"That sounds about as asinine as the droolings of the average
psychiatrist," I muttered. "He didn't know and spent an hour saying
so, I'll bet."
"It's awful," the young man sighed disconsolately. "I can make myself
visible for a little while but it's awfully tiring. The rest of the
time I go around like a ghost. I blend into the background so
completely that people just don't notice me at all. It's just like not
being alive."[1]
[Footnote 1: The young man's peculiar physical condition is not as
fantastic and unprecedented as one might at first believe. Everyone
has had the experience of meeting a person who makes almost no
impression whatsoever on them. People with such anemia of the
personality are constantly being forgotten, overlooked even by friends
who know them well. Their presence in a room will be unobserved for
several minutes and, frequently, such people will be completely
ignored, even when they are sitting or standing in plain view. In
nature, the chameleon has similar properties but for a definite
reason, namely that of defense against its stronger enemies. The
chameleon blends perfectly into the brown and green foliage of its
native habitat and even the marvelously keen eyes of its natural
enemies are unable to detect its presence. It is not impossible to
conceive that the same camouflaging property could develop in a human
being. Nature might appreciate the difficulty of a retiring, sensitive
person to mingle with his more vivid fellow creatures, and so clothe
him with a defensive armor of practical invisibility to insulate him
against the attacks of those with stronger personalities. Readers of
_Fantastic Adventures_ will remember John York Cabot's classic, "The
Man the World Forgot," as an exposition of this theme. Unexplained
instances of men and women "disappearing" from normal environments
might be simply cases of submerged personalities which did not
"disappear" but were simply and tragically forgotten.--ED.]
I studied the vague shape of the young man carefully. I could see him,
but only by straining my eyes. The whole thing was amazing. Looking
carefully, I realized that the young man was _not_ invisible; he was
just easy to miss because he was so inconspicuously blended into the
background of the office.
"You'd probably have a fine time on a patch work quilt," I said.
The young man shuddered.
"Please don't joke," he said imploringly. "I'm in real trouble. I need
help."
"I'll say you do," I said. "But I don't see what I can do for you."
"It's this," the young man said. "My draft board just deferred me with
a 4-F classification. They told me I wouldn't be any good in my
present shape. So there."