Glen Runciter is dead. Or is he? Someone died in the explosion orchestrated by
his business rivals, but even as his funeral is scheduled, his mourning
employees are receiving bewildering messages from their boss. And the world
around them is warping and regressing in ways which suggest that their own time
is running out. If it hasn't already.Nobody but Philip K. Dick could so
successfully combine SF comedy with the unease of reality gone wrong, shifting
underfoot like quicksand. Besides grisly ideas like funeral parlors where you
swap gossip for the advice of the frozen dead, Ubik (1969) offers such deadpan
farce as a moneyless character's attack