philip_k_dick_-_the_man_in_the_high_castle

Hitler with a patent medicine called Dr. Koester's Antigas Pills — he had originally been a
specialist in venereal disease. The entire world knew it, and yet the Leader's gabble was still sacred,
still Holy Writ. The views had infected a civilization by now, and, like evil spores, the blind blond
Nazi queens were swishing out from Earth to the other planets, spreading the contamination.
What you get for incest: madness, blindness, death.
Brrr. She shook herself.
'Charley,' she called to the fry cook. 'You about ready with my order?' She felt absolutely alone;
getting to her feet she walked to the counter and seated herself by the register.
No one noticed her except the young Italian truck driver; his dark eyes were fixed on her. Joe, his
name was. Joe what? she wondered.
Closer to him, now, she saw that he was not as young as she had thought. Hard to tell; the
intensity all around him disturbed her judgment. Continually he drew his hand through his hair,
combing it back with crooked, rigid fingers. There's something special about this man, she thought.
He breathes — death. It upset her, and yet attracted her. Now the older truck driver inclined his
head and whispered to him. Then they both scrutinized her, this time with a look that was not the
ordinary male interest.
'Miss,' the older one said. Both men were quite tense, now. 'Do you know what this is?' He held
up a flat white box, not too large.
'Yes,' Juliana said. 'Nylon stockings. Synthetic fiber made only by the great cartel in New York,
I. G. Farben. Very rare and expensive.'
'You got to hand it to the Germans; monopoly's not a bad idea.' The older truck driver passed the
box to his companion, who pushed it with his elbow along the counter toward her. -
'You have a car?' the young Italian asked her, sipping his coffee.
From the kitchen, Charley appeared; he had her plate.
'You could drive me to this place.' The wild, strong eyes still studied her, and she became
increasingly nervous, and yet increasingly transfixed. 'This motel, or wherever I'm supposed to stay
tonight. Isn't that so?'
'Yes,' she said. 'I have a car. An old Studebaker.'
The fry cook glanced from her to the young truck driver, and then set her plate before her at the
counter.
The loudspeaker at the end of the aisle said, 'Achtung, meine Damen und Herren. 'In his seat, Mr.
Baynes started, opened his eyes. Through the window to his right he could see, far below, the
brown and green of land, and then blue. The Pacific. The rocket, he realized, had begun its long
slow descent.
In German first, then Japanese, and at last English, the loudspeaker explained that no one was to
smoke or to untie himself from his padded seat. The descent, it explained, would take eight
minutes.
The retro-jets started then, so suddenly and loudly, shaking the ship so violently, that a number
of passengers gasped. Mr. Baynes smiled, and in the aisle seat across from him, another passenger,
a younger man with close-cropped blond hair, also smiled.
'Sie furchten dass — ' the young man began, but Mr. Baynes said at once, in English:
'I'm sorry; I don't speak German.' The young German gazed at him questioningly, and so he said
the same thing in German.
'No German?' the young German said, amazed, in accented English.
'I am Swedish,' Baynes said.
'You embarked at Tempelhof.'