Astounding Science Fiction, British Edition — page 42: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

IM?O By PHILIP K. DICK STOR If it were known that The Enemy could manufacture a letter-perfect — duplicate of a man—how could you prove you were yourself? Oe of these days I’m going take time off,’ Spence Olham said at first-meal. He looked around at his wife. “I think I’ve earned a rest. Ten years is a long time.” *‘And the Project?” “The war will be won without me. This ball of clay of ours isn’t really in much danger.’ Olham sat down at the table and lit a cigarette. “The newsmachines alter dispatches to make it appear the Outspacers are right on top of us. You know what I'd like to do on my vacation? I’d like to take a camping trip in those moun- tains outside of town, where we went that time. Remember? I got poison oak and you almost stepped on a opher snake.”’ ‘Sutton Wood?” Mary began to clear away the food dishes. “The Wood was burned a few weeks ago. I thought you knew. Some kind of a flash fire.”’ Olham sagged. “Didn’t they even try to find the cause?” His lips twisted. ‘““No one cares any more. All they can think of is the war.” He clamped his jaws together, the whole picture coming up in his mind, the Outspacers, the war, the needle ships. ““How can we think about anything else?’ Olham nodded. She was right, of course. The dark little ships out of Alpha Centauri had by-passed the Earth cruisers easily, leaving them 40 like helpless turtles. It had been one- way fights, all the way back to Terra. All the way, until the protec-bubble was demonstrated by Westinghouse Labs. Thrown around the major Earth cities and finally the planet itself, the bubble was the first real defense, the first legitimate answer to the Outspacers—as_ the news- machines labeled them. But to win the war, that was asctiiek thing. Every lab, every project was working night and day, endlessly, to find something more: a weapon for positive combat. His own project, for — example. All day long, year after year. Olham stood up, putting out his cigarette. “Like the Sword of Dam- ocles. Always hanging over us. I’m getting tired. All I want to do is take a long rest. But I guess everybody feels that way.” | He got his jacket from the closet and went out on the front porch. The shoot would’ be along any moment, the fast little bug that would carry him to the Project. “I hope Nelson isn’t late.” He looked at his watch. “It’s almost seven.” “Here the bug comes,” Mary said, gazing between the rows of houses. The sun glittered behind the roofs, reflecting against the heavy lead plates. The settlement was quiet; only a few people were stirring. “I'll see ComMmicdooks COA