philip_k_dick_-_the_man_in_the_high_castle

'You can argue with him,' Juliana said. 'That part about Italy losing the war by betraying them;
tell him what you told me.'
Joe nodded. 'That's so. We can discuss the whole subject.'
They drove swiftly on.
At seven o'clock the following morning, PSA reckoning, Mr. Nobusuke Tagomi rose from bed,
started toward the bathroom, then changed his mind and went directly to the oracle.
Seated cross-legged on the floor of his living room he began manipulating the forty-nine yarrow
stalks. He had a deep sense of the urgency of his questioning, and he worked at a feverish pace
until at last he had the six lines before him.
Shock! Hexagram Fifty-one!
God appears in the sign of the Arousing. Thunder and lightning. Sounds — he involuntarily put
his fingers up to cover his ears. Ha-ha! Ho-ho! Great burst that made him wince and blink. Lizard
scurries and tiger roars, and out comes God Himself!
What does it mean? He peered about his living room. Arrival of — what? He hopped to his feet
and stood panting, waiting.
Nothing. Heart pounding. Respiration and all somatic processes, including all manner of
diencephalic-controlled autonomic responses to crisis: adrenalin, greater heartbeat, pulse rate,
glands pouring, throat paralyzed, eyes staring, bowels loose, et al. Stomach queasy and sex instinct
suppressed.
And yet, nothing to see; nothing for body to do. Run? All in preparation for panic flight. But
where to and why? Mr. Tagomi asked himself. No clue. Therefore impossible. Dilemma of
civilized man; body mobilized, but danger obscure.
He went to the bathroom and began lathering his face to shave.
The telephone rang.
'Shock,' he said aloud, putting down his razor. 'Be prepared.' He walked rapidly from the
bathroom, back into the living room. 'I am prepared,' he said, and lifted the receiver. 'Tagomi, here.'
His voice squeaked and he cleared his throat.
A pause. And then a faint, dry, rustling voice, almost like old leaves far off, said, 'Sir. This is
Shinjiro Yatabe. I have arrived in San Francisco.'
'Greetings from the Ranking Trade Mission,' Mr. Tagomi said. 'How glad I am. You are in good
health and relaxed?'
'Yes, Mr. Tagomi. When may I meet you?'
'Quite soon. In half an hour.' Mr. Tagomi peered at the bedroom clock, trying to read it. 'A third
party: Mr. Baynes. I must contact him. Possibly delay, but — '
'Shall we say two hours, sir?' Mr. Yatabe said.
'Yes,' Mr. Tagomi said, bowing.
'At your office in the Nippon Times Building.'
Mr. Tagomi bowed once more.
Click. Mr. Yatabe had rung off.
Pleased Mr. Baynes, Mr. Tagomi thought. Delight on order of cat tossed piece of salmon, for
instance fatty nice tail. He jiggled the hook, then dialed speedily the Adhirati Hotel.
'Ordeal concluded,' he said, when Mr. Baynes' sleepy voice came on the wire.
At once the voice ceased to be sleepy. 'He's here?'
'My office,' Mr. Tagomi said. 'Ten-twenty. Goodbye.' He hung up and ran back to the bathroom
to finish shaving. No time for breakfast; have Mr. Ramsey scuttle about after office arrival