the sender, the blood volume alters perceptibly.
“These subjects,” Peter says, “are not professional psychics. None of them have shown any prior ability. It is their conviction at ESPA that everyone possesses ESP and can develop it.” Robert nods, the subject not too comfortable a one for him.
Cathy returns from the “field” and asks Robert if he’d like to help her on the next round. Robert is pleased to agree, glad to get away from ESPA; he has not foreseen the discomfort it has caused him.
He and Cathy leave the offices and go down to the street, Cathy with a sealed envelope in her purse, on it the number 156. There are 200 such envelopes, she explains. The random target generator has chosen this particular one; she has no idea what location is mentioned inside it. It could be any place within Manhattan.
As they walk, she tells him that distance perception was once called “traveling clairvoyance”, that it partakes of various aspects of subjective experience described in medicine as autoscopy, in psychology as exteriorization and in parapsychology as out-of-the-body experiences.
A block away from ESPA, she stops and opens the envelope, shows the card to Robert. “Ah ha,” he says.
They board a bus and ride uptown. “I enjoyed our day together yesterday,” she says.
He smiles. “So did I.”
They chat as the bus takes them to Central Park. There they debark and walk into the park until they reach a bridge over a stream.
“Now what?” Robert asks.
“Now we look around and ‘send back’ to our subject at ESPA what we’re looking at and the subject will try to sketch it.”
“If we get mugged, do we send that as well?”
She smiles and they stand in silence, side by side, looking around—at the grass and bushes, the bridge, the water, the buildings seen above the treetops in all directions.
They exchange a look and smile.
Suddenly, she is clinging to him and they are kissing passionately. “This isn’t what we’re here for!” she whispers breathlessly.
Back to the two of them standing motionless, transmitting to the ESPA subject. We have just seen another of Robert’s little fantasies.
He smiles to himself, turning away from Cathy so she doesn’t notice.
Then, although he tries to do as instructed, he sees another vision—very vivid—the two of them lying on the rug in front of his fireplace, gazing at each other. Cathy wears a pale yellow sweater, a string of pearls.
Robert scowls and puts it from his mind. “Come on,” he murmurs to himself. CAMERA MOVES IN ON his face as he concentrates on sending images to ESPA.
When they return to the offices, they discover that the results of the test is outstanding—the subject, a woman, has drawn a wooden walkway with a railing, the ground falling away beneath it, trees around it, a building in the distance.
“I’d say unusually successful,” Peter says. Easton, called in, agrees. Especially since the subject, heretofore, has done only moderately well.
“You must be good at sending,” Easton says to Robert.
He smiles. “Not me.” When Peter tells him that he shouldn’t eliminate the possibility out of hand, Robert only shakes his head.
“I’m sure it isn’t me,” he says.
“Well, let’s prove it,” Cathy says. How about Robert acting as the subject in another test?
Robert demurs. He really must go home and work.
They look a little taken back. “You aren’t interested?” asks Peter.
Robert smiles. “Some other time.”
“You’re sure?” asks Cathy.
A slight change in his eyes, the faintest hardening of his smile. “Quite sure.”
With noticeable abruptness, he excuses himself and exits, leaving behind a perplexed Peter and Cathy.
He drives home, his expression unreadable. Something is disturbing him.
His state of mind is darkened further by the message on his telephone answering machine. It is from Dr. Norman Konrad, a former associate of his father who lives in the same apartment
“These subjects,” Peter says, “are not professional psychics. None of them have shown any prior ability. It is their conviction at ESPA that everyone possesses ESP and can develop it.” Robert nods, the subject not too comfortable a one for him.
Cathy returns from the “field” and asks Robert if he’d like to help her on the next round. Robert is pleased to agree, glad to get away from ESPA; he has not foreseen the discomfort it has caused him.
He and Cathy leave the offices and go down to the street, Cathy with a sealed envelope in her purse, on it the number 156. There are 200 such envelopes, she explains. The random target generator has chosen this particular one; she has no idea what location is mentioned inside it. It could be any place within Manhattan.
As they walk, she tells him that distance perception was once called “traveling clairvoyance”, that it partakes of various aspects of subjective experience described in medicine as autoscopy, in psychology as exteriorization and in parapsychology as out-of-the-body experiences.
A block away from ESPA, she stops and opens the envelope, shows the card to Robert. “Ah ha,” he says.
They board a bus and ride uptown. “I enjoyed our day together yesterday,” she says.
He smiles. “So did I.”
They chat as the bus takes them to Central Park. There they debark and walk into the park until they reach a bridge over a stream.
“Now what?” Robert asks.
“Now we look around and ‘send back’ to our subject at ESPA what we’re looking at and the subject will try to sketch it.”
“If we get mugged, do we send that as well?”
She smiles and they stand in silence, side by side, looking around—at the grass and bushes, the bridge, the water, the buildings seen above the treetops in all directions.
They exchange a look and smile.
Suddenly, she is clinging to him and they are kissing passionately. “This isn’t what we’re here for!” she whispers breathlessly.
Back to the two of them standing motionless, transmitting to the ESPA subject. We have just seen another of Robert’s little fantasies.
He smiles to himself, turning away from Cathy so she doesn’t notice.
Then, although he tries to do as instructed, he sees another vision—very vivid—the two of them lying on the rug in front of his fireplace, gazing at each other. Cathy wears a pale yellow sweater, a string of pearls.
Robert scowls and puts it from his mind. “Come on,” he murmurs to himself. CAMERA MOVES IN ON his face as he concentrates on sending images to ESPA.
When they return to the offices, they discover that the results of the test is outstanding—the subject, a woman, has drawn a wooden walkway with a railing, the ground falling away beneath it, trees around it, a building in the distance.
“I’d say unusually successful,” Peter says. Easton, called in, agrees. Especially since the subject, heretofore, has done only moderately well.
“You must be good at sending,” Easton says to Robert.
He smiles. “Not me.” When Peter tells him that he shouldn’t eliminate the possibility out of hand, Robert only shakes his head.
“I’m sure it isn’t me,” he says.
“Well, let’s prove it,” Cathy says. How about Robert acting as the subject in another test?
Robert demurs. He really must go home and work.
They look a little taken back. “You aren’t interested?” asks Peter.
Robert smiles. “Some other time.”
“You’re sure?” asks Cathy.
A slight change in his eyes, the faintest hardening of his smile. “Quite sure.”
With noticeable abruptness, he excuses himself and exits, leaving behind a perplexed Peter and Cathy.
He drives home, his expression unreadable. Something is disturbing him.
His state of mind is darkened further by the message on his telephone answering machine. It is from Dr. Norman Konrad, a former associate of his father who lives in the same apartment
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