By this time her caterwauling had attracted a sizable number of other shoppers who stared suspiciously at me.
The little girl's mother continued to shriek imprecations and threats at me till I felt it was impossible to say anything believable in my own defense. It was impossible for me to do anything except stare at her, transfixed by the ghastly aura surrounding her. It was like an ugly, spitting red fire blotched with sickly yellow-greens.
At that moment the store-manager appeared and, sensing the possibility of violence, grabbed my arm and began pulling me toward the back of the building explaining to the shoppers that he would take care of me and see that I was turned over to the proper authorities.
Back in his office, as I showed him my student identification card and explained for the third time that I was just comforting the child, he was still looking rather uncertainly at me. Finally, obviously deciding that he didn't want the inconvenience of dealing with the police, he let me go out the back of his store with the warning that he never wanted to see me in his store again.
If I had needed an incident to dramatically reveal the differences between 1976 and 2150 I had certainly gotten it. In the micro world of 1976 every stranger was a potential threat of theft, rape, murder, or some other catastrophe. Since micro man was blindly unaware of most of his own motivations, he was also blind to those of others. If only they could have seen my aura or read my mind, I thought it would have been impossible for them to misunderstand my intentions or fear me. But, lacking this greater awareness, they must judge others by surface appearance and through the fog of their own fears, anxieties, and guilts.
What would have happened to me, I wondered, if I had been wearing the long hair, beard, and battered looking garments so popular with some of my fellow students. I'd probably be sitting in jail by now with little hope of convincing a middle-aged judge or jury that I wasn't a sex fiend and either an anarchist or communist to boot.
I walked back toward our apartment as quickly as my artificial leg would carry me, having had enough of micro man and his supermarkets for one day. I preferred the cold bitterness of the elements to the savage paranoia of micro man.
Back at the apartment I found myself closing and automatically locking our door behind me. Oh, lord, I thought, I'm a great one to condemn micro man for being paranoid.
It was true. I didn't feel safe here in 1976, and I desperately missed the clean, lovely countryside and the happy serenity and loving kindness of Delta 927, only 174 years in the future.
As I sat down in my hard-backed chair Karl put down my journal and asked what was wrong. When I told him of my experiences at the student union and at the supermarket, he smiled grimly and said, "Your new Macro powers don't seem to help you back here in 1976 the way they do in your 2150. Or maybe," he paused, and eyed me speculatively, "they don't even work in 1976."
That was our agreed-upon test of 2150's reality. Could I demonstrate Macro powers which I had learned in my dream world of the future while I was awake in 1976.
I had seen auras, but somehow I had forgotten-or avoided-trying telepathy with anyone.
Now I looked at my journal lying on the table beside Karl. Could I teleport it through the air over to me by using my newly developed PK? Maybe, I thought, I should try some smaller object. No, I refused to make the test easy-even if all I could do was push the journal off the table onto the floor, it would prove my PK.
I reached out with imaginary hands to lift the journal -nothing happened.
What's wrong? Had I just imagined seeing auras at the student union and the supermarket? Could it be that I would be unable to demonstrate PK, the one Macro power that could be seen by others?
I frantically reached out with my mind and redoubled my efforts to pull, push, or shove my journal off the table, but, to my growing alarm, there was no movement whatsoever.
"Take it easy," Karl said. "I can see by the look on your face that you aren't able to use your 2150 powers back here in the cold, hard reality of 1976."
"But I can see auras," I pleaded. "I can even see yours!"
"Come off it, Jon, you know I can't see auras and neither can you or anyone else we know, so offering your hallucinations is hardly going to be acceptable as proof."
"But, Karl," I protested, "this isn't a fair test-maybe I need more time. I mean I've only just begun using three out of the seven Macro powers. Maybe I'll have to practice and develop them all before I can demonstrate them successfully to you."
"There are only two," Karl replied, "which I would accept as being verifiable. That would be precognition and PK, with the latter being the quickest and best proof. It was you, Jon, who suggested the test of demonstrating them in 1976. Now you seem reluctant to accept your own test of reality."
"But I know I have the power! I used it time and again! You should have seen that tennis game, Karl."
"I know, I know," Karl replied. "It's all right there in your journal. The point is, that's in your dream world... not here in the reality where I live."
"I need more time, Karl," I repeated.
"Fine," Karl agreed. "I don't want to be unreasonable, but it's your test as much as mine. You set up the rules. I'm just the judge. If you want more time, take it."
Karl felt my disappointment and discouragement, and he realized that I was sincerely puzzled by my failure to move -the journal. In his attempt to help he asked me if I was doing something wrong; if I was, perhaps, leaving out some vital step in the process.
"No, no, no," I answered. "Damn it, Karl, I'm doing everything just like I did before. It's just not working!"
Karl laughed. "Look at me, you nut! I'm almost as wrapped up in this as you are!" He paced across the room with his chin in his hand then, turning and pointing his index finger at me, he said, "By George, I've got it! Let's recreate the 'scene of the crime' and see if we can ferret out your mistake. Now let's see, the first time you demonstrated PK was on that pebble when you and Carol took turns making it bounce along in front of you and..." Karl interrupted himself and plopped on his bed, weak with laughter. "I sure do feel stupid, Jon! I'm sure as hell glad one of our professors isn't here watching this production!"
At this prospect, we both broke up.
After a good laugh I said, "Come on now. Back to business. You had a good idea there. Let's get back to the first time I used PK."
"Well, as I was saying, you and Carol were taking turns bouncing-"
I interrupted. "No, Karl. That wasn't the first time I tried it. That was after I had learned the trick. The first time was when I tried to lift the pebble up from the ground in front of us. I couldn't do it. Carol told me to try to recall my last Macro contact experience. I did, and next time I tried, it worked."
Karl immediately asked, "That Macro contact stuff – do you think maybe that's it? Would that work here? And what is it?"
"What is it?" I tried to think of a way to describe it to Karl. "Well, the closest I can come to describing it would be if you paused for a moment and imagined yourself totally, and perfectly, molecularly, one with the air around you and with everything else. Just feel the air between the atoms that make up your body and know that all is perfect and all is one. I realize that's not too great a description, but it's the best I can do."
"I suppose we could call it getting into the Macro mood. One more 2150 expression can only enrich our lives!" Karl joked as he waved a finger in the air and "jived" around the room.
This business of combining the parts of two different worlds was more than I wanted to try to reason out, so I decided instead to act on it. "I don't know, Karl. Let me take the next few minutes to try it. You keep your eye on my journal because if this works, I'm going to teleport it from your table over to my chair."
Karl smiled and said, "If that's precognition you're going to have to also demonstrate PK in order to prove it.
His last words came to me faintly as my mind brought back vividly the memory of my last Macro contact, filling me with quiet, peaceful serenit
y. The fear and anxiety generated by my experience at the market and my failure to successfully demonstrate Macro powers for Karl began to be washed away by-an ocean-the wisdom of oneness-which dissolved them completely, filling me once again with joyous hope and loving acceptance.
I reached out with my mind's imaginary hands and gently lifted my journal a couple of inches straight up above the table.
"Son of a bitch!" Karl exclaimed. "You're doing it, Jon! By God, you're doing it!"
I lifted it a full two feet above the table and began to pull it toward me. A few seconds later, its journey from the table beside Karl over to my chair completed, it had traveled about nine feet and was now lying in my lap.
Karl exploded to his feet. Fighting back tears of joy and amazement, he grabbed my shoulders and shouted, "You did it, Jon! By God, you did it! Honest, Jon, – I thought you were losing your marbles-going out of your mind or something, believing those crazy dreams. But you sure did do it!"
"Are you finally convinced, Karl?" I asked grinning broadly.
Karl returned my grin and released my shoulders. As he stood up, though, the grin faded. "Wait a minute," he said, as he rubbed his chin in thought. "Maybe I'm seeing things, too, just because I want so badly to see them. I mean, maybe I want so strongly for you not to be losing your mind that I'll go to any extreme to prove you aren't. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Maybe that journal got over to you by some perfectly normal means that I, somehow, blocked out. Or maybe you hypnotized me-or maybe I hypnotized myself, Jon."
"Now it's your turn to have doubts about our test," I teased. "Maybe that bit about one of our professors seeing all this wasn't a bad idea. Do you want to invite some friends in for a little demonstration?"
"No, not really," Karl said, shaking his head. "If you failed, then everyone would know you're nuts and, being your brother, I'd be judged guilty by association. On the other hand, if you succeeded, you'd be as notorious as if you had suddenly grown two heads. Besides, you might still be accused of hypnotism. No, that's not the answer."
"Well, then, what do you suggest?" I asked. "I've kept my part of the bargain. I've demonstrated PK and even offered to do it again in front of witnesses. What more can I do?"
"Let me think a minute," Karl said. "Something's coming-something's coming..."
About twenty seconds later he shouted, "Eureka! I've got it! I'll take pictures. Yes, sir, I'll take pictures from every angle, then I'll buzz upstairs and borrow Snuffy Baldwin's dark room and develop them. How's that grab ya?"
"Hmm," I said as I thought it over. "Don't you think Snuffy will want to see these big important pictures you're suddenly so hot about developing? Besides, it seems to me I can remember when you told him your time was too valuable to waste developing your own pictures any more."
"I can handle Snuffy all right," Karl replied confidently. "You just recharge your batteries or whatever you do to get ready for another demonstration of PK before the untrickable eye of my camera."
As he was talking Karl had walked over to the closet and pulled out his camera which he had picked up while we were overseas. For a time it seemed like he was forever taking pictures of all kinds of stuff, then developing and enlarging them, sometimes enormous sizes. I remember I had thought that somehow all this was some sort of compensation for the loss of his left eye. His passion for photography had gradually waned, however, till during the past six months he had taken very few pictures, had sold his enlarger, and had given all his chemicals and trays to Snuffy. Now it looked as if all his old camera-bug enthusiasm had suddenly returned.
While Karl was preparing his camera, I was heeding his advice and preparing myself for another PK demonstration by again focusing my mind on that most wondrous of all experiences in my memory-the Macro contact. I felt the tiredness dissipate in that infinite ocean of omnipotent and omniscient universal mind. Soon I felt refreshed and ready to try teleporting my journal again.
"All right," Karl said, shifting the angle of his flash attachment, "I'm ready to start taking pictures so you can start your levitation act any time you're ready."
I looked at this journal lying on my lap, then reached out with my mental hands and suddenly lifted it almost to the ceiling. There were a number of flashes as Karl leaped about almost frantically taking pictures from every possible angle. I moved the journal to various parts of the room with Karl bobbing about either beneath, beside, or above it leaving a trail of used flashbulbs behind.
Finally I realized that I was getting too tired to continue, so I maneuvered the journal back to the table from which I had originally moved it. I dropped it the last ten inches or so and it landed with a sharp slapping sound. I lay back in my chair, more exhausted even than after my first pebble-moving experience back in 2150. Now I could only hope that the pictures would turn out well enough to prove once and for all that my PK ability was real, and so, therefore, were my dream experiences of the 2150 Macro society.
"You better rest," Karl said, "then have something to eat. I'll be up at Snuffy's developing these pictures."
With these words Karl was out the door and I spent the next half-hour slowly recuperating my strength with the help of Macro contact memory.
Later as I fixed a couple of sandwiches and leisurely ate them, I wondered how my PK demonstrations would affect Karl's attitude toward my dream experiences. Would even all the pictures he took manage to overcome Karl's deep-seated skepticism? After all, I thought, if he accepts this evidence as demonstrating the validity of my experiences in 2150 it will undermine his micro beliefs about the nature of man and ultimate reality.
It wouldn't be easy to give up the view of psychology, sociology, and anthropology that man was merely a highly complex animal whose behavior is determined by the accidents of birth and environment.
Having finished my sandwiches, I decided to bring my journal up to date with my most recent experiences here in 1976. As I wrote I kept stopping every once in a while, wondering how I could help those who were caught in a micro view of themselves and the world about them. I thought of some of my professors in psychology and sociology and remembered how they prided themselves on their scientific objectivity. Yet they refused to even consider any evidence of parapsychology, which claimed the existence of non-physical phenomena such as clairvoyance, telepathy, PK, and precognition-all modern heresy to the behavioral sciences of 1976. But what would it take to convince them, I wondered, or would they have to die and be replaced by more highly evolved incarnating souls? That was the answer C.I. had given me, but it seemed rather cold-blooded to resign yourself to waiting for a whole generation to die off.
When I finally finished my writing it was almost time for me to go to sleep again. I wondered what was detaining Karl. Had something gone wrong with the developing? I was just getting ready to call Snuffy's room when Karl opened the door, waving a handful of pictures.
"Here's the proof," he said, shaking his head. "Here's the concrete proof of your PK ability and, I suppose, the evidence to support the reality of your dream experiences."
"What took you so long?" I asked.
"Well, by the time I had the pictures developed," Karl replied, "Snuffy had gone out so I had his apartment all to myself to do a little uninterrupted thinking. Besides, he had fried up a bunch of chicken and suggested I finish it off. So I ate fried chicken and examined these pictures carefully to see if I could honestly remain skeptical about what you've been writing down in that journal of yours."
"And what did you decide?" I asked.
"That it's going to be the toughest decision I've ever made," Karl replied. "In fact, if I accept the validity of 2150 and its Macro society, I'm going to have to either look for a new profession or be damned careful to hide my new beliefs from my fellow behavioral scientists."
"You don't think that I could demonstrate my Macro powers to other behavioral scientists?" I queried.
"Ha!" Karl said, "I may be considering, adopting some mighty crazy ideas, but I'm not crazy enough to think a
nyone else is going to buy them. For example, for the last twenty-five years, some very detailed evidence from some highly reputable individuals has been presented on U.F.O. phenomena, and the very 'respectable' scientific associations refuse to take it seriously. Now here I am, a budding Ph.D., giving serious consideration to stories a lot more far-out than UFOs. Oh, lord, Jon, I'm going to hell in a hand basket!"
"Congratulations, Karl," I said. "You'll make a Macro philosopher yet!"
"Does being a Macro philosopher mean that you believe in things that almost everyone else calls crazy?" Karl asked.
"Sometimes," I answered, "but more importantly, the Macro philosopher does not shut his mind to anything. He realizes that truth is always a function of the size of one's perspective. That is, the larger your perspective, the more truths you can comprehend."
"I'm going to bed, and I'll think about that and about what these pictures mean," Karl replied. "I've had a hard day. My philosophy of life is being pulled up by the roots-maybe destroyed for good."
I, too, headed for bed, looking forward to getting back to 2150.
Once in bed, however, I found it difficult to stop thinking about the day's events-particularly my experience at the supermarket. Try as I did, it was impossible to forget my own fear, frustration, and anxiety during my confrontation with the angry woman and the store manager. I had to admit that if I really had been able to practice a Macro perspective, these negative feelings would not have occurred. I would have been able to completely demonstrate loving acceptance. How would I ever reach third-level awareness if I responded to threats as I had this afternoon?
I shook my head sadly as I realized that the real test of high-level Macro awareness was not accepting with love the members of the Macro society-that was easy but accepting with love micro man. That was the greatest challenge of all.
The one commandment of the philosopher-tutor, Jesus, to love one another-even your enemies-had always seemed to me a ridiculously impossible commandment. And it was impossible for micro man-only the highest Macro levels could consistently demonstrate this when living among micro man. Now I understood why many members of the Macro society volunteered to teach and counsel on Micro Island. Would I have to do that, I wondered? I'll think about that later, I thought, as my mind finally wound down and accepted sleep.
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