Read Ebook: Simple psiman by Wallace F L Floyd L

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Ebook has 363 lines and 15662 words, and 8 pages

Rains was sweating. He had to shake off this insidious attack.

First, he had to locate the source. Not the AFUA beggar. He was near, but Rains had already ascertained he wasn't a telepath. The street was now crowded with men and beasts. That was the trouble; there was no easy way to pick out his assailant.

Which one? Rains glanced around. The white bearded ascetic next to him? He was the holy hermit, telepathic type. But so were dozens of others, most of them with luxuriant white beards. Rains probed, but got no results.

In America he'd fenced off combined telepathic assaults of the best of his fellows. He'd expected more competition in India, but this was beyond his expectation. The defense he'd prepared seemed weak for what it had to ward off.

An olive-skinned, dark-eyed girl went by with a gliding graceful walk. With a little help from his imagination he could conjecture every curve. It was sufficiently distracting. Me plus thee equals whee, he thought swiftly. But this is hardly a Euclidean proposition, though I would like our parallel paths to meet.

Was he too hopeful, or did the surrounding thoughts retreat somewhat? The girl turned and retraced her steps. Me plus thee equals three, her reply came back firmly. What do you have in mind?

She wasn't thinking along the right lines. There was a mental wedding scene uncomfortably close. He went on, ignoring her opportunistic suggestion.

I should have known, she thought frozenly when he didn't respond. You're looking for another kind of girl. She took herself out of the picture.

It was dangerous to spread his thoughts around. Something less personal was in order. Nonsense was reputed to work. He searched and found some, repeating it silently. I was thinking of a plan to dye my whiskers green, and always wear so large a fan they never could be seen.

An ascetic, there seemed to be hundreds around, walked by. I was thinking of a plan--continued Rains, his effort intense--to dye my whiskers green....

The ascetic bellowed as a cow butted his side and began munching his beard. A green beard! The Hindu squirmed and twisted loose, backing away from the cow. The cow lollopped out her tongue and tucked a whisp of beard into her mouth, chewing away as if on grass, which it resembled. Purposefully she advanced.

The old Hindu scrambled away, clutching the remains of his beard. It was now green, but it had been white. Rains could swear he had been looking at it during the instant of change. The cow lurched after the old man. She broke into a trot and the trot stretched into a gallop and the two of them disappeared down the street.

All around there were men with green beards. It wasn't natural. They stared at each other and then their eyes glided down. Muttering in foreign tongues they stalked away. Rains could understand their consternation. What had caused their beards to change? Did it have anything to do with the rhyme?

But there was something more important. The mind that had been trying to invade his had gone away. He thought back. The mental influence had vanished with the cow.

An animal telepath? In India it wasn't totally unexpected. It was the reason he was here. And the thoughts were those a cow would have--internal evidence couldn't be ignored. It was frightening that the cow was a stronger telepath than he, but it was also a source of relief. At least the animal hadn't filched any secrets from him.

He had another conclusion to allay his anxiety. The girl he'd mentally whistled at had been able to intercept his thoughts. Learning that he wasn't interested in what she wanted, she had politely if frigidly withdrawn. Mental courtesy? Well, why not?

Even in India there weren't many telepaths, say one in five or ten thousand. But considering the density of population, that was a lot. They had to evolve a code of mental conduct or life would be intolerable. No one violated another's thoughts except for good reason. If he watched himself, Rains thought, he'd have no cause for alarm. No one would snatch his plans from his mind.

Rains walked on, wondering who or what had changed the white beards to green. A powerful mind at work, but not the cow; he was certain of this. Nor the girl.

Rains fished discreetly about. Not the least hint. But the nonsense rhyme had influenced someone, and that person was now lost to him.

If he'd had the time, Rains would have liked to find and study the unusual man who'd saved him with that green beard trick. An unorthodox talent, limited but interesting. After the menace that hung far out in space was ended, he would come back and search out his unseen benefactor.

Regretfully Rains cancelled these interesting thoughts, and looked around for his indefatigable AFUA follower. The man was gone, despairing at last of wheedling more alms. Or perhaps he'd been frightened by the strange occurrence on the street.

Rains wandered back to the hotel. Upon approaching it he stopped. The AFUA line had grown longer, curling around the block, ending almost where it began. It wouldn't help to go to the back entrance, because the line was there too.

Rains lowered his head and plunged on toward the front entrance. A hand touched his elbow. "Guide?" inquired a voice. Someone asking for work, not money, was unusual.

The voice was faintly familiar. Rains swung around. It was the man who'd handed back the emblem. For this Rains owed him nothing. And yet he did. Because of this he'd been forced to find a better means of disposing of it.

He did need a guide, but he hadn't intended to hire one until he got to Benares, far to the north, where he hoped his search would end. The man he had to find was completely unknown, and Rains had only faint clues to go on, so he'd have to rely on his telepathic power to uncover more information.

Rains beckoned and the man stepped out of the AFUA line, no recognition in his eyes. "Let's see your license," Rains said. The man fumbled in his turban and produced it.

Rains read silently, "Experience one year." Too bad. His mission couldn't be trusted to a beginner. "I'll think about it," he said, handing back the card. "If you don't find anything else, be here tomorrow. I may come out." Tomorrow he'd be on his way to Benares.

The native folded the license into his turban and went back. He was now at the very end of the line because he'd left his place to follow Rains. He'd get little tossed to him today, and the coins Rains had given him wouldn't buy much. Rains could sense despair.

Rains beckoned him back. "Do you have any other skills that might be useful?" he asked. "What did you do before you became a guide?"

The eyes brightened, then faded in quick defeat. "Nothing you'd want," he mumbled. "For ten years I was a dyeman."

Rains thought back to the scene of the mental ambush. Beards. Green beards. The dyeman had been near at the time.

"Dyeman?" he repeated, trying to keep the excitement out of his voice. Even if it actually had taken place as he thought, it was only a minor talent. But there was always empathy between psipeople, even though their abilities might be unrelated. He could expect closer cooperation from this man than from any other guide he might hire.

"I may be able to use you," he said. "Come in. We'll talk." He'd discovered a new field for Rhine investigation. They'd mention it in history books, after they described how he saved the world.

Gowru Chandit accepted the drink gratefully. Rains leaned back and said, "Is this what you're trying to say? You first noticed your ability when the dye didn't arrive at the textile factory. You had a quota to meet. In panic you ran the cloth through anyway, and it came out the color you wanted."

Gowru nodded.

"Can you tell me how you do it?"

The Hindu looped his hand near his head and shrugged.

Rains nodded. Any other answer would have been surprising. "What did they say at the factory when you told them?"

Gowru grinned slyly. "Alas, I'm a poor man. I didn't tell them."

Rains could follow the man's thoughts as long as they were composed in English. Alloted chemicals, Gowru smuggled everything out of the plant that wasn't used and sold it to other firms. It should have been profitable. "Why aren't you still with them?" Actually he knew the answer. A new process had displaced the dyeman.

"I soon became foreman of the entire plant. I alone had charge of all coloring. I was wildly prosperous, what with one thing and another. It was my downfall."

"I don't understand." He did, but it was best to lead the man on, to explore all possibilities.

"I drank," said Gowru. "I had money for it and I drank too much."

"And lost your ability?"

"It was not so simple," said Gowru. "No, my ability became stronger than ever." He meditated briefly. "Picture me, the master dyeman who alone colors all the material that passes through the plant. So skillful am I, so beautiful the colors that the poorest cloth becomes transfigured and commands premium prices.

"I arrive at work one morning and I am sick. I go into my secret mixing room and lose my breakfast there. My head throbs. I raise it and look at the chart. So much green, so much red and yellow, so much everything.

"The chemicals are there and I put them into the suitcase which the management graciously allows me to take in and out of the factory. The pipes which fill the various vats flow through this room. As I have always done, I concentrate on the wanted colors, associating them with the proper vats. But my head hurts, you understand. Alternately, it grows large and small in defiance of the laws of physics."

Gowru Chandit paused to shake his head sorrowfully in remembrance of that day. "I concentrate until all the vats are filled and then, as usual, go to sleep. All day the automatic machinery hums. Yards pass through the vats, bolt after bolt is dyed, dried and wound, and nobody looks because this operation is automatic.

"Then, the manager comes to inspect production and rub his hands at the profits that will accrue to him. He unwinds a sample, looks at it and screams." Gowru stared mournfully at Rains. "Retroactive to that scream I am fired."

"But why?"

Gowru loosened a fold of his turban and spread it out so the pattern was visible. "I was projecting. Did you ever see such a headache reproduced in full color? Not merely a headache, but also a hangover."

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