting himself ready. Well, he had to face it. Ruth was right. But he was going to have a hard time explaining it to the boss. He could see Douglas now, the thick red face filled with anger—

Ed stopped sharply at the entrance to the inner office. He froze. The inner office—it was changed.

Cold fear filled his body. The inner office was different. He turned his head slowly, looking at the sight: the desks, chairs, lights, pictures.

Changes. Little changes. Very small changes. Ed closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He was alert, breathing rapidly. It was changed, all right. No doubt about it.

"What's the matter, Ed?" Tom asked. His coworkers watched him curiously, stopping in their work.

Ed said nothing. He moved slowly into the inner office. The office was definitely different than before. He knew it. Things had been altered. Rearranged. Nothing obvious—nothing he could say exactly. But he knew it.

Joe Kent asked him uneasily. "What's the matter, Ed? You look like a wild dog. Is something—?"

Ed studied Joe. He was different. Not the same. What was it?

Joe's face. It was a little fuller. His shirt was different. Joe never wore shirts like that. Ed examined Joe's desk. He saw papers and documents. The desk—it was too far to the right. And it was bigger. It wasn't the same desk.

The picture on the wall. It wasn't the same. It was a totally different picture.

He looked back through the door. Now that he thought about it, Miss Evans' hair was different.  And it was lighter.

In here, Mary, over by the window—she was taller, fuller. Her bag, lying on the desk in front of her—a red bag.

"You always...have that bag?" Ed asked.

Mary looked up. "What?"

"That bag. You always have that?"

Mary laughed. She touched the dress around her legs, her eyes bright and playful, "Why, Mr. Fletcher. What do you mean?"

Ed turned away. He knew. Even if she didn't. She had been redone—changed: her bag, her clothes, her figure, everything about her. None of them knew—but him. His mind was nervous. They were all changed. All of them were different. They had all been remade. In small ways—but it was there.

Endless, small changes.

Ed went back to the inner office. He lifted his hand and knocked on Douglas' door.

"Come in."

Ed pushed the door open. Nathan Douglas looked up impatiently. "Mr. Douglas—" Ed began. He came into the room unstably—and stopped.

Douglas was not the same. Not at all. His whole office was changed: the rugs, the window. The desk was a different kind of wood. And Douglas himself...

Douglas was younger, thinner. His hair, brown. His skin not so red. His face smoother. No wrinkles. Chin reshaped. Eyes green, not black. He was a different man. But still Douglas—a different Douglas. A different version!

"What is it?" Douglas asked impatiently. "Oh, it's you, Fletcher. Where were you this morning?"

Ed left the room. Fast.

He shut the door and hurried back through the inner office. Tom and Miss Evans looked up, surprised. Ed passed by them, and opened the hall door.

"Hey!" Tom called. "What—?"

Ed hurried down the hall. Terror filled him. He had to hurry. He had seen. There wasn't much time. He came to the elevator and hit the button.

No time.

He ran to the stairs and started to go down. He reached the second floor. His terror grew. It was a matter of seconds.

Seconds!

The public phone. Ed ran into the phone booth. He pulled the door shut after him. Wildly, he dropped a coin in the slot and dialed. He had to call the police. He held the phone to his ear, his heart racing.

Warn them. Changes. Somebody altering reality. He had been right. The men in white...their equipment...going through the building.

"Hello!" Ed shouted. There was no answer. No sound. Nothing.

Ed looked wildly out the door.

And his shoulders dropped, beaten. Slowly, he hung up the telephone.

He was no longer on the second floor. The phone booth was rising, leaving the second floor behind, carrying him up, faster and faster. It rose floor by floor, moving silently, swiftly.

The phone booth passed through the ceiling of the building and out into the bright sunlight. It gained speed. The ground fell away below. Buildings and streets were getting smaller each moment. Tiny objects hurried along, far below, cars and people, decreasing in size rapidly.

Clouds moved slowly between him and the earth. Ed closed his eyes, filled with fright. Fearfully, He held on to the door the phone booth.

Faster and faster the phone booth rose. The earth was rapidly being left behind, far below.

Ed looked up wildly. Where? Where was he going? Where was it taking him?

He stood held the door tightly the door, waiting.

The Clerk nodded sharply. "That's him, all right. The element in question."

Ed Fletcher looked around him. He was in a huge room. In front of him stood a man with notes and notebooks under his arm, looking at him through glasses. He was a nervous little man, with intelligent eyes, a blue suit and watch. He wore black shiny shoes.

And beyond him—

An old man sat quietly, in a huge modern chair. He watched Fletcher calmly, his blue eyes peaceful and tired. Fletcher felt a strange thrill go through him. It was not fear. Rather it was a feeling going through his bones—a deep sense of wonder with great interested.

"Where—what is this place?" he asked. He was still confused from his quick trip from the ground.

"Don't ask questions!" the nervous little man shouted angrily, hitting his pencil against his notebooks. "You're here to answer, not ask."

The Old Man moved a little. He raised his hand. "I will speak to the element alone," he said. His voice was low. It vibrated in a low sound through the room. Again Ed felt the feeling of interest and wonder.

"Alone?" The little man backed away, gathering his books and papers in his arms. "Of course." He glanced harshly at Ed Fletcher. "I'm glad we finally have him. All the work and trouble just for—"

He left through a door. The door closed softly behind him. Ed and the Old Man were alone.

"Please sit down," the Old Man said.

Ed found a seat. He sat down nervously. He got out his cigarettes and then put them away again.

"What's wrong?" the Old Man asked.

"I'm just beginning to understand."

"Understand what?"

"That I'm dead."

The Old Man smiled briefly. "Dead? No, you're not dead. You're...visiting. An unusual event, but necessary because of the circumstances." He moved toward Ed. "Mr. Fletcher, you have got yourself involved in something."

"Yeah," Ed agreed. "I wish I knew what it was. Or how it happened."

"It was not your fault. You're the victim of an error. A mistake was made, but not by you. But it involved you."

"What mistake?" Ed touched his head tiredly. "I—I learned about something. I saw through. I saw something I wasn't supposed to see."

"That's right,” the Old Man said.  “You saw something you were not supposed to see—something few elements have been aware of, let alone seen for themselves."

"Elements?"

"An official term. Let it pass. A mistake was made, but we hope to correct it. It is my hope that—"

"Those people," Ed interrupted. "Lots of dry ash. And gray. Like they were dead. Only it was everything: the stairs and walls and floor. No color or life."

"That Sector had been temporarily de-energized. So the adjustment team could enter and make changes."

"Changes." Ed moved his head in agreement. "That's right. When I went back later, everything was alive again. But not the same. It was all different."

"The adjustment was complete by noon. The team finished its work and re-energized the Sector."

"I see," Ed said to himself quietly.

"You were supposed to have been in the Sector when the adjustment began. Because of an error you were not. You came into the Sector late—during the adjustment itself. You ran away, and when you returned it was over. You saw what you should not have seen. Instead of seeing it, you should have been part of the adjustment. Like the others, you should have been changed."

Sweat came out on Ed Fletcher's head. His stomach turned over. Weakly, he cleared his throat. "I get the picture." His voice was quiet. A cold feeling moved through him. "I was supposed to be changed like the others. But I guess something went wrong."

"Something went wrong. An error happened. And now a serious problem exists. You have seen these things. You know a great deal. And you are not adjusted to the new configuration."

"Well, I won't tell anybody." Ed said. Cold sweat on his head. "You can trust me. It’s like I’m changed."

"You have already told someone," the Old Man said coldly.

"Me?" Ed said, surprised. "Who?"

"Your wife."

The color left Ed’s face, leaving it sickly white. "That's right. I did."

"Your wife knows." The Old Man said angrily. "A woman. Of all the things to tell—"

"I didn't know." Ed move back, panic jumped through him. "But I know now. You can trust me. Consider me changed."

The old blue eyes stared intensely into him, looking far into him. "And you were going to call the police. You wanted to tell them."

"But I didn't know who was doing the changing."

"Now you know. The natural process must be guided—adjusted here and there. Corrections must be made. We are fully licensed to make such corrections. Our adjustment teams perform essential work."

Ed found some courage. "This particular adjustment. Douglas. The office. What was it for? I'm sure it was some important purpose."

The Old Man moved his hand. Behind him in the shadows a huge map appeared, and Ed looked at it with surprise. He saw endless connections of detailed sections, a network of squares and lines. Each square was marked, and some had a blue light. The lights turned off and on constantly.

"The Sector Board," the Old Man said with a tired expression. "A huge job. Sometimes we wonder how we can go on another period. But it must be done. For the good of all. For your good."

"The change. In our—our Sector."

"Your office deals in real estate. The old Douglas was a smart man, but rapidly becoming sick. His physical health was getting worse. In a few days Douglas will be offered a chance to buy a large wild forest area in western Canada. It will take most of his money. The older, less energetic Douglas would have been unsure about whether to buy it. It is essential he be sure. He must buy the area and clear the land quickly. Only a younger man—a younger Douglas—would do this.

"When the land is cleared, certain anthropological remains will be discovered. They have already been placed there. Douglas will rent his land to the Canadian Government for scientific study. The remains found there will cause international excitement in academic circles.

"A chain of events will start. Men from many countries will come to Canada to examine the remains. Soviet, Polish, and Czech scientists will make the journey.

"The chain of events will draw these scientists together for the first time in years. National research will be briefly forgotten in the excitement of these non-national discoveries. One of the leading Soviet scientists will make friends with a French scientist. Before they depart they will agree to continue to communicate—without the knowledge of their governments, of course.

"The circle will get bigger. Other scientists on both sides will enter. An academic society will be founded. More and more educated men will transfer an increasing amount of time to this international society. Purely national research will begin to be less important. The Cold War tensions will go down* (see note below).

"This change is essential. And it depends on whether Douglass buys and clears the section of forest in Canada. The old Douglas would not have taken the risk. But the altered Douglas, and his altered, more youthful staff, will do this work with much enthusiasm. And from this, the essential chain of spreading events will come about. Those that benefit will include you. Our methods may seem strange and indirect. Even something that can’t be understood by you. But I promise you we know what we're doing."

"I know that now," Ed said.

"So you do. You know a great deal. Much too much. No element should have such knowledge. I should perhaps call an adjustment team in here..."

A picture formed in Ed's mind:  gray clouds, gray men and women. He felt cold. "Look," he said. "I'll do anything. Anything at all. Only don't de-energize me." Sweat ran down his face. "Okay?"

The Old Man thought to himself. "Perhaps some alternative could be found. There is another possibility..."

"What?" Ed asked excitedly. "What is it?"

The Old Man spoke slowly, thoughtfully. "If I allow you to return, you will promise never to speak of the matter? Will you promise not to tell to anyone the things you saw? The things you know?"

"Sure!" Ed shouted excitedly, great happiness coming over him. "I promise!"

"Your wife. She must know nothing more. She must think it was only a passing psychological problem—a break from reality."

"She thinks that already."

"She must continue to do so."

Ed said confidently. "I'll see that she continues to think it was a mental problem. She'll never know what really happened."

"You are certain you can keep the truth from her?"

"Sure," Ed said confidently. "I know I can."

"All right." The Old Man said slowly. "I will send you back. But you must tell no one." He then looked serious, and said. "Remember: you will eventually come back to me—everyone does, in the end—and your fate will not be enviable if you don’t keep your promise."

"I won't tell her," Ed said, sweating. "I promise. You have my word on that. I can handle Ruth. Don't give it a second thought."

Ed arrived home at sunset.

He felt strange after rapidly coming back down to the earth. For a moment he stood on the sidewalk, getting his balance and catching his breath. Then he walked quickly up the path.

He pushed the door open and entered the little green house.

"Ed!" Ruth came flying, face filled with tears. She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. "Where the hell have you been?"

"Been?" Ed said quietly. "At the office, of course."

Ruth pulled back suddenly. "No, you haven't."

Ed felt a little nervous. "Of course I have. Where else—?"

"I called Douglas about three. He said you left. You walked out, almost as soon as I left. Eddie—"

Ed hugged her nervously. "Relax, honey." He began taking off his coat. "Everything's okay. Understand? Things are perfectly all right."

Ruth sat down on the couch. She cleaned the tears from her eyes. "If you knew how much I've worried." "I want to know where you were."

Uneasily, Ed hung his coat in the closet. He came over and kissed her. Her lips were ice cold. "I'll tell you all about it. But what do you say we have something to eat? I'm really hungry."

Ruth studied him closely. She got down from the couch. "I'll change and make dinner."

She hurried into the bedroom and took off her shoes. Ed followed her. "I didn't want to worry you," he said carefully. "After you left me today I realized you were right."

"Oh?" Ruth took of her blouse and skirt, putting them in the closet. "Right about what?"

"About me." He tried make his smile seem real. "About...what happened."

Ruth studied her husband intently as she put on her tight jeans. "Go on."

The moment had come. It was now or never. Ed Fletcher stopped himself and chose his words carefully. "I realized," he stated, "that the whole darn thing was in my mind. You were right, Ruth. Completely right. And I even realize what caused it."

Ruth put on her cotton T-shirt. "What was the cause?"

"Overwork."

"Overwork?"

"I need a vacation. I haven't had a vacation in years. My mind isn't on my job. I've been dreaming." He said it firmly, but he was still nervous. "I need to get away. To the mountains, fishing, or—" He searched his mind wildly. "Or—"

Ruth came toward him. "Ed!" she said sharply. "Look at me!"

"What's the matter?" Panic shot through him. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Where were you this afternoon?"

Ed's stopped smiling. "I told you. I went for a walk. Didn't I tell you? A walk. To think things over."

"Don't lie to me, Eddie Fletcher! I can tell when you're lying!" Fresh tears came to Ruth's eyes. Her chest rose and fell excitedly under her shirt. "Tell the truth! You didn't go for a walk!"

Ed froze. Sweat came off him. He held the door for support. "What do you mean?"

Ruth's black eyes filled with anger. " I want to know where you were! Tell me! I have a right to know. What really happened?"

Ed moved back in terror. He was losing confidence. It was going all wrong. "Honest. I went out for a—"

"Tell me!" Ruth held his arm tightly. "I want to know where you were—and who you were with!"

Ed opened his mouth. He tried to smile, but his face failed to respond. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know what I mean. Who were you with? Where did you go? Tell me! I'll find out, sooner or later."

There was no way out. He was beat—and he knew it. He couldn't keep it from her. Without hope, he tried to think of what to do, praying for time. If he could only distract her, get her mind on something else. If she would only stop for a bit, even for a second. He could think of something—a better story. Time—he needed more time. "Ruth, you've got to—"

Suddenly there was a sound: the bark of a dog, going through the dark house.

Ruth let go, listening carefully. "That was the dog. I think somebody's coming."

The doorbell rang.

"You stay here. I'll be right back." Ruth ran out of the room, to the front door. She opened the door.

"Good evening!" The young man stepped quickly inside, carrying many objects, smiling at Ruth. "I'm from the Sweep-Rite Vacuum Cleaner Company."

Ruth looked at him impatiently. "Really, we're about to sit down at the table."

"Oh, this will only take a moment." The young man set down the vacuum cleaner and its attachments with a metal crash. Rapidly, he took out some pictures, showing the vacuum cleaner in action. "Now, if you'll just hold this while I start the cleaner—"

"I'll show you this first. Now, if you'll just sit down I'll demonstrate each of these easy-to-use attachments." His happy voice rose over the noise of the cleaner. "You'll notice—"

Ed Fletcher sat down on the bed. He reached into his pocket until he found his cigarettes. Nervously, he lit one and sat down, glad to have a break.

He looked up to the sky, a look of gratitude on his face. "Thanks," he said softly. "I think we'll be okay—after all. Thanks a lot."

 

*This story happens in the 1950s, during the Cold War, when the US and other democratic countries were in a conflict with the Soviet Union (Russia and other communist countries). The Old Man seems to explain that the discovery in Canada will help to end this conflict, and help human progress.

 

Vocabulary:  To help learners, most vocabulary that might be unknown for this lesson’s level is provided. Vocab in bold is more useful for learners at the lesson’s target level. Try to choose 8 to 10 new words to learn from the story (in general, it’s best to try to learn no more than 8-10 new words a day).

Definitions are written with the help of various sources including online learner’s dictionaries.

 

Adjustment: a small change that improves something or makes it work better.

Sidewalk: A usually concrete path along the side of a street for people to walk on.

Clerk: a person whose job is to keep track of records and documents for a business or office.

Hurriedly: happening or done very quickly or too quickly.

Shed: a small, simple building that is used especially for storing things.

To adjust: to change (something) in a minor way so that it works better.

Alteration: the act, process, or result of changing something.

Precise: very accurate and exact.

Essential: Extremely important and necessary.

Rush: to move or do something very quickly or in a way that shows you have very little time.

Rapid: happening in a short amount of time: happening quickly.

Hug: to put your arms around someone especially as a way of showing love or friend.

To shave: to cut the hair off (someone or something) very close to the skin.

Embarrassed: to make (someone) feel confused and foolish in front of other people.

Fence: a structure like a wall built outdoors usually of wood or metal that separates two areas or prevents people or animals from entering or leaving.

Doorbell: a bell inside a house or building that is rung usually by pushing a button beside an outside door.

Bark: the short loud sound made by dogs and some other animals.

Insurance:  an agreement in which a person makes regular payments to a company and the company promises to pay money if the person is injured or dies, or to pay money equal to the value of something (such as a house or car) if it is damaged, lost, or stolen.

Consequence: something that happens as a result of a particular action or set of conditions.

Huge: very large: very great in size, amount, or degree.

Curb: a short border along the edge of a street that is usually made of stone or concrete.

Dim: not bright or clear.

Mist: water in the form of very small drops floating in the air or falling as rain.

Particles: a very small piece of something.

Lobby: a large open area inside and near the entrance of a public building (such as a hotel or theater).

Fragments: A broken piece of something.

Elevator: a machine used for carrying people and things to different levels in a building.

Pile: a group of things that are put one on top of another.

Ash: the soft gray powder that remains after something (such as a cigarette or wood) has been completely burned and destroyed by fire.

De-energizer: (A word created by the author of the story) A piece of equipment to remove the energy of an area, so the adjustment teams can change reality.

Robe: a long, loose piece of clothing that is worn on top of other clothes to show that someone has a high rank or an important job.

Out of his mind: crazy.

Fault: a problem or bad part that prevents something from being perfect.

Urgency: very important and needing immediate attention.

To fire: to tell someone they must leave their job.

Upset: angry or unhappy.

Guilt: responsibility for a crime or for doing something bad or wrong.

To face: to deal with (something bad or unpleasant) in a direct way.

For the sake of: to say that something is done for a particular purpose or to achieve a particular goal or result.

Sanity: the condition of having a health mind; not crazy.

Curious: to have a strong desire to know something.

Rearrange: to change the position or order of things; to change your position.

Obvious: easy to see or understand.

Smooth: completely flat and even, without any rough areas or holes.

Wrinkle: a line or small fold in your skin, especially on your face, that forms as you get older.

Phone booth: a small place with walls or sides, containing a public phone, in a hotel, restaurant, in the street, etc.

To dial: to use a phone by pushing buttons or turning the dial to call a number.

To hang up: to end a phone conversation by putting down the phone receiver or pressing the ‘end call’ button.

Circumstance: the conditions and facts that are connected with and affect a situation, an event or an action.

Involved: taking part in something; being part of something or connected with something.

Supposed: used to show that you think that a claim, statement or way of describing somebody/something is not true or correct, although it is generally believed to be.

Configuration: an arrangement of the parts of something or a group of things; the form or shape that this arrangement produces.

Purpose: the intention, aim or function of something; the thing that something is supposed to achieve.

To appear: to start to be seen.

Anthropological: ​connected with the study of the human race, especially its origins, development, customs and beliefs.

Remains: the parts of something that are left after the other parts have been used, dead, or removed, etc.

To discover: to be the first person to become aware that a particular place or thing exists.

Soviet: the people of the former USSR.

Tension: a situation in which people do not trust each other, or feel unfriendly towards each other, and that may cause them to attack each other.

Overwork: to work too hard.

Gratitude: feeling or wanting to show thanks.

 

Questions

Why is the adjustment team changing reality?

How much control do we have over the future of our lives?

Do you ever feel that life could have been different?

What would you do, if you were Ed?

 

A summary of this story: https://philipkdickreview.wordpress.com/2014/05/12/adjustment-team/

 

Watch the movie, The Adjustment Bureau, based on this story: https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1385826/ What are the similarities and differences between the story and the movie?