* * * * *
"I wonder why we never thought of healing as a potential psi-power," my
mother said to me later, when I was catching a snatch of rest and she
was lighting cigarettes and offering me cups of coffee in an attempt to
make up twenty-six years of indifference, perhaps dislike, all at once.
"The ability to heal _is_ recorded in history, only we never paid much
attention to it."
"Recorded?" I asked, a little jealously.
"Of course," she smiled. "Remember the King's Evil?"
I should have known without her reminding me, after all the old books I
had read. "Scrofula, wasn't it? They called it that because the touch
of certain kings was supposed to cure it ... and other diseases, too, I
guess."
She nodded. "Certain people must have had the healing power and that's
probably why they originally got to be the rulers."
In a very short time, I became a pretty important person. All the other
deficients in the world were tested for the healing power and all of
them turned out negative. I proved to be the only human healer alive,
and not only that, I could work a thousand times more efficiently and
effectively than any of the machines. The government built a hospital
just for my work! Wounded people were ferried there from all over the
world and I cured them. I could do practically everything except raise
the dead and sometimes I wondered whether, with a little practice, I
wouldn't be able to do even that.
When I came to my new office, whom did I find waiting there for me but
Lucy, her trim figure enhanced by a snug blue and white uniform. "I'm
your assistant, Kev," she said shyly.