Do androids dream of electric sheep?

The bounty hunters before you. Each time they get furious and talk wildly about killing me, but when the time comes they can't do it. Just like you, just now." She lit a cigarette, inhaled with relish. "You realize what this means, don't you? It means I was right; you won't be able to retire any more androids; it won't be just me, it'll be the Batys and Stratton, too. So go on home to your goat. And get some rest." Suddenly she brushed at her coat, violently. "Yife! I got a burning ash from my cigarette — there, it's gone." She sank back against the seat, relaxing.

He said nothing.

"That goat," Rachel said. "You love the goat more than you love your wife, probably. First the goat, then your wife, then last of all — " She laughed merrily. "What can you do but laugh?"

He did not answer. They continued in silence for a while and then Rachael poked about, found the car's radio, and switched it on.

"Turn it off," Rick said.

"Turn off Buster Friendly and his Friendly Friends? Tum off Amanda Werner and Oscar Scruggs? It's time to hear Buster's big sensational exposй, which is finally almost arrived." She stooped to read the dial of her watch by the radio's light. "Very soon now. Did you already know about it? He's been talking about it, building up to it, for — "

The radio said, " — ah jes wan ta tell ya, folks, that ahm sitten hih with my pal Bustuh, an we're tawkin en haven a real mighty fine time, waitin expectantly as we ah with each tick uh the clock foh what ah understan is the mos important announcement of — "

Rick shut the radio off. "Oscar Scruggs," he said. "The voice of intelligent man."

Instantly reaching, Rachael clicked the radio back on. "I want to listen. I intend to listen. This is important, what Buster Friendly has to say on his show tonight." The idiotic voice babbled once more from the speaker, and Rachael Rosen settled back and made herself comfortable. Beside him in the darkness the coal of her cigarette glowed like the rump of a complacent lightning bug: a steady, unwavering index of Rachael Rosen's achievement. Her victory over him.

EIGHTEEN

"Bring the rest of my property up here," Pris ordered J. R. Isidore. "In particular I want the TV set. So we can hear Buster's announcement."

"Yes," Irmgard Baty agreed, bright-eyed, like a darting, plumed swift. "We need the TV; we've been waiting a long time for tonight and now it'll be starting soon."

Isidore said, "My own set gets the government channel."

Off in a corner of the living room, seated in a deep chair as if he intended to remain permanently, as if he had taken up lodgings in the chair, Roy Baty belched and said patiently, "It's Buster Friendly and his Friendly Friends that we want to watch, Iz. Or do you want me to call you J.R.? Anyhow, do you understand? So will you go get the set?"

Alone, Isidore made his way down the echoing, empty hall to the stairs. The potent, strong fragrance of happiness still bloomed in him, the sense of being — for the first time in his dull life — useful. Others depend on me now, he exulted as he trudged down the dust-impacted steps to the level beneath.

And, he thought, it'll be nice to see Buster Friendly on TV again, instead of just listening on the radio in the store truck. And that's right, he realized; Buster Friendly is going to reveal his carefully documented sensational exposй tonight. So because of Pris and Roy and Irmgard I get to watch what will probably be the most important piece of news to be released in many years. How about that, he said to himself.

Life, for J. R. Isidore, had definitely taken an upswing.

He entered Pris's former apartment, unplugged the TV set, and detached the antenna. The silence, all at once, penetrated; he felt his arms grow vague. In the absence of the Batys and Pris he found himself fading out, becoming strangely like the inert television set which he had just unplugged. You have to be with other people, he thought. In order to live at all. I mean, before they came here I could stand it, being alone in the building. But now it's changed. You can't go back, he thought. You can't go from people to nonpeople. In panic he thought, I'm dependent on them. Thank god they stayed.

It would require two trips to transfer Pris's possessions to the apartment above. Hoisting the TV set he decided to take it first, then the suitcases and remaining clothes.

A few minutes later he had gotten the TV set upstairs; his fingers groaning he placed it on a coffee table in his living room. The Batys and Pris watched impassively.

"We get a good signal in this building," he panted as he plugged in the cord and attached the antenna. "When I used to get Buster Friendly and his — "

"Just turn the set on," Roy Baty said. "And stop talking. He did so, then hurried to the door. "One more trip," he said, "will do it." He lingered, warming himself at the hearth of their presence.

"Fine," Pris said remotely.