“You?” Church snarled and reached for the cut-off.

“Me. On business. Still interested in reinstatement?”

Church stared. “What about it?”

“You’ve made yourself a deal. I’m starting action on your reinstatement at once. And I can do it, Jerry. I own the league of Esper Patriots. But I want a lot in return.”

“For God’s sake, Ben. Anything. Just ask me.”

“That’s what I want.”

“Anything?”

“And everything. Unlimited service. You know the price I’m paying. Are you selling?”

“I’m selling, Ben. Yes.”

“And I want Keno Quizzard too.”

“You can’t want him, Ben. He isn’t safe. Nobody gets anything from Quizzard.”

“Set up a meeting. Same old place. Same time. This is like it used to be, eh, Jerry? Only this time it’s going to have a happy ending.”

The usual line was assembled in the anteroom of the Esper Guild Institute when Lincoln Powell entered. The hopeful hundreds, all ages, all sexes, all classes, each dreaming that he had the magic quality that could make life the fulfillment of fantasy, unaware of the heavy responsibility that quality entailed. The naivete of those dreams always made Powell smile. Read minds and make a killing on the market… (Guild Law forbade speculation or gambling by peepers) Read minds and know the answers to all exam questions… (That was a schoolboy, unaware that Esper Proctors were hired by Examination Boards to prevent that kind of peeper-cheating) Read minds and know what people really think of me… Read minds and know which girls are willing… Read minds and be like a King…

At the desk, the receptionist wearily broadcast on the widest TP band: If you can hear me, please go through the door on the left marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. If you can hear me, please go through the door on the left marked EMPLOYEES ONLY…

To an assured young socialite, with a checkbook in her hand, she was saying: “No, Madame. The Guild does not charge for training and instruction, your offer is worthless. Please go home, Madame. We can do nothing for you.”

Deaf to the basic test of the Guild, the woman turned away angrily, to be succeeded by the schoolboy.

If you can hear me, please go through the door on the left…

A young Negro suddenly detached himself from the line, glanced uncertainly at the receptionist, and then walked to the door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY. He opened it and entered. Powell was excited. Latent Espers turned up infrequently. He’d been fortunate to arrive at this moment.

He nodded to the receptionist and followed the Latent through the door. Inside, two of the Guild staff were enthusiastically shaking the surprised man’s hand and patting him on the back. Powell joined them for a moment and added his congratulations. It was always a happy day for the Guild when they unearthed another Esper.

Powell walked down the corridor toward the president’s suite. He passed a kindergarten where thirty children and ten adults were mixing speech and thought in a frightful patternless mish-mash. Their instructor was patiently broadcasting: “Think, class. Think. Words are not necessary. Think. Remember to break the speech reflex. Repeat the first rule after me…”