"Good. That shows some logic, Mr. Cornell. After all, we know now that
while we could live on Mars or Venus with a lot of home-sent aid, we'd
be most uncomfortable there. We could not live a minute on any planet of
our solar system without artificial help."
"I might point out that our hypothetical superman might be able to stand
a lot of rough treatment," I blurted.
"Oh, this I'll grant if your tale held any water at all. But let's
forget this fruitless conjecture and take a look at the utter
impossibility of running such an organization. Even planting all of
their secret hangouts in dead areas and never going into urban centers,
they'd still find some telepath or esper on their trail. Perhaps a team.
Let's go back a step and consider, even without psi training, how long
such an outfit could function. It would run until the first specimen had
an automobile accident on, say Times Square; or until one of them
walked--or ran--out of the fire following a jetliner crash."
He then spared me with a cold eye. "Write it as fiction, Mr. Cornell.
But leave my name out of it. I thought you were after facts."
"I am. But the better fact articles always use a bit of speculation to
liven it up."
"Well," he grunted, "one such fanciful suggestion is the possibility of
such an underground outfit being able to develop a 'cure' while we
cannot. We, who have had the best of brains and money for twenty years."
I nodded, and while I did not agree with Phelps, I knew that to insist
was to insult him to his face, and get myself tossed out.
"You do seem to have quite a set-up here," I said, off-hand.
At this point Phelps offered to show me around the place, and I
accepted. Medical Center was far larger than I had believed at first; it
spread beyond my esper range into the hills beyond the main plant. The
buildings were arranged in a haphazard-looking pattern out in the back
section; I say "looking" because only a psi-trained person can dig a
pattern. The wide-open psi area did not extend for miles. Behind the
main buildings it closed down into the usual mottled pattern and the
medical buildings had been placed in the open areas. Dwellings and
dormitories were in the dark places. A nice set-up.
I did not meet any of the patients, but Phelps let me stand in the
corridor outside a couple of rooms and use my esper on the flesh. It was
both distressing and instructive.
He explained, "The usual thing after someone visits this way, is that
the visitor goes out itching. In medical circles this is a form of what
we call 'Sophomore's Syndrome.' Ever heard of it?"
I nodded. "That's during the first years at pre-med. Knowing all too
little of medicine, every disease they study produces the same symptoms
that the student finds in himself. Until tomorrow, when they study the
next. Then the symptoms in the student change."
"Right. So in order to prevent 'Sophomore's Syndrome' among visitors we
usually let them study the real thing. Also," he added seriously, "we'd
like to have as many people as possible recognize the real thing as
early as possible. Even though we can't do anything for them at the
present time, someday we will."
He stopped before a closed door. "In here is a girl of eighteen, doomed
to die in a month." His voice trailed off as he tapped on the door of
the room.
I froze. A few beads of cold sweat ran down my spine, and I fought
myself into a state of nervous calmness. I put the observation away,
buried it as deep as I could, tried to think around it, and so far as I
knew, succeeded.
The tap of Scholar Phelps' finger against the door panel was the
rap-rap-rap sound characteristic of hard-tanned leather tapping wood.
Scholar Phelps was a Mekstrom!
* * * * *
I paid only surface attention to the rest of my visit. I thanked my
personal gods that esper training had also given me the ability to
dissemble. It was impossible to not think of something but it is
possible to keep the mind so busy with surface thoughts that the
underlying idea does not come through the interference.
Eventually I managed to leave the Medical Center without exciting
anyone, and when I left I took off like a skyrocket for Chicago.