“Indeed,” O’Connor said. “Mr. Malone, I believe you will find that such occurrences, when accurately reported, are confined to close relatives or loved ones of the person projecting the message.”
Malone thought back. “That’s right,” he said.
“And, further,” O’Connor went on, “I think you’ll find that the—ah— message so received is one indicating that the projector of such a message is in dire peril. He has, for instance, been badly injured, or is rapidly approaching death, or else he has narrowly escaped death.”
“True,” Malone said.
“Under such circumstances,” O’Connor said coldly, “it is possible that the mind of the person projecting the communication might be capable of generating immense psionic power, thereby forcing even a non-telepath to recognize the content of the message.”
“Good,” Malone said. “That’s wonderful, Doctor, and I—”
“But,” O’Connor said sharply, “the amount of psionic energy necessary for such a feat is tremendous. Usually, it is the final burst of energy, the outpouring of all the remaining psionic force immediately before death. And if death does not occur, the person is at the least greatly weakened; his mind, if it ever does recover, needs time and rest to do so.”
Malone let that sink in slowly. “Then a person couldn’t do it very often,” he said.
“Hardly,” O’Connor said.
Malone nodded. “It’s like—like giving blood to a blood bank. Giving, say, three quarts of blood. It might not kill you. But if it didn’t, you’d be weak for a long time.”