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14 - A Trick of the Mind · Space Odyssey Sci-Fi Anthology

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  Speaker 1: A Trick of the Mind by William P. Saltan. This
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  Speaker 1: is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the
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  Speaker 1: public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit
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  Speaker 1: LibriVox dot org. Read by Quartertone. A Trick of the
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  Speaker 1: Mind by William P. Saltan. Paul Donovan was sitting at
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  Speaker 1: a bar when he learned the trick. He had reached
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  Speaker 1: out to lift his Martini glass when his hands stopped
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  Speaker 1: in mid air, stood rigid refused to move. Paul stared
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  Speaker 1: at it. Sweat broke out on his forehead. Thoughts of
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  Speaker 1: paralysis raced through his mind. The hand and arm seemed
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  Speaker 1: things apart, and he had a feeling of not possessing them,
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  Speaker 1: of complete divorcement from these members. Then he realized his
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  Speaker 1: whole body was frozen and his mind. There was something
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  Speaker 1: new about it, something alien, as though it floated above
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  Speaker 1: his head and looked down at him in amusement flared
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  Speaker 1: then subsided as he became aware of a strange newness
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  Speaker 1: within himself. Vague and undefinable, this newness, but it was
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  Speaker 1: definitely a change, something he had never felt before. Think
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  Speaker 1: he told himself fiercely, there's nothing wrong with you. You
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  Speaker 1: aren't drunk. This is only your second martini. Stop this
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  Speaker 1: nonsense and pick up that glass. The order was given
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  Speaker 1: with every ounce of his brain power behind it, and
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  Speaker 1: the order was obeyed, but in a completely illogical manner.
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  Speaker 1: His body instantly became lax and docile. But the offending
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  Speaker 1: hand dropped to the bar as the martini glass, seemingly
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  Speaker 1: of its own volition, moved across the bar, levitated to
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  Speaker 1: his lips, tilted, and poured the drink into his mouth.
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  Speaker 1: The martini went smoothly down his throat, after which the
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  Speaker 1: glass returned to its former position. Paul snatched out a
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  Speaker 1: handkerchief and wiped his lips as he glanced guiltily up
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  Speaker 1: and down the bar. Had anyone been watching? Apparently not.
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  Speaker 1: Then Paul saw a small man with an ingrown chin
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  Speaker 1: get shakily off his stool. The little man gulped as
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  Speaker 1: he eyed Paul in terror. Then he looked back at
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  Speaker 1: his own beer glass, as though it had turned into
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  Speaker 1: a cobra. Now he threw down a quarter and headed
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  Speaker 1: for the door. Paul grinned, not interested in questioning or
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  Speaker 1: analyzing his new power. He was satisfied in being happy.
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  Speaker 1: With it in examining its possibilities, he ordered another drink.
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  Speaker 1: The barkeeps set it before him, turned away, and another
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  Speaker 1: miracle was performed. As slowly, steadily the martini glass moved
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  Speaker 1: across the polish bar. At the edge, it rose evenly
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  Speaker 1: in the air. The martini glided smoothly down Paul's throat. Empty,
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  Speaker 1: the glass returned to the table, Paul tingled all over,
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  Speaker 1: thoroughly enjoying the new thrill, the new sense of power.
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  Speaker 1: It was far more intoxicating than the Martinis themselves. With
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  Speaker 1: a marked sense of superiority, He again looked up and
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  Speaker 1: down the bar, the first flash of fear gone. He
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  Speaker 1: now regarded the other drinkers with patronizing contempt. That fat
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  Speaker 1: fellow there at the end, for instance, drinking a Manhattan
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  Speaker 1: trying to look like a banker, trying to impress the people,
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  Speaker 1: pompous ass. Maybe I can fix his wagon, Paul thought.
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  Speaker 1: The man raised his glass with an exaggerating sweep of
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  Speaker 1: his hand. Paul concentrated, and the poor unfortunate poured its
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  Speaker 1: entire contents over his immaculate shirt front. The barfly snickered
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  Speaker 1: as the man fumbled a bill onto the bar and fled.
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  Speaker 1: It worked. Paul gloated. A waiter passed carrying a tray
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  Speaker 1: of appetizers. Paul closed his eyes, thought one into his mouth,
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  Speaker 1: and tasted the sharp, salty flavor of anchovy. This was fun. Next,
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  Speaker 1: he noticed the glossy dame sitting near the center of
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  Speaker 1: the bar, pushing out her front until it reminded him
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  Speaker 1: of twin cannons. So she thought she could scrounge another
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  Speaker 1: drink from the guy next to her. Huh, why didn't
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  Speaker 1: you just pick his pocket and be done with it?
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  Speaker 1: Why not? Indeed, effortlessly, the man's wallet flew out of
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  Speaker 1: his hip pocket and arked down into her low cut bodice.
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  Speaker 1: The girl angled her popping eyes downward. Paul chuckled to
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  Speaker 1: himself as she slipped off the stool and headed for
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  Speaker 1: the lady's room. It was all so easy. If he
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  Speaker 1: could manipulate his newfound power so cleverly, why not do
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  Speaker 1: something truly epic, like dropping a brick on his boss's head, or,
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  Speaker 1: come to think of it, how about putting some money
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  Speaker 1: into his own pocket. The cashier at the end of
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  Speaker 1: the bar rang up a sail, then, with the cashtrawer
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  Speaker 1: still open, his attention was attracted by a waiter opportunity.
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  Speaker 1: With hardly any effort at all, Paul transferred a ten
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  Speaker 1: dollar bill from the drawer into his shirt pocket. It
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  Speaker 1: crackled excitingly as he pressed it flat with a casual hand.
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  Speaker 1: Pure excitement swept him. He could do anything, move into
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  Speaker 1: the really spectacular. He could could even rob a bank. Thus,
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  Speaker 1: when the armored truck pulled up across the street, his
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  Speaker 1: mind was conditioned for its arrival. Through the window, he
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  Speaker 1: saw the rear door open. Then two arm guards emerged.
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  Speaker 1: Bored by the routine, one of them actually yawned. As
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  Speaker 1: a third guard appeared from the theater entrance in front
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  Speaker 1: of which they were parked. He was carrying a satchel.
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  Speaker 1: As he handed it into the truck, Paul's mind worked automatically.
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  Speaker 1: Then he watched as the guards vanished inside the truck
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  Speaker 1: and closed the door. The truck spouted a white exhaust
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  Speaker 1: and pulled away. Paul was trembling, now, suddenly aghast at
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  Speaker 1: what he had done. This wasn't a parlor game any more,
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  Speaker 1: and he told himself it hadn't happened. Told himself this
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  Speaker 1: in quick desperation, that this whole thing had been nothing
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  Speaker 1: more than an idle daydream, a moment's relaxation along with
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  Speaker 1: a few drinks. Like hell, it was regardless of how
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  Speaker 1: he figured it, he was now a big time thief,
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  Speaker 1: big time. How much is big time? How much money
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  Speaker 1: was now stuffed in the briefcase beside his stool. He
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  Speaker 1: reached down surreptitiously and hefted the bag for weight plenty.
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  Speaker 1: He ordered another drink and gave it no chance to
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  Speaker 1: play tricks, snatching the glass firmly by the stem and
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  Speaker 1: lifting it the old fashioned way. It didn't help much.
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  Speaker 1: Then real panic welled up as a heavy hand dropped
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  Speaker 1: on his shoulder, and he turned and saw the goggle
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  Speaker 1: eyes of the little fat man. Saw a pudgy finger
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  Speaker 1: pointed accusingly. I tell your offices, this is the guy,
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  Speaker 1: and he's not stark raving nuts. I'm telling you he
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  Speaker 1: gets his drinks without even lifting them. They bounced right
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  Speaker 1: off the bar. There were two policemen, a rather bored
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  Speaker 1: oldster with signs of breakfast on the front of his uniform,
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  Speaker 1: and a spruced up young patch trullman not yet disillusioned.
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  Speaker 1: The older cop dropped his hand from Paul's shoulder and
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  Speaker 1: spoke with a certain deference. This is no charge, mister,
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  Speaker 1: just a routine lookin'. Our friend here is all excited
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  Speaker 1: about something, and well, you know how it is. That's okay,
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  Speaker 1: Officer Paul croaked, striving to control his voice. The younger cop,
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  Speaker 1: taking a cue from his superior's manner, threw a stern
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  Speaker 1: look at the discomfited fat man. Do you want to
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  Speaker 1: prefer any charges, mister? The fat man took an involuntary
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  Speaker 1: backward step, banged his heel against Paul's briefcase, and instantly
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  Speaker 1: both policemen were staring at the floor. Paul's eyes followed theirs.
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  Speaker 1: A chill went deep into his bones. That faulty catch.
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  Speaker 1: He'd meant to get it fixed. Now it was as
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  Speaker 1: undoing as a heap of banded banknotes spilled out onto
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  Speaker 1: the floor. The elder cop broke the silence. Maybe there'll
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  Speaker 1: be some charges, maybe not, but I think we'll take
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  Speaker 1: a walk to the station. All the same, Paul clawed
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  Speaker 1: at his mind for a retort. Any law against carrying money,
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  Speaker 1: he asked, trying to make it sound light. No law
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  Speaker 1: against it, No, But you've got to admit this is
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  Speaker 1: pretty unusual. Do you think I stole this money? The
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  Speaker 1: officer tipped his cap back and scratched his ear reflectively. No,
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  Speaker 1: but I got a hunch that doesn't belong to you.
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  Speaker 1: I don't think you got any white sitting here in
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  Speaker 1: the bar with it. I think maybe you got a
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  Speaker 1: boss somewhere that might have sent you to a bank
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  Speaker 1: or something, and he could be real nervous wondering why
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  Speaker 1: you don't get back. We'll just take a little walk
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  Speaker 1: to the station, and no offense to anybody, okay. Paul's
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  Speaker 1: mind was numb as he stood between the officers at
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  Speaker 1: the call box. He could not force his brain to
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  Speaker 1: function even normally, let alone execute any mental tricks discovered
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  Speaker 1: in the bottom of a Martini glass. A squad car
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  Speaker 1: pulled up, and he climbed docilely in the back seat
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  Speaker 1: and sat like a man in a trance between the
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  Speaker 1: two silent policemen at the station. There was the added
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  Speaker 1: chill of feeling like a man alone, a criminal involved
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  Speaker 1: in a terrible experience that was merely routine to the
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  Speaker 1: tormentors who walked by his side. It was one of
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  Speaker 1: the older stations, with a well worn floor marked by
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  Speaker 1: the scuffing footsteps of many an unhappy wrong door. The
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  Speaker 1: desk sergeant had a sagging, disillusioned face and a pair
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  Speaker 1: of eyes that had given up all hope of utopia.
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  Speaker 1: He turned them a pall and grunted, what's the gripe?
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  Speaker 1: The senior officer did the talking. We don't exactly know, sergeant,
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  Speaker 1: but we got a lead on this character. Found him
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  Speaker 1: sitting in a gin mill with enough dough in his
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  Speaker 1: catch to pay off the national debt. It seemed a
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  Speaker 1: little out of line somehow. The desk sergeant stretched his
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  Speaker 1: granny neck and peered down at the offending briefcase. The
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  Speaker 1: doe in there, right, let's have a look. The younger
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  Speaker 1: officer lifted the bag as though it contained the secret
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  Speaker 1: of the unsolved crime on the books and depots did
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  Speaker 1: it triumphantly on the desk. Pretty batter leather to lug around,
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  Speaker 1: real dough in, the sergeant commented. He lifted the flap
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  Speaker 1: and reached inside. Then he scowled at the accusing cop
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  Speaker 1: and tipped the briefcase upside down. A sheaf of white
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  Speaker 1: papers fell out. A pack of new lead pencils Paul
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  Speaker 1: had lifted from the supply shelf that afternoon, and a
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  Speaker 1: copy of Lurid Sex he had bought at the corner newstand.
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  Speaker 1: That was all the desk sergeant slammed the briefcase down
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  Speaker 1: on the desk and glowered at the trio before him.
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  Speaker 1: What kind of a rib is this? You jerks? Think
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  Speaker 1: I got nothing more to do, then sit here and
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  Speaker 1: let you bounce your gags off me. Besides, this isn't
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  Speaker 1: even a gag. It's got no point. Let's have a snapper.
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  Speaker 1: I'm listening. The elder cop turned pale with amazement. The
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  Speaker 1: younger one, obviously of different metabolism, had turned beat red.
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  Speaker 1: After a thick pause, they found their voices simultaneously. I'll
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  Speaker 1: swear on the Bible that there was money in that
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  Speaker 1: damned briefcase when we first looked into it. Paul passed
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  Speaker 1: up the bus, preferring to walk the ten blocks to
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  Speaker 1: his apartment. He needed the air, and the sense of
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  Speaker 1: freedom was glorious, Thank Heaven, His mind had come unstruck
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  Speaker 1: that last moment, and now the sheaf of money was
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  Speaker 1: back where it belonged in the statuel of the armored car.
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  Speaker 1: Guard Humbled, completely chastened, and not a little scared, Paul
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  Speaker 1: hoped he had caused no one any inconvenience, and strong,
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  Speaker 1: indeed were his resolutions. No more mental transference, in fact,
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  Speaker 1: no more Martinez. From now on he would get his
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  Speaker 1: money the hard way. In the end, that would turn
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  Speaker 1: out to be by far the easiest end of A
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  Speaker 1: trick of the mind. By William P. Salton