Occasion for Disaster

theirtheories seem to be all right, or nearly all right, to me. Of course,I'm not an expert--"

  "Who is?" Boyd said. "Except for O'Connor, of course."

  "Well, somebody is," Malone said. "Whoever's doing all this, forinstance. And the theories do seem O.K. In most cases, for instance,they agree with O'Connor's work--though they're not in completeagreement."

  "I should think so," Boyd said. "O'Connor wouldn't recognize an AstralPlane if TWA were putting them into service."

  "I don't mean that sort of thing," Malone said. "There's lots aboutastral bodies and ghosts, ectoplasm, Transcendental Yoga, theosophy,deros, the Great Pyramid, Atlantis, and other such pediculous pets.That's just silly, as far as I can see. But what they have to sayabout parapsychology and psionics as such does seem to be reasonablyaccurate."

  "I suppose so," Boyd said tiredly.

  "O.K., then," Malone said. "Did anybody notice anything in that pileof stuff that might conceivably have any bearing whatever on ourproblems?"

  "I did," Boyd said. "Or I think I did."

  "You both did," Her Majesty said. "And so did I, when I looked throughit. But I didn't bother with it. I dismissed it."

  "Why?" Malone said.

  "Because I don't think it's true," she said. "However, my opinion isreally only an opinion." She smiled around at the others.

  Malone picked up a thick sheaf of papers from one of the piles of hisdesk. "Let's get straight what it is we're talking about," he said."All right?"

  "Anything's all right with me," Boyd said. "I'm easy to please."

  Malone nodded. "Now, this writer ... what's his name?" he said. Heglanced at the copy of the cover page. "'Minds and Morons'," he read."By Cartier Taylor."

  "Great title," Boyd said. "Does he say which is which?"

  "Let's get back to serious business," Malone said, giving Boyd asingle look. There was silence for a second, and then Malone said: "Hementions something, in the book, that he calls 'telepathicprojection.' As far as I understand what he's talking about, that'ssome method of forcing your thoughts on another person." He glancedover at the Queen. "Now, Your Majesty," he said, "you don't think it'strue--and that may only be an opinion, but it's a pretty informed one.It seems to me as if Taylor makes a good case for this 'telepathicprojection' of his. Why don't you think so?"

  "Because," Her Majesty said flatly, "it doesn't work."

  "You've tried it?" Boyd put in.

  "I have," she said. "And I have had no success with it at all. It's acomplete failure."

  * * * * *

  "Now, wait a minute," Boyd said. "Just a minute."

  "What's the matter?" Malone said. "Have you tried it, and made itwork?"

  Boyd snorted. "Fat chance," he said. "I just want to look at thething, that's all." He held out his hand, and Malone gave him thesheaf of papers. Boyd leafed through them slowly, stopping every nowand again to consult a page, until he found what he was looking for."There," he said.

  "There, what?" Malone said.

  "Listen to this," Boyd said. "'For those who draw the line at demonicpossession, I suggest trying telepathic projection. Apparently, it ispossible to project one's own thoughts directly into the mind ofanother--even to the point of taking control of the other's mind.Hypnotism? You tell me, and we'll both know. Ever since the orthodoxscientists have come around to accepting hypnotism, I've been chary ofit. Maybe there really is an astral body or a soul that a person hasstashed about him somewhere--something that he can send out to takecontrol of another human being. But I, personally, prefer thetelepathic projection theory. All you have to do is squirt yourthoughts across space and spray them all over the fellow's brain.Presto-bingo, he does pretty much what you want him to do.'"

  "That's the quote I was thinking of," Malone said.

  "Of course it is," Her Majesty said. "But it really doesn't work. I'vetried it."

  "How have you tried it?" Malone said.

  "There were many times, Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said, "when I wantedsomeone to do something particular--for me, or for some other person.After all, you must remember that I was in a hospital for a longtime. Of course, that represents only a short segment of my life span,but it seemed long to me."

  Malone, who was trying to view the years from age fifteen to agesixty-odd as a short segment of anybody's lifetime, remembered with ashock that this was not Rose Thompson speaking. It was Queen ElizabethI, who had never died.

  "That's right, Sir Kenneth," she said kindly. "And in that hospital,there were a number of times when I wanted one of the doctors ornurses to do what I wanted them to. I tried many times, but I neversucceeded."

  Boyd nodded his head. "Well--" he began.

  "Oh, yes, Sir Thomas," Her Majesty said. "What you're thinking iscertainly possible. It may even be true."

  "What _is_ he thinking?" Malone said.

  "He thinks," Her Majesty said, "that I may not have the talent forthis particular effect--and perhaps I don't. But, talent or not, Iknow what's possible and what isn't. And the way Mr. Taylor describesit is simply silly, that's all. And unladylike. Imagine anyself-respecting lady 'squirting' her thoughts about in space!"

  "Well," Malone said carefully, "aside from its being unladylike--"

  "Sir Kenneth," Her Majesty said, "you are not telepathic. Neither isSir Thomas."

  "I'm nothing," Boyd said. "I don't even exist."

  "And it is very difficult to explain to the nontelepath just what Mr.Taylor is implying," Her Majesty went on imperturbably. "Before youcould inject any thoughts into anyone else's mind, you'd have to beable to see into that mind. Is that correct?"

  "I guess so," Malone said.

  "And in order to do that, you'd have to be telepathic," Her Majestysaid. "Am I correct?"

  "Correct," Malone said.

  "Well, then," Her Majesty said with satisfaction, and beamed at him.

  A second passed.

  "Well, then, what?" Malone said in confusion.

  "Telepathy," Her Majesty said patiently, "is an extremely complexaffair. It involves a sort of meshing with the mind of this otherperson. It has nothing--absolutely nothing--in common with this simple'squirting' of thoughts across space, as if they were orange pips youwere trying to put into a wastebasket. No, Sir Kenneth, I cannotbelieve in what Mr. Taylor says."

  "But it's still possible," Malone said.

  "Oh," Her Majesty said, "it's certainly possible. But I should thinkthat if any telepaths were around, and if they were changing people'sminds by 'squirting' at them, I would know it."

  Malone frowned. "Maybe you would at that," he said. "I guess youwould."

  "Not to mention," Boyd put in, "that if you were going to controleverything we've come across like that you'd need an awful lot oftelepathic operators."

  "That's true," Malone admitted. "And the objections seem to make somesense. But what else is there to go on?"

  "I don't know," Boyd said. "I haven't the faintest idea. And I'mrapidly approaching the stage where I don't care."

  "Well," Malone said, heaving a sigh, "let's keep looking."

  He bent down and picked up another sheaf of copies from the PsychicalResearch Society.

  "After all," he said, without much hope, "you never know."

  VII

  Malone looked around the office of Andrew J. Burris as if he'd neverseen it before. He felt tired, and worn out, and depressed; it hadbeen a long night, and here it was morning and the head of the FBI wastalking to him about his report. It was, Malone told himself heavily,a hell of a life.

  "Now, Malone," Burris said in a kindly voice, "this is a veryinteresting report."

  "Yes, sir," Malone said automatically.

  "A very interesting report indeed, Kenneth," Burris went on,positively bursting with good-fellowship.

  "Thank you, sir," Malone said dully.

  Burris beamed a little more. "You've done a fine job," he said, "areally fine job. Hardly on the job any time at all, and here