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The Project Gutenberg EBook of BeThis eBook is for the use of anyoalmost no restrictions whatsoeverre-use it under the terms of thewith this eBook or online at www.Title: Beyond the DoorAuthor: Philip K. DickRelease Date: April 30, 2009 [EBoLanguage: EnglishCharacter set encoding: ISO-8859-*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBE

Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen BDistributed Proofreading Team atDid you ever wonder at the lonely life the bird in acuckoo clock has to lead—that it might possiblylove and hate just as easily as a real animal offlesh and blood? Philip Dick used that idea for thisbrief fantasy tale. We're sure that after reading ityou'll give cuckoo clocks more respect.

beyond the doorby ... Philip K. Dick

Larry Thomas bought acuckoo clock for his wife—without knowing theprice he would have topay.THAT NIGHT at the dinner table he broughtit out and set it down beside her plate.Doris stared at it, her hand to her mouth.\"My God, what is it?\" She looked up athim, bright-eyed.\"Well, open it.\"Doris tore the ribbon and paper from thesquare package with her sharp nails, herbosom rising and falling. Larry stood

watching her as she lifted the lid. He lita cigarette and leaned against the wall.\"A cuckoo clock!\" Doris cried. \"A realold cuckoo clock like my mother had.\"She turned the clock over and over. \"Justlike my mother had, when Pete was stillalive.\" Her eyes sparkled with tears.\"It's made in Germany,\" Larry said. Aftera moment he added, \"Carl got it for mewholesale. He knows some guy in theclock business. Otherwise I wouldn'thave—\" He stopped.Doris made a funny little sound.\"I mean, otherwise I wouldn't have beenable to afford it.\" He scowled. \"What'sthe matter with you? You've got your

clock, haven't you? Isn't that what youwant?\"Doris sat holding onto the clock, herfingers pressed against the brown wood.\"Well,\" Larry said, \"what's the matter?\"He watched in amazement as she leapedup and ran from the room, still clutchingthe clock. He shook his head. \"Neversatisfied. They're all that way. Never getenough.\"He sat down at the table and finished hismeal.The cuckoo clock was not very large. Itwas hand-made, however, and therewere countless frets on it, little

indentations and ornaments scored in thesoft wood. Doris sat on the bed dryingher eyes and winding the clock. She setthe hands by her wristwatch. Presentlyshe carefully moved the hands to twominutes of ten. She carried the clockover to the dresser and propped it up.Then she sat waiting, her hands twistedtogether in her lap—waiting for thecuckoo to come out, for the hour tostrike.As she sat she thought about Larry andwhat he had said. And what she hadsaid, too, for that matter—not that shecould be blamed for any of it. After all,she couldn't keep listening to himforever without defending herself; you

had to blow your own trumpet in theworld.She touched her handkerchief to her eyessuddenly. Why did he have to say that,about getting it wholesale? Why did hehave to spoil it all? If he felt that way heneedn't have got it in the first place. Sheclenched her fists. He was so mean, sodamn mean.But she was glad of the little clocksitting there ticking to itself, with itsfunny grilled edges and the door. Insidethe door was the cuckoo, waiting tocome out. Was he listening, his headcocked on one side, listening to hear theclock strike so that he would know tocome out?

Did he sleep between hours? Well, shewould soon see him: she could ask him.And she would show the clock to Bob.He would love it; Bob loved old things,even old stamps and buttons. He liked togo with her to the stores. Of course, itwas a little awkward, but Larry had beenstaying at the office so much, and thathelped. If only Larry didn't call upsometimes to—There was a whirr. The clock shudderedand all at once the door opened. Thecuckoo came out, sliding swiftly. Hepaused and looked around solemnly,scrutinizing her, the room, the furniture.It was the first time he had seen her, sherealized, smiling to herself in pleasure.

She stood up, coming toward him shyly.\"Go on,\" she said. \"I'm waiting.\"The cuckoo opened his bill. He whirredand chirped, quickly, rhythmically. Then,after a moment of contemplation, heretired. And the door snapped shut.She was delighted. She clapped herhands and spun in a little circle. He wasmarvelous, perfect! And the way he hadlooked around, studying her, sizing herup. He liked her; she was certain of it.And she, of course, loved him at once,completely. He was just what she hadhoped would come out of the little door.Doris went to the clock. She bent overthe little door, her lips close to the

wood. \"Do you hear me?\" shewhispered. \"I think you're the mostwonderful cuckoo in the world.\" Shepaused, embarrassed. \"I hope you'll likeit here.\"Then she went downstairs again, slowly,her head high.Larry and the cuckoo clock really nevergot along well from the start. Doris saidit was because he didn't wind it right,and it didn't like being only half-woundall the time. Larry turned the job ofwinding over to her; the cuckoo cameout every quarter hour and ran the springdown without remorse, and someone hadto be ever after it, winding it up again.

Doris did her best, but she forgot a gooddeal of the time. Then Larry wouldthrow his newspaper down with anelaborate weary motion and stand up. Hewould go into the dining-room where theclock was mounted on the wall over thefireplace. He would take the clock downand making sure that he had his thumbover the little door, he would wind it up.\"Why do you put your thumb over thedoor?\" Doris asked once.\"You're supposed to.\"She raised an eyebrow. \"Are you sure? Iwonder if it isn't that you don't want himto come out while you're standing soclose.\"

\"Why not?\"\"Maybe you're afraid of him.\"Larry laughed. He put the clock back onthe wall and gingerly removed histhumb. When Doris wasn't looking heexamined his thumb.There was still a trace of the nick cut outof the soft part of it. Who—or what—had pecked at him?One Saturday morning, when Larry wasdown at the office working over someimportant special accounts, BobChambers came to the front porch andrang the bell.

Doris was taking a quick shower. Shedried herself and slipped into her robe.When she opened the door Bob steppedinside, grinning.\"Hi,\" he said, looking around.\"It's all right. Larry's at the office.\"\"Fine.\" Bob gazed at her slim legsbelow the hem of the robe. \"How niceyou look today.\"She laughed. \"Be careful! Maybe Ishouldn't let you in after all.\"They looked at one another, half amusedhalf frightened. Presently Bob said, \"Ifyou want, I'll—\"

\"No, for God's sake.\" She caught hold ofhis sleeve. \"Just get out of the doorwayso I can close it. Mrs. Peters across thestreet, you know.\"She closed the door. \"And I want toshow you something,\" she said. \"Youhaven't seen it.\"He was interested. \"An antique? Orwhat?\"She took his arm, leading him toward thedining-room. \"You'll love it, Bobby.\"She stopped, wide-eyed. \"I hope youwill. You must; you must love it. Itmeans so much to me—he means somuch.\"\"He?\" Bob frowned. \"Who is he?\"

Doris laughed. \"You're jealous! Comeon.\" A moment later they stood beforethe clock, looking up at it. \"He'll comeout in a few minutes. Wait until you seehim. I know you two will get along justfine.\"\"What does Larry think of him?\"\"They don't like each other. Sometimeswhen Larry's here he won't come out.Larry gets mad if he doesn't come out ontime. He says—\"\"Says what?\"Doris looked down. \"He always sayshe's been robbed, even if he did get itwholesale.\" She brightened. \"But I knowhe won't come out because he doesn't

like Larry. When I'm here alone hecomes right out for me, every fifteenminutes, even though he really only hasto come out on the hour.\"She gazed up at the clock. \"He comes outfor me because he wants to. We talk; Itell him things. Of course, I'd like tohave him upstairs in my room, but itwouldn't be right.\"There was the sound of footsteps on thefront porch. They looked at each other,horrified.Larry pushed the front door open,grunting. He set his briefcase down andtook off his hat. Then he saw Bob for thefirst time.

\"Chambers. I'll be damned.\" His eyesnarrowed. \"What are you doing here?\"He came into the dining-room. Dorisdrew her robe about her helplessly,backing away.\"I—\" Bob began. \"That is, we—\" Hebroke off, glancing at Doris. Suddenlythe clock began to whirr. The cuckoocame rushing out, bursting into sound.Larry moved toward him.\"Shut that din off,\" he said. He raised hisfist toward the clock. The cuckoosnapped into silence and retreated. Thedoor closed. \"That's better.\" Larrystudied Doris and Bob, standing mutelytogether.

\"I came over to look at the clock,\" Bobsaid. \"Doris told me that it's a rareantique and that—\"\"Nuts. I bought it myself.\" Larry walkedup to him. \"Get out of here.\" He turned toDoris. \"You too. And take that damnclock with you.\"He paused, rubbing his chin. \"No. Leavethe clock here. It's mine; I bought it andpaid for it.\"In the weeks that followed after Dorisleft, Larry and the cuckoo clock gotalong even worse than before. For onething, the cuckoo stayed inside most ofthe time, sometimes even at twelveo'clock when he should have been

busiest. And if he did come out at all heusually spoke only once or twice, neverthe correct number of times. And therewas a sullen, uncooperative note in hisvoice, a jarring sound that made Larryuneasy and a little angry.But he kept the clock wound, because thehouse was very still and quiet and it goton his nerves not to hear someonerunning around, talking and droppingthings. And even the whirring of a clocksounded good to him.But he didn't like the cuckoo at all. Andsometimes he spoke to him.\"Listen,\" he said late one night to theclosed little door. \"I know you can hear

me. I ought to give you back to theGermans—back to the Black Forest.\" Hepaced back and forth. \"I wonder whatthey're doing now, the two of them. Thatyoung punk with his books and hisantiques. A man shouldn't be interestedin antiques; that's for women.\"He set his jaw. \"Isn't that right?\"The clock said nothing. Larry walked upin front of it. \"Isn't that right?\" hedemanded. \"Don't you have anything tosay?\"He looked at the face of the clock. It wasalmost eleven, just a few seconds beforethe hour. \"All right. I'll wait until eleven.Then I want to hear what you have to

say. You've been pretty quiet the last fewweeks since she left.\"He grinned wryly. \"Maybe you don't likeit here since she's gone.\" He scowled.\"Well, I paid for you, and you're comingout whether you like it or not. You hearme?\"Eleven o'clock came. Far off, at the endof town, the great tower clock boomedsleepily to itself. But the little doorremained shut. Nothing moved. Theminute hand passed on and the cuckoodid not stir. He was someplace insidethe clock, beyond the door, silent andremote.\"All right, if that's the way you feel,\"

Larry murmured, his lips twisting. \"Butit isn't fair. It's your job to come out. Weall have to do things we don't like.\"He went unhappily into the kitchen andopened the great gleaming refrigerator.As he poured himself a drink he thoughtabout the clock.There was no doubt about it—thecuckoo should come out, Doris or noDoris. He had always liked her, from thevery start. They had got along well, thetwo of them. Probably he liked Bob too—probably he had seen enough of Bobto get to know him. They would be quitehappy together, Bob and Doris and thecuckoo.

Larry finished his drink. He opened thedrawer at the sink and took out thehammer. He carried it carefully into thedining-room. The clock was tickinggently to itself on the wall.\"Look,\" he said, waving the hammer.\"You know what I have here? You knowwhat I'm going to do with it? I'm going tostart on you—first.\" He smiled. \"Birdsof a feather, that's what you are—thethree of you.\"The room was silent.\"Are you coming out? Or do I have tocome in and get you?\"The clock whirred a little.

\"I hear you in there. You've got a lot oftalking to do, enough for the last threeweeks. As I figure it, you owe me—\"The door opened. The cuckoo came outfast, straight at him. Larry was lookingdown, his brow wrinkled in thought. Heglanced up, and the cuckoo caught himsquarely in the eye.Down he went, hammer and chair andeverything, hitting the floor with atremendous crash. For a moment thecuckoo paused, its small body poisedrigidly. Then it went back inside itshouse. The door snapped tight-shut afterit.The man lay on the floor, stretched out

grotesquely, his head bent over to oneside. Nothing moved or stirred. Theroom was completely silent, except, ofcourse, for the ticking of the clock.\"I see,\" Doris said, her face tight. Bobput his arm around her, steadying her.\"Doctor,\" Bob said, \"can I ask yousomething?\"\"Of course,\" the doctor said.\"Is it very easy to break your neck,falling from so low a chair? It wasn'tvery far to fall. I wonder if it might nothave been an accident. Is there anychance it might have been—\"

\"Suicide?\" the doctor rubbed his jaw. \"Inever heard of anyone committingsuicide that way. It was an accident; I'mpositive.\"\"I don't mean suicide,\" Bob murmuredunder his breath, looking up at the clockon the wall. \"I meant something else.\"But no one heard him.Transcriber'sNote:This etext was producedfrom Fantastic

Universe January 1954.Extensive research didnot uncover anyevidence that the U.S.copyright on thispublication wasrenewed. Minorspelling andtypographical errors

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