The Mind’s Eye

28 Mar

John Fight owned the strangest business in British Columbia. How else could anyone characterize an enterprise named Psychic Exploration?

He had few customers with adequate resources to develop operating mines until an active operator like Ed Straw walked into his Vancouver office one balmy summer day. The fat, bearlike man had a circular face and large, gleaming blue eyes. His smile seemed a permanent feature that never disappeared or diminished.

The stranger introduced himself and John asked him to sit down beside his metal desk. Once the two were comfortably seated, Straw explained why he was there.

“I am the head and the main owner of a mining firm, Straw Metals. My interest has long been in discovering ores that in the past were overlooked in fields where mining stopped because of the belief that everything there had been exhausted. Modern technology allows us the re-open abandoned areas and take out what earlier lay there hidden and could not have been extracted anyway.

“My plan is to go through old gold fields up in the Yukon Territory with a psychic like you flying over in a gyrocopter. It would be a hunt for what had in the past been invisible to all of us. I call it a psychic kind of gold rush that had been impossible in the old days.

“Does my notion make sense to you, Mr. Fight?”

The short, thin man with mental sensitivity concentrated his brown eyes on the mining entrepreneur.

“Tell me more about how you intend to carry out this endeavor, sir,” said John with feeling in his voice.

Though one of the biggest businessmen in Seattle, Washington, Martin Coe was a man wracked with fearful suspicions and apprehensions.

His position in the mining industry in the United States and Canada made him wealthy and influential, but not too confident or secure.

In his high skyscraper office overlooking Puget Sound, he read and reread the report collected by the employees of Coe Mining.

What did Ed Straw think he could achieve flying around the Yukon in his private gyrocopter with a psychic adept beside him? It appeared clear that his competitor was hunting for some advantage for his mining operations? Did he believe that prospecting was possible through extrasensory means? What might be achieved using such an unconventional method of exploration? he wondered with growing worry.

It would be necessary to uncover what his enemy was up to.

But since this area was unfamiliar to him, Martin came to the conclusion that he needed expert advice.

How was he to find himself a competent telepathist in modern Seattle?

John Fight studied the maps and records of Yukon gold mining back to the Gold Rush of 1898, drawing up plans for where he intended to fly the private gyrocopter that Ed Straw himself agreed to pilot over the wide territory that potentially held underground mineral riches.

The two men had numerous conferences where they plotted out the most promising air routes they might take.

“The Klondike and Indian Rivers once possessed fabulous gold fields, and must be re-examined,” advised John. “But I have also identified many creeks that deserve attention and consideration. Here is a short list that I made, Ed.”

The latter studied the names of the locations: Rabbit, Ten Mile, Maple, Birch, Forty Mile, Bonanza, Eldorado, Hunker, and Dominion Creeks.

Straw looked up at the psychic. “I would make some important additions,” he proposed. “There are the once productive Caribou, Cassiar, and Kootenay gold fields, as well as the Pelly River and Bennett Lake areas of ore. And the Trondyke district has always held the interest of prospectors in the past.”

John grinned with excitement. “There are many places to cover, then. When do you think we can start to cover them?”

“In the next several days, I would think,” said the man who would be flying him over the Yukon.

Martin Coe was receiving reports that were disturbing to him. His archenemy was starting to go on daily air flights up into the Yukon Territory. It was obvious to him that Ed Straw would not be spending time and resources on anything like that unless it had potential profit for him. What was going on? he wondered. These unusual actions were a puzzle that bothered him as they went on. What did crafty Ed Straw have in the back of his mind?

There was obvious need for help and advice from a professional. Martin ordered his closest associates to find a competent psychic operator whom he could hire to assist him. This resulted in his meeting the top telepath in the Seattle area, a white-haired veteran psychic named Tom Dragon. This experienced medium with a high reputation in his field was willing to meet with his new, wealthy client at his office in the downtown skyscraper.

The two men sat in summer chairs on the balcony overlooking the blue waters of Puget Sound. It was Coe who did the initial talking, explaining what the problem he faced consisted of.

“Mining is a highly competitive activity, often extremely cut-throat in nature. A competitor is always looking for ways to get the upper hand over you. That is why I am alarmed by recent moves taken by my Number One rival. Let me tell you what he has started to do.

“He is a flyer able to pilot his own personal gyroplane, and has started flights every day across sections of the Yukon. The prime indicator of his intention is the fact that his one and only passenger is a hired psychic whose name is John Fight. Have you ever heard of that man?”

The older man gulped a second. “Yes, indeed I have. He operates out of Vancouver. He and I have crossed paths a few times. Let me admit to you that I don’t like that character at all. He is too stiff-necked, if you know what I mean. Fight is too rigid and careful. He has always been unwilling to go as far as I am in service to his clients.

“Let me confess this to you: I am much more flexible in what I am willing to do for my clients than he is. Fight has never been as daring as me. I would label him as fastidious and overly conservative and cautious. He is quite a different psychic from me. That makes for a great difference between the two of us.”

“Tell me whether he is capable of locating deposits of gold from high in the air,” slowly said the industrialist.

Dragon thought a moment. “It sounds to me as if he is attempting to locate gold through the process of what we call remote viewing. That is a difficult task to accomplish because of the tremendous demands that it makes on the mental energy of an operator. It can drain away almost all the psychic force that a person possesses.

“You concentrate your mind so as to bring in impressions of a distant, unseen target. It is the sensing of a faraway reality with a single mind. Our greatest practitioners call it seeing through the eye of the mind.

“I need not go into the theoretical basis of this capability. It uses the concept of entanglement that is central to modern sub-atomic physics. The human mind is entangled with and into all of the outside universe, but only a telepath is fully conscious of that fact and is able to apply it in a practical, active manner.

“We in this field refer to the principle of non-locality in what we can accomplish. Our activities can be mind-to-mind or mind-to-matter. The psychic mind can come into contact with non-local reality. It can travel with independence from both time and space. That is why our minds are useful in space exploration, over astronomical distances.

“The exploration of underground deposits is an activity wide open to possibilities to the mind’s eye of an adept at remote viewing.”

The two of them studied each other’s faces. “I want you to find out if Ed Shaw and his psychic are having any success and help me put a stop to it. Are you willing to work for me on this?” said Martin Coe.

“Yes, of course I am,” replied Dragon with a beaming smile.

The gyrocopter moved slowly, at a comparatively low altitude, over the green blanket of conifers below. It was summer and the snows of winter were long gone.

John, sitting next to the piloting Ed Straw, focused his thought on the underground layers below the firs and the top soil. His inner mind ranged up and down the concealed strata far below the surface cover. He was aware of the monotonous sameness of the inside of mother Earth. His attention must not stray away from its focus upon the identity of those hidden metals. Where was the unknown, invisible gold that geologists realized existed somewhere in the Yukon?

That somewhere had to have a concrete location. But where in the endless expanse down there was it? he asked himself constantly.

All at once, at what seemed a random moment, the sensation that he instinctively knew would come arrived in his conscious mind.

John turned his face toward the man who had hired him.

“Where are we on the map, Ed?” he asked the industrialist.

The latter checked the electronic map on a display monitor on his lap.

“We are close to the Hyland River,” he reported. “You can see a well-known bridge over there to our right.”

John turned his head and looked down in that direction.

“I believe there is a large, abundant vein of gold down in this vicinity. We have finally struck what we have been hunting for.”

A week of over-flights followed. narrowing the boundaries of the area that was scheduled for precise geological surveying on ground level.

Ed Shaw mobilized his corporate specialists to journey to the Hyland River valley in order to carry out test digs and probing. At the same time, his commercial staff began to purchase options to buy land sites available in the targeted region that remote viewing by a skilled psychic had indicated contained promising lodes of gold.

One person watched all the departures and arrivals of the venturesome mining mogul. Tom Dragon, continuously monitoring the gyrocopter of Ed Straw at the Vancouver International Airport, made daily reports by secure phone to his employer, Martin Coe.

“What are the two up to?” asked the latter without end, on each call to him. “You must find out what they think they’ve discovered out there in the Yukon. I have to know what location they appear to be concentrating their attention on. Find out the details for me, Tom. It is something vital to my future mining operations.”

“I will do that,” replied the telepath. “You have to know this: I am thinking of ways to block any kind of exploitation of underground metal that John Fight happens to discover. There are methods known to me that could destroy them and their bold adventuring up in the air. I have the means to sabotage everything, as a last resort.”

Coe did not say anything for several seconds. “I will remember what you just told me. For now, continue to watch them and report back to me.”

The following morning, Ed Straw arrived at the airport in a state of excitement, a newspaper under his arm. As soon as he saw John walking toward him, he announced the news that had provoked him so much.

“It’s out, the reporters for the “Vancouver Sun” uncovered the purchases I have been involved with up along the Hyland River, and now all Canada and the United States will know what it is that we are planning to do up in the Yukon. Everybody in the mining business will want to get some stake in it as soon as they can.”

John looked his employer directly in the eye. “What can we do about the situation now?”

“I need precise, exact locations that can be used for initiatory excavation,” he answered. “Then, we will go forward after reducing the risks as much as is possible at present.

“My hope is that I can get the coordinates that are needed today. Whatever they turn out to be, that will be where we start to dig for the gold in the ground.”

Tom Dragon also reacted to the news in the “Sun” when he saw it that morning.

A new urgency now impinged on his psychic activities. How could he affect the outcome for his employer’s enemy? His mind focused on the task of winning a victory over his own personal rival and foe, John Fight.

A drastic, radical countermove on his part had become necessary. Further waiting was no longer possible. The decisive moment was fast approaching, and he had to have the courage to seize hold of it.

He had to gather together all his knowledge and experience in the parapsychological field so that he would be able to strike a decisive blow at the hostile minds as they flew over the Yukon.

John recognized the precise moment when the gyrocopter was over the underground vein of gold. “This is it,” he told the pilot, a wide smile crossing his face as he turned it to the left.

“I have it marked and recorder on the electro-compass,” reacted Ed Straw. “This is a day of enormous success, then.”

“Yes, it truly is,” agreed the psychic seated to his right in the co-pilot chair. “I think that we have satisfied all the requirements for choosing a location that will give the optimum amount of the gold down there under the trees and the soil.”

“Let’s return to Vancouver and get the wheels rolling on excavating a mine,” said the happy mine-developer. “I can’t wait to get started.”

He turned his hands on the direction steering wheel and the air vehicle started back toward its home in Vancouver. But in a fraction of a second the unexpected occurred. In a flash, Ed Straw fell totally unconscious at the controls.

As the gyrocopter began to bank wildly and lose altitude, John realized that a critical emergency was in progress. Turning his eyes on the pilot, he was shocked by the sight of his leaning over on one side, only his seat belt holding him to his chair.

What is happening? How can a disastrous crash be avoided? Are we about to lose all control and spin downward into the ground?

Without consciously realizing exactly what he was doing, John placed his right hand on the directing wheel in front of him, and with the left he pushed in the switch that he knew would transfer control of the gyrocopter to the co-pilot’s side.

I must become the one directing things, although I am by no means a qualified pilot myself.

Both our lives are at stake, John realized at once.

It is now my responsibility to fly this object as best I can, hoping that Ed will soon awaken and be able to take us to Vancouver and land us safely.

I must have no fear, but try the best I can. There is no alternative, none at all.

John racked his memory for all he could recall of what he had seen his employer doing on all their previous hunts for gold.

It seemed obvious that their survival depended on what he could manage to accomplish on his own in the short time ahead.

Tom Dragon phoned Coe on the secure private line that the two shared.

“I’ve done it,” reported the psychic. “There will be no problems ahead from either the multi-millionaire or his gold hunter. Both of those characters have crashed up there, somewhere in the Yukon mountains.”

“That can’t be,” angrily reacted Martin Coe. “I didn’t want any unlawful action to be taken by you, none at all. Whatever you did, it was your choice and decision. I had nothing to do with it. None of the responsibility will ever be mine.

“You are finished. I no longer consider you to be working for me. Do not call me or communicate in any way.

“I wash my hands of all you may have committed on your own. Good-bye for ever.”

The connection between the two was cut in a split second.

John, directed by instructions from the ground, brought down the gyrocopter as smoothly as an untrained, unlicensed amateur could carry out the delicate, difficult operation.

An ambulance took the still unconscious Ed Straw to the nearest Vancouver hospital, where he was given emergency treatment and recovered consciousness within several hours.

John had a sad report to make to the police. “I know when someone has suffered a mega-psychic attack from a distance, and that is what happened to Mr. Straw, the pilot. His mind was flooded with sleep-inducing transmission that placed him in a coma.

“My recommendation is that the Vancouver police investigate the local psychic community in order to identify and arrest the culprit responsible for this terrible telepathic crime in the air.”

The response of the Chief Detective of the Vancouver Police Department who headed the special section that investigated psychic crimes was steadfast and determined. “Don’t have any doubts, Mr. Fight. We will hunt this attempted murderer down, wherever he is hidden and whatever length of time it might take. There will be no rest for any of us till this cursed perpetrator is behind bars.”

Will that promise from the police ever be fulfilled? John was to ask himself over the days ahead, and then after his release from the hospital.

The evil psychic must have escaped, perhaps overseas or into the United States, calculated John for the rest of his life.

Martin Coe remained silent about his connection to the would-be killer he had hired for his psychic services, and no trace of Tom Dragon was ever uncovered.

The case that involved the eyes of the human mind remained open forever.

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