The demolished man Read Online Free PDF

      I feel Al's a man to loa   the
    reveal                don't                      Guild's
    anything              TP                         entire
    about                 him                        eugenic
    D'Courtney if         arriving according to      plan
                         yet
     
    There was another burst of laughter when Mary Noyes was left hanging with that
    unreticulated "yet." The door-bell chimed again, and a Solar Equity Advocate 2
    entered with his girl. She was a demure little thing, surprisingly attractive
    outwardly, and new to the company. Her TP pattern was naive and not deeply
    responsive. Obviously a 3rd.
    "Grettings. Greetings. Abject apologies for the delay. Orange blossoms & wedding
    rings are the excuse. I proposed on the way over."
    "And I'm afraid I accepted," the girl said, smiling.
    "Don't talk," the lawyer shot at her. "This isn't a 3rd Class brawl, I told you
    not to use words."
    "I forgot," she blurted again, and then heated the room with her fright and
    shame. Powell stepped forward and took the girl's trembling hand.
    "Ignore him, he's a 2nd-come-lately snob. I'm Lincoln Powell, your host. I
    Sherlock for the cops. If your fiance beats you, I'll help him regret it. Come
    and meet your fellow freaks..." He conducted her around the room. "This is Gus
    Tate, a quack-one. Next to him, Sam & Sally @kins. Sam's another of the same.
    She's a baby-sitter-two. They're just in from Venus. Here on a visit..."
    "H-How---I mean, how do you do?"
    "That fat man sitting on the floor is Wally Chervil, architect-two. The blonde
    sitting in his (lap) is June, his wife. June's an editor-two. That's their son,
    Galen, talking to Ellery West. Gally's a tech-undergrad-three..."
    Young Galen Chervil indignantly started to point out that he'd just been classed
    2nd and hadn't needed to use words in over a year. Powell cut him off and below
    the girl's perceptive threshold explained the reason for the deliberate mistake.
     
    "Oh," said Galen. "Yep, brother and sister 3rds, that's us. And am I glad you're
    here. These deep peepers were beginning to scare me."
    "Oh, I don't know. I was scared at first, but I'm not any more."
    "And this is your hostess, Mary Noyes."
    "Hello, Canapes?"
    "Thank you. They look delicious, Mrs. Powell."
    "Now how about a game?" Powell interposed quickly. "Rebus, anyone?"
    Outside, huddled in the shadow of the limestone arch, Jerry Church pressed
    against the garden door of Powel's house, listening with all his soul. He was
    cold, silent, immobile, and starved. He was resentful, hating, contemptuous, and
    starved. He was an Esper 2 and starved. The bend sinister of ostracism was the
    source of his hunger.
    Through the thin maple panel filtered the multiple TP pattern of the party; a
    weaving, ever-changing, exhilarating design. And Church, Esper 2, living on a
    sub-marginal diet of words for the past ten years, was starved for his own
    people---for the Esper world he had lost.
    "The reason I mentioned D'Courtney is that I've just come across a case that
    might be similar."
    That was Augustus Tate, sucking up to @kins.
    "Oh really? Very interesting. I'd like to compare notes. Matter of fact, I made
    the trip to Terra because D'Courtney is coming here. Too bad D'Courtney
    won't---well, be available." @kins was obviously being discreet and it smelled
    as though Tate was after something. Maybe not, Church speculated, but there was
    some elegant block and counter-blocking going on, like duellists fencing with
    complicated electrical circuits.
    "Look here, peeper, I think you've been pretty snotty to that poor girl."
    "Listen to him shoot off his mind," Church muttered. "Powell, that holy louse
    who had me kicked out, preaching down his big nose at the lawyer."
    "Poor girl? You mean dumb girl, Powell. My God! How gauche can you get?"
    "She's only a