by Neil Goble
for Mr. Smith," Dwindle said for thefourth time. "His lowest percentage in any one category was eighty percent. The next highest score was by Dr. Schmelling, who hadseventy-eight per cent, but he failed in six categories. The thirdhighest score was by Dr. Ranson, seventy-six per cent, failing in sevencategories. The fourth highest score was--"
"Enough. Enough," General Marcher interrupted. "I think we've found ourman, don't you, Dwindle?"
"I hope we don't have to use pressure, sir," Dwindle replied.
Jones turned from the window, from which he was observing the bums inthe park. "How can you possibly consider such a thing," he blurted, "asto send a penniless, unemployed, dirty, ragged tramp to Ganymede as theUnited States' Number One emissary?"
"Jones, perhaps I'd best clarify a point or two for you," GeneralMarcher said in measured tones. "We've been searching the nation over,seeking a man who can fulfill our exacting requirements. We have foundthat man. There is no doubt in my mind that Mr. Smith possesses thegreatest single store of knowledge about this planet and its people. Sofar as I'm concerned, which is considerable, it doesn't matter thatthis man has chosen the way of a philosopher instead of seeking anoccupation. It doesn't matter that he lacks the necessary status to belisted on your IBM cards. It doesn't matter that you failed to find thisman, because Dwindle succeeded. And, it doesn't matter whether I eversee you again!"
"Yes, sir," Jones said, and picked up his hat and left.
"Now, back to the business at hand, Dwindle. You say these prospectsdon't know the reasons behind the test?"
"That is correct, sir. I feared there might be some temptation for theprospects to not do their best, if they knew that success might resultin their being removed from the face of the Earth."
"Wise. Then I suggest we approach Mr. Smith on the idea, cautiously, todetermine his sentiments. If he doesn't want to go, of course, we've gotto draft him."
* * * * *
Freddy cracked the peanut, put half in his mouth and tossed the otherhalf to the sparrows.
"I might be going away for a while, Willy," he said, ending a ratherlong silence.
"You ain't gettin' a job, are ya Freddy?"
"Watch yer language," Oscar scolded.
"Naw, not really a job. At least not the kind you think of. Sort of anall-expense-paid vacation, with a change of scenery."
"Ya ain't had a run-in with the bulls, have ya?" the stricken Willyasked.
"Me? You know me better, Willy. Nothing like that. And I'm not even surethe thing will pan out, but you know all those newspaper stories aboutmessages from another planet?"
"Yeh! Yeh! Ya read it to me!" Willy jabbered excitedly.
"And that test I took that you sent in and the fellas talked to meabout?"
"Yeh! Say, I hope that didn't make you trouble, Freddy, 'cuz me 'n'Oscar was just kinda jokin', see, and--"
"It's O.K., Willy. Well, one of the fellas I talked to was GeneralMarcher, who's been mentioned in the newspaper stories in connectionwith ... here, Willy, take these," he interrupted himself when he sawthe two men approaching. "See that new guy at the bench over yonder?Give him these peanuts. I think he'd like to feed my sparrows while I'mgone. Name's Jones, and he'll probably be around for a spell."
Freddy stood up to greet the two arrivals.
"Hello, general," he said, tipping his battered cap. "It's about thetrip to Ganymede, I suppose?"
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from _Analog Science Fact and Science Fiction_ February 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected without note. Dialect spellings have been retained.
