philip_k_dick_-_the_man_in_the_high_castle

expert could have told the difference . . . but the Japanese collectors weren't authorities in - the
proper sense, had no standards or tests by which to judge.
In fact, as far as he knew, it had never occurred to them to ask themselves if the so-called historic
art objects for sale in West Coast shops were genuine. Perhaps someday they would . . . and then
the bubble would burst, the market would collapse even for the authentic pieces. A Gresham' 'S
Law: the fakes would undermine the value of the real. And that no doubt was the motive for the
failure to investigate; after all, everyone was happy. The factories, here and there in the various
cities, which turned out the-pieces, they made their profits. The wholesalers passed them on, and
the dealers displayed and advertised them. The collectors shelled out their money and carried their
purchases happily home, to impress their associates, friends, and mistresses.
Like postwar boodle paper money, it was fine until questioned. Nobody was hurt — until the day
of reckoning. And then everyone, equally, would be ruined. But meanwhile, nobody talked about it,
even the men who earned their living turning out the forgeries; they shut their own minds to what
they made, kept their attention on the mere technical problems.
'How long since you tried to do original designing?' McCarthy asked.
Frink shrugged. 'Years. I can copy accurately as hell. But — '
'You know what I think? I think you've picked up the Nazi idea that Jews can't create. That they
can only imitate and sell. Middlemen.' He fixed his merciless scrutiny on Frink.
'Maybe so,' Frink said.
'Try it. Do some original designs. Or work directly on the metal. Play around. Like a kid plays.'
'No,' Frink said.
'You have no faith,' McCarthy said. 'You've completely lost faith in yourself — right? Too bad.
Because I know you could do it.' He walked away from the workbench.
It is too bad, Frink thought. But nevertheless it's the truth. It's a fact. I can't get faith or
enthusiasm by willing it. Deciding to.
That McCarthy, he thought, is a damn good shop foreman. He has the knack of needling a man,
getting him to put out his best efforts, to do his utmost in spite of himself. He's a natural leader; he
almost inspired me, for a moment, there. But — McCarthy had gone off, now; the effort had failed.
Too bad I don't have my copy of the oracle here, Frink thought. I could consult it on this; take
the issue to it for its five thousand years of wisdom. And then he recalled that there was copy of the
I Ching in the lounge of the business office of W-M Corporation. So he made his way from the
work area, along the corridor, hurriedly through the business office to the lounge. -
Seated in one of the chrome and plastic lounge chairs, he wrote his question out on the back of
an envelope: 'Should I attempt to go into the creative private business outlined to me just now?'
And then he began throwing the coins.
The bottom line was a Seven, and so was the second and then the third. The bottom trigam in
Ch'ien, he realized. That sounded good; Ch'ien was the creative. Then line Four, an eight. Yin. And
line Five, also eight, a yin line. Good lord, he thought excitedly; one more yin line and I've got
Hexagram Eleven, T'ai, Peace. Very favorable judgment. Or — his hands trembled as he rattled the
coins. A yang line and hence Hexagram Twenty-six, Ta Ch'u, the Taming Power of the Great. Both
have favorable judgments, and it has to be one or the other. He threw the three coins.
Yin. A six. It was Peace.
Opening the book, he read the judgment.
PEACE. The small departs.
The great approaches.