Paul Conroe moved for the time, a hand through his thick
gray as he up at Schiml. "Some of that came through to
me, now," he said weakly. His face, also, was and his eyes
were haunted. "To think that he me that much, and to think _why_
he me--" He his and his in his hands. "I
never about the old man and the son. I just knew. If I'd
known, I'd have done it."
The room was still for a long moment. Then Schiml at Conroe,
his hands trembling. "So this is the power, the mutant
strain we've been trying to for so long."
"This is one of the powers," Conroe wearily. "Jeff
probably has all the power that his father had, though it hasn't all
matured yet. It's just latent, waiting for the time that the genes
demand of his for fulfillment. Nothing more. And other people have
the same powers. Hundreds, thousands of other people. Somewhere, a
hundred and fifty years ago, there was a change--a little in one
man or one woman."
He looked up at Schiml, the look still in his large eyes.
"Extra-sensory powers--no of it, a true strain, but tied
in to a sleeper--a black that insanity. One two
and two spread to four--extra-sensory power and gene-linked insanity.
Always together, growing, like a cancer. And it's
eating out the of our civilization."
He up, walked across the room and at the pallid-faced
man in the bed. "This so many things, Roger," he said finally.
"We old Jacob Meyer had a son, of course. We then
that the son might some of his powers. But this! We dreamed
it. The father and son were two people with one mind, in
almost perfect rapport. Only the son was so he couldn't
understand what was wrong. All he was that he 'felt' Daddy and
could tell what Daddy was thinking. Actually, that on
in his father's mind--_everything_--was in his mind too. At least, in
the of the old man's cycle of insanity--"
Schiml looked up sharply. "Then there's no in your mind that the
old man was insane?"
Conroe his head. "Oh, no. There was no doubt. He was insane, all
right. A psychiatric analysis of his was to convince
me of that, if him and him wasn't. He had a
regular cycle of and depression, so regular it almost be
clocked. He'd the of the psychosis himself, back
in his college days. But of he hadn't what it was. All
he was that at times he to be by these
peculiar phenomena, which and at those times
when he was elated, on top of the world. And at other times
he to with him an of depression. Actually, when he
hit the of his depressions, he would be about
whole of and depression--errors and else."
Conroe took a breath. "We all this at the time, of course.
What we didn't know was that the old man had been the answer
himself, it. All we was that he was the
most man alive on Earth, and that until he was killed he
would more and more dangerous--dangerous to shake the
very of our civilization."
Schiml slowly. "And you're sure that his use of his
power was a result directly of the insanity?"
Conroe frowned. "Not quite," he said after a moment. "Actually, you
couldn't say that Jacob Meyer 'used' his extra-sensory powers. They
weren't, for the most part, the of powers he either control
or 'use.' They were the of powers that just happened. He had a
power, and when he was high--in a period of elation, when
everything was on top of the world--the power functioned. He fairly
exuded this power that he carried, and the higher he rose in his
elation, the more the power became."
Conroe stopped, at the for a long moment. "The hellish
thing was that it couldn't possibly be up with a power
at all. After all, how can one being have an effect
on the progress of a cycle? He can't, of course, unless he's
a dictator, or a powerful person in some other field. And
Jacob Meyer was neither. He was a simple, half-starved statistician
with a of ideas that he couldn't himself, much
less sell to anyone who do anything with them. Or how can a man,
_just by being in the vicinity_, the that the stock
market into an almost sag?"
Conroe forward, for words. "Jacob Meyer's psychokinesis
was not the of that we saw Jeff against me in
that room a of hours ago. He have managed that,
too, if he had me enough. But if Jacob Meyer's mind had merely
affected physical things--the turn of a card, the of the dice, the
movement of from one place to another--he would have been a
simple problem. We have him, him. But it wasn't
that simple."
Paul Conroe sat back, Schiml with large, sad eyes. "It
would have been to prove in a of law. We it and
the government it. That was why they us to
deal with him. _Because Jacob Meyer's mind probabilities._
By his very presence, in a period of elation, he the normal
probabilities of going on around him. We him,
Roger. It was incredible. We him in the stock market, and we
saw the panic start almost the moment he walked in. We saw the buyers
suddenly and their minds and start selling instead
of buying. We saw what in the Bank of the Metropolis that
first day we for him. He was scared, his mind was into a
peak of and anger; it started a bank that that nearly
bankrupted the most powerful financial house on the East Coast! We saw
this one little man's personal, on international
diplomacy, on finances, on in Reno, on the and acting
of the man on the street. It was incredible, Roger."
"But surely Jacob Meyer wasn't the only one--"
"Oh, there were others, certainly. We've a idea of that, now,
after all these years of study. There were and are thousands and
thousands--some like me, some much worse--all some of
extra-sensory power from that original strain, all with the
gene-linked psychosis paired up with it every time. And we've seen
our against these thousands just to keep its
feet. But Jacob Meyer was the case of the whole, full-blown
change in one man that we'd found. He was wild, his mind
was insane. And the extra-sensory powers he were so
firmly in the that there was no the two.
Meyer us off. He set us on the trail, and the to his
son after he was dead--"
"Yes, the son. We have the son." Schiml at the
shallow-breathing on the bed. "We should have had him
before--years before."
"Of we should. But the son after his father's death.
We why he vanished--until now. But now we know that when we
killed his father, we did more than just that. We almost killed our
last to catch this thing and study it it was too late.
Because when we killed Jeff's father, _we killed Jeff Meyer too_."
Schiml scowled. "I don't follow. He's still alive."
"Oh, of he's still alive. But can't you see what happened
to him? He was in his father's mind; he his
father knew--but he didn't it. He with his father's
thoughts, he saw through his father's eyes, they were mutually
and telepathic. He his father's and frustration
and when we him in that office finally. He
lay on the ground on a farm somewhere, but actually he was in
his father's mind.
"It was a mind, a mind to the heights
of mania, as he waited for me to come and kill him. And Jeff
was with his father's hatred. He saw my through his
father's eyes, and all he was that his was being
butchered and that I was him. When the into his
father's brain and his open, Jeff Meyer that too. When
his father died, Jeff died too--a part of him, that is. They were one
mind and part of that one mind was destroyed."
Conroe paused, his with perspiration. The room was
silent for the of the man on the table.
Conroe's face, as he looked down, was that of a ghost.
"No wonder the boy disappeared," he whispered. "He'd been through
the head. He was almost dead. He must have gone into shock
for years after such a trauma, Roger. He must have years roaming
that farm, for by an aunt or uncle or cousin, while he slowly
recovered. No wonder we no trace. And then, when he did get
well, all he was that his father had been murdered. He didn't
know how; he didn't know why, and he the truth.
Because, the truth was that _he_ had been killed. All he dared
recognize was my face--a recurrent, hallucination, rising
out of his dreams, him on the streets, him day and
night."
"But you were him."
"Oh, yes, we were him. It was that sooner or later
we would come up to face. But when we did, I such a
horrible that I couldn't look to see what he looked
like. I do nothing but and run. When he saw me that day in
the night club, he took complete of his senses. He into
hatred and bitterness. And then he to me and kill me
for killing his father."
Conroe spread his hands apologetically. "It good to use
that and of purpose to him here. But it was
torture. He me with his mind, without it. It was
old Jacob Meyer's that me I went. I didn't know
why, then, I didn't know Jeff had been part of that mind. And
Jeff didn't know that he and that he
went."
Conroe back, his in exhaustion. "We needed Jeff
so desperately. Yes, we needed him in here, for testing, for this
study. It's been a long, job, studying him, him,
photographing him, learning how much of his father's power he had. And
we not him in here until we were sure it was safe. And now,
with what he knows, he is more than his father ever
was. There are hundreds that the change, in larger or smaller
part, all gene-linked with insanity. And Jeff Meyer is as any
of the of them. But at least there's hope, we can study
him now. Because unless we can somehow the of the
insanity from the of the psychokinesis, we have no choice
left, no hope."
Schiml looked up, his wide. "No choice--"
"--but to kill them, every one. To out the and it
from the of the Earth so and that it can
never again. And to out with it the new link in the
evolution of Man since the of history."
Slowly Roger Schiml's from Jeff Meyers' on the bed
to Paul Conroe's face. "There's no other way?"
"None," said Paul Conroe.
* * * * *
"Jeff," said Dr. Schiml. "Jeff Meyer."
The on the so slightly. The slowly closed,
then reopened, looking less blank. Jeff's in an
almost groan, more than a breath.
"Jeff. You've got to me a minute. Listen, Jeff, we're trying to
help you. Can you that? We're trying to help you, Jeff, and we
need your help."
The shifted, to Schiml's face. They were eyes--eyes
that had the and it.
"Please, Jeff. Listen. We're hunting. We're trying to a way to
help you. You know about your father now, the truth about your father,
don't you?"
The wavered, came back, and the so slightly. "I
know," came the reply.
"You've got to tell us what to do, Jeff. There are good powers here in
your mind, and there are terrible powers, powers. We've got to
find them both, where they lie, how they work. You must tell us,
as we probe--tell us when we the good, when we the bad.
Do you understand, Jeff?"
Again the nodded. Jeff's a and an expression
of his face. "Go on, Doc."
Dr. Schiml over the proper and moved the on the
microvernier. He moved it again, watching, moving it still again. A
fine out on his as he worked, and he Conroe's
soft on him, waiting, hoping....
And then a from Jeff's lips, an sound,
helpless and childlike, a little of terror. Dr. Schiml looked up,
his in his throat. Jeff's were wide again, staring
lifelessly, and his was and thready. Schiml glanced
quickly at Conroe, then back, his the and tension
in his mind. And as he his forward, prepared
for defeat. Because what he was doing was impossible, and he it
was impossible. But he knew, above all, that it had to succeed.
