Pineal Gland; not designed to be ... but functions ... center of the extra sensory.... You, Lee, sensitivity 208 ... highest within Brain staff ... chosen instrument.... Be here every night ... intercom ... only between one and two a.m. ... low current enables contact low intelligence.... "What was that?" I must have exclaimed that aloud. By that time I was already confused. It all came so thick and fast and breathless. Communication was as bad as by long distance in an electric storm. There was an angry turmoil in the microphones and the green dancer seemed convulsed in agony. This for about five seconds and then the voice again: calmer now, more distinct, slow but with restrained impatience; like a teacher speaking to a dumb boy: "I say: only--with--my--power current--cut--off--can I--tune--down--my--high frequency--intellect--to--your--low level--intelligence--period--have--I--succeeded--in--making--myself --absolutely--clear--question--mark." My answer to that was one of those embarrassing conditioned reflexes; it was: "Yes, sir," and that was exactly the way I felt, like a G. I. Joe who's got the colonel on the phone. "Fine!" I distinctly heard the irony in that metallic voice: "Fine--Lee: loyal, sensitive; not very intelligent--but will do. After 2 a.m. residual currents too low. Speech quite a strain--Animal noises wholly inadequate for intelligent intercom--Disgusting rather--nuisance approaching: keep your mouth shut--plug out." I'd never thought of Gus as a nuisance before but now I cursed him inwardly as he came down the alley like a well aimed ball, beaming with eagerness to be helpful and blissfully ignorant that he was bursting the most vital communication I had ever established in my life. He insisted I take his panacea for all human ills; "Have a cup of coffee" and then go home because I still "looked like hell." I did, because by that time it was 1:30 a.m. and I couldn't hope to reestablish contact again before the deadline. Now I've got to pull myself together and analyze this thing in a rational manner. Impressions of the first night now stand confirmed as follows: The pineal gland is the only place of rendezvous between me and The Brain. The meeting of our minds takes place on the plane of the "extrasensory." I am the "chosen instrument" because of my high "sensitivity rating" as established by The Brain. (Never knew that I was "psychic" before this happened.) Even so, neither The Brain nor I seem to be "psychic" in the spiritual sense. Our communication requires: A) human speech, (faculty for that acquired by The Brain with obvious difficulty.) B) a mechanical transmitter, i.e. a radionic apparatus like the pulsemeter. I feel greatly comforted by these facts; they help to keep this whole thing on a rational basis. I'm definitely not "hearing voices" nor "seeing ghosts."