Philip Dick

I am Ubik. Before the universe was, I am. I made the suns. I made the worlds. I created the lives and the places they inhabit; I move them here, I put them there. They go as I say, they do as I tell them. I am the word and my name is never spoken, the name which no one knows. I am called Ubik, but that is not my name. I am. I shall always be.

Yes, he thought, and now they’ll blacklist me; my skill is no use—I have no trade. Fifteen years’ experience. Gone

Yet, there was after all something humorous about it, the picture of stolid, grumpy Germans walking around on Mars, on the red sand where no humans had ever stepped before

However, the big German chemical cartels, I. G. Farben in particular, had harbored their patents; had, in fact, created a world monopoly in plastics, especially in the development of the polyesters.

And the cipher was the metaphor type, utilizing poetic allusion, which had been adopted to baffle the Reich monitors

He had been able to procure, miraculously, an almost mint copy of Volume One, Number One of Tip Top Comics. Dating from the ‘thirties, it was a choice piece of Americana; one of the first funny books, a prize collectors searched for constantly

And after all, they had been successful with the Jews and Gypsies and Bible Students. And the Slavs had been rolled back two thousand years’ worth, to their heartland in Asia. Out of Europe entirely, to everyone’s relief

And as a matter of fact, Africa had almost been successful… but in a project of that sort, almost was an ominous word to begin to hear

Watching him, Juliana thought, it’s idealism that makes him that bitter. Asking too much out of life.

This guy—Joe whatever—hasn’t even got the right expression on his face; he should have that cold but somehow enthusiastic look, as if he believed in nothing and yet somehow had absolute faith