as been passed.

Roughly--for the analog itself is rough--the same things occurs in the
human mind. The psionic abilities of the human mind are, to a greater or
lesser degree, there to begin with, just as an ice cube has the
_ability_ to melt if the proper conditions are met with.

The analogy hardly extends beyond that. Unlike an ice cube, the human
mind is capable of changing the forces outside it--as if the ice could
seek out its own heat in order to melt. And, too, human minds vary in
their inherent ability to absorb understanding. Some do so easily,
others do so only in spotty areas, still others cannot reach the
critical point before they break. And still others can never really
understand at all.

No one who had not reached his own critical point could become a "core"
member of the S.M.M.R. It was not snobbery on their part; they
understood other human beings too well to be snobbish. It was more as
though a Society for Expert Mountain Climbers met each year on the peak
of Mount Everest--anyone who can get up there to attend the meeting is
automatically a member.

Spencer Candron sat down in a nearby chair. "All right, so I refrain
from doing any more damage than I have to. What's the objective?"

Taggert put his palms on his muscular thighs and leaned forward. "James
Ch'ien is still alive."

Candron had not been expecting the statement, but he felt no surprise.
His mind merely adjusted to the new data. "He's still in China, then,"
he said. It was not a question, but a statement of a deduction. "The
whole thing was a phony. The death, the body, the funeral. What about
the executions?"

"They were real," Taggert said. "Here's what happened as closely as we
can tell:

"Dr. Ch'ien was kidnaped on July 10th, the second day of the conference
in Peiping, at some time between two and three in the morning. He was
replaced by a double, whose name we don't know. It's unimportant,
anyway. The double was as perfect as the Chinese surgeons could make
him. He was probably not aware that he was slated to die; it is more
likely that he was hypnotized and misled. At any rate, he took Ch'ien's
place on the rostrum to speak that afternoon.

"The man who shot him, and the man who threw the flame bomb, were
probably as equally deluded as to what they were doing as the double
was. They did a perfect job, though. The impersonator was dead, and his
skin was charred and blistered clear up to the chest--no fingerprints.

"The