"The wub, sir," Peterson said. "It spoke!"BEYOND LIES THE WUB
By PHILIP K. DICK
The slovenly wub might well have said: Many men
talk like philosophers and live like fools.
They had almost finished with theloading. Outside stood the Optus, hisarms folded, his face sunk in gloom.Captain Franco walked leisurely down thegangplank, grinning.
"What's the matter?" he said. "You'regetting paid for all this."
The Optus said nothing. He turned away,collecting his robes. The Captain put hisboot on the hem of the robe.
"Just a minute. Don't go off. I'm notfinished."
"Oh?" The Optus turned with dignity. "Iam going back to the village." He lookedtoward the animals and birds being drivenup the gangplank into the spaceship. "Imust organize new hunts."
Franco lit a cigarette. "Why not? Youpeople can go out into the veldt and trackit all down again. But when we run outhalfway between Mars and Earth—"
The Optus went off, wordless. Francojoined the first mate at the bottom of thegangplank.
"How's it coming?" he said. He lookedat his watch. "We got a good bargainhere."
The mate glanced at him sourly. "Howdo you explain that?"
"What's the matter with you? We needit more than they do."
"I'll see you later, Captain." The matethreaded his way up the plank, between thelong-legged Martian go-birds, into the ship.Franco watched him disappear. He was juststarting up after him, up the plank towardthe port, when he saw it.
"My God!" He stood staring, his handson his hips. Peterson was walking alongthe path, his face red, leading it by a string.
"I'm sorry, Captain," he said, tugging atthe string. Franco walked toward him.
"What is it?"
The wub stood sagging, its great bodysettling slowly. It was sitting down, its eyeshalf shut. A few flies buzzed about its flank,and it switched its tail.
It sat. There was silence.
"It's a wub," Peterson said. "I got it froma native for fifty cents. He said it was avery unusual animal. Very respected."
"This?" Franco poked the great slopingside of the wub. "It's a pig! A huge dirtypig!"
"Yes sir, it's a pig. The natives call it awub."
"A huge pig. It must weigh four hundredpounds." Franco grabbed a tuft of therough hair. The wub gasped. Its eyesopened, small and moist. Then its greatmouth twitched.
A tear rolled down the wub's cheek andsplashed on the floor.
"Maybe it's good to eat," Peterson saidnervously.
"We'll soon find out," Franco said.
The wub survived the take-off, soundasleep in the hold of the ship. Whenthey were out in space and everything wasrunning smoothly, Captain Franco bade hismen fetch the wub upstairs so that he mightperceive what manner of beast it was.
The wub grunted and wheezed, squeezingup the passageway.
"Come on," Jones grated, pulling at therope. The wub twisted, rubbing its skin offon the smooth chrome walls. It burst intothe ante-room, tumbling down in a heap.The men leaped up.
"Good Lord," French said. "What is it?"
"Peterson says it's a wub," Jones said."It belongs to him." He kicked at the wub.The wub stood up unsteadily, panting.
"What's the matter with it?" French cameover. "Is it going to be sick?"
They watched. The wub rolled its eyesmournfully. It gazed around at the men.
"I think it's thirsty," Pe