A Late Word from Philip

PKD is the kind of raw mess of imagination of which we cannot get enough. The beat strucutre is weird and surprsing. The reader witnesses himself being ambushed. We suppose a great deal of PKD's posthumous success owes to so many aesthetic and thematic doors left standing half open. Why the Western culture rarely produces this sort of writer any longer is worth pondering. Here's a great speech of his in way of illustration. So, listen up universe builders.

"I once wrote a story about a man who was injured and taken to a hospital. When they began surgery on him, they discovered that he was an android, not a human, but that he did not know it. They had to break the news to him. Almost at once, Mr. Garson Poole discovered that his reality consisted of punched tape passing from reel to reel in his chest. Fascinated, he began to fill in some of the punched holes and add new ones. Immediately, his world changed. A flock of ducks flew through the room when he punched one new hole in the tape. Finally he cut the tape entirely, whereupon the world disappeared. However, it also disappeared for the other characters in the story… which makes no sense, if you think about it. Unless the other characters were figments of his punched-tape fantasy. Which I guess is what they were."

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