To Ride Pegasus (12 page)

The very suggestion that she couldn’t love and understand her own child made Ruth indignant. She’d had years of parent training. She understood every phase of early childhood development. She adored Dorotea and she certainly wouldn’t do a thing that might jeopardize her daughter’s happiness. They both felt better after such a candid discussion and the problem was shelved.

“Sir, I thought you ought to see the Horvath charts,” Lester Welch told op Owen. “A variation keeps appearing in Ruth Horvath’s. See?” and Welch unrolled the paper, pointing here and there to the almost imperceptible alteration in Ruth’s normal pattern. “See, here and here, it’s a couple of microseconds longer and broader. It begins to broaden minutely until it hits this frame which has remained constant. Now, compare her time-sequence to Lajos’s … and remember we’re picking up her pattern anywhere in the new apartment just as we pick up his from the office.”

Op Owen saw the correlation immediately.

“He’s finished no precog in six weeks?”

Welch contented himself with a nod as op Owen studied the graphs.

“If I didn’t think it was impossible, I’d say Ruth was suppressing him. But how?”

“Don’t you mean why?”

“That, too, of course, but ‘how’ is the bigger question.”

“If you mean the type of pattern, Dave, I can’t give you that. There isn’t enough to identify it as a known variation.”

“That wasn’t exactly what I meant, although I would like a magnification of this to study. Can you put on a more sensitive gauge, or a faster needle, to lengthen the stroke?”

“Hmmm.” Welch considered the suggestion. “I’ll rig up something. I guess.”

Op Owen chuckled. “One of the comforting things about you, Les, is your unfailing rise to the challenge. I don’t believe you know what failure is.”

Welch regarded his superior with some surprise. “Failure is an inability to consider what is not presently known. Like Ruth Horvath’s variation?” Then he added, “Or Senator Zeusman’s strategy?”

Op Owen dismissed that with a wave of his hand and continued to scan the Horvaths’ readings. “Dorotea’s first Incident rocked him, didn’t it?”

“Yes, it shows up in his sleep pattern as unusual restlessness the first nights, but see, he’s calming down by the third.”

“It’s from that date that his precogs begin to dwindle.”

“By God, you’re right. I thought he’d be too stable for a deviation like that.”

“Yes, he’s been too consistent a precog. I think I’ll call him in and drop a few leading questions to see what reaction I get.” Op Owen initiated the call then and there.

“There’s nothing wrong with Dorotea, is there, sir?” Lajos asked as soon as he entered the office.

“Good heavens, no,” Daffyd op Owen said, gesturing Lajos to a chair.

“It’s about my drop in Incidents, then, isn’t it?”

Op Owen eyed his young colleague for a moment, savoring the peripheral emotions the man was generating.
It took no Talent to recognize the defensive nervousness in Lajos’s attitude.

“Not exactly. There are always periods of rest for precogs, caused by any number of valid reasons, including the absence of fires. However, your graphs show an onset of Incidents, broken off just as they begin.”

“Once or twice in the office, I’ve felt as if something was preventing me …”

“Preventing you …?” Op Owen prompted Lajos gently as he had broken off, startled by his own phrasing.

“Yes, sir,” Lajos went on slowly, “it’s as if something’s preventing me from previewing. Sort of like … glancing into a strange room and having the door slammed in your face.”

“Aptly put. Could you suggest why … or perhaps what … is preventing you?”

“You think it’s a psychological suppression, don’t you?”

“That’s my first thought.”

Indignation and disbelief were Lajos’s instant reaction.

“Why would I want to suppress suddenly?”

“Something you yourself don’t
want
to see. Precog is not the easiest of Talents, Lajos,” op Owen replied. “Often the precog imposes his own block, as a relief from the psychological pressures.”

“If you think there’s a chance that I’m developing the Cassandra complex …” Lajos was heatedly provoked now.

“No, that follows an entirely different pattern.”

“Dorotea’s preventing me?”

“If this occurred only in your home environment, we’d have to seriously consider the possibility. But it’s improbable for a variety of reasons: the prime one being that her room is shielded to protect her from overtones of your precogs as much as to protect us from her blatant calls.”

“Ruth?” Lajos’s hushed question had the power of a shout. “She is Talented after all. But why suppress me? She loves me. I know she does. She’s always helped with
Incidente. It made her feel a part …” Lajos stared at op Owen. Then shook his head, violently disagreeing with the natural conclusion. “No! I don’t see why suppressing me would … do her any good.”

“Has something else upset her? The suppression starts not long after Dorotea’s first Incident.”

Lajos covered his eyes, groaning deeply. He collected himself almost immediately and, looking up at op Owen, recounted Ruth’s curious uncertainty about Dorotea.

“Yes, I see now what has possibly happened. She’s made you her whipping boy.”

“Now wait a minute, sir. Ruth’s not petty or vindictive.”

“I’m not for a moment implying that she is, Lajos. Let us both try to see her conflicts. She’s had to make so many adjustments. She had such hopes when she entered the training program. I remember her cheerfulness and vivacity so well. It was difficult to have to disillusion her. You two married and she has exhibited skill in assisting you. But even the most generous soul experiences twinges of envy. She looked forward to maternity as an outlet for her natural inclination and the assuagement of her failures. Suddenly she finds herself with the extraordinary daughter who makes even the Director of the Center jump at her whim.” Lajos weakly returned op Owen’s smile. “I thought at the time she was very much distressed at the thought of relinquishing any of Dorotea’s care to our impersonal toils. I don’t believe we entirely relieved her fear that the Center will usurp her role in her daughter’s upbringing. Can you see why she may be
indirectly
punishing you for circumstances that threaten her happiness?”

“Yes, I can.” Lajos’s admission was dejected.

“Now, it’s not as bad as that,” op Owen said firmly. “In fact, stop feeling guilty and look at the very positive side—Ruth actually has been able to suppress your strong Talent.”

“And that’s positive?”

“Yes. The underlying problem is Ruth’s lack of Talent.
We now can prove conclusively that she has one. She has demonstrated it superbly. Severe frustration often breaks down blocks. And she’s had that.”

“Of course.” Lajos’s face began to light up. “Whoa. You said she doesn’t know she’s doing it?”

“I’ve proof for her. And the further proof will be the renewal of your precogs. I’ll have a talk with her and straighten this out today.”

He made the call as Lajos left. There was more to the problem of Ruth Horvath than touched the little family.
If you don’t tell all you know, how much is enough?
op Owen wondered.

“All right I’m forced to believe you,” Ruth said, her defensiveness waning under op Owen’s gentle redirection, because she also could not deny the evidence of the graphs: of that remarkable, infinitesimal variation that had to be an Incident.

Daffyd op Owen felt himself begin to relax with her admission. He had known it would be a stormy confrontation: one reason why he had not delayed it. Ruth had been appalled by the knowledge that she had subconsciously blocked Lajos. She finally admitted that Dorotea scared her: that she had lost all joy in her daughter and was terrified of predisposing the child towards her.

“Yes, I have to believe you,” she repeated, not bothering to stifle resentment “but it’s a pretty poor excuse of a Talent” she added bitterly, “if all I can do is block my husband’s, and not even know I’m doing that.”

“On the contrary,” op Owen replied with a laugh, “it’s exactly the one you need the most … applied properly.”

Ruth glared at him, waiting pointedly for an explanation.

“You’ve a strong moral code, Ruth. You would not permit yourself to act against your daughter, though her Talent frightened you. But you will have to waive that most laudable principle. Until Dorotea has developed sufficient
discretion to handle her mental gift, you are going to
have
to block it.”

Ruth blinked in surprise and then her eyes brightened, her mouth formed an “O” of astonishment as she began to understand.

“Of course. Of course, I understand.” Tears of relief welled in her eyes. “Oh, of course.”

Op Owen smiled at her. “Yes, Dorotea cannot be permitted to dip into any mind she chooses. You must restrict her by your ability to block. You won’t need much pressure to dissuade her from broadcasting or eavesdropping.”

“But won’t Dorotea resent it? I mean, she’ll feel me doing it, won’t she?”

“All children require limits. Want them. As long as those limits are consistent and reasonable, a child as aware as Dorotea of her parents’ approval and affection won’t resist. In any event, by the time she could, or would, we shall have been able to instill discretion
and
your moral code. Right now, Ruth, you have all that’s required to keep Dorotea from becoming a nuisance and a brat.”

Ruth instantly reacted with indignation to his calculated insult and then laughed as she recognized the bait. She left his office considerably reassured, once again at harmony with her situation.

Op Owen envied her that carefree assurance. He still didn’t know what to call what she’d done. Yes, she had suppressed Lajos’s precog over the last six weeks, but in the four months prior to that Lajos’s abilities had increased in strength and efficiency and, except for duration and width, by a similar application of psionic effort on Ruth’s part. What did her Talent actually affect? And would it, as he had so blithely assured her, be able to “block” Dorotea?

Well, if she thinks she can, she will. At least she is no longer afraid of her precocious child
, he thought He swung his chair round, gazing out at the peaceful view
of the grounds of Beechwoods, seeing the city beyond with its spires, towers and living blocks.

Was I right in my analogy that Talent is in its infancy, and the public is the parent? With the duty to block the undisciplined child? The Talents are more disciplined than the average citizen we often have to search out and rebuke, protect and cherish. It would be catastrophic for the parent to fear the child. How much of the whole truth would reassure, as it had Ruth?

Those who truly understand psionic powers need no explanation. Those who need explanation will never understand.

Two mornings later, while reviewing contracts covering institutions holding government research grants, Lajos experienced one of his strongest Incidents. So powerful was the flame-fear that it was all he could do to pull the Goosegg recording web to his skull and depress the key that would relay the reading back to the Center.

“Flames!” he said, gasping; his mind reeled with the panoramic intense preview.

“Where?” he was prompted.

“A sheet, in front of a huge window, overlooking … the grounds. Rhododendrons. Red ones. The clock in the church tower … nearly twelve. Too much heat! The converter is flawed. It’ll blow. There are so many people watching. They don’t belong there.” Lajos was abstractedly curious at the sound of indignation in his voice. “They caused the fire. Meddling. I know
him!”
Lajos struggled to get a clear picture of that face.

“You don’t like him. Who is he?”

“Ahhh … the flames. Obscuring everything.” Lajos fell back in his chair, shaken and sweating.

“Can you make it to the Center? I’ll send transport,” the duty officer said.

By the time Lajos reached the computer room in the Center, the system was already chuckling away at the
details, locating which laboratories had scheduled visitors in the a.m.: laboratories using heat converters. The church clock tower suggested a college so that data was added as well as the planting of red rhododendrons.

Op Owen greeted Lajos with a grin of approval. “That was the most intense pattern you’ve ever projected. Have you any idea why that premonition should affect you so?”

“None, sir,” Lajos replied, taking the seat op Owen indicated. He was still shaken.

“The man you knew: he was someone you obviously dislike. Do you have the impression that you’ve met him personally?”

“No. I recognized his face, that’s all. Then the flames leaped up.”

“We don’t have much time,” and op Owen’s eyes glanced towards the wall clock, registering quarter to eleven. “Your precog came at 10:12. Unfortunately this appears to be appropriation time and every lab in the country is having its share of visitations. I want to play back your answer, Lajos. I was struck by two things and if you can pinpoint them also, we’ll have the ‘where’ at least.”

“Anything.” Lajos could see the vivid overprint of the flames in his mind and tried to see beyond their obscuring curtain. “And one day, figure out why I have a pyro-affinity.”

“Keeps insurance rates low, Horvath,” Welch said drily as he rewound the tape. “Don’t knock small favors.”

Lajos listened as objectively as he could, appalled at the odd wooden quality of his voice, the fear when he mentioned the flames.

“I’ve got it, sir,” he said. “The converter, the lab, the church tower. Knowing that the people didn’t belong there. Wherever it is, is familiar to
me.”

“Charlie,” Welch spoke over his shoulder to the programmer, “add Horvath’s place and travel card.”

Almost immediately a print-out appeared.

“Sir, it’s North East University. Checks out, clock in church tower, visible from research laboratory which uses a heat converter.”

“Any visitors scheduled today?”

“No report on that yet, sir, but they do have a government funded research project in neo-protein and subcellular engineering.”

“Check the university direct,” Welch said after a nod from op Owen.