"Ten grams?" he said, interested.
"Maybe," I grinned. "We haven't tried this outside our own company. Pretty big emotional quotient here, you know."
He shook his head. "It has to be reproducible, Lefty," he said, but in a kindly tone. "Let me see it, Pheola."
She was really pretty good, and the pith balls behaved quite well. The first time around, the ten-gram weight stopped her cold, but by laying it on my palm, she got a good grip and thereafter was able to make it perform.
"Very nicely done," the old goat grumbled. He hadn't expected anything of the kind. But I was only half through with him.
"Now," I said. "The more important part of the demonstration. Do you object to a little minor pain?"
"I certainly do," he growled, bringing his bushy brows down.
"Well, the only way you can tell that Pheola is able to employ her TK within you is to give you a little sensation. It will only be some twinges," I said.
He wanted to argue about it, and I dragged the conversation out until I felt a little tug on my ear. Pheola had completed her scan of Maragon's heart.
"Oof!" he said as she hit him lightly in the diaphragm. Then she made his hands jump, first one and then the other. None of it felt real good, I could see, from the flinching and lip biting that was going on across the desk.