"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 hardly look 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 what she was walking into. Certainly Aarons would never be able to tell her. * * * * * Later, when they were gone, Lambertson and I walked down toward the lagoon. It was a lovely cool evening; the ducks were down at the water's edge. Every year there was a mother duck herding a line of ducklings down the shore and into the water. They never seemed to go where she wanted them to, and she would fuss and chatter, waddling back time and again to prod the reluctant ones out into the pool. We stood by the water's edge in silence for a long time. Then Lambertson kissed 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 Aarons and 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. Not then. * * * * * _Friday, 26 May._ Yesterday we went to Boston to see Dr. Custer, and now it looks as if it's all over. Now even I can't pretend that there's anything more to be done. Next week Aarons will come down, and I'll go to work with him just the way he has it planned. He thinks we have three years of work ahead of us before anything can be published, before he can really be sure we have brought a latent into full use of his psi potential. Maybe so, I don't know. Maybe in three years I'll find some way to make myself care one way or the other. But I'll do it, anyway, because there's nothing else to do. There was no anatomical defect--Dr. Custer was right about that. The eyes are perfect, beautiful gray eyes, he says, and the optic nerves and auditory nerves are perfectly functional. The defect isn't there. It's deeper. Too deep ever to change it. _What you no longer use, you lose_, was what he said, apologizing because 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 strong it started compensating, bringing in more and more from _other_ minds--such a wealth of rich, clear, interpreted visual and auditory impressions that there was never any need for my own. And because of that, certain hookups never got hooked up. That's only a theory, of course, but there isn't any other way to explain it.