lean, bright, and clear as day. I paused, startled at it,
and spent a few moments digging outside. The dead area billowed above
the rooftop out of my range; from what little I could survey of the dark
psi area, it must have been shaped sort of like an angel-food cake,
except that the central hole did not go all the way down. Only to the
first-floor level. It was a wonderful set-up for a home; privacy was
granted on the first floor and from the road and all the surrounding
territory, but on the second floor there was plenty of pleasant
esperclear space for the close-knit family and friends. Their dead area
was shaped in the ideal form for any ideal home.

Then I stopped complimenting the architect and went on about my
business, because there, directly in front of my nose, I could dig the
familiar impression of a medical office.

I went the rest of the way up the stairs and into the medical office.
There was no mistake. The usual cabinets full of instruments, a
laboratory examination table, shelves of little bottles, and along one
wall was a library of medical books. All it needed was a sign on the
door: 'S. P. Macklin, MSch' to make it standard.

At the end of the library was a set of looseleaf notebooks, and I pulled
the more recent of them out and held it up to my face. I did not dare
snap on a light, so I had to go it esper.

Even in the clear area, this told me very little. Esper is not like
eyesight, any more than you can hear printed words or perhaps carry on a
conversation by watching the wiggly green line on an oscilloscope. I
wished it was. Instead, esper gives you a grasp of materials and shapes
and things in position with regard to other things. It is sort of like
seeing something simultaneously from all sides, if you can imagine such
a sensation. So instead of being able to esper-read the journal, I had
to take it letter by letter by digging the shape of the ink on the page
with respect to the paper and the other letters, and since the guy's
handwriting was atrocious, I could get no more than if the thing were
written in Latin. If it had been typewritten, or with a stylized hand,
it would have been far less difficult; or if it had been any of my
damned business I could have dug it easily. But as it was----

"Looking for something, Mr. Cornell?" asked a cool voice that dripped
with acid sarcasm. At the same instant, the lights went on.

I whirled, clutched at my hip pocket, and dropped to my knees at the