How to Build a Universe Which Fall Apart Two Days Later simply by Philip K. Dick, 1978

First, before I set out to bore you with the normal sort of issues science fictional works writers declare in speeches and toasts, let me bring you official greetings from Disneyland. I consider myself a spokesperson intended for Disneyland mainly because I live just a few a long way from it—and, as if that have been not enough, We once had the honor of being interviewed presently there by Paris, france TV. For many weeks following the interview, I used to be really sick and confined to bed. I think it was the whirling teacups that achieved it. Elizabeth Antebi, who was the producer of the film, wished to have me personally whirling around in one of the huge teacups whilst discussing the rise of fascism with Norman Spinrad... an old friend i have who writes excellent science fiction. We all also mentioned Watergate, but we did that on the deck of Chief Hook's buccaneer ship. Little ones wearing Mickey Mouse hats—those black hats with the ears—kept running up and bumping against all of us as the cameras whirred away, and Elizabeth asked unexpected queries. Norman and I, being preoccupied with tossing little children about, said a lot of extraordinarly foolish things that day. Today, however , I will have to agree to full to take responsiblity for what I tell you, since none of you are putting on Mickey Mouse button hats aiming to ascend up on me personally under the impression that I i am part of the rigging of a pirate ship.

Technology fiction copy writers, I am sorry to express, really do not understand anything. We can't discuss science, mainly because our knowledge of it is limited and informal, and usually each of our fiction can be dreadful. Some three years ago, no college or university will ever consider inviting certainly one of us of talking. We were mercifully confined to lurid pulp journals, impressing no-one. In those days, friends would claim me, " But are you writing anything at all serious? " meaning " Are you publishing anything besides science fiction? " We longed to get accepted. We yearned to be noticed. Then, suddenly, the educational world observed us, i was invited to provide speeches and appearance on panels—and immediately we made oie of ourself. The problem is basically this: What does a research fiction writer know about? Upon what topic is he an power?

It jogs my memory of a subject that appeared in a Cal newspaper right before I flew here. SCIENTISTS SAY THAT RODENTS CANNOT BE MADE TO LOOK LIKE PEOPLE. It was a federally funded research software, I suppose. Consider: Someone on this planet is an authority for the topic of whether mice can or cannot put on two-tone shoes, derby hats, pinstriped shirts, and Dacron slacks, and pass as individuals.

Well, Let me tell you what interests me, what I consider important. I actually can't claims to be an authority upon anything, nevertheless I can seriously say that selected matters completely fascinate me personally, and that We write about all the time. The 2 basic topics which charm me will be " Precisely what is reality? " and " What makes up the genuine human being? " Over the twenty-seven years in which I have published novels and stories I use investigated these two interrelated matters over and over again. I actually consider them important topics. What are we? What is it which will surrounds us, that we contact the not-me, or the empirical or remarkable world?

In 1951, once i sold my own first account, I had no clue that such fundamental concerns could be pursued in the science fiction field. I started to pursue all of them unconsciously. My personal first tale had to do with a dog who dreamed that the garbagemen who came up every Fri morning were stealing beneficial food that the family got carefully kept away within a safe metallic container. Daily, members of the family completed paper sacks of wonderful ripe food, stuffed them into the metal container, shut the sport bike helmet tightly—and if the container was full, these types of dreadful-looking beings came and stole anything but the may.

Finally, in the story, your dog begins to imagine that someday the garbagemen will eat those in the house, along with stealing their food. Of...