The girl broke into a smile. “I think I do.”
“You’ll have to go down and convince them,” Waverley said. “No, wait! I’ll go down with you. You should be worth your weight in gold to an expedition like that.”
It wasn’t too difficult. Several women scientists were going on the expedition, and after seven or eight demonstrations, they agreed that Emma would be an asset. Strong and healthy, she could easily pull her own weight. Self-warmed, she would be able to function in any weather. And her fire-making abilities...
Waverley returned to his office at a leisurely pace, a self- satisfied smile on his lips. Girls like Emma would be useful on Mars someday, when a colony was established there. Heat would be difficult to conserve in Mars’s thin air. She was a logical choice for a colonist.
Things like that reaffirmed his faith in the future of psi. There was a place for all psi talents. It was just a question of finding the right job, or creating one.
Back in the office, a surprise was waiting for him. Eskin, the voyeur, was back. And Doris Fleet had a wrathful look in her eyes.
“What’s wrong, Sid?” Waverley asked. “Back to pay us a visit?”
“Back for good,” Eskin said unhappily. “They fired me, Mr. Waverley.”
“Why?”
“They’re not real scientists,” Eskin said sadly. “I showed them my results on their test cases, and they were shocked. Can you imagine it, Mr. Waverley? Scientists—shocked!”
Waverley suppressed a grin. He had always had a feeling that surveys of that sort uncovered about a sixteenth of the truth.
“Besides, they couldn’t keep their scientific detachment. I ran a series of studies on the scientists’ home lives for a control factor. And they threw me out!”
“That’s a pity,” Waverley said, avoiding Doris Fleet’s look.
“I tried to point out that there was nothing wrong in it,” Eskin said. “I showed them the series I’ve been running on you and Miss Fleet—”
“What?” Doris yelped, standing up so suddenly she knocked over her chair.
“Certainly. I keep my reports on all subjects,” the psi said. “One must run follow-up tests.”
“That does it,” Doris said. “I never heard such a—Sam! Throw him out!”
“What good will that do?” Waverley asked. “He’ll just go on observing us.”
Doris stood for a moment, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I won’t stand for it!” she said suddenly. “I just won’t!” She picked up her handbag and started toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Waverley asked.
“To enter a nunnery!” Doris shouted, and disappeared through the door.
“She wasn’t the girl for you, anyhow,” the psi said. “Extremely prudish. I’ve been observing your sexual needs pretty closely, and you—”
“Shut up,” Waverley said. “Let me think.” No answer sprang into his mind. No matter what job he found for Eskin, the man would still go on with his observations. And Doris wouldn’t marry Waverley.
“Go into the other room,” Waverley said. “I need time to think.”
“Shall I leave my report here?” The psi said, showing him a stack of papers two inches thick.
“Yeah, just drop it on the desk.” The psi went into the anteroom, and Waverley sat down to think.
Over the next few days, Waverley gave every available minute to the voyeur’s problem. Doris didn’t come back to work the next morning, or the morning after that. Waverley called her apartment, but no one answered.
The poltergeist girl left with the Antarctic expedition, and was given a big fanfare by the press.
Two telekinetic psis were found in East Africa and sent to Wild Talents.
Waverley thought and thought.
A man dropped into the office with a trained-dog act, and was very indignant when he heard that Wild Talents was not a theatrical agency. He left in a huff.
Waverley went on thinking.
Howard Aircraft called him. Since Bill Symes had left, Inspection had become the plant’s worst bottleneck. Production had been geared to the psi’s methods. When he was doing well, Symes could glance at a piece of metal and jot down his analysis. The part didn’t even have to be moved.
Under the older method of X-ray inspection, the parts had to be shipped to Inspection, lined up, put under the machine, and the plates developed. Then a radiologist had to read the film, and a superior had to pass on it.
They wanted Symes back.
The psi returned. He had had his fill of farming in a surprisingly short time. Besides, he knew now that he was needed. And that made all the difference.
Waverley sat at his desk, reading over the voyeur’s reports, trying to find some clue he might have missed.
The man certainly had an amazing talent. He analyzed right down to the hormones and microscopic lesions. Now how in hell could he do that? Waverley asked himself. Microscopic vision? Why not?
Waverley considered sending Eskin back to Blackstone. After all, the man was doing more harm than good. Under psychiatric care, he might lose his compulsion—and his talent, perhaps.
But was Eskin insane? Or was he a genius with an ability far beyond the present age?
With a nervous shudder, Waverley imagined a line in some future history book: “Because of Dr. Waverley’s stupidity and rigidity in dealing with the genius Eskin, psi research was held up for—”Oh no! He couldn’t chance that sort of thing. But there had to be a way.
A man who could—of course!
“Come in here, Eskin,” Waverley said to the potential genius.
“Yes, sir,” the psi said, and sat down in front of Waverley’s desk.
“Sid,” Waverley said, “how would you like to do a sexual report that would really aid science? One that would open a field never before explored?”
“What do you mean?” the psi asked dubiously.
“Look, Sid. Straight sexual surveys are old stuff. Everybody does them. Maybe not as well as you, but they still do them. How would you like it if I could introduce you to an almost unexplored field of science? A field that would really test your abilities to the utmost?”
“I’d like that,” the psi said. “But it would have to do with sex.”
“Of course,” Waverley said. “But you don’t care what aspect of sex, do you?”
“I don’t know,” Eskin said.
“If you could do this—and I don’t know that you can—your name would go down in history. You’d be able to publish your papers in the best scientific journals. No one would bother you, and you could get all the help you want.”
“It sounds wonderful. What is it?”
Waverley told him, and watched Eskin closely. The psi considered. Then he said, “I think I could do that, Mr. Waverley. It wouldn’t be easy, but if you really think that science—”
“I know so,” Waverley said, in a tone of profoundest conviction. “You’ll need some texts, to get some background on the field. I’ll help you select them.”
“I’ll start right now!” the psi said, and closed his eyes for greater concentration.
“Wait a minute,” Waverley said. “Are you able to observe Miss Fleet now?”
“I can if I want to,” the psi said. “But I think this is more important.”
“It is,” Waverley told him. “I was just curious as to whether you could tell me where she is.”
The psi thought for a moment.
“She isn’t doing anything sexual,” he said. “She’s in a room, but I don’t know where the room is. Now let me concentrate.”
“Sure. Go ahead.”
Eskin closed his eyes again. “Yes, I can see them! Give me pencil and paper!”
Waverley left him as Eskin began his preliminary investigations.
Now where had that girl gone? Waverley telephoned her apartment again, to see if she had come back. But there was no answer. One by one, he called all her friends. They hadn’t seen her.
Where? Where in the world?
Waverley closed his eyes and thought: Doris? Can you hear me, Doris?