“But,” O’Connor said sharply, “the amount of psionic energy necessary for such a feat is tremendous. Usually, it is the final burst of energy, the outpouring of all the remaining psionic force immediately before death. And if death does not occur, the person is at the least greatly weakened; his mind, if it ever does recover, needs time and rest to do so.” Malone let that sink in slowly. “Then a person couldn’t do it very often,” he said. “Hardly,” O’Connor said. Malone nodded. “It’s like—like giving blood to a blood bank. Giving, say, three quarts of blood. It might not kill you. But if it didn’t, you’d be weak for a long time.” “Exactly,” O’Connor said. “A good analogy, Mr. Malone.” Malone hated himself for it, but he felt pleased when O’Connor praised him. “Well,” he said, “that winds up Cartier Taylor’s theory pretty thoroughly.” “I should think so,” O’Connor said. “I am surprised, Mr. Malone, that you would put any credence whatever in that man’s theories. His factual data, I will admit, is fairly reliable. But his theories are— well, they are hardly worth the time it takes to read them.” “I see,” Malone said. “It did seem like a good answer, though.” “It undoubtedly is a good one,” O’Connor said. “It is clever and has the advantage of being simple. It is contradicted, Mr. Malone, only by the facts.” “Sure,” Malone said sadly. “But—hey. Wait a minute.” “Yes?” O’Connor said. “One person couldn’t do this alone, at least, not very often and not without serious harm to himself. Right?” “That is what I said,” O’Connor agreed. “Yes, Mr. Malone.” “But how about several people?” Malone said. “I mean, well, let’s look at that blood bank again. You need three quarts of blood. But one person doesn’t have to give it. Suppose twelve people gave half a pint each. Suppose twenty-four people gave a quarter of a pint each. Suppose—” “There is,” O’Connor said, “a point of diminishing returns. But I do see your point, Mr. Malone.” He thought for a second. “It might just be possible,” he said. “At least theoretically. But it would take a great deal of mental co-ordination among the participants. They would have to be telepathic themselves, for one thing.” “Why?” Malone said, feeling stupid. “Because they would have to mesh their thoughts closely enough to direct them properly and at the correct time.” O’Connor nodded. “But, given that, I imagine that it could be done.” “Wonderful,” Malone said. “However,” O’Connor said, apparently glad to throw even a little cold water on the notion, “it could not be done for very long periods of time, you realize.” “Sure,” Malone said happily. “By the way, Mr. Malone,” O’Connor said. “Does this have anything to do with the hypothesis you presented to me some time ago? Mass hypnotism, as I recall—”