from the impact. I wanted to throw my armsaround him; instead I sat down in the chair, shaking my head helplessly.I hated myself then. I had hated myself before, but never like this.
"If I could only go somewhere," I said. "Someplace where nobody knew me,where I could just live by myself for a while, and shut the doors, andshut out the thoughts, and _pretend_ for a while, just pretend that I'mperfectly normal."
"I wish you could," Lambertson said. "But you can't. You know that. Notunless Custer can really help."
We sat there for a while. Then I said, "Let Aarons come down. Let himbring anybody he wants with him. I'll do what he wants. Until I seeCuster."
That hurt, too, but it was different. It hurt both of us together, notseparately any more. And somehow it didn't hurt so much that way.
* * * * *
_Monday, 22 May._ Aarons drove down from Boston this morning with a girlnamed Mary Bolton, and we went to work.
I think I'm beginning to understand how a dog can tell when someonewants to kick him and doesn't quite dare. I could feel the back of myneck prickle when that man walked into the conference room. I was hopinghe might have changed since the last time I saw him. He hadn't, but Ihad. I wasn't afraid of him any more, just awfully tired of him afterhe'd been here about ten minutes.
But that girl! I wonder what sort of story he'd told her? She couldn'thave been more than sixteen, and she was terrorized. At first I thoughtit was _Aarons_ she was afraid of, but that wasn't so. It was _me_.
It took us all morning just to get around that. The poor girl couldhardly make herself talk. She was shaking all over when they arrived. Wetook a walk around the grounds, alone, and I read her bit by bit--afeeler here, a planted suggestion there, just getting her used to theidea and trying to reassure her. After a while she was smiling. Shethought the lagoon was lovely, and by the time we got back to the mainbuilding she was laughing, talking about herself, beginning to relax.
Then I gave her a full blast, quickly, only a moment or two. _Don't beafraid--I hate him, yes, but I won't hurt you for anything. Let me comein, don't fight me. We've got to work as a team._
It shook her. She turned white and almost passed out for a moment. Thenshe nodded, slowly. "I see," she said. "It feels as if it's way inside,_deep_ inside."
"That's right. It won't hurt. I promise."
She nodded again. "Let's go back, now. I think I'm ready to try."
We went to work.
I was as blind as she was, at first. There was nothing there, at first,not even a flicker of brightness. Then, probing deeper, somethingresponded, only a hint, a suggestion of something powerful, deep andhidden--but where? What was her strength? Where was she weak? I couldn'ttell.
We started on dice, crude, of course, but as good a tool as any. Diceare no good for measuring anything, but that was why I was there. I wasthe measuring instrument. The dice were only reactors. Sensitive enough,two balsam cubes, tossed from a box with only gravity to work against. Ishowed her first, picked up her mind as the dice popped out, led herthrough it. _Take one at a time, the red one first. Work on it, see? Nowwe try both. Once more--watch it! All right, now._
She sat frozen in the chair. She was trying; the sweat stood out on herforehead. Aarons sat tense, smoking, his fingers twitching as he watchedthe red and green cubes bounce on the white backdrop. Lambertson watchedtoo, but his eyes were on the girl, not on the cubes.
It was hard work. Bit by bit she began to grab; whatever I had felt inher mind seemed to leap up. I probed her, amplifying it, trying to drawit out. It was like wading through knee-deep mud--sticky, sluggish,resisting. I could feel her excitement growing, and bit by bit Ireleased my grip, easing her out, baiting her.
"All right," I said. "That's enough."
She turned to me, wide-eyed. "I--I did it."
Aarons was on his feet, breathing heavily. "It worked?"
"It worked. Not very well, but it's there. All she needs is time, andhelp, and patience."
"But it worked! Lambertson! Do you know what that means? It means I wasright! It means others can have it, just like she has it!" He rubbed hishands together. "We can arrange a full-time lab for it, and work onthree or four latents simultaneously. It's a wide-open door, Michael!Can't you see what it means?"
Lambertson nodded, and gave me a long look. "Yes, I think I do."
"I'll start arrangements tomorrow."
"Not tomorrow. You'll have to wait until next week."
"Why?"
"Because Amy would prefer to wait, that's why."
Aarons looked at him, and then at me, peevishly. Finally he shrugged."If you insist."
"We'll talk about it next week," I said. I was so tired I could hardlylook up at him. I stood up, and smiled at my girl. Poor kid, I thought.So excited and eager about it now. And not one idea in the world of whatshe was walking into.
Certainly Aarons would never be able to tell her.
* * * * *
Later, when they were gone, Lambertson and I walked down toward thelagoon. It was a lovely cool evening; the ducks were down at the water'sedge. Every year there was a mother duck herding a line of ducklingsdown the shore and into the water. They never seemed to go where shewanted them to, and she would fuss and chatter, waddling back time andagain to prod the reluctant ones out into the pool.
We stood by the water's edge in silence for a long time. Then Lambertsonkissed me. It was the first time he had ever done that.
"We could go away," I whispered in his ear. "We could run out on Aaronsand the Study Center and everyone, just go away somewhere."
He shook his head slowly. "Amy, don't."
"We could! I'll see Dr. Custer, and he'll tell me he can help, I _know_he will. I won't _need_ the Study Center any more, or any other place,or anybody but you."
He didn't answer, and I knew there wasn't anything he could answer. Notthen.
* * * * *
_Friday, 26 May._ Yesterday we went to Boston to see Dr. Custer, and nowit looks as if it's all over. Now even I can't pretend that there'sanything more to be done.
Next week Aarons will come down, and I'll go to work with him just theway he has it planned. He thinks we have three years of work ahead of usbefore anything can be published, before he can really be sure we havebrought a latent into full use of his psi potential. Maybe so, I don'tknow. Maybe in three years I'll find some way to make myself care oneway or the other. But I'll do it, anyway, because there's nothing elseto do.
There was no anatomical defect--Dr. Custer was right about that. Theeyes are perfect, beautiful gray eyes, he says, and the optic nerves andauditory nerves are perfectly functional. The defect isn't there. It'sdeeper. Too deep ever to change it.
_What you no longer use, you lose_, was what he said, apologizingbecause he couldn't explain it any better. It's like a price tag,perhaps. Long ago, before I knew anything at all, the psi was so strongit started compensating, bringing in more and more from _other_minds--such a wealth of rich, clear, interpreted visual and auditoryimpressions that there was never any need for my own. And because ofthat, certain hookups never got hooked up. That's only a theory, ofcourse, but there isn't any other way to explain it.
But am I wrong to hate it? More than anything else in the world I wantto _see_ Lambertson, _see_ him smile and light his pipe, _hear_ himlaugh. I want to know what color _really_ is, what music _really_ soundslike unfiltered through somebody else's ears.
I want to see a sunset, just once. Just once I want to see that motherduck take her ducklings down to the water. But I never will. Instead, Isee and hear things nobody else can, and the fact that I am stone blindand stone deaf shouldn't make any difference. After all, I've alwaysbeen that way.
Maybe next week I'll ask Aarons what he thinks about it. It should beinteresting to hear what he says.
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