I went to the table and started mixing two more drinks. Seven-eighths gin.
Charlie said patiently, “The action is so rapid that it does not impress itself upon your memory. For some reason the memory is not affected by the acceleration. The effect—both to the user and to the observer—is of the spontaneous obedience of a command by … well, by the little man who wasn’t there.”
“Yehudi?”
“Why not?”
“Why not why not?” I asked. “Here, have another drink. It’s a bit weak, but so am I. So you got this gin, huh? Where?”
“Probably the nearest tavern. I don’t remember.”
“Pay for it?”
He pulled out his wallet and opened it. “I think there’s a fin missing. I probably left it in the register. My subconscious must be honest.”
“But what good is it?” I demanded. “I don’t mean your subconscious, Charlie, I mean the Yehudi principle. You could have just as easily bought that gin on the way here. I could just as easily have mixed a drink and known I was doing it. And if you’re sure it can’t go bring us Lili St. Cyr and Esther Williams—”
“It can’t. Look, it can’t do anything that you yourself can’t do. It isn’t an it. It’s you. Get that through your head, Hank, and you’ll understand.”