chairs. The walls were made of cracked concrete lined with dusty filing cabinets. The window was so soiled I could barely see the shadows of bars through the panes. Mesner sat down, put his feet on the desk. He took an apple out of his desk drawer and started peeling it slowly with a small penknife. "You scared, Fred?" "Of course not." He smiled, held out a long ribbon of apple peel and dropped it on the floor. "You're scared, Fred." I put my Personology Card on his desk right in front of him. "I just had a quarterly brain-check a week ago. There it is." I stopped myself somehow from yelling out wildly as he stabbed the card with his penknife, then tore it in little pieces and dropped them on the floor. "You've got nothing to be afraid of, Fred. But it'll probably take you a while to realize it." He went on peeling the apple. He had thick hands, stubby fingers, and the nails were dirty. He had a round pale face, a receding chin, thinning hair, and an absurd little red cupid bow mouth. I tried not to hear the moaning sound that seemed to come from the other side of a door to Mesner's right. He got up, went to the door, opened it. "Shut that guy up," he said. He shut the door and sat down again. He sliced off a bite of apple and pushed it into his mouth. "To make it short, Fred. I've investigated you thoroughly. And I can use you here in SPA. You're being transferred." My throat was constricted. I leaned against the desk. "I don't understand, sir. I don't know anything about Police Work. I'm only a clerk, a card-sorter. I don't have any qualifications. And you can see—my card." "A couple of field-trips with me, Fred, and you'll be a veteran." "But why me?" "You're already in the Security Department for one thing. That makes it convenient. Also, your Intelligence Quotient." "It's a low eighty," I said. "That's the average. I'm well below normal, and this brain-check showed I was lower this time than the last. So how could my IQ make any difference?" "Curiosity killed the cat, Fred."
Prev.
Back
Top