Since then I've kept quiet. At one time I assumed everybody was able
to sense. I've known better for years. Still, I wonder how many other
people are as close-mouthed about their special gift as I am about mine.
I used to think that some day I'd make a lot of money out of it, but
how? I can't read thoughts. I can't even be sure what some of the
things I sense in probing really are.
But I've learned to move things. Ever so little. A piece of paper. A
feather. Once I stopped one of those little glass-enclosed light or
heat-powered devices with vanes you see now and then in a jeweler's
window. And I can stop clocks.
Take this morning, for example. I had set my alarm for five-thirty
because I had to catch the seven o'clock plane at San Francisco
International Airport. This being earlier than I usually get up, it
seems all I did during the night was feel my way past the escapement
and balance wheel to see where the notch for the alarm was. The last
time I did it there was just the merest fraction of an inch between the
pawl and the notch. So I sighed and moved to the balance wheel and its
delicate ribbon of spiraling steel. I hung onto the wheel, exerting
influence to decrease the restoring torque.
The wheel slowed down until there was no more ticking. It took quite
a bit of effort, as it always does, but I did it, as I usually do. I
can't stand the alarm.
When I first learned to do this, I thought I had it made. I even went
to Las Vegas to try my hand, so to speak, with the ratchets and pawls
and cams and springs on the slot machines. But there's nothing delicate
about a slot machine, and the spring tensions are too strong. I dropped
quite a lot of nickels before I finally gave up.
So I'm stuck with a talent I've found little real use for. Except that
it amuses me. Sometimes. Not like this time on the plane.
The woman beside me stirred, sat up suddenly and looked across me out
the window. "Where are we?" she asked in a surprised voice. I told her
we were probably a little north of Bakersfield. She said, "Oh," glanced
at her wristwatch and sank back again.
Soon the stewardesses would bring coffee and doughnuts around, so I
contented myself with looking at the clouds and trying to think about
Amos Magaffey, who was purchasing agent for a Los Angeles amusement
chain, and how I was going to convince him our printing prices were
maybe a little higher but the quality and service were better. My mind
wandered below where I was sitting, idly moving from one piece of
luggage to another, looking for my beat-up suitcase. I went through
slips and slippers, lingerie and laundry, a jig saw puzzle and a
ukulele.