Chapter 12

HIGHER EDUCATION

Andrew Adams had what was probably the finest mind of any strictly human being of his

age. He had a voracious and insatiable appetite for knowledge; his brain was an unfilled

and unfillable reservoir. He was without prejudice, inhibition, or bias. He could, and

frequently did, toss a laboriously-developed theory or hypothesis of his own down the

drain in favor of someone else's anyone else's-that gave even slightly better predictions

than did his own.

Being what he was, it was inevitable that when the Destons gave Adams his first real

insight into telepathy and, through it, into the unimaginably vast and theretofore almost

hermetically sealed universe of psionics, he dropped his old researches in favor of the

new. He and his wife studied, more and ever more intensively, the possibilities and

potentialities of the mind as the mind. Scholar-like, however, they needed to analyze and

digest all the information available having any hearing upon the subject. Therefore, since

there was no esoterica of that type in the Procyon's library, they went back to Earth.

The Adams apartment was a fairly large one; five rooms on the sixteenth floor of

Grantland Hall in Ann Arbor, overlooking the somewhat crowded but beautifully

landscaped campus of the University of Michigan. Their living room was large-seventeen

by twenty five feet-but it was the Adams, not the ordinary, concept of a living room.

Almost everything in it was designed for books and tapes; everything in it was designed

for study.

First, they went through their own library's stores of philosophy, of metaphysics, of

paraphysics, of occultism, of spiritualism, of voodooism, of scores of kinds of cultism and

even more kinds of crackpotism, from Forteanism up-or down. They studied thousands

of words to glean single phrases of truth. Or, more frequently, bits of something that

could be developed into truth or into something having to do with truth. Then they

exhausted the resources of the University's immense library; after which they requested

twenty two exceedingly rare tomes from the Crerar Library of Chicago. This was

unusual, since scholars usually came to the Crerar instead of vice-versa, but Adams was

Andrew Adams of the College; one of the very biggest of the Big Brains. Wherefore:

It can be arranged, Dr. Adams," Crerar's head librarian told him, as one bibliophile to

another. "These are replicas, of course-most of the originals are in Rome-and not one of

them has been consulted for over five years. I'm glad to have you study these volumes, if

for no other reason than to show that they are not really dead wood."

Thus it came finally about that Andrew and Stella Adams sat opposite each other, holding

hands tightly across a small table, staring into each other's eyes and thinking at and with

each other in terms and symbols many of which cannot be put into words.

"But it has to be some development or other of Campbell's Fourth Nume," she insisted.

"It simply can't be anything else."

"True," he agreed. "However, Campbell had only a glimmering of a few of the-facets?

Basics?-of that nume. So let's go over the prime basics again-the takeoff points-the

spring-boards-to see if possible where our thinking has been at fault."

"Very well. Fourth Nume, the-Level? Region? Realm?-of belief, of meaning, of ability to

manipulate and to understand-of understanding of and manipulation of the phenomena of

reality existing in the no-space-no-time continuum of . . ."

"A moment," Adams broke in. "Non-space-non-time is preferable, I believe. And aren't

those symbols contradictory and mutually exclusive?"

"By no means. In the totality of universes it is not only possible but necessary to

manipulate both the immaterial and the material aspects of energy without reference to

either time or space. Like this-" and her symbology went far beyond language.

"I see. My error. I was fouling it up. Shall we try again?"

"Not yet. We may find more. Non-space-non-time manipulation, then, and also n-s-n-t

attributes, phenomena, and being. Most important-the sine qua non-is the ultimate basic

sex. Prerequisite, a duplex pole of power; two very-strongly-linked and very powerful

poles, one masculine and one feminine..."

"A moment, Stella, I'll have to challenge that nuance of thought. If we are dealing with

pure, raw, elemental force-as I think we are-we've been thinking too nicelynicey on that,

especially you. The thought should be, I'm pretty sure; neither masculine and feminine nor

manly and womanly but starkly male and just as starkly female."

"You're probably right, Andy . . . you are right. So I'll think starkly female; as starkly so

as an alley cat in heat. Shall we .. . no, let's finish checking the list."

They finished checking, and neither could perceive any other sources of error in the

nuances of their thoughts. They tried it again, and this time it-whatever it was-clicked. Or

rather, the result was not a click, but a sonic boom. Both bodies went rigid for seconds;

then each drew a tremendously deep breath; as much from relaxation of tension as from

realization of accomplishment. Then, poring over a street map of Calcutta, they went

mentally to India; to the home of Mahatma Rajaras Molandru, who was one of the

greatest sages then alive and who was also a Fellow of the College of Study.

"Is it permitted, Mahatma, that we converse with you and learn?" the fused minds asked.

So calm, so serene was the Great Soul's mind that he neither showed nor felt surprise,

even at this almost incredible full meeting of minds. "You are very welcome, friends

Andrew and Stella. You have now attained such heights, however, that I have little or

nothing to give you and much to receive from you."

While the old Mahatma did get much more than he gave, the Adamses got enough new

knowledge from him so that when they left India they no longer needed maps. Their

linkage had a sureness and a dirigibility that not even the Destons were to match for

many years.

From India they went to China, where they had a long and somewhat profitable interview

with Li Hing Wong. Thence to Russia and Feodr Ilyowicz; where results were negligible.

"Andy, I never did like that man," Stella said, when the short and unsatisfactory interview

was over. And on such contact as this I simply can't stand him. Secretive-sly-he wouldn't

really open up at all-all take and no give-that is not the way a good psiontist should act."

"I noticed that; but the loss is really his. It made it impossible for us to give him anything .

. . but that attitude is perhaps natural enough-his whole heritage is one of secretiveness.

Where next, my dear?"

They went to Tibet and to the Gobi and to Wales and to Rome and to Central Africa and

to Egypt and to various other places where ancient, unpublished lore was to be found.

They sifted this lore and screened it; then, after having sent a detector web of thought

throughout the space and subspace of half the galaxy, they found and locked minds with

Carlyle and Barbara Deston.

"Do not be surprised, youngsters," the Adams duplex began.

Huh?" Deston yelped. "Clear to hellangone out here? And in subspace besides?"

"Distance is no longer important. Neither is the nature of the environment. Moreover, we

are about to visit you in person."

"Without a locus of familiarity? You can't."

"That is no longer necessary, either. Here we are." Seated side by side on a love-seat

facing the Destons, the Adamses spoke the last three words aloud, in perfect unison.

Deston did not jump clear off of the davenport quite. "Out here into the middle of

subspace and we're doing God-knows-how-many megaparsecs a minute relative to

anything? So you've mastered absolute trams-spatial perception?"

"By no means. We have, however, been able to enlarge significantly our hyper-sphere of

action. We have learned much."

"That's the understatement of the century. But before you try to teach us any such

advanced stuff as that, there's something simple-that is, it should be simple that's been

bothering me no end. You got a little time now, Doe?"

"Lots of it, Babe. Go ahead."

"Okay. Well, since I never got beyond calculus, and not very advanced calc at that, I

don't know any more about high math than a pig does about Sunday. But you and I both

know what we mean by plain, common, ordinary, every-day reality. We know what we

mean when we say that matter exists. Check, to here?"

"In the sense in which you are using the terms `reality' and `matter', yes."

"Okay. Matter exists in plain, ordinary, three-dimensional space. Matter is composed of

atoms. Therefore atoms must exist and must have reality in three-dimensional space. So

why can't any atomic physicist tri-di a working model of an atom? One that will work?

One that human eyes can watch work? So that the ordinary human mind can understand

how and why it works?"

"That's rank over-simplification, my boy. Why, the very concept of subatomic phenomena

and of subspace is so.. ."

"I know it is. That's exactly what I'm bitching about. Basically, nature is simple, and yet

you Big Brains can't handle it except by inventing mathematics so horribly complex that it

has no relationship at all to reality. You can't understand it yourselves. You don't-at least

I'm pretty sure you don't-really understand-like I understand that chair there, I mean-time

or subspace or space or anything else that's really fundamental. So do you mind if I stick

my amateur neck 'way out and make a rank amateur's guess as to why and why not?"

"I'm listening, Babe, with my mind as well as my ears."

Barbara grinned suddenly. "Out of the mouths of babes -one Babe in this case-et

cetera," she said.

"Okay, little squirt, that'll be enough out of you. Doc, I think there's one, and probably

more than one, fundamental basic principle that nobody knows anything about yet. And

that when you find them, and work out their laws, everything will snap into place so that

even such a dumbster as I am will be able to see what the real score is. So you think I'm

a squirrel food, don't you?"

"By no means. Many have had similar thoughts. . . ." "I know that, too, but now we jump

clear off the far end. Do you read science fiction?"

"Of course."

"You're familiar, then, with the triangle of electromagnetics, electro-gravitics, and

magneto-gravitics. That's just a wild stab, of course, but one gets you a hundred that

there's something, somewhere, that will tie everything up together-subspace, hunches,

telekinetics, witches, and all that stuff."

Adams leaned forward eagerly. "Have you done any work on it?"

"Who, me? What with?" Deston laughed, but there was no trace of levity in the sound.

"What would I be using for a brain? That's your department, Doc."

Adams smiled and started to say something, but broke off in the middle of a word. His

smile vanished. He sat immobile, eyes unfocussed, for minute after minute. He sat there

for so long that Deston, afraid to move, began to think that he had suffered some kind of

a seizure.

Finally, however, Adams came out of his trance. He and Stella got up as one and,

without a word, turned to leave the room.

"Hey!" Deston protested. "Wait up, Doc! What gives?" Adams licked his lips. "I can't tell

you, Babe. I'd be the laughing-stock of the scientific world-especially since I can't

conceive of any possible instrumentation to test it."

"After that, you've got to talk. So start."

"The trigger was your flat statement-axiomatic to you-that the atom exists in three

dimensions. Since that alleged fact can not be demonstrated, it probably is not true. If it

is not true, the reverse-the Occam's-Razor explanation-would almost have to he that

space possesses at least four physical dimensions."

"Hell's . . . flaming . . , afterburners . . ." Deston breathed.

"Exactly. The fact that this theory-to my knowledge, at least-has never been propounded

seriously does not affect its validity. It explains every phenomena with which I am familiar

and conflicts with none."

There was a long silence, which Deston broke. "Except one, maybe. According to that

theory, psionic ability would be the ability to perceive and to work in the fourth physical

dimension of space. Sometimes in time, too, maybe. But in that case, if anybody's got it

why hasn't everybody? Can you explain that?"

"Quite easily. Best, perhaps, by analogy. You'll grant that to primitive man it was

axiomatic that the Earth was flat? Two-dimensional?"

"Granted."

"That belief became untenable when it was proved conclusively that it was `round'. At

that point cosmology began. The Geocentric Theory was replaced by the Heliocentric.

Then the Galactic. Where are we now? We don't know. Note, however, that with every

advance in science the estimated size of the physical universe has increased."

"But what has that got to do with psionics?"

"I'm coming to that. While intelligence may not have increased very greatly over the

centuries, mental ability certainly has. My thought is that the process of evolution has

been, more and more frequently, activating certain hitherto-dormant portions of the brain;

specifically, those portions responsible for the so-called `supra-normal' abilities."

"Oh, brother! You really went out into the wild blue yonder after that one, professor."

"By no means. It may very well be that not all lines of heredity carry any of the genes

necessary to form the required cells, even in the dormant state, and it is certain that

there is a wide variation in the number and type of those cells. But have you ever really

considered Lee Chaytor? Or George Wesley?"

"Just what everybody knows. They were empiricists -pure experimenters, like the early

workers with electricity. They kept on trying until something worked. The theory hasn't all

been worked out yet, is all."

" `Everybody knows' something that, in all probability, simply is not true. I believed it

myself until just now; but now I'm almost sure that I know what the truth is. They both

were-they must have been-tremendously able psiontists. They did not publish the truth

because there was no symbology in which they could publish it. There still is no such

symbology. They concealed their supra-normal abilities throughout their lives because

they did not want to be laughed at-or worse."

Deston thought for a minute. "That's really a bolus . . . what can we-any or all of us-do

about it?"

"I'm not sure. Data insufficient-much more work must be done before that question can

be answered. As we said, Stella and I have learned much, but almost nothing compared

to what is yet to be learned. To that end-but it is long past bedtime. Shall all eight of us

meet after breakfast and learn from each other?"

"It'll be a one-way street, professor," Deston said, "but thanks a million for the

compliment, anyway. We shall indeed."

The Adamses left the room and Carlyle Deston stared unseeingly at the doorway through

which they had passed.

And next morning after breakfast the four couples sat at a round table, holding hands in a

circle.

Very little can be said about what actually went on. It cannot be told in either words or

mathematics. There is no symbology except the esoteric jargon of the psiontist-as

meaningless to the non-psionic mind as the proverbial "The gostak distims the

doshes"-by the use of which such information can be transmitted.

Results, however, were enormous and startling; and it must be said here that not one of

the eight had any suspicion then that the Adams fusion had any help in doing what it did.

Andrew Adams' mind was admittedly the greatest of its time; combining with its perfect

complement would enhance its power; everything that happened was strictly logical and

only to be expected.

The physical results of one phase of the investigation, that into teleportation, can be

described. Each pair of minds was different, of course. Each had abilities and powers

that the others lacked; some of which were fully developable in the others, some only

partially, some scarcely at all. Thus, when it came to the upper reaches of the Fourth

Nume, even Adams was shocked at the power and scope and control that flared up

instantly in the Trains' minds as soon as the doors were opened.

"Ah," Adams said, happily, "That explains why you would not start out without them."

"And how!" Deston agreed; and it did.

It is also explained why Cecily had always been, in Bernice's words, "such a sex-flaunting

power-house." It accounted for Train's years of frustration and bafflement. At long, long

last, they had found out what they were for.

"You two," Adams said, "have, among other things, a power of teleportation that is

almost unbelievable. You could teleport, not merely yourselves, but this entire starship

and all its contents, to any destination you please."

"They could, at that," Deston marveled. "Go ahead and do it, so Bobby and I can see

how much of the technique we can learn."

"I'm afraid to." Cecily licked her lips. "Suppose we-I, my part of it, I mean-scatter our

atoms all over total space?"

"We won't," Train said. Although he had not known it before, he was in fact the stronger

of the two. "Give us a target, Babe. We'll hit it to a gnat's eyeball."

"Gahreetia. GalMet Tower. Plumb with the flagpole. One thousand point zero feet from

the center of the ball to our center of gravity."

"Roger." The Trains stared into each other's eyes and their muscles set momentarily.

"Check it for dex and line."

Deston whistled. "One thousand point zero zero feet and plumb to a split blonde hair.

You win the mink-lined whatsits. Now back?"

"As we were, Sess," Train said, and the starship disappeared from Galmetia's

atmosphere, to reappear instantaneously at the exact point it would have occupied in

subspace if the trip had not been interrupted.

The meeting went on. There is no need to report any more of its results; in fact, nine

tenths of those results could not be reported even if there were room.

An hour or so after the meeting was over, Adams sat at his desk, thinking; staring

motionlessly at the sheet of paper upon which be had listed eighteen coincidences. He

knew, with all his mathematician's mind, that coincidence had no place in reality; but

there they were.

Not merely one or two, but eighteen of them ... which made the probability a virtually

absolute certainty.

There was an operator. The babies? Barbara? Of all the people he knew, they were . . .

but why should it be anyone he knew, or any given one or thing in this or any other

galaxy? There were no data. A mutant, hiding indetectably behind his own powers? An

attractive idea, but there was no basis whatever for any assumption at all . . . anything to

be both necessary and sufficient must of necessity be incomprehensible. Anything . . .

anywhere ... anywhere....

At this point in his cogitations Barbara knocked on his door and came in, with her

mind-blocks full on. He knew what was on her mind; he had perceived it plainly during the

wide-open eight-way they had just held. Nevertheless:

"Something is troubling you, my dear?"

"Yes." Barbara nibbled at her lip. ". . . it's just . . . well, are you positively sure, Uncle

Andy, that the babies are ... well . . ." She paused, wriggling in embarrassment.

"Normal? Of course I'm sure, child. Positive. I have a file four inches thick to prove it.

Have you any grounds at all for suspecting that they may not be?"

"Put that way, no, I haven't. It's just that . . . well, once in a while I get a . . . a feeling . .

. Indescribable . . ." she paused again.

"It is possible that there is an operator at work," he said, quietly. The girl's eyes

widened, but she didn't say anything and he went on, "However, I can find no basis

whatever for any assumption concerning such a phenomenon. It is much more logical,

therefore, to assume that these new and inexplicable 'feelings' are in fact products of our

newly enlarged minds, which we do not as yet fully understand."

"Oh?" she exclaimed. "You have them, too? You've been working on it? Watching it?"

"I have been and am working on it."

 "Oh, wonderful! If there's anything to it, then, you'll get it!" She hugged him vigorously,

kissed him on the ear, and ran out of the room.

Adams stared thoughtfully at the closed door. That let Barbara out-or did it? It did not.

Nor did it put her in any deeper. The operator, if any, was supernormal; super-psionic.

The problem was, by definition, insoluble; one more of the many mysteries of Nature that

the mind of man could not yet solve. Therefore he would not waste any more time on it.

He shrugged his shoulders, crumpled the sheet of paper up into a ball, dropped the ball

into his wastebasket, and went to work on a problem that he might be able to solve.