Flow My Tears, the Policeman Said; Chapter 2

 Jason wakes up. He is not in the hospital.

He's in a fleabag hotel. The marks of the jellyfish are gone. Hanging in the closet is his silk suit, which improbably has that gigantic wad of cash he was flashing earlier. Understandably confused and on the brink of panic, Jason dresses and unsteadily shuffels to the lobby and its phone, as hotels as nasty as this don't have phones in their rooms. Using the payphone he calls his agent and his attorney, but neither have heard of Jason Taverner and blow him off as a crank. Jason checks a discarded LA Times, and the date printed is literally the next day - according to the date, the events of chapter one happened the night before. Jason's agent made a brief appearance in it. Looking through the paper, he can't find any of the ads or notices featuring him, his regular appearance at a fancy club, or a mention of his TV show. Now on the verge of freaking out, only Jason's Six status keeps him working. He decides to call someone else, goes to his wallet to get the number, and discovers all his IDs are gone.

This is worse than you'd think.

Y'see, fun story, America in 1988 is a totalitarian police state. Flow My Tears was published in 1974, and Dick has the campus protest movement become permanent - revolutionary structures have taken over the universities. The Government meanwhile, has formed siege lines around the universities, and most of the activity has moved literally underground, where students and professors do...something. Anybody caught without any ID is presumed to be an agent or an escapee from the radical underground, and thus someone who's going to spend the rest of their lives in a forced labor camp.

So Jason has not only been reduced to nothing, he's a substantial negative person; an untermenchen as the Nazis used to say. Jason calls the Birth Registration control center in Iowa, and, nope, no record of his birth. Because of the terrifying possibilities of forgetting your IDs, everyone has an ID tattoo on their forearm, plus some stuff we'd call RFID chips today...but Jason is so paranoid now he doesn't trust that it will do anything. Six to the fore: first job is to get fake IDs. Jason doesn't want to end up with a pickaxe on the moon.

The Hotel clerk is reading Box magazine. Jason takes a $500 bill and plops it on the hotel desk. Saying his cards have been stolen and he needs replacements ASAP, the clerk agrees to help. Oh and the clerk is telepathic and can read Jason's mind.