Muttering to myself, I dialed, then listened to the usual hiccups as connection was made. At last came the signal it was ringing at the far end. Once. The expected pause like a deep breath. Then again.

Answer the blipping phone, thought I, projecting as strongly as I could. Even with the Moon not right for me just then, they should have heard. Presuming they wanted to, that is.

Buzz number three. Finally, clicking again.

�Hi.� Unmistakably a recording; I�d been shunted to the voicemail thing. Deliberately, I�m sure. They knew how Nadia�s chirpy voice clanged my sensibility. �You have reached the offices of the Universal Psychics� Association. We already have your vibes, of course, so you really didn�t need to go to all this trouble. If you�re having difficulty establishing two-way, it�s because all our staff are on some other channel.�

Uh huh, thought I. So you had a phone put in just so the telepathically challenged could talk at you. I�m expected to cheer or something?

�We�ll have someone appropriate on the line soon as we can,� Nadia�s chirp proceeded, �but to simplify, this mechanical system isn�t sensitive, so if you�re deaf or mute�you understand what we mean, do you not?�and you�re phoning on a matter of mundane business, please press one.�

I am not of that category. Neither do I have a touch-tone phone.

�If you wish to leave a message�you really don�t need to, you know�press two.�

If I wanted to leave a message, I thought, I would carve it on a rock and drop it on that insolent toy. I do not have a touch-tone phone.

�If you believe yourself qualified for membership but have been unsure how to proceed, leaving aside how you could qualify if that�s the case, you may apply by phone if you wish�you realize it�s not efficient, don�t you?�press three.�

I�m a member already, I thought loudly, and I still don�t have a touch-tone phone.

�If you�re a member, but are using this crutchlike system to get our attention�we can�t think why�press four.�

You know I don�t have a touchtone phone, I muttered mentally. Stop with the arrogant needles, already.

�If you are calling from a piece of old-fashioned equipment,� Nadia�s voice proceeded�just for me, thought I sarcastically, �please hold. We�ll have someone on the line as soon as we can.�

For a blessed instant then, silence. Nadia�s voice would irritate equally a parrot, a gorilla, or a clam. I�d have gladly waited serenely thus, but that would have been too merciful. Clickclick, and I had music to keep my interest while time ticked slow. Brahms? Rachmaninoff? No such luck. East Wind, Rain scorching the optical fiber with their platinum, �Whips and Chains Just Ain�t the Same When It�s Naugahyde.� I could either endure or hang up and try later.

I cast my mind forward. If my talent was in phase�which, it being the Moon�s first quarter, it almost certainly was�a special treat waited. The Right to Life Death Squad, doing their �Hymn to the Creature from the Black Lagoon.� Gritting teeth, I elected to stick it out.

My mistake. As �Naugahyde� faded into obscurity, East Wind, etc. promptly commenced, �Chainsaw Lunch.� They had a thing about chains. This little ditty jackhammered my eardrum for exactly three minutes, seventeen seconds�I�m perfect with that skill, even if no one appreciates�before it broke off in midscreech with the same sort of brisk double-click which began the entertainment, after which Nadia�s voice came as the most beautiful sound in the world. �Hi, Harold.�

Is it possible she was telling me something?

�Hi, Nadia,� said I suavely. �How are ya?�

�You�re fine,� she replied. �How�m I?�

That gag, I�m told, was found in the Dead Sea Scrolls along with attribution to yet-undiscovered Ancient Writings. I bit my tongue. �Just trying to be polite,� I said. �You need to have your gall bladder taken out but you don�t have the nerve. Look, let me talk to Max, there�s a doll.�

�Actually, it�s my spleen, and he�s on a different channel, just now,� she tweaked. �As you probably know.�

Well!

�Just tell him I�m waiting,� says I.

�Sure thing, Harold. Anything you say. You think he doesn�t know?�

At that point, anything I said would have curdled the cable. Metaplasm is more resilient. I let the information make transfer and waited silently. Well, almost silently. Double-click again, sounding much like a snicker, and the entertainment resumed. Now it was Prong and the Circumcisions, their version of �Lady, We Can�t All Be Elvis.� They didn�t play it right, and their drummer�as usual�got confused about which hand was doing what.

Mercifully, it persisted only long enough to numb one side of my body, scalp to little toe, before another snicker delivered Max�s mellifluous tones. �Howdy, Harold. How come you�re using the phone?�

Rubbing it in. �Howdy,� I grumbled. �Max, you know I�m erratic. I�m in precog phase right now, and when I�m that, can�t do mindreach. We went all through that, didn�t we?�

�Ah, so we did,� says Max. �Some of us manage.�

Superior schmuck. �Some of us can�t be everything all at once.�

�True,� he admitted, but did I imagine that air of pity in his voice? �Has it ever occurred to you, Harold, merely by reorienting your precog it would become mindreach?�

�I know that�s the theory,� I said. �But that puts it right in the middle of one of my blind spots. I�m supposed to bite my elbow or something?�

�It�s actually quite simple, Harold,� Max said. I had this flash of a shrug, bright clear for an instant, but it went away. The showoff. �So what are you calling about?�

�You don�t know?� I asked archly. Gotcha that time.

�Well, now that you mention,� he condescended. �Merely trying to facilitate our exchange. You know how it is.�

Talking to me like we talk to the speechless and blind, pretending it�s really not their fault they�re inferior. I seethed but suppressed; well, most of the way. �Why did we start sending meeting notices?� It just burst out.

�Oh? You received one?�

�You know I did.�

�Well, actually, of course I do.�

�Uh huh.� Impossible to strangle a man over the phone. I can�t, that is. There have been whispers. �So why?� I inquired.

�I knew you�d ask,� said he.

Belaboring the obvious. �Maaax!� I complained.

�It�s really very simple, Harold,� he went on smoothly, pretending not to have heard. �Aren�t you the one who wanted to eliminate the riffraff from our organization? The pretenders who don�t really have it?�

�What�s that got to do with it?� I demanded.

�Why, everything, Harold.� As if explaining to a child. �After all, they�ve been paying dues for years. We can�t just tell them now that they�re not welcome anymore. It would be terribly unkind.�

�Huh? How�s that follow?� I wanted to know.

�So we�ve created a sort of auxiliary, only we don�t call it that, and sidetracked them into it. They�ll be much happier with just themselves and never suspect a thing.�

�That�s not what I asked,� I said. �I want to know��

�Our real meeting will be somewhere else,� he said. �At a different time.�

�Oh,� said I, for a moment awed by this cleverness. Then, catching breath, thoughts came. �But��

�Do you know where?� he asked, adroit as ever. �Do you know when?�

�You know I don�t,� I said, suddenly desolate.

�Well, that sort of says it all, doesn�t it?� Max said. �Bye, Harold.� And hung up.

I guess it did.