Psychic ability -- Fiction; Science fiction; Telepathy -- Fiction; United States. Federal Bureau of Investigation -- Fiction
"Take it easy," Burris put in. "Relax, Malone. Everything's going to
be all right."
Sir Lewis waved a hand negligently. "Let's continue," he said. "Tell
me, Malone: if you were a mathematics professor, teaching a course in
calculus, how would you grade a paper that had all the answers but
didn't show the work?"
"I never took calculus," Malone said. "But I imagine I'd flunk him."
"Why?" Sir Lewis said.
"Because if he can't back up his answer," Malone said slowly, "then
it's no better than a layman's guess. He has to give reasons for his
answers; otherwise nobody else can understand him."
"Fine," Sir Lewis said. "Perfectly fine. Now--" he puffed at his
pipe--"can you give me a logical reason for arriving at the decision
you made a few hours ago?"
The danger was coming closer, Malone realized. He didn't know what it
was or how to guard himself against it. All he could do was answer,
and play for time.
"While I was driving up here," he said, "I sent you a message. I told
you what I knew and what I believed about the whole world picture as
it stands now. I don't know if you received it, but I--"
Luba spoke without the trace of a smile. "You mean you didn't know?"
she said. "You didn't know I was answering you?"
That was the first pebble of the avalanche, Malone knew suddenly--the
avalanche that was somehow going to destroy him. "You forced your
thoughts into my mind, then," he said as coolly as he could. "Just as
you forced decision on the rest of society."
"Now, dammit, Malone!" Burris said suddenly. "You know those bursts
take a lot of energy, and only last for a fraction of a second!"
Malone blinked. "Then you ... didn't--"
_Of course I didn't force anything on you, Kenneth. I can't. Not all
the power of the entire PRS could force anything through your shield.
But you opened it to me._
It was Luba's mental "voice." Malone opened his mouth, shut it and
then, belatedly, snapped shut the channel through which he'd contacted
her. Luba gave him a wry look, but said nothing. "You mean I'm a
telepath?" Malone asked weakly.
"Certainly," Sir Lewis snapped. "At the moment, you can only pick up
Luba--but you are certainly capable of picking up anyone, eventually.
Just as you learned to teleport, you can learn to be a telepath.
You--"
The room was whirling, but Malone tried to keep his mind steady. "Wait
a minute," he said. "If you received what I sent, then you know I've
got a question to ask."
There was a little silence.
Finally Sir Lewis looked up. "You want to know why you felt we--the
PRS--were innocent of the crimes you want to charge us with. Very
well." He paused. "We have wrecked civilization: granted. We could
have done it more smoothly: granted."
"Then--"
Sir Lewis' face was serious and steady. Malone tensed.
"Malone," Sir Lewis said, "do you think you're the only one with a
mental shield?"
Malone shook his head. "I guess stress--fixity of mind or
purpose--could develop it in anyone," he said. "At least, in some
people."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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