He Who Shapes Read Online Free PDF

feeling of
    exhilarationor, as in my own case, into an artistic reverie. With
    you, however, the 'seeing' would be too much. You would be
    in constant danger of losing control of the dream."
    "I disagree with you."
    "Of course you do. But the fact remains that you would be
    dealing, and dealing constantly, with the abnormal. The power
    of a neurosis is unimaginable to ninety-nine point etcetera
    percent of the population, because we can never adequately
    judge the intensity of our ownlet alone those of others, when
    we only see them from the outside. That is why no
    neuroparticipant will ever undertake to treat a full-blown
    psychotic. The few' pioneers in that area are all themselves in
    therapy today. It would be like diving into a maelstrom. If the
    therapist loses the upper hand in an intense session he becomes
    the Shaped rather than the Shaper. The synapses respond like a
    fission reaction when nervous impulses are artificially aug-
    mented. The transference effect is almost instantaneous.
    "I did an awful lot of skiing five years ago. This is because I
    was a claustrophobe. I had to run and it took me six months to
    beat the thingall because of one tiny lapse that occurred in a
    measureless fraction of an instant. I had to refer the patient to
    another therapist. And this was only a minor repercussion.If
    you were to go ga-ga over the scenery, girl, you could wind up
    in a rest home for life."
    She finished her drink and Render refilled the glass. The
    night raced by. They had left the city far behind them, and the
    road was open and clear. The darkness eased more and more of
    itself between the falling flakes. The Spinner picked up speed.
    "All right," she admitted, "maybe you're right. Still, though,
    I think you can help me."
    "How?" he asked.
    "Accustom me to seeing, so that the images will lose their
    novelty, the emotions wear off. Accept me as a patient and rid
    me of my sight-anxiety. Then what you have said so far will
    cease to apply. I will be able to undertake the training then,
    and give my full attention to therapy. I'll be able to sublimate
    the sight-pleasure into something else."
    Render wondered.
    Perhaps it could be done. It would be a difficult undertaking,
    though.
    It might also make therapeutic history.
    No one was really qualified to try it, because no one had ever
    tried it before.
    But Eileen Shallot was a rarityno, a unique itemfor it was
    likely she was the only person in the world who combined the
    necessary technical background with the unique problem.
    He drained his glass, refilled it, refilled hers.
    He was still considering the problem as the "RE-COOR-
    DINATE" light came on and the car pulled into a cutoff and
    stood there. He switched off the buzzer and sat there for a long
    while, thinking.
    It was not often that other persons heard him acknowledge
    his feelings regarding his skill. His colleagues considered him
    modest. Offhand, though, it might be noted that he was aware
    that the day a better neuroparticipant began practicing would
    be the day that a troubled homo sapiens was to be treated by
    something but immeasurably less than angels.
    Two drinks remained. Then he tossed the emptied bottle into
    the backbin.
    "You know something?" he finally said.
    "What?"
    "It might be worth a try."
    He swiveled about then and leaned forward to re-coordinate,
    but she was there first. As he pressed the buttons and the S-7
    swung around, she kissed him. Below her dark glasses her
    cheeks were moist.
    II
    The suicide bothered him more than it should have, and Mrs.
    Lambert had called the day before to cancel her appointment.
    So Render decided to spend the morning being pensive.
    Accordingly, he entered the office wearing a cigar and a frown.
    "Did you see . . .?" asked Mrs. Hedges.
    "Yes." He pitched his coat onto the table that stood in the far
    corner of the room. He crossed to the window, stared down.
    "Yes," he repeated, "I was driving by with my windows clear.
    They were still cleaning up