philip_k_dick_-_the_man_in_the_high_castle

industry humming. They even let the Jews live, lucky surprise — amnesty so the Jews could pitch
in. Until '49, anyhow. . . and then good-bye Todt and Rommel, retired to graze.
Don't I know? Juliana thought. Didn't I hear all about it from Frank? You can't tell me anything
about lifeunder the Nazis; my husband was — is — a Jew. I know that Doctor Todt was the most
modest, gentle man that ever lived; I know all he wanted to do was provide work — honest,
reputable work — for the millions of bleak-eyed, despairing American men and women picking
through the ruins after the war. I know he wanted to see medical plans and vacation resorts and
adequate housing for everyone, regardless of race; he was a builder, not a thinker. . . and in most
cases he managed to create what he had wanted — he actually got it. But .
A preoccupation, in the back of her mind, now rose decidedly. 'Joe. This Grasshopper book; isn't
it banned in the East Coast?'
He nodded.
'How could you be reading it, then?' Something about it worried her. 'Don't they still shoot
people for reading — '
'It depends on your racial group. On the good old armband.'
That was so. Slays, Poles, Puerto Ricans, were the most limited as to what they could read, do,
listen to. The AngloSaxons had it much better; there was public education for their children, and
they could go to libraries and museums and concerts. But even so. . . The Grasshopper was not
merely classified; it was forbidden, and to everyone.
Joe said, 'I read it in the toilet. I hid it in a pillow. In fact, I read it because it was banned.'
'You're very brave,' she said.
Doubtfully he said, 'You mean that sarcastically?'
'No.'
He relaxed a little. 'It's easy for you people here; you live a safe, purposeless life, nothing to do,
nothing to worry about. Out of the stream of events, left over from the past; right?' His eyes
mocked her.
'You're killing yourself,' she said, 'with cynicism. Your idols got taken away from you one by
one and now you have nothing to give your love to.,, She held his fork toward him; he accepted it.
Eat, she thought. Or give up even the biological processes.
As he ate, Joe nodded at the book and said, 'That Abendsen lives around here, according to the
cover. In Cheyenne. Gets perspective on the world from such a safe spot, wouldn't you guess? Read
what it ways; read it aloud.'
Taking the book, she read the back part of the jacket. 'He's an ex-service man. He was in the U.
S. Marine Corps in World War Two, wounded in England by a Nazi Tiger tank. A sergeant. It says
he's got practically a fortress that he writes in, guns all over the place.' Setting the book down, she
said, 'And it doesn't say so here, but I heard someone say that he's almost a sort of paranoid;
charged barbed wire around the place, and it's set in the mountains. Hard to get to.'
'Maybe he's right,' Joe said, 'to live like that, after writing that book. The German bigwigs hit the
roof when they read it.'
'He was living that way before; he wrote the book there. His place is called — ' She glanced at
the book jacket. 'The High Castle. That's his pet name for it.'
'They won't get him,' Joe said, chewing rapidly. 'He's on the lookout. Smart.'
She said, 'I believe he's got a lot of courage to write that book. If the Axis had lost the war, we'd
be able to say and write anything we wanted, like we used to; we'd be one country and we'd have a
fair legal system, the same one for all of us.'
To her surprise, he nodded reasonably to that.