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.She really seemed to think that there was something in this business of telepathy and second-sight.Not until he had made his remark did George realize that it also implied a criticism of Rashaverak.He glanced nervously round but the Overlord showed no reaction.Which, of course, proved absolutely nothing at all.Everyone had now taken up their positions.Going in a clockwise direction round the table were Rupert, Maia, Jan, Jean, George, and Benny Shoenberger.Ruth Shoenberger was sitting outside the circle with a notebook.She apparently had some objection to taking part in the proceedings, which had caused Benny to snake obscurely sarcastic remarks about people who still took the Talmud seriously.However, she seemed perfectly willing to act as a recorder.“Now listen,” began Rupert, “for the benefit of sceptics like George, let’s get this straight.Whether or not there’s anything supernormal about this, it works.Personally, I think there’s a purely mechanical explanation.When we put our hands on the disc, even though we may try to avoid influencing its movements, our subconscious starts playing tricks.I’ve analysed lots of these seances, and I’ve never got answers that someone in the group mightn’t have known or guessed—though sometimes they weren’t aware of the fact.However, I’d like to carry out the experiment in these rather—ah—peculiar circumstances.”The Peculiar Circumstance sat watching them silently, but doubtless not with indifference.George wondered just what Rashaverak thought of these antics.Were his reactions those of an anthropologist watching some primitive religious rite? The whole setup was really quite fantastic, and George felt as big a fool as he had ever done in his life.If the others felt equally foolish, they concealed their emotions.Only Jean looked flushed and excited, though that night have been the drinks.“All set?” asked Rupert.“Very well.” He paused impressively; then, addressing no one in particular, he called out; “Is there anybody there?”George could feel the plate beneath his fingers tremble slightly.That was not surprising, considering the pressure being exerted upon it by the six people in the circle.It slithered around in a small figure-eight, then came to rest back at the centre.“Is there anybody there?” repeated Rupert.In a more conversational tone of voice he added, “It’s often ten or fifteen minutes before we get started.But sometimes-”“Hush!” breathed Jean.The plate was moving.It began to swing in a wide arc between the cards labelled “YES” and “NO”.With some difficulty, George suppressed a giggle.Just what would it prove, he wondered, if the answer was “NO”? He remembered the old joke; “There’s nobody here but us chickens, Massa…”But the answer was “YES”.The plate came swiftly back to the centre of the table.Somehow it now seemed alive, waiting fir the next question.Despite himself, George began to be impressed.“Who are you?” asked Rupert.There was no hesitation now as the letters were spelled out.The plate darted across the table like a sentient thing, moving so swiftly that George sometimes found it hard to keep his fingers in contact.He could swear that he was not contributing to its motion.Glancing quickly round the table, he could see nothing suspicious in the faces of his friends.They seemed as intent, and as expectant, as he himself.“IAMALL” spelled the plate, and returned to its point of equilibrium.“‘I am all,’“ repeated Rupert.“That’s a typical reply.Evasive, yet stimulating.It probably means that there’s nothing here except our combined minds.” He paused for a moment, obviously deciding upon his next question.Then he addressed the air once more.“Have you a message for anyone here?”“NO,” replied the plate promptly.Rupert looked around the table.“It’s up to us; sometimes it volunteers information, but this time we’ll have to ask definite questions.Anyone like to start?”“Will it rain tomorrow?” said George jestingly.At once the plate began to swing back and forth in the YES-NO line.“That’s a silly question,” reproved Rupert.“It’s bound to be raining somewhere and to be dry somewhere else.Don’t ask questions that have ambiguous answers.”George felt appropriately squashed.He decided to let someone else have the next turn.“What is my favourite colour?” asked Maia.“BLUE,” came the prompt reply.“That’s quite correct.”“But it doesn’t prove anything.At least three people here knew that,” George pointed out.“What’s Ruth’s favourite colour?” asked Benny.“RED.”“Is that right, Ruth?”The recorder looked up from her notebook.“Yes, it is.But Benny knows that, and he’s in the circle.”“I didn’t know,” retorted Benny.“You darn well ought to—I’ve told you enough times.”“Subconscious memory,” murmured Rupert.“That often happens [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]