Business enterprises -- Fiction; Psychic ability -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
Produced by Sankar Viswanathan, Greg Weeks, and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from Fantastic Universe March 1954. Extensive
research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this
publication was renewed.
[_Without stressing the technological aspects of the strange
powers of the widely-talented ones--the psis, espers, telepaths which
have been so painstakingly forecast by Stapledon, van Vogt, Weinbaum,
Vance and others--Messieurs Peterson and Staub have whipped fantasy,
forecasts and facts into a stirring and mentally titillating story of
a too-imaginative mind._]
the psilent partner
by ... Edward S. Staub and John Victor Peterson
A pstrange probing mind that crossed pstate lines, the
pseas, even high in the psky--to bring psomething new to
Wall Pstreet.
* * * * *
_He had never cast his consciousness so far before. It floated high
above New York, perceiving in the noonday sky the thin, faint crescent
of a waning moon. He wondered if one day he might cast his mind even
to the moon, knew with a mounting exultation that his powers were
already great enough._
_Yet he was as afraid to launch it on that awesome transit as he still
was to send it delving into the tight subway tunnels in the rock of
Manhattan. Phobias were too real now. Perhaps it would be different
later...._
_He was young, as a man, younger as a recognized developing psi. As
his consciousness floated there above the bustling city, exultant,
free, it sensed that back where his body lay a bell was ringing. And
the bell meant it--his consciousness--must return now to that
body...._
* * * * *
Dale V. Lawrence needed a lawyer urgently. Not that he hadn't a score
of legal minds at his disposal; a corporation president must maintain
a sizable legal staff. You can't build an industrial empire without
treading on people's toes. And you need lawyers when you tread.
He sat behind his massive mahogany desk, a stocky, slightly-balding,
stern-looking man of middle age who was psychosomatically creating
another ulcer as he worried about the business transaction which he
could not handle personally because of the ulcer operation he was
about to have. Neither the business transaction nor the operation
could be delayed.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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