You Were Right, Joe by J. T. McIntosh - You had it taped all the way, pal-but how come you didn't say this would happen to me?
I can't be sure you're getting this, Joe, but you've been right about so many of the other things, I guess you're very likely right about that, too.
You remember you figured that I wouldn't just materialize naked in the middle of a city street. You said I'd be a genuine human being of the time, correctly dressed and with some kind of personal history. But you warned me - and I appreciate this, Joe; you didn't have to warn me, but you did it - you warned me that there was no telling I'd be like me.
I may as well admit now I wasn't happy about that. I never was much to look at and there wasn't any danger of my becoming the heavyweight champion of the world. But I'd got used to being the way I was, and I didn't altogether like the idea of seeing a stranger's face every time I looked in the mirror.
If I'd known what I was going to be like, I'd never have done it. I'm sorry, Joe, but even for you I couldn't have faced it. Now that I'm here, though, I'll just have to make the best of it.
You were right, Joe, all along the line. Nobody ran screaming when I got here and I haven't been arrested. I was fitted into a spot that was made for me, dressed in the right clothes, able to speak the right language. I've got a name. And just as you said, I'm different. Different? That's like saying Gina Lollobrigida isn't like Aunt Phoebe!
When I first got here, I looked around, of course. I saw people walking about and colored buildings with hardly any straight lines in them. It took no more than a glance to show me this was a pretty advanced civilization, many centuries ahead of our time.
Before I did any more looking around, I did the second obvious thing. I looked down at what I could see of me.
