43 pages • 1 hour read
Philip K. DickA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
While Arctor and his supervisor “Hank” peruse a list of suspects, Arctor bemoans his emotional numbness in the face of some of the drug’s worst casualties. Hank and Arctor, both in their scramble suits, don’t know each other’s true identity. Arctor (codenamed Fred) reports on the whereabouts and movements of his own undercover identity—Arctor uses and is low-wage employee. Hank, unaware that Fred and Arctor are the same person, assigns him to keep tabs on Arctor.
At night, in Arctor’s backyard, Barris tests a homemade silencer while he and Freck haggle over stolen electronics. In his room, Arctor reflects on his past: Once married with children, he realizes he hates the straight life. He divorces and goes undercover as part of the drug counterculture. He lies in bed and obsesses over his broken “cephscope” and Jerry Fabin’s aphid delusion. Barris comes into Arctor’s room and “theorizes” that he himself damaged the cephscope, although it’s only a theory. Arctor swallows two tabs of Substance D and falls asleep.
Arctor, Barris, and a third roommate Ernie Luckman, drive to San Diego, and Arctor as special agent Fred informs his supervisor of their absence so the agency can install “holo-scanners” in the house. When they reach their destination, he drops off Barris and Luckman and visits Kimberly, who has an addiction and lives with her abusive boyfriend and dealer. When the boyfriend returns and she refuses to open the door, he runs outside and slashes her tires. Kimberly doesn’t have a phone, so they call the police from a neighbor’s apartment. The officer takes a statement, and Arctor suggests she find another place to stay, but she tells him to get out. On the drive back to Orange County, he can only laugh at the dismal absurdity of the situation. On the freeway, Arctor’s gas pedal sticks, and the car speeds out of control. They narrowly avert an accident, shut down the engine, and coast to a stop. Inspecting the engine, they suspect the damage was deliberate. Arctor smells dog feces on the engine but isn’t sure if he’s hallucinating. He’s convinced that Barris sabotaged both the car and his cephscope. He also fears Barris knows his true identity.
The near-fatal accident reminds Arctor of the danger of his profession. Anyone, including Barris, could try to kill him at any time. Barris then informs them that he rigged a recording system in the house in case anyone breaks in while they’re away. Arctor, feeling paranoid, knows that creating self-doubt in one’s enemy is more effective than a direct assault. He ruminates on the hypocrisy and judgement with which straights view dopers—straights, who are often more guilty of the sins they accuse dopers of. They return to the house, and Arctor wonders if the surveillance crew has installed the holo-scanners. The house seems untouched until Luckman discovers a smoldering joint left in the ashtray. They realize someone’s been there, and they suspect drugs have been planted. They discuss their options, including selling the house and reporting the break-in to narcotics authorities. Just then, Donna emerges from the bedroom and admits she smoked the joint. Arctor is shaken that he fell into the same “paranoid space” as the others.
Arctor—as Fred—meets Hank, who informs him that six holo-scanners have been installed in his house and that video feeds can be viewed at a surveillance hub just down the block from him. He realizes there’s a problem, though—if he, as undercover agent Fred, tinkers with the scanners to upload the data, will his supervisors see the video and wonder how the suspect, Bob Arctor, knows where the scanners are? He is told to “creatively” edit himself out of the videos to avoid confusion. Hank informs him that they are gathering enough evidence to “close the book on [Arctor]’” (83). They discuss using Arctor’s house as another surveillance hub after he’s arrested. The meeting ends, and Fred is ordered to report to another meeting.
Fred is met by two Orange County deputies, who conduct several tests to assess whether he exhibits signs of Substance D addiction. A positive test will result in assignment to a rehab clinic. The agents recall a reported incident in which Arctor, Barris, Luckman, and Donna all fail to understand the “gear ratios” of a 10-speed bike, a relatively simple cognitive function and possible indication of brain impairment. Fred grows impatient with the testing; he can only think about Donna and how to get close to her.
Arctor’s dual identity as undercover agent Fred begins to take its toll. While his supervisors acknowledge that some casual drug use is necessary to the performance of his job, Substance D—which severs the connection between the brain’s right and left hemispheres—makes him paranoid and delusional and furthers the theme of Institutional Corruption. When he examines his car engine after the gas pedal sticks, he imagines the engine block is covered in dog feces. He doesn’t understand the gear ratio of a 10-speed bike, and he can’t identify a common image during his psychological evaluation. What’s worse, however, is the profound identity crisis he suffers that underlines the theme of The Illusive Nature of Personal Identity. Is he Arctor or Fred? Are they the same person or two separate individuals?
In Arctor’s identity confusion, Dick ponders a profound philosophical question: What constitutes an identity? Is it the sum of one’s actions—in which case Arctor and Fred could be considered two different people—or is it more? If the connection between his brain hemispheres is indeed being cut, is Arctor being guided by one half and Fred the other? Dick intersperses the narrative with citations of actual neurological research and theory. The effect is unsettling and sets up the theme of The Nature of Reality. While Arctor fears for his own mental health and the damage he may be doing to it, Dick details results of split-brain research conducted in the 1960s that suggests that if one hemisphere is disabled, the other will continue to function independently. The combination of narrative paranoia and cold, clinical exposition results in a disconcerting yo-yo effect, the reader being pulled away from Arctor’s interior perspective to ponder the neuroscience of brain damage only to be thrust back into Arctor’s delusional mental state again.
Throughout all the tangential ramblings, the constant suspicion, the fear for his life, and the perpetual survival strategies of being a user (including the reckless scrambling to hide his stash), Arctor realizes one thing that’s important to him: Donna. While Dick describes his desire for Donna as mostly physical, Arctor also seeks that intangible human connection so lacking in his world of users and dealers: “And, he thought, I would like to take someone with me when I go there [back to nature], maybe Donna” (95). Surrounded by the pollution and blight of Southern California and the squalor of an addict’s life, he fantasizes not only about sex but also about another life altogether, a life surrounded by flowers and open fields and clean air. Perhaps, Dick implies, buried beneath the cravings and anything-for-a-fix desperation lies the yearning for a simpler, cleaner existence, not the plastic suburbia of the straights—which is in some ways just as squalid an existence as their own—but a natural, organic high stemming from love and free from the looming cloud of addiction.
By Philip K. Dick