SIMPLE PSIMAN
By F. L. WALLACE
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Startling Stories Fall 1954.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
He slipped on the jacket and scanned around the corner of the hall outside before he got to the door.
"I psi," whispered the pin in his lapel.
Egan Rains let go of the knob and felt for the emblem. It was inconspicuous, smaller than his thumbnail, the disc of the moon against a dark blue background. The markings delineated a face on the moon, and two radiating antennae.
Rains frowned and rolled it in his fingers. He thought he'd stripped himself of unnecessary identification. No harm done since no one in India had seen it on him, or heard it—yet. He looked at the emblem regretfully, turned it over. The back was inscribed: American Association of Psi Astronomers. It had sentimental value but he'd have to get rid of it.
He went to the disposer slot and dropped it into the wall. The insignia came whizzing back and struck the opposite wall. Muttering that foreign devices never worked the way they should, he dug it out. He examined it cursorily and noticed a tiny nick in the surface. That was all. The material was harder than the tough blades of the disposer. His respect for the techniques which made the pin mounted.