ke 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.

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.

* * * * *

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. _That_ was a good thing.

"It is a sign of poor breeding to smile at tramps," Pembroke admonished
her in a whisper. "Walk on ahead."

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.

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.

"What is your name?" queried a metallic voice from a speaker on the
wall.

"I'm Jerry Newton. Got no middle initial," Pembroke said in a surly
voice.

"Occupation?"

"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."

"What do you think of the Chinese situation?" the voice inquired.

"Which situation's 'at?"

"Where's Seattle?"

"Seattle? State o' Washington."

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,
itineran