philip_k_dick_-_the_man_in_the_high_castle

He hurried from the lunch counter. The doors swung together behind him; - he stood once more
on the sidewalk.
Where am I? Out of my world, my space and time.
The silver triangle disoriented me. I broke from my moorings and hence stand on nothing. So
much for my endeavor. Lesson to me forever. One seeks to contravene one's perceptions-why? So
that one can wander utterly lost, without signposts or guide?
This hypnagogic condition. Attention-faculty diminished so that twilight state obtains; world
seen merely in symbolic, archetypal aspect, totally confused with unconscious material. Typical of
hypnosis-induced somnambulism. Must stop this dreadful gliding among shadows; refocus
concentration and thereby restore ego center.
He felt in his pockets for the silver triangle. Gone. Left the thing on the bench in the park, with
briefcase. Catastrophe.
Crouching, he ran back up the sidewalk, to the park.
Dozing bums eyed him in surprise as he hurried up the path. There, the bench. And leaning
against it still, his briefcase. No sign of the silver triangle. He hunted. Yes. Fallen through to grass;
it lay partly hidden. Where he had hurled it in rage.
He reseated himself, panting for breath.
Focus on silver triangle once more, he told himself when he could breath. Scrutinize it forcefully
and count. At ten, utter startling noise. Erwache, for instance.
Idiotic daydreaming of fugal type, he thought. Emulation of more noxious aspects of
adolescence, rather than the clearheaded pristine innocence of authentic childhood. Just what I
deserve anyhow.
All my own fault. No intention by Mr. R. Childan or artisans; my own greed to blame. One
cannot compel understanding to come.
He counted slowly, aloud, and then jumped to his feet. 'Goddam stupidity,' he said sharply.
Mists cleared?
He peeped about. Diffusion subsided, in all probability. Now one appreciates Saint Paul's
incisive word choice
seen through glass darkly not a metaphor, but astute reference to optical distortion. We really do
see astigmatically, in fundamental sense: our space and our time creations of our own psyche, and
when these momentarily falter — like acute disturbance of middle ear.
Occasionally we list eccentrically, all sense of balance gone.
He reseated himself, put the silver squiggle away in his coat pocket, sat holding his briefcase on
his lap. What I must do now, he told himself, is go and see if that malignant construction — what
did the man call it? Embarcadero Freeway. If it is still palpable.
But he felt afraid to.
And yet, he thought, I can't merely sit here. I have loads to lift, as old U.S. folk expression has it.
Jobs to be done.
Dilemma.
Two small Chinese boys came scampering noisily along the path. A flock of pigeons fluttered
up; the boys paused.
Mr. Tagomi called, 'You, young fellows.' He dug into his pocket. 'Come here.'
The two boys guardedly approached.
'Here's a dime.' Mr. Tagomi tossed them a dime; the boys scrambled for it. 'Go down to Kearny
Street and see if there are any pedecabs. Come back and tell me.'
'Will you give us another dime?' one of the boys said. 'When we get back?'