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diff --git a/24977-h/24977-h.htm b/24977-h/24977-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4925547 --- /dev/null +++ b/24977-h/24977-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1576 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Perfectionists, by Arnold Castle + </title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + p {margin-top: .75em; text-align: justify; margin-bottom: .75em;} + h1,h2 {text-align: center; clear: both;} + hr {width: 45%; margin: 1em auto; clear: both; visibility: hidden;} + body {margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .figcenter {margin: 0 auto 1em; width: 600px;} + .trn {border: solid 1px; margin: 3em 15%; padding: 1em; text-align: justify;} + img {border: none;} + p.cap:first-letter {float: left; margin-right: .05em; padding-top: .05em; font-size: 300%; line-height: .8em;} + .dcap {text-transform: uppercase;} + .illo {margin-top: 2em; text-align: center;} + .tease {margin: 2em auto 3em; text-align: justify; width: 16em;} + .theend {text-align: right; font-weight: bold; margin-top: 2em;} + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Perfectionists, by Arnold Castle + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Perfectionists + +Author: Arnold Castle + +Illustrator: Leo Summers + +Release Date: April 2, 2008 [EBook #24977] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PERFECTIONISTS *** + + + + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<div class="figcenter"> +<img src="images/001.png" width="600" height="428" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<h1><big>THE PERFECTIONISTS</big></h1> + +<h2>By ARNOLD CASTLE</h2> + +<p class="illo"><small><b>ILLUSTRATED by SUMMERS</b></small></p> + +<div class="tease"><b><i>Is there something wrong with you? +Do you fail to fit in with your group? +Nervous, anxious, ill-at-ease? Happy +about it? Lucky you!</i></b></div> + +<p class="cap"><span class="dcap">Frank Pembroke</span> sat behind +the desk of his shabby +little office over Lemark's Liquors +in downtown Los Angeles and +waited for his first customer. He +had been in business for a week +and as yet had had no callers. +Therefore, it was with a mingled +sense of excitement and satisfaction +that he greeted the tall, +dark, smooth-faced figure that +came up the stairs and into the +office shortly before noon.</p> + +<p>"Good day, sir," said Pembroke +with an amiable smile. "I +see my advertisement has interested +you. Please stand in that +corner for just a moment."</p> + +<p>Opening the desk drawer, +which was almost empty, Pembroke +removed an automatic pistol +fitted with a silencer. Pointing +it at the amazed customer, he +fired four .22 caliber longs into +the narrow chest. Then he made +a telephone call and sat down to +wait. He wondered how long it +would be before his next client +would arrive.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The series of events leading up +to Pembroke's present occupation +had commenced on a dismal, +overcast evening in the South +Pacific a year earlier. Bound for +Sydney, two days out of Valparaiso, +the Colombian tramp +steamer <i>Elena Mia</i> had encountered +a dense greenish fog which +seemed vaguely redolent of citrus +trees. Standing on the forward +deck, Pembroke was one of the +first to perceive the peculiar odor +and to spot the immense gray +hulk wallowing in the murky distance.</p> + +<p>Then the explosion had come, +from far below the waterline, +and the decks were awash with +frantic crewmen, officers, and the +handful of passengers. Only two +lifeboats were launched before +the <i>Elena Mia</i> went down. Pembroke +was in the second. The +roar of the sinking ship was the +last thing he heard for some +time.</p> + +<p>Pembroke came as close to being +a professional adventurer as +one can in these days of regimented +travel, organized peril, +and political restriction. He had +made for himself a substantial +fortune through speculation in a +great variety of properties, real +and otherwise. Life had given +him much and demanded little, +which was perhaps the reason +for his restiveness.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Loyalty to person or to people +was a trait Pembroke had never +recognized in himself, nor had it +ever been expected of him. And +yet he greatly envied those +staunch patriots and lovers who +could find it in themselves to +elevate the glory and safety of +others above that of themselves.</p> + +<p>Lacking such loyalties, Pembroke +adapted quickly to the situation +in which he found himself +when he regained consciousness. +He awoke in a small room in +what appeared to be a typical +modern American hotel. The wallet +in his pocket contained exactly +what it should, approximately +three hundred dollars. +His next thought was of food. +He left the room and descended +via the elevator to the restaurant. +Here he observed that it +was early afternoon. Ordering +a full dinner, for he was unusually +hungry, he began to study the +others in the restaurant.</p> + +<p>Many of the faces seemed familiar; +the crew of the ship, +probably. He also recognized several +of the passengers. However, +he made no attempt to speak to +them. After his meal, he bought +a good corona and went for a +walk. His situation could have +been any small western American +seacoast city. He heard the hiss +of the ocean in the direction the +afternoon sun was taking. In his +full-gaited walk, he was soon approaching +the beach.</p> + +<p>On the sand he saw a number +of sun bathers. One in particular, +an attractive woman of about +thirty, tossed back her long, +chestnut locks and gazed up intently +at Pembroke as he passed. +Seldom had he enjoyed so ingenuous +an invitation. He halted +and stared down at her for a few +moments.</p> + +<p>"You are looking for someone?" +she inquired.</p> + +<p>"Much of the time," said the +man.</p> + +<p>"Could it be me?"</p> + +<p>"It could be."</p> + +<p>"Yet you seem unsure," she +said.</p> + +<p>Pembroke smiled, uneasily. +There was something not entirely +normal about her conversation. +Though the rest of her compensated +for that.</p> + +<p>"Tell me what's wrong with +me," she went on urgently. "I'm +not good enough, am I? I mean, +there's something wrong with +the way I look or act. Isn't there? +Please help me, please!"</p> + +<p>"You're not casual enough, for +one thing," said Pembroke, deciding +to play along with her for +the moment. "You're too tense. +Also you're a bit knock-kneed, +not that it matters. Is that what +you wanted to hear?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes—I mean, I suppose +so. I can try to be more casual. +But I don't know what to do +about my knees," she said wistfully, +staring across at the +smooth, tan limbs. "Do you think +I'm okay otherwise? I mean, as a +whole I'm not so bad, am I? Oh, +please tell me."</p> + +<p>"How about talking it over at +supper tonight?" Pembroke proposed. +"Maybe with less distraction +I'll have a better picture of +you—as a whole."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's very generous of +you," the woman told him. She +scribbled a name and an address +on a small piece of paper and +handed it to him. "Any time +after six," she said.</p> + +<p>Pembroke left the beach and +walked through several small +specialty shops. He tried to get +the woman off his mind, but the +oddness of her conversation continued +to bother him. She was +right about being different, but +it was her concern about being +different that made her so. How +to explain <i>that</i> to her?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Then he saw the weird little +glass statuette among the usual +bric-a-brac. It rather resembled +a ground hog, had seven fingers +on each of its six limbs, and +smiled up at him as he stared.</p> + +<p>"Can I help you, sir?" a middle-aged +saleswoman inquired. +"Oh, good heavens, whatever is +that thing doing here?"</p> + +<p>Pembroke watched with lifted +eyebrows as the clerk whisked +the bizarre statuette underneath +the counter.</p> + +<p>"What the hell was that?" +Pembroke demanded.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know—or don't you? +Oh, my," she concluded, "are you +one of the—strangers?"</p> + +<p>"And if I were?"</p> + +<p>"Well, I'd certainly appreciate +it if you'd tell me how I walk."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>She came around in front of +the counter and strutted back +and forth a few times.</p> + +<p>"They tell me I lean too far +forward," she confided. "But I +should think you'd fall down if +you didn't."</p> + +<p>"Don't try to go so fast and +you won't fall down," suggested +Pembroke. "You're in too much +of a hurry. Also those fake flowers +on your blouse make you look +frumpy."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm supposed to look +frumpy," the woman retorted. +"That's the type of person I am. +But you can look frumpy and still +walk natural, can't you? Everyone +says you can."</p> + +<p>"Well, they've got a point," +said Pembroke. "Incidentally, +just where are we, anyway? +What city is this?"</p> + +<p>"Puerto Pacifico," she told +him. "Isn't that a lovely name? +It means peaceful port. In Spanish."</p> + +<p>That was fine. At least he now +knew where he was. But as he +left the shop he began checking +off every west coast state, city, +town, and inlet. None, to the best +of his knowledge, was called +Puerto Pacifico.</p> + +<p>He headed for the nearest +service station and asked for a +map. The attendant gave him one +which showed the city, but nothing +beyond.</p> + +<p>"Which way is it to San Francisco?" +asked Pembroke.</p> + +<p>"That all depends on where +you are," the boy returned.</p> + +<p>"Okay, then where am I?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, there's a customer," +the boy said. "This is +Puerto Pacifico."</p> + +<p>Pembroke watched him hurry +off to service a car with a sense +of having been given the runaround. +To his surprise, the boy +came back a few minutes later +after servicing the automobile.</p> + +<p>"Say, I've just figured out who +you are," the youngster told him. +"I'd sure appreciate it if you'd +give me a little help on my lingo. +Also, you gas up the car first, +then try to sell 'em the oil—right?"</p> + +<p>"Right," said Pembroke wearily. +"What's wrong with your +lingo? Other than the fact that +it's not colloquial enough."</p> + +<p>"Not enough slang, huh? Well, +I guess I'll have to concentrate +on that. How about the smile?"</p> + +<p>"Perfect," Pembroke told him.</p> + +<p>"Yeah?" said the boy delightedly. +"Say, come back again, +huh? I sure appreciate the help. +Keep the map."</p> + +<p>"Thanks. One more thing," +Pembroke said. "What's over +that way—outside the city?"</p> + +<p>"Sand."</p> + +<p>"How about that way?" he +asked, pointing north. "And that +way?" pointing south.</p> + +<p>"More of the same."</p> + +<p>"Any railroads?"</p> + +<p>"That we ain't got."</p> + +<p>"Buses? Airlines?"</p> + +<p>The kid shook his head.</p> + +<p>"Some city."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, it's kinda isolated. A +lot of ships dock here, though."</p> + +<p>"All cargo ships, I'll bet. No +passengers," said Pembroke.</p> + +<p>"Right," said the attendant, +giving with his perfect smile.</p> + +<p>"No getting out of here, is +there?"</p> + +<p>"That's for sure," the boy said, +walking away to wait on another +customer. "If you don't like the +place, you've had it."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Pembroke returned to the +hotel. Going to the bar, he recognized +one of the <i>Elena Mia's</i> paying +passengers. He was a short, +rectangular little man in his fifties +named Spencer. He sat in a +booth with three young women, +all lovely, all effusive. The topic +of the conversation turned out +to be precisely what Pembroke +had predicted.</p> + +<p>"Well, Louisa, I'd say your +only fault is the way you keep +wigglin' your shoulders up 'n' +down. Why'n'sha try holdin' 'em +straight?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it made me look +sexy," the redhead said petulantly.</p> + +<p>"Just be yourself, gal," Spencer +drawled, jabbing her intimately +with a fat elbow, "and +you'll qualify."</p> + +<p>"Me, me," the blonde with a +feather cut was insisting. "What +is wrong with me?"</p> + +<p>"You're perfect, sweetheart," +he told her, taking her hand.</p> + +<p>"Ah, come on," she pleaded. +"Everyone tells me I chew gum +with my mouth open. Don't you +hate that?"</p> + +<p>"Naw, that's part of your +charm," Spencer assured her.</p> + +<p>"How 'bout me, sugar," asked +the girl with the coal black hair.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you're perfect, too. You +are all perfect. I've never seen +such a collection of dolls as parade +around this here city. +C'mon, kids—how 'bout another +round?"</p> + +<p>But the dolls had apparently +lost interest in him. They got up +one by one and walked out of the +bar. Pembroke took his rum and +tonic and moved over to Spencer's +booth.</p> + +<p>"Okay if I join you?"</p> + +<p>"Sure," said the fat man. +"Wonder what the hell got into +those babes?"</p> + +<p>"You said they were perfect. +They know they're not. You've +got to be rough with them in this +town," said Pembroke. "That's +all they want from us."</p> + +<p>"Mister, you've been doing +some thinkin', I can see," said +Spencer, peering at him suspiciously. +"Maybe you've figured +out where we are."</p> + +<p>"Your bet's as good as mine," +said Pembroke. "It's not Wellington, +and it's not Brisbane, and +it's not Long Beach, and it's not +Tahiti. There are a lot of places +it's not. But where the hell it is, +you tell me.</p> + +<p>"And, by the way," he added, +"I hope you like it in Puerto +Pacifico. Because there isn't any +place to go from here and there +isn't any way to get there if +there were."</p> + +<p>"Pardon me, gentlemen, but +I'm Joe Valencia, manager of the +hotel. I would be very grateful if +you would give me a few minutes +of honest criticism."</p> + +<p>"Ah, no, not you, too," groaned +Spencer. "Look, Joe, what's +the gag?"</p> + +<p>"You are newcomers, Mr. +Spencer," Valencia explained. +"You are therefore in an excellent +position to point out our +faults as you see them."</p> + +<p>"Well, so what?" demanded +Spencer. "I've got more important +things to do than to worry +about your troubles. You look +okay to me."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Valencia," said Pembroke. +"I've noticed that you +walk with a very slight limp. If +you have a bad leg, I should +think you would do better to develop +a more pronounced limp. +Otherwise, you may appear to +be self-conscious about it."</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Spencer opened his mouth to +protest, but saw with amazement +that it was exactly this that +Valencia was seeking. Pembroke +was amused at his companion's +reaction but observed that Spencer +still failed to see the point.</p> + +<p>"Also, there is a certain effeminateness +in the way in which +you speak," said Pembroke. "Try +to be a little more direct, a little +more brusque. Speak in a monotone. +It will make you more acceptable."</p> + +<p>"Thank you so much," said the +manager. "There is much food +for thought in what you have +said, Mr. Pembroke. However, +Mr. Spencer, your value has failed +to prove itself. You have only +yourself to blame. Cooperation is +all we require of you."</p> + +<p>Valencia left. Spencer ordered +another martini. Neither he nor +Pembroke spoke for several minutes.</p> + +<p>"Somebody's crazy around +here," the fat man muttered +after a few moments. "Is it me, +Frank?"</p> + +<p>"No. You just don't belong +here, in this particular place," +said Pembroke thoughtfully. +"You're the wrong type. But they +couldn't know that ahead of time. +The way they operate it's a +pretty hit-or-miss operation. But +they don't care one bit about us, +Spencer. Consider the men who +went down with the ship. That +was just part of the game."</p> + +<p>"What the hell are you sayin'?" +asked Spencer in disbelief. +"You figure <i>they</i> sunk the ship? +Valencia and the waitress and +the three babes? Ah, come on."</p> + +<p>"It's what you think that will +determine what you do, Spencer. +I suggest you change your attitude; +play along with them for a +few days till the picture becomes +a little clearer to you. We'll talk +about it again then."</p> + +<p>Pembroke rose and started out +of the bar. A policeman entered +and walked directly to Spencer's +table. Loitering at the juke box, +Pembroke overheard the conversation.</p> + +<p>"You Spencer?"</p> + +<p>"That's right," said the fat +man sullenly.</p> + +<p>"What don't you like about +me? The <i>truth</i>, buddy."</p> + +<p>"Ah, hell! Nothin' wrong +with you at all, and nothin'll +make me say there is," said Spencer.</p> + +<p>"You're the guy, all right. Too +bad, Mac," said the cop.</p> + +<p>Pembroke heard the shots as +he strolled casually out into the +brightness of the hotel lobby. +While he waited for the elevator, +he saw them carrying the body +into the street. How many others, +he wondered, had gone out on +their backs during their first day +in Puerto Pacifico?</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Pembroke shaved, showered, +and put on the new suit and shirt +he had bought. Then he took +Mary Ann, the woman he had +met on the beach, out to dinner. +She would look magnificent even +when fully clothed, he decided, +and the pale chartreuse gown she +wore hardly placed her in that +category. Her conversation seemed +considerably more normal +after the other denizens of +Puerto Pacifico Pembroke had +listened to that afternoon.</p> + +<p>After eating they danced for +an hour, had a few more drinks, +then went to Pembroke's room. +He still knew nothing about her +and had almost exhausted his +critical capabilities, but not once +had she become annoyed with +him. She seemed to devour every +factual point of imperfection +about herself that Pembroke +brought to her attention. And, +fantastically enough, she actually +appeared to have overcome every +little imperfection he had been +able to communicate to her.</p> + +<p>It was in the privacy of his +room that Pembroke became +aware of just how perfect, physically, +Mary Ann was. Too perfect. +No freckles or moles anywhere +on the visible surface of +her brown skin, which was more +than a mere sampling. Furthermore, +her face and body were +meticulously symmetrical. And +she seemed to be wholly ambidextrous.</p> + +<p>"With so many beautiful +women in Puerto Pacifico," said +Pembroke probingly, "I find it +hard to understand why there are +so few children."</p> + +<p>"Yes, children are decorative, +aren't they," said Mary Ann. "I +do wish there were more of +them."</p> + +<p>"Why not have a couple of +your own?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they're only given to maternal +types. I'd never get one. +Anyway, I won't ever marry," +she said. "I'm the paramour +type."</p> + +<p>It was obvious that the liquor +had been having some effect. +Either that, or she had a basic +flaw of loquacity that no one else +had discovered. Pembroke decided +he would have to cover his +tracks carefully.</p> + +<p>"What type am I?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Silly, you're real. You're not +a type at all."</p> + +<p>"Mary Ann, I love you very +much," Pembroke murmured, +gambling everything on this one +throw. "When you go to Earth +I'll miss you terribly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you'll be dead by +then," she pouted. "So I mustn't +fall in love with you. I don't want +to be miserable."</p> + +<p>"If I pretended I was one of +you, if I left on the boat with +you, they'd let me go to Earth +with you. Wouldn't they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I'm sure they would."</p> + +<p>"Mary Ann, you have two +other flaws I feel I should mention."</p> + +<p>"Yes? Please tell me."</p> + +<p>"In the first place," said Pembroke, +"you should be willing to +fall in love with me even if it +will eventually make you unhappy. +How can you be the paramour +type if you refuse to fall in +love foolishly? And when you +have fallen in love, you should be +very loyal."</p> + +<p>"I'll try," she said unsurely. +"What else?"</p> + +<p>"The other thing is that, as +my mistress, you must never +mention me to anyone. It would +place me in great danger."</p> + +<p>"I'll never tell anyone anything +about you," she promised.</p> + +<p>"Now try to love me," Pembroke +said, drawing her into his +arms and kissing with little +pleasure the smooth, warm perfection +of her tanned cheeks. +"Love me my sweet, beautiful, +affectionate Mary Ann. My paramour."</p> + +<p>Making love to Mary Ann was +something short of ecstasy. Not +for any obvious reason, but because +of subtle little factors that +make a woman a woman. Mary +Ann had no pulse. Mary Ann did +not perspire. Mary Ann did not +fatigue gradually but all at once. +Mary Ann breathed regularly +under all circumstances. Mary +Ann talked and talked and talked. +But then, Mary Ann was not +a human being.</p> + +<p>When she left the hotel at midnight, +Pembroke was quite sure +that she understood his plan and +that she was irrevocably in love +with him. Tomorrow might bring +his death, but it might also ensure +his escape. After forty-two +years of searching for a passion, +for a cause, for a loyalty, Frank +Pembroke had at last found his. +Earth and the human race that +peopled it. And Mary Ann would +help him to save it.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>The next morning Pembroke +talked to Valencia about hunting. +He said that he planned to go +shooting out on the desert which +surrounded the city. Valencia +told him that there were no living +creatures anywhere but in +the city. Pembroke said he was +going out anyway.</p> + +<p>He picked up Mary Ann at her +apartment and together they +went to a sporting goods store. +As he guessed there was a goodly +selection of firearms, despite the +fact that there was nothing to +hunt and only a single target +range within the city. Everything, +of course, had to be just +like Earth. That, after all, was +the purpose of Puerto Pacifico.</p> + +<p>By noon they had rented a +jeep and were well away from +the city. Pembroke and Mary +Ann took turns firing at the paper +targets they had purchased. At +twilight they headed back to the +city. On the outskirts, where the +sand and soil were mixed and no +footprints would be left, Pembroke +hopped off. Mary Ann +would go straight to the police +and report that Pembroke had attacked +her and that she had shot +him. If necessary, she would conduct +the authorities to the place +where they had been target +shooting, but would be unable to +locate the spot where she had +buried the body. Why had she +buried it? Because at first she +was not going to report the incident. +She was frightened. It +was not airtight, but there would +probably be no further investigation. +And they certainly would +not prosecute Mary Ann for killing +an Earthman.</p> + +<p>Now Pembroke had himself to +worry about. The first step was +to enter smoothly into the new +life he had planned. It wouldn't +be so comfortable as the previous +one, but should be considerably +safer. He headed slowly for the +"old" part of town, aging his +clothes against buildings and +fences as he walked. He had already +torn the collar of the shirt +and discarded his belt. By morning +his beard would grow to +blacken his face. And he would +look weary and hungry and aimless. +Only the last would be a deception.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Two weeks later Pembroke +phoned Mary Ann. The police +had accepted her story without +even checking. And when, when +would she be seeing him again? +He had aroused her passion and +no amount of long-distance love +could requite it. Soon, he assured +her, soon.</p> + +<p>"Because, after all, you do owe +me something," she added.</p> + +<p>And that was bad because it +sounded as if she had been giving +some womanly thought to the situation. +A little more of that and +she might go to the police again, +this time for vengeance.</p> + +<p>Twice during his wanderings +Pembroke had seen the corpses +of Earthmen being carted out of +buildings. They had to be Earthmen +because they bled. Mary Ann +had admitted that she did not. +There would be very few Earthmen +left in Puerto Pacifico, and +it would be simple enough to locate +him if he were reported as +being on the loose. There was +no out but to do away with Mary +Ann.</p> + +<p>Pembroke headed for the +beach. He knew she invariably +went there in the afternoon. He +loitered around the stalls where +hot dogs and soft drinks were +sold, leaning against a post in +the hot sun, hat pulled down over +his forehead. Then he noticed +that people all about him were +talking excitedly. They were discussing +a ship. It was leaving +that afternoon. Anyone who +could pass the interview would +be sent to Earth.</p> + +<p>Pembroke had visited the +docks every day, without being +able to learn when the great +exodus would take place. Yet he +was certain the first lap would be +by water rather than by spaceship, +since no one he had talked +to in the city had ever heard of +spaceships. In fact, they knew +very little about their masters.</p> + +<p>Now the ship had arrived and +was to leave shortly. If there was +any but the most superficial examination, +Pembroke would no +doubt be discovered and exterminated. +But since no one seemed +concerned about anything but his +own speech and behavior, he assumed +that they had all qualified +in every other respect. The reason +for transporting Earth People +to this planet was, of course, +to apply a corrective to any of +the Pacificos' aberrant mannerisms +or articulation. This was +the polishing up phase.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Pembroke began hobbling toward +the docks. Almost at once +he found himself face to face +with Mary Ann. She smiled happily +when she recognized him. +<i>That</i> was a good thing.</p> + +<p>"It is a sign of poor breeding +to smile at tramps," Pembroke +admonished her in a whisper. +"Walk on ahead."</p> + +<p>She obeyed. He followed. The +crowd grew thicker. They neared +the docks and Pembroke saw that +there were now set up on the +roped-off wharves small interviewing +booths. When it was +their turn, he and Mary Ann +each went into separate ones. +Pembroke found himself alone in +the little room.</p> + +<p>Then he saw that there was +another entity in his presence +confined beneath a glass dome. It +looked rather like a groundhog +and had seven fingers on each of +its six limbs. But it was larger +and hairier than the glass one +he had seen at the gift store. +With four of its limbs it tapped +on an intricate keyboard in front +of it.</p> + +<p>"What is your name?" queried +a metallic voice from a speaker +on the wall.</p> + +<p>"I'm Jerry Newton. Got no +middle initial," Pembroke said in +a surly voice.</p> + +<p>"Occupation?"</p> + +<p>"I work a lot o' trades. Fisherman, +fruit picker, fightin' range +fires, vineyards, car washer. Anything. +You name it. Been out of +work for a long time now, +though. Goin' on five months. +These here are hard times, no +matter what they say."</p> + +<p>"What do you think of the +Chinese situation?" the voice inquired.</p> + +<p>"Which situation's 'at?"</p> + +<p>"Where's Seattle?"</p> + +<p>"Seattle? State o' Washington."</p> + +<p>And so it went for about five +minutes. Then he was told he +had qualified as a satisfactory +surrogate for a mid-twentieth +century American male, itinerant +type.</p> + +<p>"You understand your mission, +Newton?" the voice asked. "You +are to establish yourself on +Earth. In time you will receive +instructions. Then you will attack. +You will not see us, your +masters, again until the atmosphere +has been sufficiently chlorinated. +In the meantime, serve +us well."</p> + +<p>He stumbled out toward the +docks, then looked about for +Mary Ann. He saw her at last +behind the ropes, her lovely face +in tears.</p> + +<p>Then she saw him. Waving +frantically, she called his name +several times. Pembroke mingled +with the crowd moving toward +the ship, ignoring her. But still +the woman persisted in her +shouting.</p> + +<p>Sidling up to a well-dressed +man-about-town type, Pembroke +winked at him and snickered.</p> + +<p>"You Frank?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Hell, no. But some poor +punk's sure red in the face, I'll +bet," the man-about-town said +with a chuckle. "Those high-strung +paramour types always +raising a ruckus. They never do +pass the interview. Don't know +why they even make 'em."</p> + +<p>Suddenly Mary Ann was quiet.</p> + +<p>"Ambulance squad," Pembroke's +companion explained. +"They'll take her off to the buggy +house for a few days and bring +her out fresh and ignorant as the +day she was assembled. Don't +know why they keep making 'em, +as I say. But I guess there's a +call for that type up there on +Earth."</p> + +<p>"Yeah, I reckon there is at +that," said Pembroke, snickering +again as he moved away from the +other. "And why not? Hey? +Why not?"</p> + +<p>Pembroke went right on hating +himself, however, till the +night he was deposited in a field +outside of Ensenada, broke but +happy, with two other itinerant +types. They separated in San +Diego, and it was not long before +Pembroke was explaining to the +police how he had drifted far +from the scene of the sinking of +the <i>Elena Mia</i> on a piece of +wreckage, and had been picked +up by a Chilean trawler. How he +had then made his way, with +much suffering, up the coast to +California. Two days later, his +identity established and his circumstances +again solvent, he was +headed for Los Angeles to begin +his save-Earth campaign.</p> + +<hr /> + +<p>Now, seated at his battered +desk in the shabby rented office +over Lemark's Liquors, Pembroke +gazed without emotion at +the two demolished Pacificos that +lay sprawled one atop the other +in the corner. His watch said +one-fifteen. The man from the +FBI should arrive soon.</p> + +<p>There were footsteps on the +stairs for the third time that +day. Not the brisk, efficient steps +of a federal official, but the hesitant, +self-conscious steps of a +junior clerk type.</p> + +<p>Pembroke rose as the young +man appeared at the door. His +face was smooth, unpimpled, +clean-shaven, without sweat on a +warm summer afternoon.</p> + +<p>"Are you Dr. Von Schubert?" +the newcomer asked, peering into +the room. "You see, I've got a +problem—"</p> + +<p>The four shots from Pembroke's +pistol solved his problem +effectively. Pembroke tossed his +third victim onto the pile, then +opened a can of lager, quaffing +it appreciatively. Seating himself +once more, he leaned back in +the chair, both feet upon the +desk.</p> + +<p>He would be out of business +soon, once the FBI agent had got +there. Pembroke was only in it to +get the proof he would need to +convince people of the truth of +his tale. But in the meantime he +allowed himself to admire the +clipping of the newspaper ad he +had run in all the Los Angeles +papers for the past week. The +little ad that had saved mankind +from God-knew-what insidious +menace. It read:</p> + +<p class="illo">ARE YOU IMPERFECT?</p> + +<p class="center">LET DR. VON SCHUBERT POINT OUT<br /> +YOUR FLAWS</p> + +<p class="center">IT IS HIS GOAL TO MAKE YOU THE<br /> +AVERAGE FOR YOUR TYPE</p> + +<p class="center">FEE—$3.75</p> + +<p class="center">MONEY BACK IF NOT SATISFIED!</p> + +<p class="theend">THE END</p> + +<div class="trn"><b>Transcriber's Note:</b><br /> + +This etext was produced from <i>Amazing Science Fiction Stories</i> +January 1960. 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.</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Perfectionists, by Arnold Castle + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PERFECTIONISTS *** + +***** This file should be named 24977-h.htm or 24977-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/4/9/7/24977/ + +Produced by Greg Weeks, Stephen Blundell and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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