the man who wouldn't sign up By THOMAS E. PURDOM _Chances are you'll sympathize deeply with Henry Westing, who merely wanted to go on living his own life in his own manner. But under the same circumstances, how would you go about doing it?_ [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Infinity October 1958. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] All his life people had been trying to get Henry Westing to sign up. They were all signing up themselves and they wanted everybody else to sign up too. In college it had been the fraternities. Mr. Westing hadn't tried to join one. "But you've got to belong to something," they said. "Everybody does." "I don't." "Sure you do. You're just being rebellious." "Perhaps." "Everybody's got to belong. Ask any psychologist." "Perhaps. I wouldn't know." After college it had been work. He had lost three jobs in a row for the same reason. "We're sorry, Westing, but you just don't seem to fit in with the group." "Don't I do my work well?" "Yes, but you don't seem to _belong_. We like men who consider themselves part of The Company, not just people who work here." In the end he had found a job in a large travel agency in the center of Philadelphia. This is a business in which everyone at least pretends to be cynical about his work, so Westing was able to keep his position no matter how he acted. Of course by this time he had learned to keep his mouth shut. All around him he watched people signing up. "You've got to have something bigger than yourself," they said. "You've got to belong." He watched them do it and went on living his own life. He loved concerts and books and plays. He loved his friends, who were good company and whom he saw often. He loved a couple of girls, too, and hoped that someday he would love one well enough to marry her. He lived a very happy life and belonged to nothing. Then one night in January someone knocked on his door. It was a Saturday and he was just getting dressed to go to the Academy of Music. He opened the door of his apartment and looked into the hall. There was a young man standing there. He had black rimmed glasses and a crew cut. He wore a slim, well-tailored suit. "Mr. Westing?" "Yes?" "I'm from the Organization. We'd like you to join." "What organization?" "_The_ Organization. The Organization for people who don't belong to any organization." "I'm afraid I'm not interested." "But you must be. It says here that you don't belong to anything. We're here to give you a chance to belong." "What's the purpose of the organization?" "It gives its members a feeling of belonging to something. Everybody's joining. You don't want to be left out, do you?" "Not if I can help it. But I'm afraid you'll have to try somebody else."