rk with--telepaths and teleports, though human, being
no more than specimens to such a very precise scientific mind--and he
seemed grateful for Malone's diligence and effort in finding such
fascinating objects of study.

That Malone certainly hadn't started out to find them made, it
appeared, very little difference.

"Well, then," O'Connor said, returning to his normal, serious tone,
"what can I do for you, Mr. Malone?"

"If you have the time, doctor," Malone said respectfully, "I'd like to
talk to you for a few minutes." He had the absurd feeling that
O'Connor was going to tell him to stop by after class, but the
scientist only nodded.

"Your call is timed very well," he said. "As it happens, Mr. Malone, I
do have a few seconds to spare just now."

"Fine," Malone said.

"I should be glad to talk with you," O'Connor said, without looking
any more glad than ever.

"I'll be right there," Malone said. O'Connor nodded again, and blanked
out. Malone switched off and took a deep, superheated breath of phone
booth air. For a second he considered starting his trip from outside
the phone booth, but that was dangerous--if not to Malone, then to
innocent spectators. Psionics was by no means a household word, and
the sight of Malone leaving for Nevada might send several citizens
straight to the wagon. Which was not a place, he thought judiciously,
for anybody to be on such a hot day.

He closed his eyes for a fraction of a second. In that time he
reconstructed from memory a detailed, three-dimensional, full-color
image of Dr. O'Connor's office in his mind. It was perfect in detail;
he checked it over mentally and then, by a special effort of will, he
gave himself the psychic push that made the transition possible.

When he opened his eyes, he was in O'Connor's office, standing in
front of the scientist's wide desk. He hoped nobody had been looking
into the phone booth at the instant he had disappeared; but he was
reasonably sure he'd been unobserved. People didn't go around peering
into phone booths, after all, and he had seen no one.

O'Connor looked up without surprise. "Ah," he said. "Sit down, Mr.
Malone." Malone looked around for the chair, which was an
uncomfortably straight-backed affair, and sat down in it gingerly.
Remembering past visits to O'Connor, he was grateful for even the
small amount of relaxation the hard wood afforded him. O'Connor had
only recently unbent to the point of supplying a spare chair in