He sat down facing me without being asked and crossed his legs. He was tall and extremely thin, with pale blue eyes and dirty-blond hair, and though he was clean and reasonably well dressed, he had a shabby look about him. He said, in level Terran accents, "I'm looking for a job with your outfit, Corrigan."
"There's been a mistake. We're interested in non-terrestrials only."
"I'm a non-terrestrial. My name is Ildwar Gorb, of the planet Wazzenazz XIII."
I don't mind conning the public from time to time, but I draw the line at getting bilked myself. "Look, friend, I'm busy, and I'm not known for my sense of humor. Or my generosity."
"I'm not panhandling. I'm looking for a job."
"Then try elsewhere. Suppose you stop wasting my time, bud. You're as Earthborn as I am."
"I've never been within a dozen parsecs of Earth," he said smoothly. "I happen to be a representative of the only Earthlike race that exists anywhere in the Galaxy but on Earth itself. Wazzenazz XIII is a small and little-known planet in the Crab Nebula. Through an evolutionary fluke, my race is identical with yours. Now, don't you want me in your circus?"
"No. And it's not a circus. It's—"
"A scientific institute. I stand corrected."