Transcriber's Note:

 This etext was produced from Analog Science Fact & Fiction May 1962. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U. S. Copyright on this publication was renewed. 

 SIGHT GAG

 BY LARRY M. HARRIS

 Intelligence is a great help in the evolution-by-survival--but intelligence without muscle is even less useful than muscle without brains. But it's so easy to forget that muscle--plain physical force--is important, too!

 ILLUSTRATED BY SCHOENHERR

 * * * * *

Downstairs, the hotel register told Fredericks that Mr. John P. Joneswas occupying Room 1014. But Fredericks didn't believe the register. He knew better than that. Wherever his man was, he wasn't in Room1014. And whoever he was, his real name certainly wasn't John P. Jones. "P for Paul, " Fredericks muttered to himself. "Oh, the helpfulsuperman, the man who knows better, the man who does better. "

Fredericks had first known of him as FBI Operative 71-054P, under thename of William K. Brady. "And what does the K stand for?" Fredericksmuttered, remembering. "Killer?" Brady wouldn't be the man's realname, either. FBI Operatives had as many names as they had jobs, thatmuch was elementary. Particularly operatives like Jones-Brady-X. "Special talents, " Fredericks muttered. "Psi powers, " he said, makingit sound like a curse. "Superman. "

Upstairs, in Room 1212, the superman sat in a comfortable chair andtried to relax. He wasn't a trained telepath but he could read surfacethoughts if there were enough force behind them, and he could read thered thoughts of the man downstairs. They worried him more than hewanted to admit, and for a second he considered sending out a call forhelp. But that idea died before it had been truly born. 

Donegan had told him he could handle the situation. Without weapons, forbidden to run, faced by a man who wanted only his death, he couldhandle the situation. 

Sure he could, he thought bitterly. 

Of course, if he asked for reinforcements he would undoubtedly getthem. The FBI didn't want one of its Psi Operatives killed; thereweren't enough to go round as it was. But calling for help, whenDonegan had specifically told him he wouldn't need it, would meanbeing sent back a grade automatically. A man of his rank andexperience, Donegan had implied, could handle the job solo. If hecouldn't--why, then, he didn't deserve the rank. It was all verysimple. 

Unfortunately, he was still fresh out of good ideas. 

The notion of killing Fredericks--using his telekinetic powers tocollapse the hotel room on the man, or some such, even if he wasn'tallowed to bear arms--had occurred to him in a desperate second, andDonegan had turned it down very flatly. "Look, " the Psi Section chiefhad told him, "you got the guy's brother and sent him up for trial. The jury found him guilty of murder, first degree, no recommendationfor mercy. The judge turned him over to the chair, and he fries nextweek. "

"So let Fredericks take it out on the judge and jury, " he'd said. "Whydo I have to be the sitting duck?"

"Because . . . Well, from Fredericks' point of view, without you hisbrother might never have been caught. It's logic--of a sort. "

"Logic, hell, " he said. "The guy was guilty. I had to send him up. That's my job. "

"And so is this, " Donegan said. "That's our side of it. Frederickshas friends--his brother's friends. Petty criminals, would-becriminals, unbalanced types. You know that. You've read the record. "

"Read it?" he said. "I dug up half of it. "

Donegan nodded. "Sure, " he said. "And we're going to have six morecases like Fredericks' brother--murder, robbery, God knows whatelse--unless we can choke them off somehow. "

"Crime prevention, " he said. "And I'm in the middle. "

"That's the way the job is, " Donegan said. "We're not superman. We'vegot limits, just like everybody else. Our talents have limits. "

He nodded. "So?"

"So, " Donegan said, "we've got to convince Fredericks' friends--theunbalanced fringe--that we are supermen, that we have no limits, thatno matter what they try against us they're bound to fail. "

"Nice trick, " he said sourly. 

"Very nice, " Donegan said. "And what's more, it works. Nobody exceptan out-and-out psychotic commits a crime when he hasn't got a hope ofsuccess. And these people aren't psychotics; most criminals aren't. Show them they can't get away with a thing--show them we'reinfallible, all-knowing, all-powerful supermen--and they'll be scaredoff trying anything. "

"But killing Fredericks would do that just as well--" he began. 

Donegan shook his head. "Now, hold on, " he said. "You're getting allworked up about this. It's your first time with this stakeoutbusiness, that's all. But you can't kill him. You can't kill exceptwhen really necessary. You know that. "

"All right. But if he's going to kill me--"

"That doesn't make it necessary, not this time, " Donegan said. "Thisvengeance syndrome doesn't last forever, you know. Block it, andyou're through with it. And think how much more effective it is, letting Fredericks go back alive to tell the tale. "

"Think how much more effective it would be, " he said, "if Fredericksmanaged to get me. "

"He won't, " Donegan said. 

"But without weapons--"

"No Psi Operative carries weapons, " Donegan said. "We don't need them. We're supermen . . . Remember?"

He twisted his face with a smile. "Easy for you to talk about it, " hesaid. "But I'm going to have to go out and face it--"

"We've all faced it, " Donegan said. "When I was an Operative I wentthrough it, too. It's part of the job. "

"But--"

"And I'm not going to tell you how to do the job, " Donegan went onfirmly. "Either you know that by now, or you don't belong here. "

He got up to leave, slowly. "It's a fine way to find out, " he saidmournfully. 

Donegan rose, too. "Good luck, " he said. And meant it, too. 

That was the chief for you, he thought. Send you out into God knowswhat with no weapons, no instructions, lots of help planted for theman who wanted to kill you--and then wish you good luck at the end ofit. 

Sometimes he wondered why he didn't go in for some nice, peaceful jobof work--like rocket testing, for instance. 

 * * * * *

Fredericks, downstairs, was deciding to do things the subtle way. Theman upstairs--Jones, Brady or whatever his name was--deserved what hewas going to get. Psi powers were all very well, but there weredefenses against them. Briefly he thought of the man who'd sold himthe special equipment, and wondered why more criminals didn't know theequipment existed. It worked; he was sure of that. Fredericks knewenough of general psi theory to know when somebody was handing him asnow job. And the equipment was no snow job. 

A force shield, that was the basic thing. A shield with no points ofentrance for anything larger than air molecules. Sight and sound couldget through, because the shield was constructed to allow selectedvibrations and frequencies. But no psi force could crack the shield. 

Fredericks has sat through a long explanation. Psi wasn't a physicalforce; it was more like the application of a mental "set, " in themathematical sense, to the existing order. But it could be detected byspecially built instruments--and a shield could be set up behind whichno detection was possible. It wasn't accurate to say that a psi forcewas blocked by the shield; no construct can block that which has noreal physical existence. It was, more simply, that the shield createda framework inside of which the universe existed in the absence ofpsi. 

That wasn't very clear, either, Fredericks thought; but mathematicswas the only adequate language for talking about psi, anyhow. It hadbeen the theory of sets that had led to the first ideas of structureand rationality within the field, and the math had gottenprogressively more complex ever since. 

Psi couldn't get through the shield, at any rate; that was quitecertain. And very little else could get in, or out. There was only onepoint of exit. Unholstering his gun and aiming it automatically keyedthe shield to allow passage of a bullet, and the point of exit wascontrolled by the gun's aiming. It was efficient and simple to handle. 

But Fredericks wasn't depending on the shield alone. There was abinder field, too--a field which linked him to the surrounding area, quite tightly. That took care of the chance that the Psi Operativewould try to pick him up, force shield and all, and throw him out awindow or through the roof. With the binder field in operation, no psiforce could move him an inch. 

A plug gas mask, too, inserted into the nostrils. The shield plus themask's pack held two hours' worth of air--just in case the PsiOperative tried to throw poisonous molecules through the forceshield, or deprive him of oxygen. 

And then there was the blindfold. Such a simple thing, and soeffective. 

 * * * * *

Upstairs, the Psi Operative caught the sequence of thoughts. Did theFBI have to do such a thorough job, he wondered bitterly. Theequipment, he knew, would do everything Fredericks thought it woulddo. It was important that Fredericks go up against the Operativethinking he was completely protected--in that way his final defeatwould be most effective. He'd have guarded against every possiblefailure--so, when he failed, there would be nothing to explain it. 

Except the "fact" that the Psi Operatives were supermen. 

He gritted his teeth. It would be nice, he reflected, to be a realsuperman. But any talent has its limits. And, even allowing for that, only Donegan and a very few others could handle the full theoreticalpotentials of their talents. In theory, a telekineticist could moveany object with his mind that he could move with his hands. That was arough rule of thumb, but it worked. The larger objects were barred bysheer mass; no matter what kind of force you're using, there's a limitto how much of it you can apply. 

The smaller objects--molecules, electrons, photons--simply tookpractice and training. First the object had to be visualized, and thegeneral structure memorized. Then the power had to be controlledcarefully enough so that you moved just what you wanted to move andnot, for instance, shift the Empire State Building while trying tolift a molecule out of its topmast. 

It was possible, in theory, to create full sensory hallucinations byjuggling electron streams and molecules within the brain. Butmemorizing the entire structure of the brain was a lifelong task, since you also had to allow for individual variation, and that meantworking with "tracking" molecules inside each brain before any workbegan. Most Operatives stuck to one area--usually, as most effective, sight or sound. 

He was a sight man. He could create any visual hallucination, as longas the subject was within a twenty-five-foot range. Beyond that, control of the fantastically small electrons and photons simply becametoo diffused. 

But Fredericks had a shield. And in case the shield didn't work, hewas coming with a blindfold. 

The Psi Operative had no weapons, no reinforcements, no chance torun--nothing except his psi talent, which Fredericks had defensesagainst, and his brains. 

But there had to be a way out. 

Didn't there?

 * * * * *

The desk clerk looked young and comparatively innocent. Fredericksambled over, taking his time about it. The clerk looked up and smileddistantly. "Yes, sir?"

"You've got a man registered here, " Fredericks said, in crisp, official tones. "He gave the name of John P. Jones--"

The clerk was consulting a card file. "Yes, sir, " he said brightly. "Room 1014. "

"He's at work on an FBI matter, " Fredericks said. "Naturally, this isprivate and confidential--"

"Naturally, " the clerk said in a subdued tone. "But I--"

"I'm assigned to work with him, " Fredericks said. "You understand. "

"Of course, sir, " the clerk said, trying to look as if he did. 

Fredericks took a deep breath. "I know he's here, but I don't know hisroom number, " he said. "Some red-tape mixup. "

"He's in 1014, " the clerk said hopefully. 

Fredericks shook his head. "Not that, " he said. "The real room number. Look, I've got to get to him immediately--"

"Of course, sir, " the clerk said. "Identification, sir?"

Fredericks grinned and fished in pockets. Naturally, he didn't come upwith a thing, FBI identification was infra-red tested, totallyunmistakable and unavailable to non-Operatives under any circumstanceswhatever. "Got it here some place, " he muttered. 

The clerk nodded. "Of course, sir, " he said. "No need to waste time. Iunderstand. "

Fredericks stopped and stared. "You what?"

"The room, sir, is 1212, " the clerk said. "Would you like me toaccompany you--"

"No thanks, " Fredericks breathed. "I'll find it myself. " The man wastoo easy to find, he thought savagely. It ought to be tough to findhim--but it's easy. 

Remotely, that idea bothered him. But what difference did it make, after all? He had all the protection in the world. He had all theprotection he was going to need. And all the time to fire one shot. Doing it blindfolded was going to be tough, but not insuperably tough. Fredericks had spent a week practicing, and he could locate a fly bysound within two inches, nineteen times out of twenty. That, hethought, was going to be good enough. 

Upstairs, the Psi Operative thought so, too. 

There had to be a way out, he told himself desperately. 

But he couldn't find it. 

He couldn't even come close. 

 * * * * *

On the way to Room 1212, he flipped on the shield, the mask, thebinder field. Now let the superman try something, he thought wildly. Now let him try his tricks! He attached the blindfold as he got offthe elevator. He could see Room 1212, three doors down the corridor, twenty steps--and then the blindfold was on. From now on he worked inthe dark. 

He felt the skeleton key in his palm and flipped the shield off for asecond; then the key was in the lock, the shield back on, protectinghim. The door opened slowly. 

He heard it shut behind him. Then there was silence. He drew his gun. 

"Go ahead, " a muffled voice said from his right. "Go ahead and trysomething, Fredericks. "

He whirled and almost fired--but voices could be thrown. He listenedagain. There was silence . . . Not quite silence . . . A movement . . . Arustle--

Breathing was faint but unmistakable. It gave him a new direction. Breathing couldn't be faked. 

He pictured the Psi Operative, in one flash of imagination, trying toget through the shield, sweating as he strained helplessly against theforce shield, the binder field, the mask, the blindfold--oh, there wasno way out for the poor superman, no way at all. 

And Psi Operatives didn't carry weapons or anything else. Theydepended on their powers, and that was all. 

And he'd neutralized those powers. 

The breathing gave him the direction. He turned again, bringing thegun up, and fired six shots without a second's break between them. There was a sound like a gasp, and then nothing. 

Nothing at all. 

Grinning wildly, Fredericks whipped off the blindfold and switched offhis shield in one triumphant motion. There, on the floor--

There, on the floor, was a nice gray rug with nobody at all lying deadon top of it. In the half-second it took Fredericks to see that, thePsi Operative moved. Fredericks tossed the empty gun at him andmissed; the man was coming too fast. He guarded his face but the PsiOperative didn't go for the face. Instead his hands went swinging upand out and _back_. 

The sides of the palms landed neatly on the twin junctions ofFredericks' arms and shoulders. Fredericks let out a shriek as hisarms turned to acutely painful stone, and the Psi Operative steppedback and moved again in one blinding motion. This time the solarplexus was the target for one balled fist. 

And then, of course, it was all over. 

 * * * * *

"Of course it was simple, " Donegan said. "Anyone could have thought ofit--and I knew you would. "

"All the same, " the Psi Operative said, "I nearly didn't. "

Donegan nodded. "If you hadn't, " he said, "we'd stationed a mandownstairs who'd memorized your room. He could have done the job, too. "

The Operative blinked. "Who?" he said. 

"Desk clerk, " Donegan said. 

"Why didn't you tell me--"

"Now, use your head, " Donegan said. "If you'd known you were allright, you'd never have thought of the answer. You had to prove youcould do it--prove it to yourself as well as to me. "

"But--"

"And you had to prove you could beat him on his grounds, too, as wellas yours, " Donegan went on. "You had to take him, not only with psiforces, but with the only weapons a Psi Operative is allowed tocarry. "

"Fists, " the Operative said. "Sure Judo and Karate are standardsubjects--every Operative has to know them. What's so tough aboutthat?"

"Nothing, " Donegan said. "Nothing at all--except for Fredericks. He'sbeen beaten on your ground, and on his own. Now he _knows_ he'slicked. Standard operating procedure. "

"I guess so, " the Operative said. 

"And after all, " Donegan said, "now that you're going up a grade--"

"Now that I'm what?"

"That, " Donegan said, "was your promotion test, friend. And youpassed. "

There was a second of absolute silence. Then the Operative said: "Andit was all so simple. "

"Sure, " Donegan said. "Simple enough so that you get a promotion outof it--and Fredericks gets sixty days for attempted assault. "

"Not ADW--assault with a deadly weapon--because we've got to keep upthe myth, " the Operative said. "Psi Operatives are untouchable. Nosuch thing as a deadly weapon for a Psi Operative. "

"Which is nonsense, " Donegan said, "but necessary nonsense. I wonderif Fredericks will ever figure out how you got him. "

"I wonder, " the Operative said. "He'll know about karate, of course. "

"Karate's hand-to-hand fighting. " Donegan said. "That was _his_ field. No, I mean _our_ field. Psi. "

"It makes a nice puzzle for him, doesn't it?" the Operative said, andgrinned. "After all, I didn't touch him--couldn't, in any way. He'dshielded himself perfectly from any telekinetic force--and I had noweapons. I couldn't even get to him barehanded because of his shieldand the binder field. He had me located--no tomfoolery about that. Hefired six shots at me, point-blank at can't-miss range. "

"But you got him, " Donegan said. 

"Sure, " the Operative said. "Simplest thing in the world. "

"All you had to do--" Donegan began. 

"All I had to do, " the Operative finished for him, "was use my mind tomove the bullets--as he fired them. "

[Illustration]

 * * * * *