‘There’s plenty of string,’ said Mr. Dick, ‘and when it flies high, it takes the facts a long way. That’s my manner of diffusing ‘em. I don’t know where they may come down. It’s according to circumstances, and the wind, and so forth; but I take my chance of that.’In that magical dimension in which Mr. Dick lives, he envisions and foresees that words —which he calls facts— not only live, fly, soar, and travel in space, but that also have consequences which a writer cannot foresee. In Mr. Dick's century in which radio, TV, satellite, the Internet, and other special communication was unknown, only a madman could have foreseen that: that words could travel with the speed of wind, much less at the speed of light.