The agent-in-charge picked up a small package. “A messenger brought this,” he said. “It’s from the Psychical Research Society, and if it’s ghosts, they’re much smaller than last time.”
“Dehydrated,” Malone said. “Just add ectoplasm and out they come, shouting boo at everybody and dancing all over the world.”
“Sounds wonderful,” the agent-in-charge said. “Can I come to the party?”
“First,” Malone said judiciously, “you’d have to be dead. Of course, I can arrange that—”
“Thanks,” the agent-in-charge said, leaving in a hurry. Malone went on down to his office and opened the package. It contained more facsimiles from Sir Lewis Carter, all dealing with telepathic projection. He spent a few minutes looking them over and trying to make some connected sense out of them, and then he just sat and thought for awhile.
Finally he picked up the phone. In a few minutes he was talking to Dr. Thomas O’Connor, at Yucca Flats.
“Telepathic projection?” O’Connor said when Malone asked him the question he’d thought of. “Well, now. I should say that—no. First, Mr. Malone, tell me what evidence you have for this phenomenon.”
Malone felt almost happy, as if he had done all his homework before the instructor called on him. “According to what I’ve been able to get from the PRS,” he said, “ordinary people—people who aren’t telepaths—occasionally receive some sort of messages from other people.”
“I assume,” O’Connor said frostily, “that you are speaking of telepathic messages?”
Malone nodded guiltily. “I didn’t mean the phone,” he said, “or letters or things like that. Telepathic messages, or something very like it.”