It was hard work. Bit by bit she began to grab; whatever I had felt in her mind seemed to leap up. I probed her, amplifying it, trying to draw it out. It was like wading through knee-deep mud—sticky, sluggish, resisting. I could feel her excitement growing, and bit by bit I released my grip, easing her out, baiting her.
"All right," I said. "That's enough."
She turned to me, wide-eyed. "I—I did it."
Aarons was on his feet, breathing heavily. "It worked?"
"It worked. Not very well, but it's there. All she needs is time, and help, and patience."
"But it worked! Lambertson! Do you know what that means? It means I was right! It means others can have it, just like she has it!" He rubbed his hands together. "We can arrange a full-time lab for it, and work on three or four latents simultaneously. It's a wide-open door, Michael! Can't you see what it means?"
Lambertson nodded, and gave me a long look. "Yes, I think I do."
"I'll start arrangements tomorrow."
"Not tomorrow. You'll have to wait until next week."
"Why?"