Zelazny, Roger - Novel 07 Read Online Free PDF Page B

             "—but the move was certainly well
advised," Winchell continued. "Just because our study of the few
thousand known telepaths has provided certain norms, we should not accept them
as gospel—not with a brand-new mutation in human stock. Not this early, not
when so much still remains to be learned,"
                   "Are you trying to say he was
abnormal—even for a telepath—from the very beginning?"
                   Winchell nodded.
                   "Yes," he replied. "I have
tried some recently developed tests, including an experiment in which two other
telepaths were involved. I entered Dennis' mind and used his receptive
abilities to reach them. The nearer is thirty miles from here, the second forty."
                   "Dennis picked up thoughts from forty
miles away?"
                   "Yes, which explains his initial
reception reaction. You were never that far removed from sources of trouble at
your previous addresses. Here, though . . . Here, even with a forty-mile range,
you have room to spare—plenty of it. His condition appears to be purely
functional, and we do have numerous case histories from which to draw
encouragement, dating from the days before the mutation was recognized."
                   "True, there is that," Richard said.
"So ... What do you recommend now?"
                   "I think we should have one of the new TP
therapists come out and work with him—every day, for a while—to reorient him.'*
                   "I've read a bit about those early
cases," Vicki said. "Sometimes the trauma was too strong and they
never developed personalities of their own.... They just remained schizoid
collections of the bits and pieces with which they had been imprinted. Others
withdrew from everything and never—"
                   "There is no point in dwelling on the
worst," Dr. Winchell said. "A good number recovered too, you know.
You have already done a beneficial thing in bringing him here. Also, remember
that the therapists know a lot more about the condition now than anyone did a
generation ago—or even ten years back. Or five. Let's give it a chance. Try to
think about the positive aspects. Remember how easily your attitudes, your
feelings can be communicated."
                   Vicki nodded.
                   "Can you recommend a therapist?"
                   "Actually, I have several possibles in
mind. I will have to check their availability. The best course of treatment
would probably involve a therapist who could live in and work with him every
day—at least for a while. I will investigate as soon as I get back and let you
know—sometime tomorrow."
                   "All right," Richard said.
"Tell them we have a nice guest room."
                   Winchell began to rise.
                   "We would like you to stay to
dinner," Vicki said
                   Winchell eased himself back down.
                   "I thank you."
                   Richard Guise smiled for the first time that
day, rose to his feet.
                   "What are you drinking?"
                   "Scotch and soda."
                   He nodded and swung off toward the house.
                   "Forty miles . . ." he muttered.
                   Lydia Dimanche came to stay at the Guise
house, a small, graceful woman with a musical voice and eyes which almost matched
the black twists of her hair. They guessed that she might be Polynesian.
                   Lydia saw Dennis every day, feeding, channeling,
directing, organizing sensory and extrasensory input. When she was not with
Dennis she kept to herself, back in her room, down in town, up in the hills.
She took her meals with the Guises, but never volunteered information
concerning her patient. When asked directly,