English Assignment

The Minority Report

I

T HE fiRST thought Anderton had when he saw the young man was: I'm getting bald. Bald and fat and old. Bur he didn't say it aloud. Instead, he

pushed back his chair, got to his feet, and came resolutely around the side

of his desk, his right hand rigidly extended. Smiling with forced amiability,

he shook hands with the young man.

"Witwer?" he asked, managing to make this query sound gracious.

"That's right," the young man said. "But the name's Ed to you, of

course. That is, if you share my dislike for needless form-ality." The look on his blond, overly~confident face showed that he considered the matter ·

settled. It would be Ed and John: Everything would be agreeably coopera- tive right from the start.

"Did you have much trouble finding the building?" Anderton asked

guardedly, ignoring the too-friendly overture. Good God, he had to hold on

to something. Fear touched him and he began to sweat. Witwer was moving

around the office as if he already owned it-as if he were measu-ring it for size. Couldn't he wait a couple of days-a decent interval?

"No trouble," Witwer answered blithely, his hands in his pockets.

Eagerly, he examined the voluminous files that lined the wall. "I'm not com-

ing into your agency blind, you understand. I have quite a few ideas of my

own about the way Precrime is run."

]31 I

Philip K Dick

Shakily, Anderton lit his pipe. "How is it run? I should like to know."

"Not badly," Witwer said. "In fact, quite well."

Anderton regarded him steadily. "Is that your private opinion? Or is it just cant?"

Witwer met his gaze guilelessly. "Private and public. The Senate's pleased

with your work. In fact, they're enthusiastic." He added, ''As enthusiastic as

very old men can be."

Anderton winced, but outwardly he remained impassive. It cost him an

effort, though. He wondered what Witwer really thought. What was actu-

ally going on in that closecropped skull? The young man's eyes were blue,

bright-and disturbingly clever. Witwer was nobody's fool. And obviously

he had a great deal of ambition.

''As I understand it," Anderton said cautiously, "you're going to be my assistant until I retire."

"That's my understanding, too," the other replied, without an instant's

hesitation.

"Which may be this year, or next year~or ten years from now." The pipe

in Anderton's hand trembled. 'Tm under no compulsion to retire. I founded

Precrime and I can stay on here as lo~g as I want. It's purely my decision."

Witwer nodded, his expression still guileless. "Of course."

With an effort, Anderton cooled down a trifle. "I merely wanted to get

things straight."

"From the start," Witwer agreed. "You're the boss. What you say goes."

With every evidence of sincerity, he asked: "Would you care to show me the

organization? I'd like to familiarize myself with the general routine as soon

as possible."

As they walked along the busy, yellow-lit tiers of offices, Anderton said:

"You're acquainted with the theory of precrime, of course. I presume we can

take that for granted."

"! have the information publicly available," Witwer replied. "With the aid of your precog mutants, you've boldly and successfully abolished the

post-cri:pJ.e punitive system of jails and fines. As we all realize, punishment was never much of a deterrent, and could scarcely have afforded comfort to

a victim already dead."

They had come to the descent lift. As it carried them swiftly downward,

Anderton said: "You've probably grasped the basic legalistic drawback

I 31 I

THE MINOAITY AEPOAT

to precrime methodology. We're taking in individuals who have broken

no law."

"But they surely will," Witwer affirmed with conviction.

"Happily they don't-because we get them first, before they can comm-it

ar1 act of violence. So the commission of the crime itself is absolute meta-

physics. We claim they're culpable. They, on the other hand, eternally claim

they're innocent. And, in a sense, they are innocent."

The lift let them out, and they again paced down a yellow corridor. "In

our society we have no major crimes," Anderton went on, "but we do have a

detention camp full of"would-be criminals."

Doors opened and closed, and they were in the analytical wing. Ahead

of them rose impressive banks of equipment-the data-receptors, and the

computing mechanisms that studied and restructured the incoming mate-

rial. And beyond the machinery sat the three preCog§, almost lost to view in

the maze of wiring.

"There they are," Anderton said dryly. "What do you think of them?"

In the gloomy half-darkness the three idiots sat babbling. Every

incoherent utterance, every random syllable, was analyzed, compared,

reassembled in the form of visual symbols, transcribed on conventional

punchcards, and ejected into various coded slots. All day long the idi-

ots babbled, imprisoned in their special high-backed chairs, held in one

rigid position by metal bands, and bundles of wiring, damps. Their physi-

cal needs were taken care of automatically. They had no spiritual needs.

Vegetable-like, they muttered and dozed and existed. Their minds were .

dull, confused, lost in shadows.

But not the shadows of today. The three gibbering, fumbling creatures,

with their enlarged heads and wasted bodies, were contemplating the future.

The analytical machinery was recording p-rophecies, and as the three precog

idiots talked, the machinery carefully listened.

For the first time Witwer's face lost its breezy confidence. A sick, dis-

mayed expression crept into his eyes, a mixture of shame and moral shock.

"It's not-pleasant," he murmured. "I didn't realize they were so-" He

groped in his mind for the right word, gesticulating. "So-deformed."

"Deformed and retarded," Anderton instantly agreed. "Especially the

girl, there. Donna is forty-five years old. But she looks about ten. The talent

absorbs everything; the esp-lobe shrivels the balance of-the frontal area. But

I 33 I

Philip K. Dick

what do we care? We get their prophecies. They pass on what we need. They

don't understand any of it, but we do."

Subdued, Witwer crossed the room to the machinery. From a slot he

collected a stack of cards. ''Are these names that have come up?" he asked.

"Obviously." Frowning, Anderton took the stack from him. "I haven't

had a chance to examine them," he explained, impatiently conce:Uing his

annoyance.

Fascinated, Wltwer watched the machinery pop a fresh card into the

now empty slot. It was followed by a second-and a third. From the whirring

disks came one card after another. "The precogs must see quite far into the

future," Witwer exclaimed.

"They see a quite limited span," Anderton informed him. "One week

or two ahead at the very most. Much of their data is worthless to us-sim-

ply not relevant to our line. We pass it on to the appropriate agencies. And

they in turn trade data with us. Every important bureau has its cellar of

treasured monkeys."

"Monkeys?" Witwer stared at him uneasily. "Oh, yes, I understand. See

no evil, speak no evil, et cetera. Very amusing."

"Very apt." Automatically, Anderton collected the fresh cards which had been turned uP by the spinning.machinery. "Some of these names will

he totally discarded. And most of the remainder record petty crimes: thefts,

income tax evasion, assault, extortion. As I'm sure you know, Precrime

has cut down felonies by ninety-nine and decimal point eight percent. We

seldom get actual murder or treason. After all, the culprit knows we'll con-

fine him in the detention camp a week before he gets a chance to commit

the crime."

"When was the last time an actual murder was committed?" 'Witwer asked.

"Five years ago," Anderton said, pride in his v-aice.

"How did it happen?"

"The criminal escaped our teams. We had his name-in fact, we had

all the details of the crime, including the victim's name. We knew the exact

mome)1t, the location of the planned act of violence. But in spite of us he was

able to carry it out." Anderton shrugged. "'After all, we can't get all of them."

He riflled the cards. "But we do get most."

"One murder in five years." Wltwer's confidence was returning. "Quite

an impressive record ... something to be proud of."

]H[

THE MINOAITY AEPOAT

Quietly Anderton said: "I am proud. Tnirty years ago I worked out the

theory-back in-the days when the self-seekers were thinking in terms of quick

raids on the stock market. I saw somet.lllng legitimate ahead-something of

tremendous social value."

He tossed the packet of cards to Wally Page, his subordinate in charge

of the monkey block. "See which ones we want," he told him. "Use your

own judgment."

As Page disappeared with the cards, Witwer said thoughtfully: "It's a big

responsibility."

"Yes, it is," agreea Anderton. "If we let one criminai escape-as we

did five years ago-we've got a human life on our conscience. We're solely

responsible. If we slip up, somebody dies." Bitterly, he jerked three new cards

from the slot. "It's a public trust."

''Are you ever tempted to-" Witwer hesit3ted. "I mean, some of the

men you pick up must offer you plenty."

"It wouldn't do any good. A duplicate file of cards pops out at Army GHQ It's check and balance. They can keep their eye on us as continuously as they wish." Anderton glanced briefly at the top card. "So even if we wanted

to accept a-"

He broke off, his lips tightening.

"What's the matter?" Witwer asked curiously.

Carefully, Anderton folded up the top card and put it away in his pocket.

"Nothing," he muttered. "Nothing at all."

The harshness in his voice brought a flush to Wlrwer's face. "You really.

don't like me," he observed.

"True," Anderton admitted. "I don't. But-"

He couldn't believe he disliked the young man that much. It didn't seem possible:· it wasn't possible. Something was wrong. Dazed, he tried to steady

his tumbling mind.

On the card was his name. Line one-an already accused future. mur-

derer! According to the coded punches, Precrime Commissioner John A.

Anderton was going to kill a man-and within the next week.

'With absolute, overwhelming conviction, he didn't believe it.

I 9 s [

Philip K. Dick

II

IN THE OUTER office, talking to Page, stood Anderton's slim and attractive young wife, Lisa. She was engaged in a sharp, animated discussion of policy,

arrd barely glanced up as Witwer and her husband entered.

"Hello, darling," Anderton said.

Witwer remained silent. But his pale eyes flickered slightly as they

rested On the brown-haired woman in her trim police uniform. Lisa was

now an executive official of Precrime but once, Witwer knew, she had been

Anderton's secretary.

Noticing the interest on Witwer's face Anderton paused and reflected. To

plant the card in the machines would require an accomplice on the inside-

someone who was closely connected with Precrime and had access to the ana-

lytical equipment. Lisa was an improbable element. But the possibiliry did exist.

Of course, the conspiracy could be large-scale and elaborate, involving

far more than a "rigged" card· inserted somewhere along the line. The origi-

nal data itself might have been tampered with. Actually, there was no telling

how far back the alteration went. A cold fear touched him as he began to

see the possibilities. His original i~pulse-to tear open the machines and

remove all the dat~-was uselessly primitive. Probably the tapes agreed with the card: He would only incriminate himself further.

He had approximately twenry-four hours. Then, the Army people would

check over their cards and discover the discrepancy. They ~auld find in their files a duplicate of the card he had appropriated. He had only one of two cop-

ies, which meant that the folded card in his pocket might just as well be lying

on Page's desk in plain View of everyone.

From outside the building came the drone of police cars starting out on

their routine round-ups. How many hours would elapse before one of them

pulled up in tront of his house? "What's the matter, darling?" Lisa asked him uneasily. "You look as if

you've just seen a ghost. Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he assured her.

Lisa suddenly seemed to become aware of Ed Witwer's admiring

scrutiny. "Is this gentleman your new co-worker, darling?" she asked.

Warily, Anderton introduced his new associate. Lisa smiled in friendly

greeting. Did a covert awareness pass between them? He couldn't tell. God,

I 9 6 I

THE MINORITY REPORT

he was beginning to suspect everybody-not only his wife and Witwer, but

a dozen members of his staff.

"Are you from New York?" Lisa asked.

"No," Witwer replied. "I've lived most of my life in Chicago. I'm staying at a-hotel-one of the big downtown hotels. Wait-I have the naffie written

on a card somewhere."

While he self-consciously searched his pockets, Lisa suggested: "Perhaps

you'd like to have dinner. with us. We'll be working in close cooperation, and

I really think we ought to get better acquainted."

Startled, Andertoft backed off. What were the chances of his wife's

friendliness being benign, accidental? Witwer would be present the balance

of the evening, and would now have an excuse to trail along to Anderton's

private residence. Profoundly disturbed, he turned impulsively, and moved

toward the door.

"Where are you going?" Lisa asked, astonished.

"Back to the monkey block," he told her. "I want to check over some

rather puzzling data tapes before the Army sees them." He was out in the

corridor before she could think of a plausible reason for detaining him.

Rapidly, he made his way to the ramp at its far end. He was striding

down the outside stairs toward the publiC sidewalk, when Lisa appeared

breathlessly behind him.

"What on earth has come over you?" Catching hold of his arm, she

moved quickly in front of him. "I knew you were leaving," she exclaimed,

blocking his way. 'What's wrong with you? Everybody thinks you're-" She

checked herself. "I me~n, you're acting so erratically." People. surged by them-the usual afternoon crowd. Ignoring them,

Anderton pried his wife's fingers from his arm. "I'm getting out," he told her.

"While there's still time."

"But-why?"

"I'm being framed-deliberately and maliciously. This creature is out to

get my job. The Senate is getting at me through him." Lisa gazed up at him, bewildered. "But he seems like such a nice

young man."

"Nice as a water moccasin."

Lisa's dismay turned to disbelief. "I don't believe it. Darling, all this

strain you've been under-" Smiling uncertainly, she faltered: "It's not really

I 97 I

Philip K. Dick

credible char Ed Witwer is trying to frame you. How could he, even if he

wanted to? Surely Ed wouldn't-"

"Ed?"

"]hat's his name, isn't it?"

Her brown eyes flashed in startled, wildly incredulous protest. "Good

heavens, you're suspicious of everybody. You actually believe I'm mixed up

with it in some way, don't you?"

Hf:: considered. "I'm not sure." She drew closer to him, her eyes accusing. "That's not true. You really

believe it. Maybe you ought to go away for a few-weeks. You desperately need a rest. All this tension and trauma, a younger man coming in. You're acting

paranoiac. Can't you see that? People plotting against you. TelL me, do you

have any actual proof?"

Anderton removed his wallet and took out the folded card. "Examine

this carefully," he said, handing it ro her.

The color drained out of her face, and she gave a little harsh, dry gasp. "The ser-up is hirly obvious," Anderton told her, as levelly as he could.

"This will give Witwer a legal pretext to remove me right now. He won't have to

wait until I resign." Grimly, he added: "They know I'm good for a few years yet."

"But-"

"It will end the check and balance system. Precrime will ao longer be

an independent agency. The Senate will control the police, and after that-" His lips tightened. "They'll absorb the Army too. Well, it's outwardly logical

enough. Of course- I feel hostility and resentment toward Wi-rwer-of course

I have a motive.

"Nobody likes to be replaced by a younger man, and find himself turned

out to pasture. It's all really quite plausible-except that I haven't the remot-

est intention of killing Witwer. But I can't prove that. So what can I do?"

Mutely, her face very white, Lisa shook her head. "I-I don't know.

Darling, if only-"

"Right now," Anderton said abruptly, ''!' m going home to pack my things. That's about as far ahead as I can plan."

"You're really going to-to try to hide out?"

"I am. As far as the Centaurian-colony planets, if necessary. It's been

done successfully before, and I have a twenty-four-hour start." He turned

resolutely. "Go back inside. There's no point in your coming with me."

I 9 o l

THE MINORITY REPORT

"Did you imagine I would?" Lisa asked huskily.

Startled, Anderton stared at her. "Wouldn't you?" Then with amaze-

ment, he murmured: "No, I can see you don't believe me. You still thin}.<: I'm

imagining all this." He jabbed savagely at the card. ''Even with that evidence you still aren't convinced."

"No," Lisa agreed quickly, ''I'm not. You didn't look at it closely enough,

darling. Ed Witwer's name isn't on it."

Incredulous, Anderton took the card from her.

"Nobody says you're going to kill Ed Witwer," Lisa continued rapidly, in

a thin, brittle voice. "the card must be genuine, understand? And it has noth-

ing to do with Ed. H~'s nor plotting against you and neither is anybody else."

Too confused to reply, Anderton stood studying the card. She was right.

Ed Witwer was not listed as his victim. On line five, the machine had neatly

stamped another name.

LEOPOLD KAPLAN

Numbly, he pocketed the card. He had never heard of the man in his life.

III

THE HOUSE WAS cool and deserted, and almost immediately Anderton began making preparations for his journey. While he packed, frantic thought~

passed through his mind.

Possibly he was wrong about Wl-rwer-but how could he b-e sure? In any

event, the conspiracy against him was far more complex than he had real-

ized. Witwer, in the over-all picture, might be merely an insignificant puppet

animated by someone else-by some distant, indistinct figure only vaguely

visible in the background.

It had been a mistake to show the card to Lisa. Undoubtedly, she would describe it in detail to Witwer. He'd never get off Earth, never have an

opportunity to find out what life on a frontier planet might be like.

While he was thus preoccupied, a board creaked behind him. He turned

from the bed, clutching a weather-stained winter sports jacket, to face the

muzzle of a gray-blue A-pistol.

]39 [

Philip K. Dick

"It didn't take you long," he said-, staring with bitterness at the tight-

lipped, heavyset man in a brown overcoat who stood holding the gun in his

gloved hand. "Didn't she even hesitate?" The intruder's face registered no response. "I don't know what you're

talking about," he said. "Come along with me."

Startled, Anderton laid down the sports jacket. "You're not from mJ:'"

agency? You're not a police officer?"

Protes-ting and astonished, he was hustled outside the house to a wait-

ing limousine. Instantly three heavily armed men closed in behind him. The

door slammed and the car shot off down the highway, away from the city.

Impassive and remote, the faces around him jogged with the motion of the

speeding vehicle as open fields, dark and somber, swept past.

Anderton was still trying futilely to grasp the implications of what had hap-

pened, when the car came to a rutted side road, turned off, and descended into

a gloomy sub-surface garage. Someone shouted an order. Tile heavy metal lock

grated shut and overhead lights blinked on. The driver turned off the car motor.

"You'll have reason to regret this," Anderton warned hoarsely, as they

dragged him from the car. "Do you realize who I am?"

"We realize," the man in the brown overcoat said.

Ax gun-point, Anderton was m~rched upstairs, from the clammy silence

of the garage into a deep-carpeted hallway. He was, apparently, in .a luxurious

private residence, set out in the war-devoured rural area. At the far end of the

hallway he could make out a room-a book-lined study simply but tastefully

furnished. In a circle of lamplight, his face partly in shadows, a man he had

never met sat waiting for him.

As Anderton approached, the man nervously slipped a· pair of rimless

glasses in place, snapped the case shut, and moistened his dry lips. He was

elderly, perhaps seventy or older, and under his arm was a slim silver cane.

His body was thin, wiry, his attitude curiously rigid. What little hair he had

was dusty brown-a carefully-smoothed sheen of neutral color above his

pale, bony skull. Only his eyes seemed really alert.

"Is this Anderton?" he inquired querulously, turning to the man in the

brown overcoat. "Where did you pick him up?"

"At his home," the other replied. "He y.ras packing-as we expected."

The man at the desk shivered visibly. "Packing." He took offhis glasses and

jerkily returned them to their case. "Look here," he said bluntly to Anderton,

Jli e I

lHE MINO[JTY REPOAT

"what'S the matter with you? Are-you hopelessly insane? How could you kill a

man you've never met?"

The old man, Anderton suddenly realized, was Leopold Kaplan.

"First, I'll ask you_ a question," Anderton countered rapidl7. "Do you

realize what you've done? I'm Commissioner of Police. I can have you sent

up for twenty years."

He was going to say more, but a sudden wonder cut him short.

"How did you find out!"he demanded. Involuntarily, his hand went to his

pocket, where the fold~d card was hidden. "It won't be for another-" "I wasn't notified through your agency," Kaplan broke in, with angry impa-

tience. "The fact that you've never heard of me doesn't surprise me too much.

Leopold Kaplan, General of the Army of the Federated Westbloc Alliance." Begrudgingly, he added. "Retired, since the end of the Anglo-Chinese War,

and the abolishment of AFWA."

It made sense. Anderton had suspected that the Army processed its

duplicate cards immediately, for its own protection. Relaxing somewhat, he

demanded: "Well? You've got me here. What next?"

"Evidently," Kaplan said, "I'm not going to have you destroyed, or it

would have shown up on one -of those miserable little cards. I'm curious

about you. It seemed Incredible to me that a man of your stature could con-

template the cold-blooded murder of a total stranger. There must be some-_:.

-thing more here. Frankly, I'm puzzled. If it represented some kind ofPolice

strategy-" He shrugged his thin shoulders. "Surely you wouldn't have

permitted the duplicate card to reach us."

"Unless," one of his men suggested, "it's a deliberate plant."

Kaplan raised his bright, bird-like eyes and scrutinized :Anderton. "What

do you have to say?"

"That's exactly what it is," Anderton said, quick to see the advantage

of stating frankly what he believed to be the simple truth. "The prediction

on the card was deliberately fabricated by a clique inside the police agency.

The card is prepared and I'm netted. I'm relieved of my authority automati-

cally. My assistant steps in and claims-he prevented the murder in the usual

efficient Precrime manner. Needless to say, there is no murder or intent

to murder."

"I agree with you that there will be no murder," Kaplan affirmed grimly.

"You'll be in police custody. I intend to make certain of tha~."

Jlil I

Philip K Dick

Horrified, Anderton -protested: "You're taking me back there? If I'm in

custody I'll never be able to prove-"

"I don't care what you prove or don't prove," Kaplan interrupted. ''All

I'm interested in is having you out of the way." Frigidly, he added: ''For my own protection."

"He was getting ready to leave," one of the men asserted.

"'That's right," Anderton said, sweating. "As soon as- they get hold of me

I'll be confi.ned in the detention camp. Witwer will take over-lack, stock and barrel." His face darkened. "And my wife. They're acting in concen-;

apparently."

For a moment Kaplan seemed to waver. "It's possible," he conceded,

regarding Anderton steadily. Tnen he shook his head. "I can't take the chance. If this is a frame against you, I'm sorry. But it's simply not my affair." He smiled

slightly. "However, I wish you luck." To the men he said: "Take him to the

police building and turn him over to the highest authority." He mentioned the

name of the acting commissioner, and waited for Anderton's reaction.

"Witwer!" An-derton echoed, incredulous.

Still smiling slightly, Kaplan turned and clicked on the console radio in

the srudy. "Witwer has already assumed authority. Obviously, he's going to

create quite an affair out of this."

There was a brief static hum, and then, abruptly, the radio bhred out into

the room-a noisy professional voice, reading a-prepared announcement.

" ... all citizens are warned not to shelter or in any fashion aid or assist

this dangerous marginal individual. The extraordinary circumstance of an

escaped criminal at liberty and in a position to commit an act of violence

is unique in modern times. All citizens are hereby notified that legal stat-

utes still in force implicate any and all persons failing to cooperate fully

with the police in their task of apprehending John Allison Anderton. To

repeat: The Precrime Agency of the Federal Westbloc Government is in

the process of locating and neutralizing its former Commissioner, John

Allison Anderton, who, through the methodology of the precrime-system,

is hereby declared a potential murderer and as such forfeits his rights to·

freedom and all its privileges."

"It didn't take him long," Anderton muttered, appalled. Kaplan snapped

off the radio and the voice vanished.

"Lisa must have gone clirectly to him," Anderton speculated bitterly.

1101 I

THE MINORITY mm

"Why should he wait?" Kaplan asked. "You made your intentions clear."

He nodded to his men. "Take him back to town. I feel uneasy having

him so close. In that respect I concur with Commissioner Witwer. I want

him neutralized as soon as possible."

IV

C 0 L 0, Llu HT RAIN beat against the pavement, as the car moved through the dark streets of New Ydrk City toward the police building:

"You can see his point," one of the men said to Anderton. "If you were in

hls place you'd act just as decisively."

Sullen and resentful, Anderton stared straight ah~ad.

''Anyhow," the man went on, "you're just one of many. Thousands of

people have gone to that detention camp. You won't be lonely. As a matter of

fact, you may not want to leave."

Helplessly, Anderton watched pedestrians hurrying along the rain-swept

sidewalks. He felt no strong emotion. He was aware only of an overpowering

fatigue. Dully, he checked off the street numbers: they were getting near the police station.

''This Witwer seems to know how to take advantage of an opportunity,"

one of the men observed conversationally. "Did you ever meet him?"

"Briefly," Anderton answered.

"He wanted your job-so he framed you. Are you sure of that?"

Anderton grimaced. "Does it matter?"

'1 was just curious." The man eyed him languidly. "So- you're the ex- Commissioner of Police. People in the camp will be glad to see you coming.

They'll remember you."

"No doubt," Anderton agreed.

"Witwer sure didn't waste any time. Kaplan's lucky-with an official

like that in charge." The man looked at Anderton almost pleadingly. "You're really convinced it's a plot, eh?"

"Of course."

"You wouldn't harm a hair of Kaplan's head? For the first time in his-

tory, Precrime goes wrong? An innocent man is framed by one of those cards.

Maybe there've been other innocent people-right?"

Ji83 1

Philip K. Dick

"It's quite possible," Anderton admitted listlessly.

"Maybe the whole system can break down. Sure, you're not going to

commit a murder-and maybe none of them were. Is that why you told

Kaplan you wanted to keep yourself outside? Were you hoping to prove the

system wrong? I've got an open mind, if you want to talk about it."

Another man leaned over, and asked, "Just between the two of us, is

there really anything to this plot stuff? Are you really being framed?"

A.O.derton sighed. At that point he wasn't certain, himself. Perhaps he was

trapped in a closed, meaningless time-circle wirh no motive and no beginning.

In tact, he was almost ready to concede that he was the victim of a weary, neu- rotic fantasy, spawned by growing insecurity. Without a fight, he was willing to give himself up. A vast weight of exhaustion lay upon him. He was struggling

against the impossible-and all the cards were stacked against him.

The sharp squeal of tires roused him. Frantically, the driver struggled

to control the car, tugging at the wheel and slamming on the brakes, as a

massive bread truck loomed up from the fog and ran directly across the lane

ahead. Had he gunned the motor instead he might have saved hiinsel£ But

too late he realized his error. The car skidded, lurched, hesitated for a brief

instant, and then smashed head on into the bread truck.

Under Anderton the seat lifted up and flung him face-forward against

the door. Pain, sudden, intolerable, seemed to burst in his brain as he lay

gasping and trying feebly to pull himself to his knees. Somewhere the crackle

of fire echoed dismally, a patch of hissing brilliance winking in the swirls of

mist making their way into the twisted hulk of the car.

Hands from outside the car reached for him. Slowly he became aware

that he was being dragged through the rent that had been the door. A heavy

seat cushion was shoved brusquely aside, and all at once he found himself

on his feet, leaning heavily against a dark shape and being guided into the

shadows of an alley a short distance from the car.

In the distance, police sirens wailed.

"You'll live," a voice grated· in his ear, low and urgent. It was a voice he

had never heard before, as unfamiliar and harsh as the rain beating into his

face. "Can you hear what I'm saying?"

"Yes," Anderton acknowledged. He plucked aimlessly ar the ripped sleeve

of his shin. A cut on his cheek was beginning to throb. Confused, he tried to

orient himself. "You're not-"

]1~1 [

THE MfN.OAITY AErOAT

"Stop talking and listen." The man was heavyset, almosr fat. Now his big

hands held Anderton propped against the wet brick wall of the building, out

of the rain and the flickering light of the burning car. "We had to do it that

way," he said. "It was the only alternative. We didn't have much time. We thought Kaplan would keep you at his place longer."

"Who are you?" Anderton managed.

The moist, rain-streaked face twisted into a humorless grin. "My name's

Fleming. You'll see me again. We have about five seconds before the police

get here. Then we're back where we started." A flat packet was stuffed into

Anderton's hands. "That's enough loot to keep you going. And there's a full

set of identification in there. We'll contact you from time to time." His grin

increased and became a nervous chuckle. "Until you've proved your point."

Anderton blinked. "It is a frameup, then?"

"Of course." Sharply, the man swore. "You n'lean they got you to believe

it, too?"

"I thought-" Anderton had trouble talking; one of his front teeth seemed

to be loose. "Hostility toward Witwer ... repla-ced, my wife and a younger man,

natural resentment .... "

"Don't kid yourself," the other said. "You know better than that. This

whole business was worked out carefully. They had -every phase of it under con-

trol. The card was set to pop the day Witwer appeared. They've already got the

first part wrapped up. Witwer is Commissioner, and you're a hunted criminal."

"Who's behind it?"

"Your wife."

Anderton's head spun. "You're positive?"

The man laughed. "You bet your life." He glanced quickly around. "Here

come the police. Take off down this alley. Grab a bus, get yourself into the

slum section, rent a room and buy a stack of magazines to keep you busy.

Get other clothes-You're smart enough to take care of yoursel£ Don't try

to leave Earth. They've got all the -intersystem -transports screened. If you can

keep low for the next seven days, you're made."

"Who are you?" Anderton demanded.

Fleming let go of him. Cautiously, he moved to the entrance 0f the alley and peered out. The first police car had .come to rest on the damp pavement;

its motor spinning tinnily, it crept suspiciously toward the smouldering ruin

that had been Kaplan's car. Inside the wreck the squad of men were stirring

]105 [

Philip K. Dick

feebly, beginning to creep painfully through the tangle of steel ar1d plastic

out into the cold rain.

"Consider us a protective society," Fleming said softly, his plump, expres-

sionless face shining with moisture. "A sort of police force that watches the

police. To see," he added, "that everything stays on an even keel."

His thick hand shot out. Stumbling, Anderton was knocked away from

him, half-falling into the shadows and damp debris that litrered the alley.

"Get going," Fleming told him sharply. 'And don't discard that packet."

As Anderton felt his way hesitantly toward the far exit of the alley, the man's

last words drifted to hi-m. "Study it carefully and you may 'still survive."

v

THE iDENTifiCATION CARDS described him as Ernest Temple, an unem- ployed electrician, drawing a weekly subsistence from- the State ofNew York,

with a wife and four children in Buffalo and less than a hundred dollirs in

assets. A sweat-stained green card gave him permission to travel and to main-

tain no fixed address. A man looking for work needed to travel. He might

have to go a long way.

As he rode across town in the almost empty bus, Anderton studied the

description of Ernest Temple. Obviously, the cards had been made out with

him in mind, for all the measurements fitted. After a time he wondered

about the fingerprints and the brain-wave pattern. They couldn't possibly

stand comparison. The walletful of cards would get him past only the most

cursory examinations.

But it was something. And with the ID cards came ten thousand dollars

in bills. He pocketed the money and cards, then turned to the neatly-typed

message in which they had been enclosed.

At first he could make no sense of it. For a long time he studied it, perplexed.

1he existence of a majority logical/:y implies

a corresponding minority.

The bus had entered the vast slum region, the tumbled miles of cheap

hotels and broken-down tenements that had sprung up after the mass

1106 [

THE MINOAITY AEPOAT

destruction of the war. It slowed to a stop, and Anderton got to his feet. A

few passengers idly observed his cut cheek and damaged clothing. Ignoring

them, he stepped down onto the rain-swept curb.

Beyond collecting the money due him, the hotel clerk was. not inter-

ested. Anderton climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered the nar-

row, musty-smelling room that now belonged to him. Gratefully, he locked

the door and pulled down the window shades. The room was small but clean.

Bed, dresser, scenic calendar, chair, lamp. a radio with a slot for the insertion

of quarters. ,

He dropped a qua;ter into it and threw himself heavily down on the bed.

All main stations carried the police bulletin. It was novel, exciting, some-

thing unknown to the present generation. An escaped criminal! The public

was avidly interested.

" ... this man has used the advantage of his. high position to carry out

an initial escape," the announcer was saying, with professional indignation.

"Because of his high office he had access to the previewed data and the trust

placed in him permitted him to evade the normal process of detection and

re-location. During the period of his tenure he exercised his authority to send

countless potentially guilty individuals to their proper confinement, thus

sparing the lives of innocent victims. This man, Johl;-Allison Anderton, wa_s

instrumental in the original creation of the Precrime system, the prophylac-

tic pre-detection of criminals through the ingenious use of mutant precogs,

capable of previewing future events and transferring orally that data to

analytical machinery. These three precogs, in their vital function .... "

The voice faded out as he left the room and entered the tiny bathroom.

There, he stripped off his coat, and shirt, and ran hot water in the wash

bowl. He began bathin-g the cut on his cheek. At the drugstore on the corner

he had bought iodine and Band-aids, a razor, comb, toothbrush, and other

small things he would need. The next morning he intended. to find a second-

hand clothing store and buy more suitable clothing. After all, he was now an

unemployed electrician, not an accident-damaged Commissioner of Police.

In the other room the radio blared on. Only subconsciously aware of it,

he stood in front of the cracked mirror, examining a- broken tooth.

" ... the system of three precogs finds its genesis in the computers of the

middle decades of this century. How are the results .of an electronic com-

puter checked? By feeding the data to a second computer of identical design.

jl07 [

Philip K. Dick

But two computers are not sufficient. If each computer arrived at a different

answer it is impossible to tell a priori which is correct. The solution, based on a careful study of statistical method, is to utilize a third computer to check the

results of the first two. In iliis manner, a so-called majority report is obtained.

It can be assumed with fair probability that the agreement of two out of three computers indicates which of the alternative results is accurate. It would not

be likely that two computers would arrive at identically incorrect solutions-"

Anderton dropped the towel he was clutching and raced into the other

room. Trembling, he bent to catch the blaring words of the radio.

" ... unanimity of all three precogs is a hoped-for but seldom-achieved

phenomenon, acting-Commissioner Witwer explains. It is much more common to obtain a collaborative majority report of two precogs, plus a

minority report of some slight variation, usually with reference to time and

place, from the third mmanr. This is explained by rhe theory of multiple-

futures. If only one time-path existed, precognitive information would be

of no importance, since no possibility would exist, in possessing this infor-

mation, of altering the future. In the Precrime Agency's work we mus~ first of all assume-"

Frantically, Anderton paced around the tiny room. Majority report-

only two of the precogs had concurred on the material underlying the card.

That was the meaning of the message enclosed with the packet. The report of

the third precog, the minority report, was somehow of importance.

Why?

His watch told him that it was after midnight. Page would be off duty.

He wouldn't be back in t_!Ie monkey block until the next afternoon. It was a slim chance, but worth taking. Maybe Page would- cover for him, and maybe

not. He would have to risk it.

He had to see the minority report.

VI

B ETW EE N N 0 0 N AN 0 one o'clock the rubbish-littered streets swarmed with people. He chose that time, the busiest part of the day, to make his call.

Selecting a phonebooth in a patron-teeming super drugstore, he dialed

the familiar police number and stood holding the cold receiver to his ear.

]108 I

THE MINORITY REPORT

Deliberately, he had selected the aud, not the viS. line: in spite of his second-

hand clothing and seedy, unshaven appearance, he might be recognized.

The receptionist was new to him. Cautiously, he gave Page's extension. If

Witwer were removing the regular staff and putting in- his satellites, he might

find himself talking to a total stranger.

"Hello," Page's gruff voice came.

Relieved, Anderton glanced around. N-obody was paying any attention

to him. The shoppers wandered among the merchandise, going about their

daily routines. "Can you talk?" he asked. "Or are you tied up?"

There was a momeht of-silence. He could picture Page's mild face torn

with uncertainty as he wildly tried to decide what to do. At last came halting

words. "Why-are you calling here?"

Ignoring the question, Anderton said, "I didn't recognize the reception-

ist. New personnel?"

"Brand-new," Page agreed, in a thin, strangled voice. "Big turnovers,

these days."

"So I hear." Tensely, Anderton asked, "How's your job? Still safe?"

"Wait a minute." The receiver was put down and the muffled sound of

steps came in Anderton's ear. It was followed by the quick slam of a door

being hastily shut. Page returned. "We can talk better now," he said hoarsely.

"How much better?"

"Not a great deal. Where are you?"

"Strolling through Central Park," Anderton said. "Enjoying the sunlight."

For all he knew, Page had gone to make sure the line-tap was in place. Right

now, an airborne police team was probably on its way. But he had to take the

chance. "I'm in a new field," he said curtly. ''I'm an electrician these days."

"Oh?" Page said, baffled.

"I thought maybe you had some work for me. If it can be arranged, I'd

like to drop by and examine your basic computing equipment. Especially the

data and analytical banks in the monkey block."

After a pause, Page said: "It-might be arranged. Ifit's really important."

''It is," Anderton assured him. "When would be best for you?"

"Well," Page said, struggling. "I'm having a repair team come in to look

at the intercom equipment. The acting-Commissioner wants it improved, so

he can operate quicker. You might trail along."

"''ll do that. About when?"

Philip K Dick

"Say four o'clock. Entrance B, level 6. I'll-meer you."

"Fine," Anderton agreed, already starting to hang up. "I hope you're stili

in charge, when I get there."

He hung up and rapidly left the booth. A moment later he was push-

ing through the dense pack of people crammed into the nearby cafeteria.

Nobody would locate him there.

He had three and a half hours to wait. And it was going to seem a lot

longer. It proved to be the longest wait of his life before he finally met Page as -arranged.

The first thing Page said was: "You're out of your mind. Why in hell did

you come back?"

"''m not back for long." Tautly, Anderton prowled around tite monkey

block, systematically locking one door after another. "Don't let anybody in.

I can't rake chances."

"You should have quit when you were ahead." In an agony of apprehen-

sion, Page followed after hi..'U. "Witwer is making hay, hand over fist. He's

got the whole country screaming for your blood"

Ignoring him, Anderton snapped open the main control bank of the ana-

lytical machinery. "Which of the three monkeys gave the minority report?"

"Don't question me-l'm getting out." On his way to the door Page

halted briefly, pointed to the middle figure, and then disappeared. The door

dosed; Anderton was alone.

The middle one. He knew thar one well. The dwarfed, hunched-over

figure had sat buried in its wiring and relays for fifteen years. As Anderton

approached, it didn't look up. With eyes glazed and blank, it contemplated

a world that did not yet exist, blind to the physical reality that lay around it.

"Jerry" was twenty-four years old. Originally, he had been classified as

a hydrocephalic idiot but when he reached the age of six the psych testers

had identified the precog talent, buried under the layers of tissue corrosion.

Placed in a government-operated training school, the latent talent had been

cultivated. By the time he was nine the talent had advanced to a useful stage.

"Jerry," however, remained in the aimless chaos of idiocy; the burgeoning

faculty had absorbed the totality of his personality.

Squatting down, Anderton began disassembling the protective shields

that guarded the tape-reels stored in the analytical machinery. Using schemat-

ics, he traced the leads back from the final stages of the integrated computers,

]IIi I

THE MINORITY REPORT

to the point where "Jerry's" individual equipment branched off. Within

minutes he was shakily lifting out two half-hour tapes: recent rejected data

not fused with majority reports. Consulting the code chart, he selected the

section of tape which referred to his particular card.

A tape scanner was mounted nearby. Holding his breath, he inserted

the tape, activated the transport, and listened. It took only a second. From

the first statement of the report it was clear what had happened. He had

what he wanted; he could stop looking.

"Jerry's" vision was misphased. Because of the erratic nature of pre-

cognition, he was exa'inining a time-area slightly different from that of his

companions. For him, the report that Anderton would commit a murder was

an event to be integrated along with everything else. That assertion-and

Anderton's reaction-was one more piece of datum.

Obviously, "Jerry's" report superseded the niajority report. Having been

informed that he would commit a murder, Anderton would change his

mind and not do so. The preview of the murder had cancelled out the mur-

der; prophylaxis had occurred simply in his being informed. Already, a new

time-path had been created. But "Jerry" was outvoted.

Trembling, Anderton rewound the tape a.nd clicked on the recording

head. At high speed he made a copy of the report, restored t..he original, and

removed the duplicate from the transport. Here was__ the proof that the card

was invalid: obsolete. All he had to do was show it to Witwer. ...

-His own stupidity amazed him. Undoubtedly, Witwer had seen the

report; and in spite of it, had assumed the job of Commissioner, had kept the_

police teams out. Witwer didn't intend to back down; he wasn't concerned

with Anderton's innocence.

What, then, could he do? Who else would be interested?

"You damn fool!" a voice behind him grated, wild with anxiety.

Quickly, he turned. His wife stood at one of the doors, in her police uni-

form, her eyes frantic with dismay. "Don't worry," he told her briefly, displaying

the reel of tape. ''I'm leaving."

Her face distorted, Lisa rushed frantically up to him. "Page said you were

here, but I couldn't believe it. He shouldn't -have let you in. He just doesn't

understand what you are."

"What am l?" Anderton inquired caustically. "Before you answer, maybe

you better listen to this tape."

Jill I

Philip K. Dick

"I don't want to listen to_ it! I just want you to get out of here! Ed Witwer

knows somebody's down here. Page is trying to keep him occupied, but-"

She broke off, her head turned stiffiy to one side. "He's here now! He's going

to force his way in."

"Haven't you got any influence? Be gracious and charming. He'll probably

forget about me."

Lisa looked at him in bitter reproach. "There's a ship parked 011 the roo£

If you want to get away .... " Her voice choked and for an instant she was

silent. Then she said, ''I'll be taking off in a minute or so. If you want to

come-"

"I'll come," Anderton said. He had no other choice. He had secured hls

tape, his proof, but he hadn't worked out any method of leaving. Gladly, he

hurried after the slim figure of his wife as she strode from the block, through

a side door and down a supply corridor, her heels clicking loudly in the

deserted gloom.

"It's a good fast ship," she told him over her shoulder. "It's emergency-

fueled-ready to go. I was going to supervise some of the teams."

VII

BEHIND THE WHEEL of the high-velocity police cruiser, Anderton outlined what the minority report tape contained. Lisa listened without comment,

her face pinched and strained, her hands clasped tensely in her lap. Below

the ship, the war-ravaged rural countryside spread out like a relief map, the

vacant regions between cities crater-pitted and dotted with the ruins of farms

and small industrial plants.

"I wonder," she said, when he had finished, "how many times this has

happened before."

"A minority report? A great many times."

"I mean, one precog misphased. Using the report of the others as data-

superseding them." Her eyes dark and serious, she added, "Perhaps a lot of

the people in the camps are like you."

"N.o," Anderton insisted. But he was beginning to feel uneasy about it,

too. "I was in a position to see the card, to get a look at the report. That's

what did it."

1111 I

THE MINORITY REfO.AT

"But-" Lisa gestured significantly. "Perhaps all of them would have

reacted that way. We could have told them the truth."

"It would have been too great a risk," he answered stubbornly.

Lisa laughed sharply. "Risk? Chance? Uncertainty? With precogs

around?"

Anderton concentrated on steering the fast little ship. "This is a uniqae

case," he repeated. "And we have an immediate problem. We can tackle the

theoretical aspects later en. I have to get this tape to the proper people-

before your bright young friend demolishes it."

"You're taking it tO Kaplan?"

"] certainly am." He tapped the reel of tape which lay on the seat between

them. "He'll be interested. Proof that his ]ife isn't in danger ought tO be of

vital concern to him."

From her purse, Lisa shakily got out her cig:irette case. ''And you think

he'll help you."

"He may-or he may not. It's a chance worth taking.',_

"How did you manage to go underground so quickly?)' Lisa asked. "A

completely effective disguise is difficult to obtain."

"All it takes is money," he answered evasively.

As she smoked, Lisa pondered. "Probably Kaplan will protect you," she

said. "He's quite powerful."

"I thought he was only a retired general."

"Technically-that's what he is. But Witwer got out the dossier on

him. Kaplan heads an unusual kind of exclusive veterans' organization. It's .

actually a kind of club, with a few restricted members. High officers only-

an international class from both sides of the war. Here in New York they

maintain a great mansion of a house, three glossy-paper publications, and

occasional TV coverage that costs them a small fortune."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Only this. You've convinced me that you're innocent. I- mean, it's obvi-

ous that you won't commit a murder. But you must realize now that the

original report, the majority report, was not a foke. Nobody falsified it. Ed

Witwer didn't create it. There's no plot against you, and there never was. If

you're going to accept this minority report as genuine you'll have to accept

the majority one, also."

Reluctantly, he agreed. "I suppose so.''

]113 I

Philip K. Dick

"Ed Witwer," Lisa continued, "is acting in complete good faith. He

really believes you're a potential criminal-and why not? He's got the

majority report sitting on his desk, but you have that card folded up in

your pocket."

"I destroyed it," Anderton said, quietly.

Lisa leaned earnestly toward him. "Ed Wirvver isn't motivated by any desire to get your job," she said. "He's motivated by the same desire that has always dominated you. He believes in Precrime~ He wants the system to

continue. I've calked to him and I'm convinced he's telling the truth."

Anderton asked, "Do you want me to take this reel to Witwer? If I do-

he'lLdestroy it."

"Nonsense," Lisa retorted. "The originals have been in his hands from

the start. He could have destroyed them any time he wished." -

"That's true." Anderton conceded. "Quite possibly he didn't know."

"Of course he didn't. Look at it this way. If Kaplan gets hold of that

tape, the police will be discredited. Can't you see why? It would prove that

the majority report was an error. Ed Witwer is absolutely right. You have to

be taken in-if Precrime is to survive. You're thinking of your own safety.

But think, for a moment, about t}:Ie system." Leaning over, she stubbed out

her cigarette and fumbled in her purse for another. "Which means more to

you-your own personal safety or the existence of the system?"·

"My safety," Anderton answered, without hesitation.

"You're positive?"

"If the system can survive only by imprisoning innocent people, then

it deserves to be destroyed. My personal safety is important because I'm a

human being. And furthermore-"

From her purse, Lisa got out an incredibly tiny pistol. "I believe," -She

told him huskily, "that I have my finger on the firing release. I've never used

a weapon like this before. But I'm willing to try."

After a pause, Anderton asked: "You want me to turn the ship around?

Is that it?"

"Yes, back to the police building. I'm sorry. If you could put the good of

the system above your own selfish-"

"Keep your sermon," Anderton told her. "''ll take the ship back. But I'm

not going to listen to your defense of a code of behavior no intelligent man

could subscribe to."

]IIi I

THE MINOA!TY AEPOAT

Lisa's lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. Holding the pistol tightly,

she sat facing him, her eyes fixed intently on him as he swung the ship in

a broad arc. A few loose articles rattled from the glove compartment as the

little craft turned on a radical slant, one wing rising majestically until it

pointed straight up.

Both Anderton and his wife were supported by the constraining metal

arms of their seats. But not so the third member of the party.

Out of the corner of his eye, Anderton saw a flash of motion. A sound

came simultaneously, the clawing struggle of a large man as he abruptly lost

his footing and plunged into the reinforced wall of the ship. What followed

happened quickly. Fleming scrambled instantly to his feet, lurching and

wary, one arm lashing out for the woman's pistol. Anderton was too startled

to cry out. Lisa turned, saw the man-and screamed. Fleming knocked the

gun from her hand, sending it clattering to the "floor.

Grunting, Fleming shoved her aside and retrieved the gun. "Sorry," he

gasped, straightening up as best he could. "-I thought she might talk more. That's why I waited."

"You were here when-" Anderton began-and stopped. It was obvious that Fleming and his men had kept him under surveillance. The existence of

Lisa's ship had been duly noted and factored in, and while Lisa had debated

whether it would be wise ro fly him to safety, Fleming had crept into the

storage compartment of the ship.

"Perhaps," Fleming said, "you'd better give me that reel of tape." His

moist, clumsy fingerS groped for it. "You're right-Witwerwould have melted

it down to a puddle."

"Kaplan, too?" Anderton asked numbly, still dazed by the appearance of

the man.

"Kaplan is working directly with Witwer. That's why his name showed

on line five of the card. Which one of them is the actual boss, we can't tell.

Possibly neither." Fleming tossed the tiny pistol away and got out his own

heavy-duty military weapon. "You pulled a real Bub in taking off with this

woman. I told you she was back of the whole thing."

"I can't believe that," Anderton protested. "If she-"

"You've got no sense. This ship was warmed up by Witwer's order. They

wanted to fly you out of the building so that we couldn't get to you. With you

on your own, separated from us, you didn't stand a chance."

]liS I

Philip K. Dick

A strange look passed over Lisa's stricken features. "It's .not true," she

whispered. "Witwer never saw this ship. I was going to supervise-"

"You almost got away with it," F-leming interrupted inexorably. "We'll be

lucky if a police patrol ship isn't hanging on us. There wasn't time to check." He squatted down as he spoke, directly behind the woman's chair. "The first

thing is to get this woman out of the way. We'll have to drag you completely

out of this area. Page tipped off Witwer on your new disguise, and you can

be sure it has been widely broadcast."

Still crouching, Fleming seized hold of Lisa. Tossing his heavy gun to

Anderton, he expertly tilted her chin up until her temple was shoved back

against the seat. Lisa clawed frantically at him; a thin, terrified wail rose in

her throat. fgnoring her, Fleming closed his great hands around her neck and

began relentlessly to squeeze. "No bullet wound," he explained, gasping. "She's going to fall out-

natural accident. It happens all the time. But in this case, her neck will be

broken first." It seemed strange that Anderton waited so long. As it was, Fleming's

thick fingers were cruelly embedded in the woman's pale flesh before he

lifted the butt of the heavyduty pistol and brought it down on the back of

Fleming's skull. The monstrous hands relaxed. Staggered, Fleming's head fell

forward and he sagged against the wall of the ship. T tying feebly to collect

himself, he began dragging his body upward. Anderton hit him again, this

time above the left eye. He fell back, and lay still. Struggling to breathe, Lisa remained for a moment huddled over, her

body swaying back and forth. Then, gradually, the color crept back into

her face. "'Can you take the controls?" Anderton asked, shaking her, his voice

urgent. "Yes, I think so." Almost mechanically she reached fot the wheel. ''I'li be

all right. Don't worry about me." "This pistol," Anderton said, "is Army ordnance issue:;. But it's not from

the war. It's one of the useful new ones they've developed. I could be a long

way off but there's just a chance-" He climbed back to where .Fleming lay spread out on the deck. Trying

not to touch the man's head, he tore open his coat and rummaged in his

pockets. A moment later Fleming's sweat-sodden wallet rested in his hands.

]116 [

THE MINORITY REPORT

Tad Fleming, according to his identification, was an Army Major

attached to the Internal Intelligence Department of Military Information.

Among the various papers was a document signed by General Leopold

Kaplan, stating that Fleming was under the special protection c;>f his own

group-the International Veterans' League.

Fleming and his men were operating under Kaplan's orders. The bread

truck, the accident, had been deliberately rigged.

It meant that Kaplan had deliberarely kept him out of police hands. The

plan went back to the 9riginal contact in his home, -when Kaplan's men had

picked him up as he ,;,as packing. Incredulous, he realized what had really

happened. Even then, they were making sure they got him before the police.

From the start, it had been an elaborate strategy to make certain that Witwer

would fail to arrest him.

"You were telling the truth," Anderton said to his wife; as he climbed

back in the seat. "'Can we get hold of Witwer?"

Mutely, she nodded. Indicating the communications circuit of the dash-

board, she asked: "What-did you find?"

"Get Witwer for me. I want to -talk to him as soon as I can. It's very urgent." J etkily, she dialed, gor the closed-channel mechanical circuit, and raised

police headquarters in New York. A visual panorama of petty police officials

flashed by before a tiny replica of Ed Witwer's features appeared on the screen.

"Remember me?" Anderton asked him.

Witwer blanched. "Good God. What happened? Lisa, are you bringing

him in?" Abruptly his eyes fastened on the gun in Anderton's hands. "Look," .

he said savagely, "don't do anything to her. Whatever you may think, she's

not responsible."

"'I've already found that out," Anderton answered. "Can you get a fix on

us? We may need protection getting back."

"Back!"Wir:wer gazed at him unbelievingly. "You're coming in? You're

giving yourself up?"

"I am, yes." Speaking rapidly, urgently, Anderton added, "There's some-

thing you must do."immediately. Close off-the monkey block. Make- certain

nobody gets it-Page or anyone else. Especially Army people." "Kaplan," the miniature image said.

''What about him?"

"He was here. He-he just left."

]Ill [

Philip K. Dick

Anderton's heart stopped beating. "What was he doing?"

"Picking up data. Transcribing duplicates of our precog reports on you.

He insisted he wanted them solely for his protection."

"Then he's already got it," Anderton said. "It's too late."

Alarmed, Witwer almost shouted: "Just what do you mean? What's

happening?"

'T)l tell you," Anderton said heavily, "when I get back to my office."

VIII

llJ!TllJER MET HIM on the roof on the police building. As the small ship came to rest, a cloud of escort ships dipped their fins and sped Off. Anderton

immediately approached the blond-haired young man.

"You've got what you wanted," he told him. "You can lock me up, and

send me to the detention camp. But that won't be enough~"

Witwer's blue eyes were pale with uncertainty. "I'm afraid I don't

understand-"

"It's not my fault. I should never have left the police building. Where's

Wally Page?"

"We've already clamped down on him," Witwer replied. "He won't give

us any trouble."

Anderton's face was grim.

"You're holding him for the wrong reason," he said. "Letting me into the

monkey block was no crime. But passing information to Army is. You've had an

Anny plant working here." He corrected himsel£ a little lamely, "I mean, I have."

"I've called back the order on you. Now the teams are looking for Kaplan."

':Any luck?"

"He left here in an Army truck. We followed him, but the truck got into

a militarized Barracks. Now they've got a big wartime R-3 tank blocking the

street. It would be civil war to move it aside."

Slowly, hesitantly, Lisa made her way from the ship. She was still pale

and shaken and on her throat an ugly bruise was forming.

"What happened to you?" Witwer demanded. Then he caught sight of

Fleming's inert form lying spread out inside. Facing Anderton squarely, he said:

"Then you've finally stopped pretending this is some conspiracy of mine."

]llB I

THE MINOAJTY AEFOAT

"I have."

"You don't think I'm-" He made a disgusted face. "Plotting to get your- job."

"Sure you are. Everybody is guilty of that sort of thing. And I'm plotting

to keep it. But this is something else-and you're not responsible."

''W4y do you assert," Witwer inquired, "that it's too late to turn yourself

in? My God, we'll put you in the camp. The week will pass and Kaplan will still be alive."

"He'll be alive, y~s," Anderton conceded. "But he can prove he'd be just as alive if I were walking the streets. He has the information that proves-the majority report obsolete. He can break the Precrime system." He finished,

"Heads or tails, he wins-and we lose. The Army discredits us; their strategy paid off.;'

"But why are they risking so much? What exactly do they want?"

'~fter w.~e Anglo-Chinese War, the Army lost our. It isn't what it was in

the good old AFWA days. They ran the complete show, both military and

domestic. And they did their own police work."

"Like Fleming," Lisa said faintly.

"After the war, the Westbloc was demilitarized. Officers like Kaplan were

retired and discarded. Nobody likes that." Anderton grimaced, "I can sym-

pathize with him. He's not the only one. But we .couldn't keep on running

things that way. We had to divide up the authority."

''You say Kaplan has won," "Witwer said. "Isn't there anything we can·do?"

1\n not going to kill him. We know it and he knows it. Probably he'll come around and offer us some kind of deaL We'll continue to function, but the Senate will abolish our real pull. You wouldn't like that, would you?"

"I should say not," Witwer answered emphatically. "One of these days I'm

going to be running this agency." He flushed. "Not immediately, of course."

Anderton's expression was somber. "It's too bad you publicized the

majority report. If you had kept it quiet, we could cautiously draw it back in. But everybody's heard about it. We can't retract it now."

"I guess not," Witwer admitted awkwardly. "Maybe I-don't have this

job down as neatly as I imagined."

"You will, in time. You'll be a good police officer. You believe in the sta- tus quo. But learn to take it easy." Anderton moved away from them. "I'm

going to study the data tapes of the majority report. I want to find out exactly

1119 I

Phil•P K. Dick

how I was supposed to kill Kaplan." Reflectively, he finished: "It might give

me some ideas."

The data tapes of the precogs "Donna" and "Mike" were separately

stored. Choosing the machinery responsible for the analysis of "Donna," he

opened the protective shield and laid out the contents. As before, the code

informed him which reels were.. relevant and in a moment he had the tape-

transport mechanism in operation.

It Was approximately what he had suspected. This was the mate-

rial utilized by "Jerry"-the superseded time-path. In it Kaplan's Military

Intelligence agents kidnapped Anderton as he drove home from work. Taken

to Kaplan's villa, the organization GHQ of the International Veterans'

League. Anderton was given an ultimatum: voluntarily disband the Precrime

system or face open hostilities with Army.

In this discarded time-path, Anderton, as Police Commissioner,

had turned to the Senate for support. No support was forthcoming. To

avoid civil war, the Senate had ratified the dismemberment of the police

system, and decreed a return to military law "to cope with the emer-

gency." Taking a corps of fanatic police, Anderton had located Kaplan

an4 shot him, along with other officials of the Veterans' League. Only

Kaplan had died. The others had been patched up. And the coup had been

successfuL

This was "Donna." He rewound the tape and turned to the material

previewed by "Mike." It would be identical; both precogs had combined to present a unified picture. 'Mike" began as "Donna" had begun: Anderton

had become aware of Kaplan's plot against the police. But something was

wrong. Puzzled, he ran the tape back to the beginning. Incomprehensibly, it

didn't jibe. Again he relayed the tape, listening intently.

The "Mike" report was quite different from the "Donna" report.

An hour later, he had finished his examination, put away the tapes, and

left the monkey block. As soon as he emerged, Witwer asked. "What's the

matter? I can see something's wrong."

"No," Anderton answered slowly, still deep in thought. "Not exactly

wrong." A sound came to his ears. He walked vaguely over to the window

and peered out.

The street was crammed with people. Moving down the center lane was

a four-column line of uniformed troops. Rifles, helmets ... marching soldiers

1110 I

THE MINOAITY AEfOAT

in their dingy wartime uniforms, carrying the cherished pennants of AFWA

flapping in the cold afternoon wind.

':An Army rally," Witwer explained bleakly. "]was wrong. They're not going to make a deal with us. Why should they? Kaplan's going to make ir public."

Anderton felt no surprise. "He's going to read the minority feport?"

"Apparently. They're going to demand the Senate disband us, and take

away our authority. They're going to claim we've been arresting innocent

men-nocturnal police raids, that sort of thing. Rule by terror."

"You suppose the Senate will yield?" Witwer hesitated!. "I wouldn't want to guess."

'Til guess," Anderton said. "They will. That business out there fits with

what I learned downstairs. We've got ourselves boxed in and there's only one

direction we can go. Whether we like it or not, we'll have to take it." His eyes

had a steely glint.

Apprehensively, Witwer asked: "What is it?"

"Once I say it, you'll wonder why you didn't invent it. Very obviously,

I'm going to have to fulfill the publicized report. I'm going to have to kill

Kaplan. That's the only way we can keep them from discrediting us."

"But," Witwer said, astonished, "the majority report has been superseded."

"I can do it," Anderton informed him, "but it's going to cost. You're

familiar with the statutes governing first-degree murder?"

"Life imprisonment."

"At least. Probably, you could pull a few wires and get it commuted to

exile. I could be sent to one of the colony planets, the good old frontier."

"Would you-prefer that?"

"Hell, no," Anderton said heartily. "But it would be the lesser of the PNO

evils. And it's got to be done."

"] don't see how you can kill Kaplan."

Anderton got out the heavy-duty military weapon Fleming had tossed

to him. ''I'll use this."

"They won't ·stop you?"

"Why should they? They've got that minority repon that says I've

changed my mind."

"Then the minority report is incorrect?"

"No," Anderton said, "it's absolutely correct. But I'm going to murder

Kaplan anyhow."

1111 I

Philip K. Dick

IX

HE HAO NEVER killed a man. He had never even seen a man killed. And he had been Police Commissioner for thirty years. For this generation, deliber-

ate murder ha-d died out. It simply didn't happen.

A police car carried him to within a block of the Army rally. There, in

the shadows of the back seat, he painstakingly examined the pistol Fleming

had prOvided him. It seemed to be intact. Actually, there was no doubt of the

outcome. He was absolutely certain of what would happen within the next

half hour. Putting the pistol back together, he opened the door of the parked

car and stepped warily out.

Nobody paid the slightest attention to him. Surging masses of people

pushed eagerly forward, trying to get within hearing distance of the rally.

Army uniforms predominated and at the perimeter of the cleared area, a

line of tanks and major weapons was displayed-formidable armament still

in production.

Army had erected a metal speaker's stand and ascending steps. Behind

the stand hung the vast AFWA banner, emblem of the combined powers that

had fought in the war. By a curious corrosion of time, the AFWA Veterans'

League included- officers from th,e wartime enemy. But a general was a

general and. fine distinctions had faded over the years.

Occupying the first rows of seats sat the high brass of the AFWA com-

mand. Behind them came junior commissioned officers. Regimental- banners

swirled in a variety of colors and symbols. In fact, the occasion had taken

on the aspect of a festive pageant. On the raised stand itself sat stern-faced

dignitaries of the Veterans' League, all of them tense with expectancy. At

the extreme edges, almost unnoticed, waited a few police units, ostensibly

to keep order. Actually, they were inform~nts making observations. If order

were kept, the Army would maintain it.

The late-afternoon wind carried the muffied booming of many people

packed tightly together. As Anderton made his way throt_Igh the dense mob

he was engulfed by the solid presence of humanity. An eager sense of antici-

pation held everybody rigid. The crowd seemed to sense that something

spectacular was on the way. With difficulty, Anderton forced his way past

the rows of seats and over to the tight knot of Army officials at the edge of

the platform.

]111 [

THE MINORITY HEPOAT

Kaplan was among them. But he was now Genera-l Kaplan.

The vest, the gold pocket watch, the cane, the conservative business

suit-all were gone. For this event, Kaplan had got his old uriiform from its

mothballs. Straight and impressive. he stood surrounded by what had been

his general staff. He wore his service bars, his medals, his boors; his decora-

tive short-sword, and his visored cap. It was amazing how transformed a bald man became under the stark potency of an officer's peaked and visored cap.

Noticing Anderton, General Kaplan broke away from the group and

strode to where the younger man was standing. The expression on his

thin. mobile counteriance showed how incredulously glad he was to ·see the

Commissioner of Police. "This is a surprise," he informed Anderton, holding out his small gray-

gloved hand. "It was my impression you had been taken in by the acting

Commissioner."

''I'm still out," Anderton answered shortly, shaking hands. ''After aU,

Witwer has that same reel of tape." He indicated the package Kaplan clutched

in his steely fingers and met the man's gaze confidently.

In spite of his nervousness, General Kaplan was in good humor. "This

is a great occasion for the Army," he revealed. "You'll be glad to hear I'm going to give the public a full account of the spurious charge brought

against you."

"Fine," Anderton answered noncommittally.

"It will be made clear that you were unjustly accused." General Kaplan was

trying to discover what Anderton knew. "Did Fleming have an opportunity t?

acquaint you with the situation?"

"To some degree," Anderton replied. "You're going to read only the

minority report? That's aU you've got there?"

''I'm going to compare it to the majority report." General Kaplan sig-

nalled an aide and a leather briefcase was produced. "Everything is here-

all the evidence we need," he said. "You don~t mind being -an example, do

you? Your case symbolizes the unjust arrests of countless individuals." Sti:ffiy,

General Kaplan examined his wristwatch. "I must begin. Will you join me on the platform?"

"Why?"

Coldly, but with a kind of repressed vehemence, General Kaplan said:

"So they can see the living proof You and I together-the k.Uler and his

]113 [

Philip K. Dick

victim. Standing side by side, exposing the whoie sinister fraud which the police have been operating."

"Gladly," Anderton agreed. "What are we waiting for?"

Disconcerted, General Kaplan moved toward the platform. Again, he

glanced uneasily at Anderton, as if visibly wondering why he had appeared

and what he really knew. .His uncertainty grew as Anderton willingly

mounted the steps of the platform and found himself a seat directly beside

the speaker's podium.

"You fully comprehend what I'm going to be saying?" General Kaplan

demanded. "Tne exposure will have considerable repercussions. It may cause the Senate to reconsider the basic validity of the Precrime system."

"I understand," Anderton answered, arms folded. ('Let's go."

A hush had descended on the crowd. But there was a restless, eager stir- ring when General Kaplan obtained the briefcase and began arranging his material in front of him.

"The man sitting at my side," he began, in a clean, clipped voice, "is

familiar to you all. You may be surprised to see him, for until recently he was

described by the police as a dangerous killer."

The eyes of the crowd focused on Anderton. Avidly, they peered at the

only potential--killer they had-ever b~en privileged to see at close range. "Within the last few hours, however," General Kaplan continued; "the

police order for his arrest has been cancelled; because former Commissioner

Anderton voluntarily gave himself up? No, that is not strictly accurate. He

is sitting here. He has not given himself up, but the police are no lon-

ger interested in him. John Allison Anderton is innocent of any crime

in the past, present, and future. The allegations against him were patent

frauds, diabolical distortions of a contaminated penal system based on a

false premise-a vast, impersonal engine of destruction grinding men and women to their doom."

Fascinated, the crowd glanced from Kaplan to Anderton. Everyone was familiar with the basic situation.

"Many men have been seized and imprisoned under the so-called pro-

phylactic Precrime structure," General Kaplan continued, his voice gaining

feeling and strength. ''Accused not of crimes they have committed, but of

crimes they will commit. It is asserted that these men, if allowed to remain free, will at some future time commit felonies."

1111 I

THE MINOHITY HEPOHT

"But there can be no valid knowledge about the future. As soon as pre-

cognitive information is obtained, it cancels itself out. The assertion that this

man will commit a future crime is paradoxical. The very act ot possessing

this data renders it spurious. In every case, without exception, the report of

the three police precogs has invalidated their own data. If no arrest's had been

made, there would still have been no crimes committed."

Anderton listened idly, only half-hearing the words. The crowd, however,

listened with great interest. General Kaplan was now gathering up a sum-

mary made from the minority report. He explained what it was and how it

had come into existenCe.

From his coat pocket, Anderton slipped out his gun and held it in his lap.

Already, Kaplan was laying aside the minority report, the precognitive mate-

rial obtained from "Jerry." His lean, bony fingers groped for the summary of

first, "Donna," and after that, "Mike."

"This was the original majority report," he explained. "The assertion,

made by the first two precogs, that Anderton would commit a murder. Now

here is the automatically invalidated material. I shall read it to you." He

whipped out his rimless glasses, fitted them to his nose, and started slowly

to read.

A queer expression appeared on his face. He- halted, stammered, and

abruptly broke off. The papers fluttered from his hands. Like a cornered

animal, he spun, crouched, and dashed from the speaker's stand.

For an instant his distorted face flashed past Anderton. On his feet now,

Anderton raised the gun, stepped quickly forward, and fired. Tangled up in the rows of feet projecting from the chairs that filled the platform, Kaplan ·

gave a single shrill shriek of agony and fright. Like a ruined bird, he rumbled,

fluttering and flailing, from the platform to the ground below. Anderton

stepped to the railing, but it was already over.

Kaplan, as the majority report had asserted, was dead. His thin chest

was a smoking cavity of darkness, crumbling ash that broke-loose as the body

lay twitching.

Sickened, Anderton turned away, and moved quickly between the ris-

ing figures of stunned Army officers. The gun, which he still held, guar-

anteed that he would not be interfered with. He leaped from the platform

and edged into the chaotic mass of people at its base. Stricken, horrified,

they struggled to see what had happened. The incident, occurring before

]115 I

Philip K. Dick

their very eyes, was incomprehensible. It would take time for acceptance to

replace blind terror.

At the periphery of the crowd, Anderton was seized by the waiting police.

"You're lucky to get out," one of them whispered to him as the car crept

cautiously ahead.

"] guess I am,'' Anderton replied remotely. He settled back and tried to

compose himself He was trembling and dizzy. Abruptly, he leaned forward

and wa:s violendy sick.

"The poor devil," one the cops murmured sympathetically.

Through the swirls of misery and nausea, Anderton was unable to tell

whether the cop was referring to Kaplan or to himself.

X

fOUR BURLY POLICEMEN assisted Lisa and John Anderton in the packing and loading of their possessions. In fifty years, the ex-Commissioner of Police

had accumulated- a vast collection of material goods. Somber and pensive, he

stood watching the procession of crates on their way to the waiting trucks.

By truck they would go directly i:o the field-and from there to Centaurus

X by inter-system transport. A long trip for an old man. But he wouldn't have

to make it back.

"'There goes the second from the last crate," Lisa declared, absorbed and

preoccupied by the task. In sweater and slacks, she roamed through the bar- ren rooms, checking on last-minute details. "I suppose we won't be able to

use these new atronic appliances. They're still using electricity on Centten."

"I hope you don't care too much," Anderton said.

"We'll get used to it," Lisa replied, and gave him a fleeting smile.

"Won't we?"

"I hope so. You're positive you'll have no regrets. If I thought-" "No regrets," Lisa assured him. "Now suppose you help me with this crate."

AS THEY B OAROEO rhe lead truck, Witwer drove up in a patrol car. He leaped out and hurried up to them, his face looking strangely haggard. "Before you

]116 I

THE MINORITY REPORT

take off," he said to Anderton, "you'll have to give me a break-down on the

situation with the precogs. I'm getting inquiries from the Senate. They wam

to find out if the middle report, the retraction, was an error-or what." Confusedly, he finished: "I still Can't explain it. The minority report was

wrong, wasn't it?"

"Which minority report?" Anderton inquired, amused.

Witwer blinked. "Then that is it. I might have known."

Seated in the cabin of the truck, Anderton got out his pipe and shook

tobacco into it. With Lisa's lighter he ignited the tobacco and began opera-

tions. Lisa had gone Cfack to the house, wanting to be sure nothing viral had

been overlooked. "There were three minority reports," he-told Witwer, enjoying the young

man's confusion. Someday, Witwer would learn not to wade into situations

he didn't fully understand. Satisfaction was Anderton's final emotion. Old

and worn-out as he was, he had been the only one to grasp the real nature of

rhe problem. "The three reports were consecutive," he explained. "The first was

'Donna.' In that time-path, Kaplan told me of the plot, and I promptly mur-

dered him. 'Jerry,' phased slightly achead of 'Donna,' used her report as data.

He factored in my knowledge of the report. In that, t..h.e second time-path, all

I wanted to do was to keep my job. Ir wasn't Kaplan I wanted to kill. It was

my own position and life I was interested in."

''And 'Mike' was the third report? That came after the minority report?"

Witwer corrected himself ''I mean, it came last?" "'Mike' was the last of the three, yes. Faced with the knowledge of the

first report, I had decided not to kill Kaplan. That produced .report two.

But faced with that report, I changed my mind back. Report two, situation

two, was the situation Kaplan wanted to create. It was to the advantage of

the police to recreate position one. And by that time I was thinking of the

police. I had figured out what Kaplan was doing. The third report invalidated

the second one in the same way the second one invalidated the first. That

brought us back where we started from." Lisa came over, breathless and gasping. "Let's go-we're all finished here."

Lithe and agile, she ascended the metal rungs of the truck and squeezed in

beside her husband and the driver. The latter obediently started up his truck

and the others followed.

I 111 I

Philip K Dick

"Each report was different," Anderton concluded. "Each was unique.

But two of them agreed on one point. If lefr free, I would kill Kaplan. That created the illusion of a majority report. Actually, that's all it was-an illu- sion. 'Donna' and 'Mike' previewed the same event-but in two totally dif-

ferent time-paths, occurring under totally different situations. 'Donna' and

'Jerry,' the so-called minority report and half of the majority report, were

incorrect. Of the three, 'Mike' was correct-since no report came after his, to inValidate him. That sums it up."

Anxiously, Witwer trotted along beside the truck, his smooth, blond face

creased with worry. "Will it happen again? Should we overhaul the set-up?"

"It can happen in only one circumstance," Anderton said. "My case was unique, since I had access to the-data. It could happen again-but only to the

next Police Commissioner. So watch your step." Briefly, he grinned, deriving

no inconsiderable comfort from Witwer's strained expression. Beside him,

Lisa's red lips twitched and her hand reached out and closed over his.

"Better keep your eyes open," he informed young Witwer. "It might

happen to you at any time."

]110 [

The Collected Stories of

Philip K. Dick

VOLUME FOUR: THE MINORITY REPORT

[1951-1963]

SUBTERRANEAN PRESS 2013

1he Minority Report Copyright© 2013 by Laura Leslie, !sa Dick Hackett,

Christopher Dick. All rights reserved.

Dust jacket illustration by Bill Sienkiewicz, Copyright© 2013 by

The Philip K. Dick Testamentary Trust. All rights reserved.

Interior design Copyright·© 2013 by Desett Isle Design, LLC.

All rights reserved.

First Edition

Limited Edition ISBN

978-1-59606-597-0

Trade Edition ISBN

978-1-59606-598-7

Subterranean Press

PO Box 190106

Burton, MI 48519

www.subterraneanpress.com

www.philipkdick.com