I reached out with my mind's imaginary hands and gently lifted my journal a couple of inches straight up above the table.
"Son of a bitch!" Karl exclaimed. "You're doing it, Jon! By God, you're doing it!"
I lifted it a full two feet above the table and began to pull it toward me. A few seconds later, its journey from the table beside Karl over to my chair completed, it had traveled about nine feet and was now lying in my lap.
Karl exploded to his feet. Fighting back tears of joy and amazement, he grabbed my shoulders and shouted, "You did it, Jon! By God, you did it! Honest, Jon, – I thought you were losing your marbles-going out of your mind or something, believing those crazy dreams. But you sure did do it!"
"Are you finally convinced, Karl?" I asked grinning broadly.
Karl returned my grin and released my shoulders. As he stood up, though, the grin faded. "Wait a minute," he said, as he rubbed his chin in thought. "Maybe I'm seeing things, too, just because I want so badly to see them. I mean, maybe I want so strongly for you not to be losing your mind that I'll go to any extreme to prove you aren't. Maybe I'm hallucinating. Maybe that journal got over to you by some perfectly normal means that I, somehow, blocked out. Or maybe you hypnotized me-or maybe I hypnotized myself, Jon."
"Now it's your turn to have doubts about our test," I teased. "Maybe that bit about one of our professors seeing all this wasn't a bad idea. Do you want to invite some friends in for a little demonstration?"
"No, not really," Karl said, shaking his head. "If you failed, then everyone would know you're nuts and, being your brother, I'd be judged guilty by association. On the other hand, if you succeeded, you'd be as notorious as if you had suddenly grown two heads. Besides, you might still be accused of hypnotism. No, that's not the answer."
"Well, then, what do you suggest?" I asked. "I've kept my part of the bargain. I've demonstrated PK and even offered to do it again in front of witnesses. What more can I do?"
"Let me think a minute," Karl said. "Something's coming-something's coming..."
About twenty seconds later he shouted, "Eureka! I've got it! I'll take pictures. Yes, sir, I'll take pictures from every angle, then I'll buzz upstairs and borrow Snuffy Baldwin's dark room and develop them. How's that grab ya?"
"Hmm," I said as I thought it over. "Don't you think Snuffy will want to see these big important pictures you're suddenly so hot about developing? Besides, it seems to me I can remember when you told him your time was too valuable to waste developing your own pictures any more."
"I can handle Snuffy all right," Karl replied confidently. "You just recharge your batteries or whatever you do to get ready for another demonstration of PK before the untrickable eye of my camera."
As he was talking Karl had walked over to the closet and pulled out his camera which he had picked up while we were overseas. For a time it seemed like he was forever taking pictures of all kinds of stuff, then developing and enlarging them, sometimes enormous sizes. I remember I had thought that somehow all this was some sort of compensation for the loss of his left eye. His passion for photography had gradually waned, however, till during the past six months he had taken very few pictures, had sold his enlarger, and had given all his chemicals and trays to Snuffy. Now it looked as if all his old camera-bug enthusiasm had suddenly returned.
While Karl was preparing his camera, I was heeding his advice and preparing myself for another PK demonstration by again focusing my mind on that most wondrous of all experiences in my memory-the Macro contact. I felt the tiredness dissipate in that infinite ocean of omnipotent and omniscient universal mind. Soon I felt refreshed and ready to try teleporting my journal again.
"All right," Karl said, shifting the angle of his flash attachment, "I'm ready to start taking pictures so you can start your levitation act any time you're ready."
I looked at this journal lying on my lap, then reached out with my mental hands and suddenly lifted it almost to the ceiling. There were a number of flashes as Karl leaped about almost frantically taking pictures from every possible angle. I moved the journal to various parts of the room with Karl bobbing about either beneath, beside, or above it leaving a trail of used flashbulbs behind.
Finally I realized that I was getting too tired to continue, so I maneuvered the journal back to the table from which I had originally moved it. I dropped it the last ten inches or so and it landed with a sharp slapping sound. I lay back in my chair, more exhausted even than after my first pebble-moving experience back in 2150. Now I could only hope that the pictures would turn out well enough to prove once and for all that my PK ability was real, and so, therefore, were my dream experiences of the 2150 Macro society.
"You better rest," Karl said, "then have something to eat. I'll be up at Snuffy's developing these pictures."
With these words Karl was out the door and I spent the next half-hour slowly recuperating my strength with the help of Macro contact memory.
Later as I fixed a couple of sandwiches and leisurely ate them, I wondered how my PK demonstrations would affect Karl's attitude toward my dream experiences. Would even all the pictures he took manage to overcome Karl's deep-seated skepticism? After all, I thought, if he accepts this evidence as demonstrating the validity of my experiences in 2150 it will undermine his micro beliefs about the nature of man and ultimate reality.
It wouldn't be easy to give up the view of psychology, sociology, and anthropology that man was merely a highly complex animal whose behavior is determined by the accidents of birth and environment.
Having finished my sandwiches, I decided to bring my journal up to date with my most recent experiences here in 1976. As I wrote I kept stopping every once in a while, wondering how I could help those who were caught in a micro view of themselves and the world about them. I thought of some of my professors in psychology and sociology and remembered how they prided themselves on their scientific objectivity. Yet they refused to even consider any evidence of parapsychology, which claimed the existence of non-physical phenomena such as clairvoyance, telepathy, PK, and precognition-all modern heresy to the behavioral sciences of 1976. But what would it take to convince them, I wondered, or would they have to die and be replaced by more highly evolved incarnating souls? That was the answer C.I. had given me, but it seemed rather cold-blooded to resign yourself to waiting for a whole generation to die off.
When I finally finished my writing it was almost time for me to go to sleep again. I wondered what was detaining Karl. Had something gone wrong with the developing? I was just getting ready to call Snuffy's room when Karl opened the door, waving a handful of pictures.
"Here's the proof," he said, shaking his head. "Here's the concrete proof of your PK ability and, I suppose, the evidence to support the reality of your dream experiences."
"What took you so long?" I asked.
"Well, by the time I had the pictures developed," Karl replied, "Snuffy had gone out so I had his apartment all to myself to do a little uninterrupted thinking. Besides, he had fried up a bunch of chicken and suggested I finish it off. So I ate fried chicken and examined these pictures carefully to see if I could honestly remain skeptical about what you've been writing down in that journal of yours."
"And what did you decide?" I asked.
"That it's going to be the toughest decision I've ever made," Karl replied. "In fact, if I accept the validity of 2150 and its Macro society, I'm going to have to either look for a new profession or be damned careful to hide my new beliefs from my fellow behavioral scientists."