Level: Upper
Intermediate
This is the original story. Read the adapted version for intermediate level here
IT WAS BRIGHT MORNING.
The sun shone down on the damp lawns and sidewalks, reflecting off the
sparkling parked cars. The Clerk came walking hurriedly, leafing through
his instructions, flipping pages and frowning. He
stopped in front of the small green stucco house for a moment, and then turned
up the walk, entering the back yard.
The dog was asleep
inside his shed, his back turned to the world. Only his thick tail showed.
"For Heaven's
sake," the Clerk exclaimed, hands on his hips. He tapped his
mechanical pencil noisily against his clipboard. "Wake up, you
in there."
The dog stirred.
He came slowly out of his shed, head first, blinking and yawning in
the morning sunlight. "Oh, it's you. Already?" He yawned again.
"Big doings."
The Clerk ran his expert finger down the traffic-control sheet. "They're
adjusting Sector T137 this morning. Starting at exactly nine o'clock."
He glanced at his pocket watch. "Three hour alteration.
Will finish by noon."
"T137? That's not
far from here."
The Clerk's lips twisted
in contempt. "Indeed. You're showing astonishing
perspicacity, my black-haired friend. Maybe you can divine why
I'm here."
"We overlap with
T137."
"Exactly. Elements
from this sector are involved. We must make sure they're properly placed when
adjustment begins." The Clerk glanced toward the small green stucco house.
"Your particular task concerns the man in there. He is employed by a
business establishment lying within Sector T137. It's
essential he be there before nine o'clock.
The dog studied the
house. The shades had been let up. The kitchen light was on.
Beyond the lace curtains dim shapes could be seen, stirring
around the table. A man and woman. They were drinking coffee.
"There they
are," the dog murmured. "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 to coincide with the new
adjustment."
The dog sighed.
"That means I have to summon."
"Correct." The
Clerk checked his instruction sheet. "You're to summon at precisely
eight-fifteen. You've got that? Eight-fifteen. No later."
"What will an
eight-fifteen summons bring?"
The Clerk flipped open
his instruction book, examining the code columns. "It will bring A Friend
with a Car. To drive him to work early." He closed the book and folded his
arms, preparing to wait. "That way he'll get to his office almost an hour
ahead of time. Which is vital."
"Vital," the
dog murmured. He lay down, half inside his shed. His eyes closed.
"Vital."
"Wake up! This must
be done exactly on time. If you summon too soon or too late—"
The dog nodded sleepily.
"I know. I'll do it right. I always do it right."
Ed Fletcher poured more
cream in his coffee. He sighed, leaning back in his chair. Behind him the oven
hissed softly, filling the kitchen with warm fumes. The yellow overhead light
beamed down.
"Another roll?"
Ruth asked.
"I'm full." Ed
sipped his coffee. "You can have it."
"Have to go."
Ruth got to her feet, unfastening her robe. "Time to go to
work."
"Already?"
"Sure. You lucky
bum! Wish I could sit around." Ruth moved toward the bathroom, running her
fingers through her long black hair. "When you work for the Government you
start early."
"But you get off
early," Ed pointed out. He unfolded the Chronicle, examining the sporting
green. "Well, have a good time today. Don't type any wrong words, any
double-entendres."
The bathroom door
closed, as Ruth shed her robe and began dressing.
Ed yawned and glanced up
at the clock over the sink. Plenty of time. Not even eight. He sipped more
coffee and then rubbed his stubbled chin. He would have to
shave. He shrugged lazily. Ten minutes, maybe.
Ruth came bustling out
in her nylon slip, hurrying into the bedroom. "I'm late." She rushed
rapidly around, getting into her blouse and skirt, her stockings, her little
white shoes. Finally she bent over and kissed him. "Goodbye, honey. I'll
do the shopping tonight."
"Goodbye." Ed
lowered his newspaper and put his arm around his wife's trim waist,
hugging her affectionately. "You smell nice. Don't flirt with
the boss."
Ruth ran out the front
door, clattering down the steps. He heard the click of her heels diminish down
the sidewalk.
She was gone. The house
was silent. He was alone.
Ed got to his feet,
pushing his chair back. He wandered lazily into the bathroom and got his razor
down. Eight-ten. He washed his face, rubbing it down with shaving cream, and
began to shave. He shaved leisurely. He had plenty of time.
The Clerk bent over his
round pocket watch, licking his lips nervously. Sweat stood out on his
forehead. The second hand ticked on. Eight-fourteen. Almost time.
"Get ready!"
the Clerk snapped. He tensed, his small body rigid. "Ten seconds to
go!"
"Time!" the
Clerk cried.
Nothing happened.
The Clerk turned, eyes
wide with horror. From the little shed a thick black tail showed. The dog had
gone back to sleep.
"TIME!" the Clerk shrieked.
He kicked wildly at the furry rump. "In the name of
God—"
The dog stirred.
He thumped around hastily, backing out of the shed. "My
goodness." Embarrassed, he made his way quickly to the fence.
Standing up on his hind paws, he opened his mouth wide. "Woof!" he
summoned. He glanced apologetically at the Clerk. "I beg your pardon. I
can't understand how—"
The Clerk gazed fixedly
down at his watch. Cold terror knotted his stomach. The hands showed
eight-sixteen. "You failed," he grated. "You failed! You
miserable flea-bitten rag-bag of a wornout old mutt!
You failed!"
The dog dropped and came
anxiously back. "I failed, you say? You mean the summons time was—?"
"You summoned too
late." The Clerk put his watch away slowly, a glazed expression on his
face. "You summoned too late. We won't get A Friend with a Car. There's no
telling 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 wailed. "He won't be there. We've made a mistake. We've made
things go wrong!"
Ed was rinsing the
shaving cream from his face when the muffled sound of the dog's bark echoed
through the silent house.
"Damn," Ed
muttered. "Wake up the whole block." He dried his face, listening.
Was somebody coming?
A vibration. Then—
The doorbell
rang.
Ed came out of the
bathroom. Who could it be? Had Ruth forgotten something? He tossed on a white
shirt and opened the front door.
A bright young man, face
bland and eager, beamed happily at him. "Good morning, sir."
He tipped his hat. "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. "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, easing 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."
Sighing wearily, Ed admitted the young man. "You can explain your policy
while I get dressed."
The young man opened his
briefcase on the couch, laying out heaps of pamphlets and illustrated folders.
"I'd like to show you some of these figures, if I may. It's of great
importance to you and your family to—"
Ed found himself sitting
down, going over the pamphlets. He purchased a ten-thousand-dollar policy on
his own life and then eased the young man out. He looked at the clock.
Practically nine-thirty!
"Damn." He'd
be late to work. He finished fastening his tie, grabbed his coat, turned off
the oven and the lights, dumped the dishes in the sink, and ran out on the
porch.
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 groaned. No telling
what the consequences would be, getting to the office late. He wouldn't get
there until almost ten. He set himself in anticipation. A sixth sense told him
he was in for it. Something bad. It was the wrong day to be late.
If only the salesman
hadn't come.
Ed hopped 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. Old
Douglas would give him hell for sure. He could see it now. Douglas puffing and
blowing, red-faced, waving his thick finger at him; Miss Evans, smiling behind
her typewriter; Jackie, the office boy, grinning and snickering; Earl
Hendricks; Joe and Tom; Mary, dark-eyed, full bosom and long lashes. All of
them, kidding him the whole rest of the day.
He came to the corner
and stopped for the light. On the other side of the street rose the big white
concrete building, the towering column of steel and cement, girders and glass
windows—the office building. Ed flinched. Maybe he could say the elevator got
stuck. Somewhere between the second and third floor.
The street light
changed. Nobody else was crossing. Ed crossed alone. He hopped up on the curb on
the far side—
And stopped, rigid.
The sun had winked off.
One moment it was beaming down. Then it was gone. Ed looked sharply up. Gray
clouds swirled above him. Huge, formless clouds. Nothing more. An ominous,
thick haze that made everything waver and dim. Uneasy chills
plucked at him. What was it?
He advanced cautiously,
feeling his way through the mist. Everything was silent. No sounds—not even the
traffic sounds. Ed peered frantically around, trying to see through the rolling
haze. No people. No cars. No sun. Nothing.
The office
building loomed up ahead, ghostly. It was an indistinct gray.
He put out his hand uncertainly—
A section of the
building fell away. It rained down, a torrent of particles. Like sand. Ed gaped
foolishly. A cascade of gray debris, spilling around his feet. And
where he had touched the building, a jagged cavity yawned—an
ugly pit marring the concrete.
Dazed, he made his way to the front steps. He mounted them.
The steps gave way underfoot. His feet sank down. He was wading through
shifting sand, weak, rotted stuff that broke under his weight.
He got into the lobby.
The lobby was dim and obscure. The overhead lights flickered
feebly in the gloom. An unearthly pall hung
over everything.
He spied the cigar
stand. The seller leaned silently, resting on the counter, toothpick between
his teeth, his face vacant. And gray. He was gray all over.
"Hey," Ed
croaked. "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.
"Good God," Ed
said.
The seller's arm came
loose. It fell to the lobby floor, disintegrating into fragments.
Bits of gray fiber. Like dust. Ed's senses reeled.
"Help!" he
shouted, finding his voice.
No answer. He peered around.
A few shapes stood here and there: a man reading a newspaper, two women waiting
at the elevator.
Ed made his way over to
the man. He reached out and touched him.
The man slowly collapsed.
He settled into a heap, a loose pile of gray ash.
Dust. Particles. The two women dissolved when he touched them.
Silently. They made no sound as they broke apart.
Ed found the stairs. He
grabbed hold of the bannister and climbed. The stairs collapsed under him. He
hurried faster. Behind him lay a broken path—his footprints clearly visible in
the concrete. Clouds of ash blew around him as he reached the second floor.
He gazed down the
silent corridor. He saw more clouds of ash. He heard no sound.
There was just darkness—rolling darkness.
He climbed unsteadily to
the third floor. Once, his shoe broke completely through the stair. For a
sickening second he hung, poised over a yawning hole that looked down into a
bottomless nothing.
Then he climbed on, and
emerged in front of his own office: DOUGLAS AND BLAKE, REAL ESTATE.
The hall was dim, gloomy
with clouds of ash. The overhead lights flickered fitfully. He reached for the
door handle. The handle came off in his hand. He dropped it and dug his
fingernails into the door. The plate glass crashed past him, breaking into
bits. He tore the door open and stepped over it, into the office.
Miss Evans sat at her
typewriter, fingers resting quietly on the keys. 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, into dry flakiness.
He drew back, sickened.
Miss Evans did not stir.
He moved on. He pushed
against a desk. The desk collapsed into rotting dust. Earl Hendricks stood by
the water cooler, a cup in his hand. He was a gray statue, unmoving. Nothing
stirred. No sound. No life. The whole office was gray dust—without life or
motion.
Ed found himself out in
the corridor again. He shook his head, dazed. What did it mean? Was he going
out of his mind? Was he—?
A sound.
Ed turned, peering into
the gray mist. A creature was coming, hurrying rapidly. A man—a man in a
white robe. Behind him others came. Men in white, with equipment.
They were lugging complex machinery.
"Hey—" Ed
gasped weakly.
The men stopped. Their
mouths opened. Their eyes popped.
"Look!"
"Something's gone
wrong!"
"One still
charged."
"Get the de-energizer."
"We can't proceed
until—"
The men came toward Ed,
moving around him. One lugged a long hose with some sort of nozzle. A portable
cart came wheeling up. Instructions were rapidly shouted.
Ed broke out of his paralysis.
Fear swept over him. Panic. Something hideous was happening. He had to get out.
Warn people. Get away.
He turned and ran, back
down the stairs. The stairs collapsed under him. He fell half a flight, rolling
in heaps of dry ash. He got to his feet 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 white-clad men were coming, dragging their equipment and shouting to each
other, hurrying quickly after him.
He reached the sidewalk.
Behind him the office building wavered and sagged, sinking to one side,
torrents of ash raining down in heaps. He raced toward the corner, the men just
behind him. Gray clouds swirled around him. He groped his way across the street,
hands outstretched. He gained the opposite curb—
The sun winked on. Warm
yellow sunlight streamed down on him. Cars honked. Traffic lights changed. On
all sides men and women in bright spring clothes hurried and pushed: shoppers,
a blue-clad cop, 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 halted, gasping for
breath. He turned and looked back the way he had come. Across the street was
the office building—as it had always been. Firm and distinct. Concrete and
glass and steel.
He stepped back a pace
and collided with a hurrying citizen. "Hey," the man grunted.
"Watch it."
"Sorry." Ed
shook his head, trying to clear it. From where he stood, the office building
looked like always, big and solemn and substantial, rising up imposingly on the
other side of the street.
But a minute ago—
Maybe he was out
of his mind. He had seen the building crumbling 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, wheeling complex equipment.
He was out of his mind.
There was no other explanation. Weakly, Ed turned and stumbled along the
sidewalk, his mind reeling. He moved blindly, without purpose, lost in a haze
of confusion and terror.
The Clerk was brought
into the top-level Administrative chambers and told to wait.
He paced back and forth
nervously, clasping and wringing his hands in an agony of apprehension. He took
off his glasses and wiped them shakily.
Lord. All the trouble
and grief. And it wasn't his fault. But he would have to take the rap. It was
his responsibility to get the Summoners routed out and their instructions
followed. The miserable flea-infested Summoner had gone back to sleep—and he
would have to answer for it.
The doors opened.
"All right," a voice murmured, preoccupied. It was a tired, care-worn
voice. The Clerk trembled and entered slowly, sweat dripping
down his neck into his celluloid collar.
The Old Man glanced up,
laying aside his book. He studied the Clerk calmly, his faded blue eyes mild—a
deep, ancient mildness that made the Clerk tremble even more. He took out his
handkerchief and mopped his brow.
"I understand there
was a mistake," the Old Man murmured. "In connection with Sector
T137. Something to do with an element from an adjoining area."
"That's
right." The Clerk's voice was faint and husky. "Very
unfortunate."
"What exactly
occurred?"
"I started out this
morning with my instruction sheets. The material relating to T137 had top
priority, of course. I served notice on the Summoner in my area that an
eight-fifteen summons was required."
"Did the Summoner
understand the urgency?"
"Yes, sir."
The Clerk hesitated. "But—"
"But what?"
The Clerk twisted
miserably. "While my back was turned the Summoner crawled back in his shed
and went to sleep. I was occupied, checking the exact time with my watch. I
called the moment—but there was no response."
"You called at
eight-fifteen exactly?"
"Yes, sir! Exactly
eight-fifteen. But the Summoner was asleep. By the time I managed to arouse him
it was eight-sixteen. He summoned, but instead of A Friend with a Car we got
a—A Life Insurance Salesman." The Clerk's face screwed up with disgust.
"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 within 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 paced slowly back and
forth, face grim, hands behind his back. His long robe flowed out
behind him. "A serious matter. During a Sector Adjustment all related
elements from other Sectors must be included. Otherwise, their orientations
remain out of phase. When this element entered T137 the adjustment had been in
progress fifty minutes. The element encountered the Sector at its most
de-energized stage. He wandered about until one of the adjustment teams met
him."
"Did they catch
him?"
"Unfortunately no.
He fled, out of the Sector. Into a nearby fully energized area."
"What—what
then?"
The Old Man stopped
pacing, his lined face grim. He ran a heavy hand through his long white hair.
"We do not know. We lost contact with him. We will reestablish contact
soon, of course. But for the moment he is out of control."
"What are you going
to do?"
"He must be
contacted and contained. 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 regained he will have told others. To wipe
his mind clean 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 Summoner." The Old Man's eyes
twinkled. "Even the Clerks, although we hesitate to count on them."
The Clerk flushed.
"I'll be glad when this thing is over," he muttered.
Ruth came tripping down
the stairs and out of the building, into the hot noonday sun. She lit a
cigarette and hurried along the walk, her small bosom rising and falling as she
breathed in the spring air.
"Ruth." Ed
stepped up behind her.
"Ed!" She
spun, gasping in astonishment. "What are you doing away from—?"
"Come on." Ed
grabbed her arm, pulling her along. "Let's keep moving."
"But what—?"
"I'll tell you
later." Ed's face was pale and grim. "Let's go where we can talk. In
private."
"I was going down
to have lunch at Louie's. 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 milled around, getting their
lunch. Ed found a table in the back, secluded in a corner. "Here." He
sat down abruptly. "This will do." She slid into the other chair.
Ed ordered a cup of
coffee. Ruth had salad and creamed tuna on toast, coffee and peach pie.
Silently, Ed watched her as she ate, his face dark and moody.
"Please tell
me," Ruth begged.
"You really want to
know?"
"Of course I want
to know!" Ruth put her small hand anxiously on his. "I'm your
wife."
"Something happened
today. This morning. I was late to work. A damn insurance man came by and held
me up. I was half an hour late."
Ruth caught her breath.
"Douglas fired you."
"No." Ed
ripped a paper napkin slowly into bits. He stuffed 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
works. Everything.
When he had finished,
Ruth sat back, her face white, hands trembling. "I see," she
murmured. "No wonder you're upset." She drank a little cold coffee,
the cup rattling against the saucer. "What a terrible thing."
Ed leaned intently
toward his wife. "Ruth. Do you think I'm going crazy?"
Ruth's red lips twisted.
"I don't know what to say. It's so strange..."
"Yeah. Strange is
hardly the word for it. I poked my hands right through them. Like they were
clay. Old dry clay. 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.
Like always."
"You were afraid
Mr. Douglas would bawl you out, weren't you?"
"Sure. I was
afraid—and guilty." Ed's eyes flickered. "I know what you're
thinking. I was late and I couldn't face him. So I had some sort of
protective psychotic fit. Retreat from
reality." He stubbed the cigarette out savagely. "Ruth, I've been
wandering around town since. 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 shuddered. "God. Chasing me. With their damn hoses and—and
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 pressed against 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 fabric of reality split 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 again. Ever."
Ruth's eyes were fixed
intently on 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 abruptly to her feet,
pulling her coat around her. "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,
staring hard at his wife. "You think I blacked out. Cold feet. Couldn't
face the boss." His voice was low and strained. "Don't you?"
Ruth was already
threading her way toward the cashier. "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 towering 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, glittering in the early afternoon
sun, its windows sparkling brightly.
Ed and Ruth stepped up
onto the curb. Ed tensed himself, his body rigid. He winced as his foot touched
the pavement—
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 cigar stand the seller stood, arms folded,
listening to the ball game. "Hi, Mr. Fletcher," he called to Ed. His
face lit up good-naturedly. "Who's the dame? Your wife know about
this?"
Ed laughed unsteadily.
They passed on toward the elevator. Four or five businessmen stood waiting.
They were middle-aged men, well dressed, waiting impatiently in a bunch.
"Hey, Fletcher," one said. "Where you been all day? Douglas is
yelling his head off."
"Hello, Earl,"
Ed muttered. He gripped Ruth's arm. "Been a little sick."
The elevator came. They
got in. The elevator rose. "Hi, Ed," the elevator operator said.
"Who's the good-looking gal? Why don't you introduce her
around?"
Ed grinned mechanically.
"My wife."
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
shallowly. "Wait." He licked his lips. "I—"
Ruth waited calmly as Ed
wiped his forehead and neck with his handkerchief. "All right now?"
"Yeah." Ed
moved forward. He pulled open the glass door.
Miss Evans glanced up,
ceasing her typing. "Ed Fletcher! Where on earth have you been?"
"I've been sick.
Hello, Tom."
Tom glanced up from his
work. "Hi, Ed. Say, Douglas is yelling for your scalp. Where have you
been?"
"I know." Ed
turned wearily to Ruth. "I guess I better go in and face the music."
Ruth squeezed his arm.
"You'll be all right. I know." She smiled, a relieved 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. So
long." Ruth skipped back out of the office, the door closing after her. Ed
listened to her race down the hall to the elevator.
"Nice little
gal," Jackie said appreciatively.
"Yeah." Ed
nodded, straightening his necktie. He moved unhappily toward the inner office,
steeling himself. Well, he had to face it. Ruth was right. But he was going to
have a hell of a time explaining it to the boss. He could see Douglas now, thick
red wattles, big bull roar, face distorted with rage—
Ed stopped abruptly at
the entrance to the inner office. He froze rigid. The inner office—it was
changed.
The hackles of his neck
rose. Cold fear gripped him, clutching at his windpipe. The inner office was
different. He turned his head slowly, taking in the sight: the desks, chairs,
fixtures, file cabinets, pictures.
Changes. Little
changes. Subtle. Ed closed his eyes and opened them slowly. He was
alert, breathing rapidly, his pulse racing. It was changed, all right. No doubt
about it.
"What's the matter,
Ed?" Tom asked. The staff watched him curiously, pausing in their work.
Ed said nothing. He
advanced slowly into the inner office. The office had been gone over. He could
tell. Things had been altered. Rearranged. Nothing obvious—nothing he could put
his finger on. But he could tell.
Joe Kent greeted 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 blue-striped. Joe never wore blue stripes. Ed
examined Joe's desk. He saw papers and accounts. 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 different picture entirely. And the things on top
of the file cabinet—some were new, others were gone.
He looked back through
the door. Now that he thought about it, Miss Evans' hair was different, done a
different way. And it was lighter.
In here, Mary, filing
her nails, over by the window—she was taller, fuller. Her purse, lying on the
desk in front of her—a red purse, red knit.
"You always...have
that purse?" Ed demanded.
Mary glanced up.
"What?"
"That purse. You
always have that?"
Mary laughed. She
smoothed her skirt coyly around her shapely thighs, her long lashes blinking
modestly. "Why, Mr. Fletcher. What do you mean?"
Ed turned away. He knew.
Even if she didn't. She had been redone—changed: her purse, her clothes, her
figure, everything about her. None of them knew—but him. His mind spun dizzily.
They were all changed. All of them were different. They had all been remolded,
recast. Subtly—but it was there.
The wastebasket. It was
smaller, not the same. The window shades—white, not ivory. The wall paper was
not the same pattern. The lighting fixtures...
Endless, subtle changes.
Ed made his way 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 unsteadily—and stopped.
Douglas was not the
same. Not at all. His whole office was changed: the rugs, the drapes. The desk
was oak, not mahogany. 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 demanded impatiently. "Oh, it's you, Fletcher. Where were you this
morning?"
Ed backed out. Fast.
He slammed the door and
hurried back through the inner office. Tom and Miss Evans glanced up, startled.
Ed passed by them, grabbing the hall door open.
"Hey!" Tom
called. "What—?"
Ed hurried down the
hall. Terror leaped through him. He had to hurry. He had seen. There wasn't
much time. He came to the elevator and stabbed the button.
No time.
He ran to the stairs and
started 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 dragged the door shut after him. Wildly,
he dropped a dime in the slot and dialed. He had to call the police. He held
the receiver to his ear, his heart pounding.
Warn them. Changes.
Somebody tampering with reality. Altering it. He had been right. The white-clad
men...their equipment...going through the building.
"Hello!" Ed
shouted hoarsely. There was no answer. No hum. Nothing.
Ed peered frantically
out the door.
And he sagged, defeated.
Slowly, he hung up the telephone receiver.
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 specks hurried along, far below, cars and people, dwindling
rapidly.
Clouds drifted between
him and the earth. Ed shut his eyes, dizzy with fright. He held on desperately
to the door handles of the phone booth.
Faster and faster the
phone booth climbed. The earth was rapidly being left behind, far below.
Ed peered up wildly.
Where? Where was he going? Where was it taking him?
He stood gripping the
door handles, waiting.
The Clerk nodded curtly.
"That's him, all right. The element in question."
Ed Fletcher looked
around him. He was in a huge chamber. The edges fell away into indistinct
shadows. In front of him stood a man with notes and ledgers under his arm,
peering at him through steel-rimmed glasses. He was a nervous little man,
sharp-eyed, with celluloid collar, blue-serge suit, vest, watch chain. He wore
black shiny shoes.
And beyond him—
An old man sat quietly,
in an immense modern chair. He watched Fletcher calmly, his blue eyes mild and
tired. A strange thrill shot through Fletcher. It was not fear. Rather it was a
vibration, rattling his bones—a deep sense of awe, tinged with fascination.
"Where—what is this
place?" he asked faintly. He was still dazed from his quick ascent.
"Don't ask
questions!" the nervous little man snapped angrily, tapping his pencil
against his ledgers. "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
murmured. His voice was low. It vibrated and rumbled through the chamber. Again
the wave of fascinated awe swept Ed.
"Alone?" The
little fellow backed away, gathering his books and papers in his arms. "Of
course." He glanced hostilely at Ed Fletcher. "I'm glad he's finally
in custody. All the work and trouble just for—"
He disappeared 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 awkwardly, 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 necessitated by circumstances." He leaned 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 a clerical error. A mistake was made—not by you.
But involving you."
"What
mistake?" Ed rubbed his forehead wearily. "I—I got in on something. I
saw through. I saw something I wasn't supposed to see."
The Old Man nodded.
"That's right. You saw something you were not supposed to see—something
few elements have been aware of, let alone witnessed."
"Elements?"
"An official term.
Let it pass. A mistake was made, but we hope to rectify it. It is my hope
that—"
"Those
people," Ed interrupted. "Heaps 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 effect
changes."
"Changes." Ed
nodded. "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
muttered.
"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 fled,
and when you returned it was over. You saw, and you should not have seen.
Instead of a witness you should have been part of the adjustment. Like the
others, you should have undergone changes."
Sweat came out on Ed
Fletcher's head. He wiped it away. His stomach turned over. Weakly, he cleared
his throat. "I get the picture." His voice was almost inaudible. A
chilling premonition moved through him. "I was supposed to be changed like
the others. But I guess something went wrong."
"Something went
wrong. An error occurred. And now a serious problem exists. You have seen these
things. You know a great deal. And you are not coordinated with
the new configuration."
"Gosh," Ed
muttered. "Well, I won't tell anybody." Cold sweat poured off him.
"You can count on that. I'm as good as changed."
"You have already
told someone," the Old Man said coldly.
"Me?" Ed
blinked. "Who?"
"Your wife."
Ed trembled. The color
drained from his face, leaving it sickly white. "That's right. I
did."
"Your wife
knows." The Old Man's face twisted angrily. "A woman. Of all the
things to tell—"
"I didn't
know." Ed retreated, panic leaping through him. "But I know now. You
can count on me. Consider me changed."
The ancient blue eyes
bored keenly into him, peering far into his depths. "And you were going to
call the police. You wanted to inform the authorities."
"But I didn't know
who was doing the changing."
"Now you know. The
natural process must be supplemented—adjusted here and there. Corrections must
be made. We are fully licensed to make such corrections. Our adjustment teams
perform vital work."
Ed plucked up a measure
of courage. "This particular adjustment. Douglas. The office. What was it
for? I'm sure it was some worthwhile purpose."
The Old Man waved his
hand. Behind him in the shadows an immense map glowed into
existence. Ed caught his breath. The edges of the map faded off in obscurity.
He saw an infinite web of detailed sections, a network of squares and ruled
lines. Each square was marked. Some glowed with a blue light. The lights
altered constantly.
"The Sector
Board," the Old Man said. He sighed wearily. "A staggering 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 shrewd man, but rapidly becoming infirm.
His physical health was waning. In a few days Douglas will be
offered a chance to purchase a large unimproved forest area in western Canada.
It will require most of his assets. The older, less virile Douglas
would have hesitated. It is imperative he not hesitate. He must purchase the
area and clear the land at once. Only a younger man—a younger Douglas—would
undertake this.
"When the land is
cleared, certain anthropological remains will be discovered.
They have already been placed there. Douglas will lease his land to the
Canadian Government for scientific study. The remains found there will cause
international excitement in learned circles.
"A chain of events
will be set in motion. Men from numerous 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 temporarily forgotten in the excitement of these
non-national discoveries. One of the leading Soviet scientists will make friends
with a Belgian scientist. Before they depart they will agree to
correspond—without the knowledge of their governments, of course.
"The circle will
widen. Other scientists on both sides will be drawn in. A society will be
founded. More and more educated men will transfer an increasing amount of time
to this international society. Purely national research will suffer a slight
but extremely critical eclipse. The war tension will somewhat
wane. * (see explanation note at end of story)
"This alteration is
vital. And it is dependent on the purchase and clearing of the section of
wilderness in Canada. The old Douglas would not have dared take the risk. But
the altered Douglas, and his altered, more youthful staff, will pursue this
work with wholehearted enthusiasm. And from this, the vital chain of widening
events will come about. The beneficiaries will be you. Our
methods may seem strange and indirect. Even incomprehensible. But I assure 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 possess such knowledge. I
should perhaps call an adjustment team in here..."
A picture formed in Ed's
mind: swirling gray clouds, gray men and women. He shuddered. "Look,"
he croaked. "I'll do anything. Anything at all. Only don't de-energize me."
Sweat ran down his face. "Okay?"
The Old Man pondered.
"Perhaps some alternative could be found. There is another
possibility..."
"What?" Ed
asked eagerly. "What is it?"
The Old Man spoke
slowly, thoughtfully. "If I allow you to return, you will swear never to
speak of the matter? Will you swear not to reveal to anyone the things you saw?
The things you know?"
"Sure!" Ed
gasped eagerly, blinding relief flooding over him. "I
swear!"
"Your wife. She
must know nothing more. She must think it was only a passing psychological
fit—retreat from reality."
"She thinks that
already."
"She must continue
to."
Ed set his jaw firmly.
"I'll see that she continues to think it was a mental aberration. 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 nodded slowly. "I will send you back. But you must tell no
one." He swelled visibly. "Remember: you will eventually come back to
me—everyone does, in the end—and your fate will not be enviable."
"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 blinked, dazed from
the rapid descent. For a moment he stood on the pavement, regaining
his balance and catching his breath. Then he walked quickly up the path.
He pushed the door open
and entered the little green stucco house.
"Ed!" Ruth
came flying, face distorted with tears. She threw her arms around him, hugging
him tight. "Where the hell have you been?"
"Been?" Ed
murmured. "At the office, of course."
Ruth pulled back
abruptly. "No, you haven't."
Vague tendrils of alarm
plucked at Ed. "Of course I have. Where else—?"
"I called Douglas
about three. He said you left. You walked out, practically as soon as I turned
my back. Eddie—"
Ed patted her nervously.
"Take it easy, honey." He began unbuttoning his coat.
"Everything's okay. Understand? Things are perfectly all right."
Ruth sat down on the arm
of the couch. She blew her nose, dabbing at her eyes. "If you knew how
much I've worried." She put her handkerchief away and folded her arms.
"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 starved."
Ruth studied him
intently. She got down from the arm of the couch. "I'll change and fix
dinner."
She hurried into the
bedroom and slipped off her shoes and nylons. Ed followed her. "I didn't
mean to worry you," he said carefully. "After you left me today I
realized you were right."
"Oh?" Ruth
unfastened her blouse and skirt, arranging them over a hanger. "Right
about what?"
"About me." He
manufactured a grin and made it glow across his face. "About...what
happened."
Ruth hung her slip over
the hanger. She studied her husband intently as she struggled into her
tight-fitting jeans. "Go on."
The moment had come. It
was now or never. Ed Fletcher braced 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 rolled her cotton
T-shirt down and tucked it in her jeans. "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
daydreaming." He said it firmly, but his heart was in his mouth. "I
need to get away. To the mountains. Bass fishing. Or—" He searched his
mind frantically. "Or—"
Ruth came toward him
ominously. "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 grin faded. "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 welled up in
Ruth's eyes. Her breasts rose and fell excitedly under her cotton shirt.
"Admit it! You didn't go for a walk!"
Ed stammered weakly.
Sweat poured off him. He sagged helplessly against the door. "What do you
mean?"
Ruth's black eyes
flashed with anger. "Come on! I want to know where you were! Tell me! I
have a right to know. What really happened?"
Ed retreated in terror,
his resolve melting like wax. It was going all
wrong. "Honest. I went out for a—"
"Tell me!"
Ruth's sharp fingernails dug into his arm. "I want to know where you
were—and who you were with!"
Ed opened his mouth. He
tried to grin, 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 licked—and he knew it. He couldn't keep it from her. Desperately he
stalled, praying for time. If he could only distract her, get her mind on
something else. If she would only let up, even for a second. He could invent
something—a better story. Time—he needed more time. "Ruth, you've got
to—"
Suddenly there was a
sound: the bark of a dog, echoing through the dark house.
Ruth let go, cocking her
head alertly. "That was Dobbie. 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.
"Darn it." She pulled the front door open.
"Good evening!"
The young man stepped quickly inside, loaded down with objects, grinning
broadly at Ruth. "I'm from the Sweep-Rite Vacuum Cleaner Company."
Ruth scowled
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 metallic crash. Rapidly, he unrolled a long illustrated
banner, showing the vacuum cleaner in action. "Now, if you'll just hold
this while I plug in the cleaner—"
He bustled happily
about, unplugging the TV set, plugging in the cleaner, pushing the chairs out
of his way.
"I'll show you the
drape scraper first." He attached a hose and nozzle to the big gleaming
tank. "Now, if you'll just sit down I'll demonstrate each of these
easy-to-use attachments." His happy voice rose over the roar of the
cleaner. "You'll notice—"
Ed Fletcher sat down on
the bed. He groped in his pocket until he found his cigarettes. Shakily he lit
one and leaned back against the wall, weak with relief.
He gazed up,
a look of gratitude on his face. "Thanks," he said softly. "I
think we'll make it—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 explains that the discovery in Canada will help to end this
conflict and advance human progress.
Vocabulary: To help learners fully understand
the audio and transcript, 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
Definitions are written
with the help of various sources including Merriam-Webster’s
Learner’s Dictionary
Adjustment: a small change that improves something or makes
it work better.
Clerk: a person whose job is to keep track of records
and documents for a business or office.
To leaf: To turn the pages of a book or magazine.
To flip: to move (something) with a quick light movement.
Frown: a serious facial expression that usually shows
anger, displeasure, or concentration.
Shed: a small, simple building that is used especially
for storing things.
To exclaim: to say something suddenly and loudly, especially
because of strong emotion or pain.
Clipboard: a small board for holding papers, used by
somebody who wants to write while standing or moving around.
Stir: to move, or to make something move, slightly.
To yawn: to open your mouth wide and breathe in deeply
through it, usually because you are tired or bored.
To glance: to look quickly at something/somebody.
Alteration: a change to something that makes it different.
Twist: to bend or turn something into a particular
shape.
Contempt: the feeling that somebody/something is without
value and deserves no respect at all.
Astonishing: very surprising; difficult to believe.
Perspicacity: the ability to understand
somebody/something very quickly and accurately.
Divine: coming from or connected with God or a god.
Overlap: part of one thing covers part of the other.
Establishment: an organization or business.
Shade (window shade): a piece of material
fixed onto a wooden or metal roller that can be pulled down to cover a window.
Dim: not giving or having much light.
Murmur: to speak or say something very quietly.
Sigh: to breathe out slowly and noisily, expressing
tiredness, sadness, pleasure, etc.
To summon: to order someone to come to or be present at a
particular place, or to officially arrange a meeting of people.
Vital: necessary for the success or continued existence
of something; extremely important.
Nod: to move your head down and then up, sometimes
several times, especially to show agreement, approval, or greeting, or to show
something by doing this.
Robe: a long, loose
piece of clothing worn especially on very formal occasions.
Sink: to (cause something or someone to) go down below
the surface or to the bottom of a liquid or soft substance.
Rub: to press or be pressed against something with a
circular or up-and-down repeated movement.
Rigid: stiff or fixed; not able to be bent or moved.
Shriek: a short, loud, high cry, especially one produced
suddenly as an expression of a powerful emotion.
Hastily: said or done in a hurry, sometimes without the
necessary care or thought.
Embarrassed: feeling ashamed or shy.
To gaze: to look at something or someone for a long
time, especially in surprise or admiration, or because you are thinking about
something else.
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.
Woof: the sound that a dog makes.
Doorbell:
Doorbell: a bell inside a house or
building that is rung usually by pushing a button beside an outside door.
To ring: the sound a bell makes.
Eager: wanting to do or have something very much.
Pamphlet: a very thin book with a paper cover that gives
information about something.
Porch: a covered area built onto the entrance to
a house.
To hop: a short jump.
Grin: to smile; a big smile.
To kid: to say something as a joke, often to make
someone believe something that is not true.
Curb: the curved, raised edge of a road; see picture .
Wink: to close one eye quickly as a way of showing
that you are not serious about something you have said, or as a sign of some
other meaning.
Ominous: suggesting something unpleasant will happen.
Haze: something such as heat or smoke in the air that
makes it less clear, so that it is difficult to see well.
Loom: to appear as a large, often frightening or
unclear shape or object.
Cascade: to fall quickly and in large amounts.
Debris: broken pieces of something.
jagged: Very rough and sharp.
Cavity: a hole or a space inside something solid or
between two surfaces.
Mar: to make
something bad or unsuccessful.
Daze: the feeling of not being able to think clearly
because you are shocked or have hit your head.
To mount: to go up something.
To give way: to allow something to go or move.
To wade: to walk through
water.
lobby: a large open area inside and near the entrance
of a public building (such as a hotel or theater).
Obscure: to prevent something from being seen or
heard.
Flicker: to shine with a light that is sometimes bright
and sometimes weak.
Feeble: extremely weak.
Gloom: darkness, but not complete darkness.
Unearthly: very strange; not natural and therefore
frightening.
Disintegrating: to break into small parts or pieces and be
destroyed.
Fragment: a small part of something that has broken off or
comes from something larger.
Dust: powder that consists of very small pieces of
sand, earth, etc.
To peer: to look closely or carefully at something,
especially when you cannot see it clearly.
Collapse: to fall down or fall in suddenly, often after
breaking apart.
Heap: an untidy pile of something.
pile: a group of things that are put one on top of
another.
To dissolve: when something solid mixes with a liquid and
become part of it.
Tremble: to shake in a way that you cannot control,
especially because you are very nervous, excited, frightened, etc.
To hesitate: to be slow to speak or act because
you feel uncertain, nervous or thoughtful.
Corridor: a long narrow passage in a building, with doors
that open into rooms on either side: hallway.
Real estate: property in the form of land or buildings.
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.
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.
Out of his mind: crazy.
Urgency: the state of being very important and needing
you to take action immediately.
To suffice: to be enough.
Grim: worrying and bad.
Psychotic: suffering from a mental illness that makes you
believe things that are not true.
Fit: a sudden, uncontrolled period of doing
something or feeling something.
Retreat: a move away, especially to a place or situation
that is safer or quieter.
Sanity: the condition of having a health mind; not
crazy.
Gal: a young girl or
women.
Subtle: not obvious or easy to notice.
Phone booth: a small place with walls or sides, containing a public phone, in a
hotel, restaurant, in the street, etc.
Ascent: act of climbing or
moving up; a journey that goes up.
Awe: feelings of respect,
wonder and slight fear; feelings of being very impressed by something/somebody.
Coordinated: to organize the
different parts of an activity and the people involved in it so that it works
well.
Configuration: an arrangement of the
parts of something or a group of things; the form or shape that this
arrangement produces.
You can count on me: to trust somebody to
do something or to be sure that something will happen.
Vital: necessary or essential
in order for something to succeed or exist.
Worthwhile: important, pleasant,
interesting, etc.; worth spending time, money or effort on.
Immense: extremely large or
great.
To wane: to become gradually
weaker or less important.
Assets: a person or thing that
is valuable or useful to somebody/something.
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 correspond: to be the same as or
match something.
Eclipse: a loss of importance,
power, etc. especially because somebody/something else has become more
important, powerful, etc.
Beneficiaries: a person who gains as
a result of something.
Descent: an action of coming or
going down.
Resolve: a determined desire to
achieve something.
Wax: a solid substance that
is made from beeswax or from various fats and oils and used for making candles.
It becomes soft when it is heated.
Relief: the feeling of
happiness that you have when something unpleasant stops or does not happen.
Discussion 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 your life could have been different?
What would you do, if you were Ed?
Do you think Ed will keep his promise to the Old Man?
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?
