Chapter 16

I met Shezzie near the airport, in the parking lot of the Hilton. We decided to check in, and while we were signing the agreement I brought her up to date on what Surfer had done. She had known him longer than she’d known me; in fact, it had been Surfer who’d begun the process of developing her Talent even though he’d been working from halfway around the world. No question about it, he had been much stronger than any of us. Only Shezzie currently had a nearly comparable strength, and her Talent was still developing.

In addition, she was developing the ability to deploy her ‘bubble’ and control it. She didn’t yet have my PK strength and nowhere near the level of control I’d developed, but that would come as she continued to stretch her Talents.

I stretched out on the bed, eyes closed, and Shezzie sat in an armchair. She was trying to come to terms with Surfer’s death, and her eyes were wet and puffy.

Finally I decided to talk. “There are only three of us now. You’re still getting stronger, Ray’s just starting to develop. I’m stronger, but I’m also the one in danger; Henderson’s out there somewhere, and if he sees me before I see him he’ll kill me. Henderson is the greatest danger right now, but I could also die from if the implant accidentally explodes. Surfer should have explained to the surgeon that he wasn’t dealing with a simple RFID chip, he was handling an explosive charge and he should be extremely careful. If he’d done that he might still be alive.

“But back to Ray. I’m wondering now if everyone might not be able to develop at least some level of Talent. I started thinking about it a couple of days ago, and the thought just won’t go away. You already had enhanced empathy and the ability to communicate, at least with Surfer, but after you and I melded you began doing other stuff. And then, when we accidentally melded with Ray, he started communicating too. Until that time he hadn’t shown any evidence of Talent as far as we know. If he’d done that, realized that he’d done something strange early on, we’d have noticed it when we melded with him; there aren’t any secrets left after that happens.

“Don’t get me wrong, I intend to survive, but I’m wondering now if this ability, this Talent, isn’t bigger than we are? Is it more important even than our personal survival? I just don’t know, because I have too small a database, at least so far. I had the training program to help me get started, even if it didn’t work like the people who designed it thought it would, but you had only your own ability. It may also be that everyone is different, and some may have more Talent in one area and less in another. In your case, you had something going already and Surfer helped you make a breakthrough. Ray, well, we don’t yet know what his Talent might be.”

“T, I wondered about that as soon as Ray picked up your thought. But we can’t just go developing the Talent in everyone! What if they’re street gangsters, or druggies? What if they’re murderers or rapists, maybe someone who would try to take over the nation or even the world? Can you imagine a Stalin or a Hitler with Talent? A Hitler who could simply deploy a bubble and be safe from even a cannon shell?”

“Good point, Shezzie. It’s too big an issue to let it die, but at the same time this is something to be very carefully shared. Or considering the point you made, not shared. How much will this change our world if the knowledge gets out? What about politicians? Can they keep lying if people can pick up their emotions? What about presidents, when people in their audience might reach past the Secret Service and stop their heart?”

Her tears had stopped. She was thinking now, not grieving. The grief might come back, but I thought this was good therapy. “What do we tell Ray?” she asked. “I think we have to share our thoughts with him.”

“You’re right. How about we meet him for dinner and let him know what we think?”

I commed Ray and we agreed to meet at the Cattle Baron. I needed the exercise to work off some of the adrenaline, so Shezzie and I decided to leave her car and my truck in the parking lot. We crossed the road at a stoplight and walked the short distance to the restaurant. The Cattle Baron has a good salad bar and the steaks and seafood are as good as any of the other restaurants in El Paso. The service at the nearby Applebee’s might be better, I thought, but that salad bar at the Cattle Baron, which Applebee’s didn’t have, was a serious draw and maybe the reason why the restaurant was usually crowded in the evening.

We waited outside for Ray and when he arrived we went in, and for once there was no waiting line. Ray gave the hostess his name and we were soon seated. The waiter soon arrived and we placed our orders. Shezzie wanted just the salad bar, I wanted the salad bar and wild salmon, and Ray opted for the prime rib.

I asked the waiter about their scotch selection and selected the Lagavulin; I find that there’s no better scotch for the first drink, even the second. But no more; the taste becomes unpleasantly heavy after that, but those first two drinks are astonishingly good. Ray decided on beer, a Negra Modelo, and Shezzie had a glass of white wine.

The waiter went off to place our orders and bring the drinks while we headed for the salad bar. The problem is quantity; if you eat too much, and this is a really good salad bar, then there’s no room for the main course. Still, we’d been here before. Ray and I limited our salad selection while Shezzie felt free to fill her plate.

We were eating in silence, but communicating easily. This time, we could share the contact between the three of us. That doesn’t happen often, and I thought it had to do with the fact that Shezzie and I had melded in that study room with Ray. <We’ve been talking, Ray. I think the School missed a bet. It may be that everyone can develop Talent, at least to a minimal degree. Both of you did, even though neither of you went through the School, and even with the computer and the helmet interface some of the selectees never got very far. It wasn’t an absolute success, so this idea really opens a can of worms.>

<Would you two mind not bringing up worms? I’m having my supper! I really don’t need that image.>

We chuckled. <Sorry, Shezzie. Anyway, the problem may be not in teaching others but in controlling how the knowledge spreads. We don’t want to pass it on to people who might misuse it. As long as we can restrict the spread, anyway. If I’m right, any of us can begin developing Talent in almost anyone. I might be wrong; it may turn out to be like music, in that a lot take lessons but only a very few really get past the ‘chopsticks’ stage. There are a lot of golfers, most will take lessons, but very few can become professionals, so most will never be more than duffers that pay for the drinks in the nineteenth hole.

<We don’t know what will happen if the Talent becomes widespread, but sooner or later it will almost certainly get out. A parent will pass it on to his kid, but maybe not pass on the ethics to use it with restraint. Good parents often have bad offspring. It’s a fact of life. Billy the Kid’s mother was probably a nice lady.>

<Who will watch the watchers, T?>

<Got it in one, Ray. Could we, should we, kill someone who was misusing the Talent? We might not have a choice. We simply can’t allow someone to become a Talent if they’re going to the Dark Side.>

Hey, I’d seen Star Wars. Those Jedi Knights had nothing on me except a light-saber!

He thought that over for a full minute while we worked on our salads and I savored my scotch.

<I think I could, > Ray sent thoughtfully. <I could make the decision, but could I make it happen? Is that even possible if the bad guy has fully-developed Talents?>

<It’s possible, > I sent. <A psi can kill another if the first one has the psychokinesis Talent. We can shield ourselves from things like explosions and projectiles, especially if we also have the bubble, but we can be still be killed.>

<So who makes that decision, T?>

<I think that only the person who’s going to act can make the decision. This is one that can’t be delegated and the responsibility can’t be shared. Maybe, if two or more people melded and acted while joined together, the responsibility could be shared, but I wouldn’t want to try it in an emergency. Can a group mind even react fast enough? But making that decision and acting on it are moral choices, and I won’t hand those over to someone else to decide for me.>

<So you’re saying that everyone who develops Talent is his own judge and jury. Maybe even executioner, all by himself or herself?>

Shezzie had been quiet, just listening, as Ray and I exchanged thoughts; the three-way meld we’d undergone meant that we could share communications?

Now she entered the conversation. <Ray, we get accustomed to making those decisions when we operate on a patient. There’s a lot more art involved than people realize. Doctors, nurses too, make their best decisions, and sometimes those decisions are wrong. Mistakes happen, and they happen more often than people outside the profession realize. It’s why doctors don’t immediately jump on a colleague who’s made a mistake. Even if we haven’t yet made that mistake, we know it’s out there waiting and it can happen to any of us. People are different, their conditions don’t look quite the same when presented to the professional, and we may or may not be familiar with what we’re seeing. We just do the best we can. We make the call, and if a patient dies we move on. If you’ve done your best, it’s all that anyone can do.>

We finished our meal in silence after that. Ray and Shezzie switched to water and I finished my second scotch. I put the tab on my credit card and we left. As we stood outside, I asked Ray a question. “Where are you parked?”

“In the back. There was no place up front.”

“Let’s head that way. I want to try something before we go back to the hotel.”

An airliner took off from the airport and we could have communicated, but comming over the noise would have been a problem so we kept our thoughts to ourselves. That thin, small voice you hear in your brain can easily be drowned out by noise.

When we got to the car, I decided to find out if Ray had picked up my PK Talent.

<Ray, let me show you something.> I reached out and popped the locks on his doors. It was easy enough, the locks were electric and there was a button on the left-side armrest. Depress that twice, and all the locks would open.

Ray was left standing there with a surprised look on his face, holding the car’s remote in his hand and waiting to press the button. I popped the car’s button again, locking the doors, and then unlocked them again. <Have you tried that, picking up something and moving it without touching it?>