I dwell in a land of mist and shadow. Insubstantial forms and vague outlines appear, only to extinguish as I approach. From the corner of my eye, I glimpse a familiar object which regresses to a shapeless mass as I face it. My every step in this phantom ground sinks me deeper into vapor. No sound breaks the silence except the muffled pounding of my heart and the sigh of my breath. At times I call, but my voice fades away without so much as an echo and only adds to my loneliness. I grow weak. Soon I'll perish of hunger and thirst.
I dream, I wish, I long for the solid earth, tangible, touchable people and objects as they existed before the great disaster. Mostly I want to touch, to see the one whose name I call out over and over. Kathleen, Kathleen, where are you now? ^back to top
***
Noise and humanity engulfed me that evening at the crap table in Caesar's Palace. Most of my life I've been known as "Lucky." That night I earned the moniker. Ten passes in a row had multiplied my original two Franklins into several grand. A crowd of drooling gamblers had me wedged in, their greedy eyes followed each skip and bounce of the dice.
"Five. Five's the point." The croupier nudged the dice back toward my sweaty palms.
"Let it ride." I said cool as a cucumber, although my shirt was soaked through, as I recklessly left a pile of hundred dollar chips on the come line. I rattled the dice in my fist and prayed, "C'mon Little Joe."
Over and over the bones turned, bounced twice and came up seven. I'd crapped out. Lost the whole bundle. Or did I? At first I thought they showed a four and a three. But the room seemed to twitch -- like a movie film that jumps the track and engages again. And somehow the three had become a one, as though two spots had vanished from the die. I had won. I couldn't believe it.
As I scraped in my winnings, I noticed a bearded bespectacled grandpa staring at me. His eyes bored at me from under bushy eyebrows. At me, not the dice or the heap of chips. Every other person around the crap table had their eyes on my mound of winnings. It was weird. It was as though he was studying me. The dice turned ice cold. My luck's run out, I thought. That guy's putting the whammy on me. ^back to top
"I'll cash in now."
I picked up my chips and walked away. The cashier set one hundred new crisp C-notes before me. Ten grand. What a night. After I counted those lovely greenbacks, I was on cloud nine. As I day dreamed how to spend them, I almost bowled over a gorgeous blonde. I caught her bare arm and started to apologize. Then I realized her companion was the creepy old guy who had jinxed me at the crap table. He had a big grin on his puss.
"What're you smiling about four-eyes?"
He coughed nervously. "I'm sorry if I offended you. It's simply that when you left the crap table, I thought I lost you. These casinos are crowded this time of night. But here you are."
My hand lingered on the girl's arm. I wasn't about to let a lovely like her get away. Nevertheless, the old guy annoyed me. He was one of those overeducated professor types. I stuck my mug into his face and gave him a hard look. "Why? What do you want?"
My gaze shifted to the girl. Although her skintight, low-cut gown revealed a fine figure, her lovely young face seemed innocent. This was no Las Vegas floozy.
"My name is Doctor Stone. This is my daughter, Kathleen. We're doing research. That's why I took such an interest in you."
I gazed into Kathleen's deep blue eyes and found myself getting lost in them. I decided that if this was her old man, I better change my attitude. "Research? I kind of figured that you were a professor or something." I smiled my wholehearted friendliness grin that I reserve for suckers. "Pleased to meet you. Both of you." I kept my eye on Kathleen. Her smile and twinkling baby blues were inviting. "People call me Lucky, Lucky Thompson."
I shook Stone's hand and held Kathleen's for a few moments as I examined her pert mouth and slightly upturned nose. She seemed not at all displeased by my interest.
"So, what kind of research are you doing? Studying the behavior of compulsive gamblers?"
"Not at all. My doctorate is in psychology, but my research concerns parapsychology. Telekinetics, to be more specific."
"Whoa. You're going over my head, doc. I've heard of parapsychology. That's like mind reading, right? But what the hell are telekinetics?"
"Telekinetics is the ability to move physical objects by mind power alone. That's where my interest in you comes in. Tonight I witnessed a most interesting phenomena. When you were at the gaming table, didn't you notice anything peculiar about your last toss of the dice?"
This startled me. When I saw the dice move by themselves, I figured I imagined it. Now there were two witnesses to it.
"You saw the dice come up with three spots and turn by itself to the side with a one?"
Kathleen replied for her father, who began to glare at my hand on her arm. "Yes Mister Thompson. You have strong telekinetic powers."
"Oh yeah. And honey, you can call me Lucky."
Her eyes twinkled. "Okay Lucky." For a moment Kathleen and I were in our own little world.
Doctor Stone interrupted our mini-trip to paradise. "Mister Thompson, you have a singular talent. You owe it to yourself and to science to develop it to its fullest potential. I'd like you to come back east with us to participate in some experiments."
"I'd like you to come too, Lucky," said Kathleen, giving me a coquettish smile. "The work is fascinating."
Although Stone frowned at his daughter, he added, "University funds would pay for your time and transportation." He wrote their room number on the back of a business card. "Think it over and let me know. We're leaving Thursday."
We shook hands, and I returned to my room. Although I had ten grand aching to be spent, I had to admit that I was intrigued, about both my supposed telekinetic talent and about Kathleen. Especially about Kathleen. ^back to top
A week later I was in Stone's laboratory. I laugh. Some laboratory. The only furniture in the small room were a few student chairs and an old-fashioned round table. One wall contained a blackboard, the others African face masks and an astrology chart. Shelves housed a Ouija board, a weird contraption that looked like it might have been an attempt at perpetual motion, a box of assorted dice and cards and a few well-used books with ragged covers. All in all, the college couldn't have been too generous with the doctor's allowance for equipment.
The first day Stone lectured me on the importance of his work. Since Kathleen was present, I only half listened. I was more interested in the way her eyes shone as she sat engrossed in a speech she must've heard a hundred times before and her shapely legs as she crossed them. Stone was an admirer of the work done by a Doctor J. B. Rhine in the nineteen fifties at Duke University. Rhine's studies were in telepathy and clairvoyance, however. Stone felt that his mentor had neglected other types of extra sensory perception such as telekinesis.
"Whoa," I cried whenever he brought up one of his fifty-dollar words. "What the hell is telekinesis?"
"Telekinesis is the science of telekinetics. In other words, the ability to move physical bodies with mind power. To demonstrate ..."
He placed a pair of oddly marked dice on the table in front of me. Each die had three black faces and three white; no spots. He placed the dice so that a white face was up. "... suppose you wanted to turn one of these dice over so that a black side faced upward. With telekinesis you could do this simply by thinking about it. In Las Vegas, Kathy and I were certain that you used telekinesis to improve the odds in your favor."
Although I was skeptical, I decided to go along with the gag. "Really? No wonder I've been lucky all my life -- at least at craps and roulette."
"Of course, both those games have to do with manipulating small objects in motion."
"But I don't always win."
"That's because you haven't mastered your raw talent. I brought you here to learn to bring your ability completely under control. Okay, let's try an experiment." He placed the dice in a cup. "Now Lucky, relax and put everything out of your mind. Concentrate as hard as you can on causing only the white surfaces of the dice to face up."
I did as he asked. First I relaxed and tried to quiet all my thoughts. Concentrating on the die was difficult with Kathleen present. Thoughts of her intruded. With a great effort, I drove thoughts of her and everything extraneous from my mind. As he tossed the dice, I stared at them as though they were the only things in the universe. Come up white, I said to myself over and over again. After the dice stopped rolling, all the white sides faced up.
"Lucky as usual," I said.
"Not luck," Stone said. "Mind power. Now I want you to try to move the dice while they are still. Concentrate on one die, and make it turn over on its side."
I concentrated hard, but the die didn't budge a smidgen. Well, what did I expect? Did I believe that I could turn over a die simply by thinking at it. I thought, This is nutzy. Nevertheless, I kept it up. I focused my mind until I was almost in a trance. It was a trick my old man told me about when he taught me poker. "Concentrate," he said, "otherwise you're going to lose your shirt. Forget about the pot, the chips in front of you, whether you're winning or losing or whether you're hungry or thirsty. Think about the odds, the expressions on the other player's faces and which cards are showing." I followed his advice and learned how to make my mind a blank except for whatever I needed to think about. It worked at poker and craps. Soon I won so often that no one in the neighborhood wanted to play in any game that I was in. That's when I earned the moniker Lucky.
I used this technique with the die. I concentrated so hard perspiration stood out on my forehead and ran down my cheeks. The die still didn't move. I became stubborn. Hell, I wasn't going to give up until I moved the damn die. I wanted desperately to show Kathleen that I could do it. Finally, just when I thought my brain would burst, the die slowly tipped over. Again, I had the sensation of a jumped film track. A black square stared up at me.
Kathy clapped her hands. "You did it. You did it. You proved that telekinesis is possible." She seemed so excited that I'd give odds that she would've hugged me if her father hadn't been there.
Yes, I did it. But it took everything out of me. Exhausted and headachy I drooped in my chair.
Stone was sympathetic. "You've had enough for today. Moving that die took a lot out of you. We'll continue our experiments tomorrow. Go back to your motel and rest. I'll see you tomorrow."
But Kathy had other plans.
"Dad, it's early. I'm sure Mister Thompson is not so tired that he wants to sleep the whole day away." She turned to me. "Why don't I show you around the campus? A good walk will relax you. I could use some air and exercise, myself."
Stone turned red. It was obvious that he did not like Kathy showing an interest in me. Nevertheless, he grudgingly gave his permission. "Yes. Show Mister Thompson the campus. I'll plan dinner for five." He didn't extend an invitation to me.
After Kathy and I left the building, I said, "Your pop doesn't want us to get too chummy. He thinks I'm a shady character."
She smiled and took my arm. "Daddy's overprotective. He's disapproved of every man who ever showed an interest in me. Even though I live at home, I'm twenty-two and can do as I please. Now ... what should I show you first?" She placed a finger between her lips in a charming childlike gesture that I thought captivating.
We wandered in and out of several buildings. It was a private New England college, with maple-lined streets and ivy-covered stone exteriors. As we walked, we talked about her father and his experiments.
"The university has treated him shoddily since he began inquires into the paranormal. They keep him on only because he has tenure. The head of the psychology department doesn't believe that there's anything to his investigations. The other professors make fun of him behind his back. He has no friends on the faculty. I'm the only person he has to talk to any more." ^back to top
When we reached a secluded arbor, she turned to me, "I don't know how to express my gratitude, Lucky, for your coming here and participating in dad's experiments. Without you, dad would never complete his work. You're the first person who's shown a strong ability in telekinesis."
"My pleasure. If your dad is right and I can control this telekinesis thing, I could become a rich man. But, there's another reason why I agreed to be part of his experiments, Kathy." I gazed into her eyes. "Can you guess what that is?" I took out two cigarettes, lit them and handed one to her. She puffed without inhaling.
When we finished our cigs, she stood on tiptoe so that lush young body was pressed against mine, threw her arms around my neck and kissed me hard. I felt her tongue pass between my lips. We stayed in that position until we both gasped for breath.
"Whew, I didn't think that was going to happen," she whispered.
"Didn't you, Kathy?" My hands massaged her back.
She giggled. "Well, maybe." She peered both ways down the lane we followed. "I wouldn't like daddy to have seen that. Not yet. He'd have a fit." She glanced at her watch. "It's getting late. I'd better get home."
We made a dinner date for Friday evening. "I'll tell Dad that I'm going to the mall with girl friends." ^back to top
The next morning at Stone's lab, I improved tremendously at turning the die. I became so good that not only could I flip the die to the other color, but I could actually slide it along the table an inch or two. Two days later I moved it around as though it was on roller skates. One afternoon I suspended it in midair, which took more effort than simply moving it around, but not that much more.
On Friday, as Stone and I strolled back from a bland lunch at the cafeteria, he was excited about something. He actually smiled, unusual for him, and waved his hands around. He spoke rapidly. "Lucky, this afternoon we're going to try something new. Something that'll be a radical departure from anything others in field have tried or even thought possible."
I held the lab door open. "What's that, Doc?"
"Be patient, you'll see." He was as happy as a kid who finds a dollar bill in the gutter. He poked around the room searching for something. "I suppose anything will do," he muttered as he placed a battered book on the table. A gleam came into his eye. "Lucky, concentrate on this book, but not as a material body. You must think about its construction, all the molecules that make up each page and the cover. When you've got that idea firmly in your mind, cause them to scatter as though the book had been blown apart by some unimaginable force. Do you understand?"
"I dunno, Doc. That sounds like quite a feat."
"You can do it, Lucky. Simply think about the book coming apart into the smallest pieces possible."
Stone sat across from me, absolutely quiet, practically holding his breath, so as not to disturb my concentration. The chalk-dusty room was as silent as a tomb at midnight. I focused deeply on the construction of the book. First, I thought of it as separate pages, then pages torn to tiny bits, then the bits chopped up into fine dust particles. I recalled a picture I had seen in a magazine once. The caption said that it showed atoms photographed through an electron microscope. I thought of the dust-size particles of the book as being divided into atoms like the ones in that picture. In my mind I imagined the millions and millions of atoms that went into each one. I thought of how they might be separated, slowly at first, then more rapidly. With a mental puff, as though I was creating a gust of wind, I blew them apart, scattering them to the ends of the room.
There was a pop, like a firecracker going off, and the book vanished from the table.
Stone was jubilant. "Amazing! Now reconstruct it."
"That sounds like a tall order. I'll try."
With concentration in my minds eye I saw the microscopic specks of the book floating around, but there were too many and too scattered to gather together. All I wound up with was a wisp of smoke.
"Sorry Doc. There's no way I could put that book together. Not in a million years."
His puss returned to its usual sour expression. "Too bad. There's probably a way though. Perhaps with extensive training in meditati
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