[2003] LOSS & PORPHYRY the novels  

0085 – Part 18 – Telepathy Party Tricks

As we adults were socialising, the whole horde of our various children exploded into the room, with an unusually determined air about them. It was Peter, Gerry's son, who delivered their ultimatum: 'We're bored with just sitting around. Besides, Sarah and Miles can do telepathy with their father.'

I could see my two children, their faces a mixture of smugness and apprehension, just inside the doorway behind their peers. It was not often that they had the means to impress Peter who, as the eldest, had set himself up as the leader of the group and normally dismissed contributions from anyone other than his sister and himself.

'Let's try it now!' Peter would not be denied his relief from fatal boredom.

It was now my turn to find myself in something of a predicament. In our culture, and even among our friends, the paranormal was seen to be something of a joke; the province of the fairground freak, of the charlatan. The Victorians' love of psychic phenomena, which in their time were considered a very suitable topic for the salon, had disappeared into the province of the music-hall joke, along with the aspidistra. I felt myself peculiarly vulnerable, in this materially oriented society, in being forced to broach the theme.

It was with considerable diffidence, therefore, that I found myself explaining these startling disclosures: 'Well I suppose that is, in a way, true. We found out, on our way back from our visit to Paris, that we can read some things in each others' minds.' I was aware that the group of my peers were all looking at me disbelievingly, even if their children were looking at me with something approaching awe. Faced with this apparently hostile audience, it was with some difficulty that I recounted the tale of events which had led to this conclusion. As I narrated the story, in as matter of fact a style as I knew how, I sensed a shift in their attitudes; the adults still didn't believe me but they too began to see that it might make a potentially enjoyable game, a welcome diversion.

Sarah and Miles, accompanied by an excited group of children, withdrew to the next room; to prepare the pictures to be transmitted. As I readied myself to receive them, to my embarrassment, I found myself the focus of intense attention from the adults. I was aware, however, that this attention was no longer hostile, if it ever had been. Instead, in their desire to witness a good show, they were positively willing me on to success. Thus, feeling myself a peculiar mixture of fairground freak and mystic guru, I began to describe the 'pictures'.

Despite the attention of my friends, or perhaps because of it, the pictures came surprisingly easily. A cross, overlaid with religious thoughts accompanied by a slight feeling of distaste for these. That must be Sarah. A box, this time with the warm excited feelings of Christmas presents. Again that was unmistakably Sarah. Miles came next with, not unexpectedly, a somewhat jumbled series of images. The only common factor I could abstract was water, with waves rippling its surface. This description did not, though, satisfy the group next door; who would not accept that I could fail. Eventually I prevailed on them to tell me what it was; a bottle of wine. It was only as I was getting into bed later that night that I realised Miles had been concentrating on the contents, the wine which as forbidden fruit he lusted after, rather than the shape.

At the time, though, the game continued for a while with me correctly guessing most of the pictures; provided they were not too complex. But, as with most games, the participants eventually became bored with it; and it petered out to nothing - much to my relief. Their interest spent, the children disappeared to pursue other, more exciting, matters; guessing simple shapes no longer seemed amazing. The adults too returned to their conversations, the game forgotten.

As an attempt to justify my activities, I briefly continued the theme: 'Of course it's no use for anything practical. All you can do is send a very simple picture from one room to another, and even then it would be much easier to talk to the other person. I can't see that telepathy is much use. Mind you, it does pose a very real question about what the physicists are up to. The unified field theory, which everyone is chasing and which some scientists are claiming to have had successes with, assumes that all the forces have been found. Telepathy seems to imply another force of some kind. Which would mean that all the scientists were wrong. Perhaps that's why they don't like the paranormal.' This latter view might have been fast becoming an obsession with me, but it rapidly became clear to me that it was either too esoteric, or just too plain boring, for the rest of the group.

The conversation lapsed, once more, into the time honoured topics; as the two groups, men versus women, took up their positions at either end of the room.

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