The Intervention Part 12

Rogi made a comical grimace. "I remember. "

"Jeanette and Laurette can't help being pests sometimes. But Victor doesn't seem to be any good at putting up a protective mental shield, so the baby-thoughts drive him crazy. I told Mom how he was tormenting the twins and she told him to stop - but there's really not much she can do about it. "

"I see. " (Poor Sunny, retreating into fatalism and saying her beads and watching soap operas on television! Inside of a year she would be enceinte once again. ) "I tried to explain to Papa why Victor shouldn't hara.s.s the babies. I told him it would discourage them from developing their own ultrafaculties - maybe even make them normal. He laughed. "

Rogi stood up, keeping a tight lid over his own thoughts. "I'll talk things over with your father when I take you back. Don't worry. "

Denis smiled at him. "I knew you'd help. "

"My room's right down here. Let's hurry. We want time for breakfast, and the shuttle bus to the cog is at ten. " (And what can I say to Don to show him how he's poisoning his younger son and endangering his daughters and breaking the older boy's heart? The only time he opens to me is when he's drunk. His precious Victor can do no wrong. ) They went into the small suite that was Rogi's apartment and left Denis's suitcase on the rollaway bed that had been brought in for his visit. The child inspected the premises gravely and admired the sweeping vista from the windows.

"That's a view that costs the hotel guests at least two hundred dollars a day, " Rogi told his nephew, "but I get it for free. Of course this place of mine is pretty small, and I have to walk up a lot of stairs. But I have a nice office over in the main part of the hotel with room for my books, and when I sit up here and watch the storms play around the mountains I have a show that beats anything on television. "

They went downstairs, crossed a courtyard, and entered the hotel's north wing through a side door. Denis's eyes popped at the sight of apparently endless corridors with pillars and chandeliers, ornate Edwardian furniture, potted palms, gilt-framed mirrors, and fireplaces - large enough for a boy to stand in - that now had bouquets of red and yellow peonies in the grates instead of flaming logs. They looked into a great ballroom with green velvet drapes and standing silver candlesticks as big as hat-trees. Two men ran polishing machines across a floor that looked shiny enough to ice-skate on. Rogi told Denis there would be a Midsummer Night Ball there that evening. Another salon, lush with ferns and tropical flowers, overlooked a golf course and the approach to Mount Washington.

When they came at last to the dining room, Denis was struck dumb. It was fancier than any restaurant he had ever seen in his life. Ron, the captain who seated them, treated Denis like a grown man and called him Sir when he gave him a menu. There were weird things for breakfast like kippers and steak, and eight different ways of having eggs, and twelve varieties of fresh fruit including New Zealand gooseberries. The table was set with crystal and shining silver and monogrammed damask napery. There was a vase with a single mauve rose, so perfect in form and so outre in color that Denis had to touch it to be certain it was real. The sugar came in hard lumps wrapped in embossed gold paper. (Denis stole two. ) Milk was served in a faceted goblet, sitting on its own small plate with a paper doily underneath. They ate eggs Benedict and had mini-croissants and strawberries Wilhelmine, and were served funny little cups of espresso, which Denis drank politely but didn't much care for.

When they had finished, Denis sighed and said, "I expect you'll stay here forever. "

Rogi laughed and touched his lips with his napkin. "I'll tell you a secret. What I'd really like to do is save my money until I have enough to buy a little bookstore in a nice quiet college town. I could stay in a place like that forever. "

The check came. Rogi signed it and he and Denis stood to go. The boy said, "That doesn't sound very exciting - a bookstore. "

"I'm afraid I'm not a very exciting man, Denis. Most people aren't, you know. Movies and television shows and books are full of heroes, but they aren't too common in real life anymore. "

The boy thought about this as they walked through the lobby. It was crowded with guests on their way to the day's activities, most of them middle-aged or elderly, but with a sprinkling of young couples and well-dressed parents with children. There were people in tennis togs and riding breeches and hiking boots, and a group of little old ladies in polyester pantsuits carrying shawls and heavy sweaters, and old men in loud sports jackets hung about with camera bags and binoculars. A pretty tour guide was calling for their attention, please.

"I used to think it would be neat to be a hero when I was just a little kid, " Denis said. "An astronaut or a jungle explorer or a hockey star like Bobby Clarke or Gil Perreault. But I guess I'm not a very exciting person either. Father Dubois kids me about it sometimes. He says I should quit sitting around like a stuffed owl, contemplating the infinite. " The boy chuckled. "But the infinite's interesting. "

They went out the front door of the hotel to the shuttle bus. Rogi said, "Don't take his teasing seriously. Be what you are. You've got a brain - maybe one like n.o.body else in the whole world. Explore that. "

The mob of old folks and the tour guide followed Rogi and Denis into the bus. The guide counted her charges, then signaled the driver. The bus drove off.

Denis said, "There are doctors who study the brain - take it apart and poke needles and things into it to find out how it works. But I don't want to do just that. What I want to learn about isn't how the brain works but why. Why do those electrical impulses and chemical ex-changes result in thinking? No electroencephalograph shows the thoughts in a person's mind. And how do brains control bodies? It's not my brain that commands my fingers to grab this bus seat, it's me. A brain is nothing but a lump of meat. "

"With a mind in it. "

"That's right, " the boy agreed. "Mind! That's what I want to learn about. A mind isn't the same as a brain. "

"Some scientists would argue the point - but I don't think the two are identical. "

Denis said: People like you&me would give scientists fits! How mybrain speak yourbrain? No radiowaves other energy pa.s.s between us!

Through whatmedium propagates coercion/PK/farspeech? How farsight/hearing/smell/taste/touch impulses transmitted? Received? What energysource powers PK? Why can't fa.r.s.ense through granite? Why easier fa.r.s.ense at night? How mymind influence another in coercion? How mymind heal mybody?... I know mymind controls mymind. This means: mymind controls chemistry&electricity in brain. The nonmatterenergything dominates the matterenergything! HOW?

Rogi said: Denisdearchild find out! Explore your mind and mine and Don's and Victor's. Explore other minds as well minds of normals find way bridge gap separating them/us. What an adventure... more exciting than mountaineering deepdiving oceantraveling flyingouters.p.a.ce!

[Good-humored juvenile skepticism.] But not anything like as dangerous.

Rogi squeezed the thin little shoulder. Aloud, he said, "Of course not. "

The bus bounced over the frost-heaved macadam road that twisted through a forest of maples and hemlocks. Around Rogi and Denis, the little old ladies twittered like wrens.

The cog railway that ascends the western slope of Mount Washington is unique in North America, one of those mad Yankee notions that never should have worked but somehow did, for more than a hundred years. Denis took one look at the chunky coal-fired locomotive, oddly lopsided on level track since its boiler was designed to be horizontal when the train climbed the steep grade, and cried: "It's the Little Engine That Could!"

The old folks simpered fondly.

There were many other tourists of all ages waiting at the base station to board the train. The engine pushed a single car, painted bright yellow.

Traction came from a rack-and-pinion mechanism beneath. Between the regular narrow-gauge rails was a central track that resembled an endless ladder of thumb-thick iron rods four inches long. This rack was gripped by twin cog gears on the engine's drive mechanism, which powered the train up the mountain with an earsplitting clatter while the engine chugged and hissed and belched an air-polluting cloud of ebony smoke such as Denis had never seen before in his life.

As they crept upward through scrubby trees the entire Bretton Woods area was visible behind them. "This is neat!" Denis yelled over the racket. "Look down there - it's your hotel!"

Rogi said: I watch little trains go up&down mountain from my window. Sometimes when cloud clamps down on summit trains look like they're heading into sky never to return... Man who invented train went to state legislature in 1858 asked it to grant charter so he could build railroad. Lawmaker proposed amendment permitting inventor to build railroad to Moon after he finish one up MountWashington.

Laughter. Getting really cold. Glad brought jacket. Glad we can mindspeak can hardly hear WOW whatanoise!

You know about mountainweather? It can change in flash: bright sunshine to freezing cold even now in June. Snow any month. Wind blows hurricanefast on summit 1/3 days year.

Yes I read book school worldcla.s.s record MountWashington wind 231 mph! Know also Indians thought mountain home GreatSpirit afraid to climb no wonder.

You hear story ChiefPa.s.saconaway?

Lived NewHampshire early colonial times. Great wise leader also famed wonderworking magic allkinds wizard tricks. When Chief Pa.s.saconaway died legend says wolves pulled body on sled to top MountWashington. There fiery coach carried him away into sky.

Like flyingsaucer? Awww...

Lots of other stories. You ever hear Great Carbuncle?

Supposed tobe huge shining red jewel hidden mountain worth zillions. Glowing ruby light lures greedy people come search for it. They follow light get trapped terrible storms never able get hold carbuncle. Die. NathanielHawthorne used legend in story.

I'll get book BerlinLibrary this summer... UncleRogi you don't believe flyingsaucers do you?

Never saw one. But ElmerPeabody man drives tractormower at hotel says he did. Sensible man Elmer. Lots of reputable people say they see UFOs. Funny. NewHampshire seems have awfullot those things confounded UFO plague!

I read two books kindof scary. Onebook man&woman driving FranconiaNotch just west here say they abducted by saucermen. Doctor got story years later by hypnotizing people! Saucerman told lady came faraway star meant noharm. Anotherbook guy saw big saucer with redlights over Exeter nearcoast. Went to police. Police saw it too! Also wholebunch other people. What think?

I think... it may be possible.

Ahh. Littlegreenmen visit Earth but not make official contact? Why they want do such crazything! Why keep secret instead reveal selves rightout to world?

Dearchild why do we?

The little train crawled slowly to the region above timberline, leaving behind gnarled and crouching dwarf trees and pa.s.sing into a place where carpets of subarctic flowers, pink and white and pale yellow, bloomed in the midst of sedge meadows and a desolation of gray crags. There was still snow in shadowed hollows and the western side of the rocks was encrusted with thick h.o.a.rfrost. The summit buildings came into view. They pa.s.sed a cl.u.s.ter of water tanks and saw a simple painted board:

LIZZIE BOURNE.

PERISHED 1855.

"She was twenty-three, " Rogi said. "Nearly seventy other people have died on this mountain - more than on any other peak in North America. Some died from accidents, some from exposure. The mountain is deceptive, you see. People come up on a beautiful day like this, without a cloud in the sky, and decide to take a little hike. Suddenly clouds of icy fog come racing in and you can't see two feet in front of you. There might be snow or hail or freezing rain with a wind-chill factor way below zero. The worst weather on Earth short of the polar regions happens right here in our own state, on a mountain only sixty-two hundred feet high. I've been up here lots of times - on the cog, driving up the eastern side on the Carriage Road, even hiking up from the hotel. But I never feel quite comfortable. The top of Mount Washington is an eerie place. "

The train drew to a halt in front of a drab, barnlike wooden building that the trainman proudly identified as the famous Summit House Hotel. He warned the pa.s.sengers that they would have only forty-five minutes to explore. The return trip, like the journey up the mountain, would take more than an hour.

A strong, cold wind was blowing and Rogi told Denis to watch his step on the slippery gravel. There was very little snow on the ground, but the windward side of every structure, rock, railing, and guy-cable was thick with dazzling white rime. The giant frost crystals looked like otherworldly marine growth, a crust of twisted tabs and plates and k.n.o.bs and opaque lenses of ice.

The Summit House Hotel held no interest for Denis. He wanted to climb the cone-shaped rock ma.s.s that marked the absolute high point of the mountain. Then he raced off to see if the weather observatory or the TV and radio transmitter buildings were open to the public. They weren't. As he squinted up at the ice-wrapped antenna tower, the boy projected to Rogi dramatic imaginary pictures of the way this place might look in a howling blizzard with the wind blowing two hundred miles an hour. His mind was charged with exhilaration as they walked to a rocky spur and looked south, down a leg of the great Appalachian Trail, and saw a group of tiny lakes and a hikers' hut more than a thousand feet below.

"Those are the Lakes of the Clouds, " Rogi said. "Maybe on one of your later visits we can hike up to them from the Hotel, on the Ammonoosuc Ravine Trail. "

"Wow! That'd be great. " Denis squinted, studying the area immediately below the spur. "What are those piles of rock with yellow paint on top?"

"Cairns marking the trails. You have to watch very carefully for them in some places to keep from getting lost. The trails on this mountain don't look like the woodland paths you're used to - at least not in the high parts. They mostly go over bare rock. That's one of the reasons why Mount Washington can be treacherous. "

They went back to the northern area of the summit to see if they could see Berlin. Sure enough, the steam plumes from the paper mills were little tan feathers rising from the Androscoggin Valley. The air was so clear that they could see Umbagog Lake and Bigelow Mountain over in Maine, and the Green Mountains of Vermont to the west, and beyond the White Mountain Resort Hotel was a pimple on the horizon that was really Mount Marcy, 150 miles away in the Adirondacks of New York.

"I see hikers, " Denis said, pointing to a line of people toiling up alongside the cog railway line. He instinctively magnified the tiny figures with his farsight and projected the picture into Rogi's mind.

"... eighteen, nineteen, twenty... twenty-three of them. "

"It's a popular place to hike. Over there is the main trail leading to Clay and Jefferson and Adams. There are overnight huts between Mount Adams and Mount Madison, too. "

Denis shaded his eyes. He was shivering in the unrelenting wind. The vision of the climbers faded from Rogi's ultrasense. And then the child uttered a gasp of disbelief, and there came a surge of fear from him that made Rogi cry out in concern.

"Denis! What's wrong?"

A trembling, bluish finger pointed at the line of people. They disappeared behind the shoulder of the mountain for a moment as the trail dipped, then came into view again. The mental picture was huge.

"Uncle Rogi, the lady in front. I hear her. "

"What?"

The boy burst into tears. "I hear her mind. She's like us! Another person like us! Her mind projection is very faint and it doesn't make much sense... "

He dashed the moisture from his eyes and hugged himself as he tried to stop shuddering. Swiftly, Rogi unzipped his down-filled jacket and wrapped Denis in it. He knelt beside the child on sharp stones, feeling no cold, only a gut-churning hope. "Concentrate! Try to share the farspeech with me, Denis. Help me hear what you hear. " He put his arms around the boy and closed his eyes.

Oh my G.o.d.

She was singing a wordless melody, some cla.s.sical fragment that Rogi was unable to recognize. A joyful song. Now and then a subvocalization floated above the music like gossamer spider-threads against sunlit air: Answered... they answered... out there... surely... the others may doubt but... answered...

The clairaudient emanations and her fa.r.s.een image cut off as the woman followed the trail into another hollow, but his memory would never relinquish that first picture, and whenever he thought of her after she was lost to him, this vision of windblown vitality would always come to mind: a strong-featured face, striking but not conventionally pretty, slightly sunburned across the bridge of the nose; eyes of a blue so pale that they were almost silver; an exultant smile - my G.o.d, that smile! - that was the external sign of her mind's rejoicing; strawberry-blond hair escaping from a green woolen watch cap; a body tall, slender, and strong.

Denis was trying to squirm out of his paralyzed arms. "Uncle Rogi - your jacket! You'll freeze!"

He came to himself. The hikers were still out of sight and Denis was looking up at him, face tear-stained and twisted with emotion. Rogi spoke urgently. "That woman. You're certain that the music and farspeech came from her mind?"

"Absolutely certain. She really is another one like us. No - wait! She's not as controlled as we are. Not aware. I don't think she knows what she's doing when she mindspeaks. Perhaps she's never had any other telepaths to speak to. But she is like us! Uncle Rogi, we're not all alone... "

"And that she should be the one, " Rogi whispered. "C'est un miracle. Un vrai miracle. " Sunny's voice came to him, an echo of a long-ago apology: Quand le coup de foudre frappe - The train whistle blew. Once, twice, three times.

"Oh, no!" cried the boy. "We can't just go and leave her!"

Rogi lifted Denis in his arms. "The hikers are coming this way, probably heading for Summit House. They should be here in half an hour. We'll wait for them. "

"But the train - "

"Another train will come. "

Rogi stumbled over the frosty rocks, drunk with happiness, for the first time realizing what Sunny had been trying to tell him about her love for Don. When the thunderbolt strikes... there is no logic, no resisting. And thus the marvel of the woman hiker's telepathic ability was lost in a greater wonder. He scarcely heard Denis say: "If there's one mind like hers, there must be lots more! All we have to do is figure a way to find them. "

Wind sang in the antenna guy-wires and the humped little engine in front of the hotel renewed its hooting. Tourists called to each other and Denis shivered, radiating a fearful exultation that was almost as intense as Rogi's own. Rogi carried the boy up the stairs into the heavily insulated entry of the small hotel. A bearded man in climbing gear held the door open, concern on his face.

"Little fellow's not hurt, is he?"

Rogi set Denis back on his feet, unwrapped him, and said, "All we both need is a bit of warming up. "

"Try the dining room, " the man suggested. "Nice fire, fantastic view. You can watch the train go down the mountain while you stoke up with hot food and drink. Best thing. "

Thanking the man, Rogi led Denis into the Summit House lobby. The boy was recovering fast and he eyed the souvenir counter with interest. "Can I buy a guidebook and some maps? And maybe we better get some Kleenex. My nose is running and so is yours. " The small, wan face looked up with a critical frown. "You should comb your hair before she gets here, too. "

Rogi burst out laughing. "Mais naturellement! It wouldn't do to look scruffy. "

"I - I just want her to like us, " Denis protested.

"If she doesn't, we'll try coercion. "

"Be serious, Uncle Rogi! What are we going to say to her?"

"We'll have to think about that, won't we? But first, let's clean up and then find something to eat. "

Hand in hand, they went looking for the men's room.

20.