I made a farce of trying to get some work done in the lab. After letting the third test tube slip through my fingers and shatter on the lab bench, I gave it up. How would you have acted if you had gotten that kind of news? That first gut-twisting admission that you really may be a snake! Then sharp awareness of what it means. A guillotine couldn't cut you off more sharply from Normal humanity. But the spirit struggles and refuses to accept it. You can't be a snake!
"Take action!" I said aloud, getting a worried look from my lab assistant, busy mopping up my last shattered culture. "Don't spin around like this. Do something!"
I did the only thing I could think of, and dialed Shari at her laboratory. She refused to accept the call at first. Finally she tore herself away from a "delicate experiment" long enough to look at me angrily in the screen.
"We don't have anything to say to each other," she said coldly. "There are delicate experiments—"
"Can you test me for psi powers?" I interrupted.
"Whatever for?"
"To settle whether I have any," I snapped. "It's important to me."
"Not necessary," she said. "Do you think I'd be successful in the psi field if I weren't sensitive to this sort of thing? Don't worry, Tex. You're a Normal."
"Thanks," I said. "So you've told me. Now prove it to my satisfaction."
"We shut up shop at five o'clock," she said. "I'll be here for about an hour after that. My dinner date isn't until seven."