"But what will they do with it?" She asked the question almost despairingly.
Graham shook his head. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "I started with the idea of simply building a really effective communicator. But this is more than that. To you and I, it meant full understanding. But to that person out there ... I don't know."
"His thoughts were flat—almost lifeless. And he made my skin crawl. Paul, do you remember how you used to feel when you came close to a snake? There's something wrong with that man."
"I know. I felt it, too. And it made the blood rush into my ears." Graham moved toward the communicator, placing his hand on the switch. "And you're right. I'll have to report immediately. They don't really need telepathy. And certainly, they never required real evidence. A suspicion is sufficient, and they'd be very suspicious if I didn't notify the sector leader tonight."
He depressed the switch deliberately, like a man firing a weapon. Then, he dialed a number, and waited.
The sphere lit, to show the face of Harold Bond.
"Oh, Graham." Bond frowned a little. "It's late. Do you have something to report?"
"Yes, sir." Graham's face was expressionless. "The mental communicator is finished. Do you wish to test it, sir?"
Bond opened his eyes a little more and nodded. "It's really done, then?"
"Yes, sir."