LaCost: The Evolution of Jason

By Patrick Rizio

What is the potential of the human mind?
Jason Patrick LaCost is gifted with a genius level IQ, the ability to feel what other people are thinking and a passion for solving problems. As research head of a large biotech company, Jason makes discoveries that revolutionize agriculture, but pose a threat to corporations that control the planet's food chain. When a corporate shark wants to steal Jason's discoveries things get ugly. Jason's boss has his back, and calls on an old friend and security specialist for help and extra muscle.
Jason falls for art teacher Alison Russo, and together they take seven-year-old Sarah into their care. It becomes clear that Sarah is an evolved human whose intellect is off the charts. Jason and Sarah develop a mental and intellectual bond that normal minds have never achieved.
Jason's continuing research leads to bigger and more important discoveries, which bring bigger and more dangerous corporate bad guys who threaten his work, his family and his life. Jason and his extraordinary friends band together to fight off the threats, becoming like family in the process.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tablo Publishing
• Release date: Jun 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781925939750

Book preview

1

Five out of seven times the leaves hit inside this circle.

He was careful to take his time drawing the circle, knowing the apprehension of the others worked in his favor. He even made a bit of a show of it by rolling up his sleeves and picking out just the right stick for the job. He took great care making sure the crudely dug circle was clearly visible. They watched with their eyes. He watched from inside. He would soon discover other people didn’t do this. Right now, he simply figured he was outsmarting the others, and it was fun to see if he could pull it off.

No way Jason. It’s impossible, shouted one. The biggest one.

Yea, you’re nuts, echoed another.

Tell you what, he said, digging into the pocket of his faded jeans, I’ve got a dollar says I’m right. He knew none of them believed it was possible. He knew it wasn’t possible. He also knew none of them would call his bluff. It was just peculiar enough of a thing to bet on to make the others uncomfortable and back off.

He wasn’t guessing though, and he wasn’t exactly following a hunch. He knew what they would do, what they were thinking, because he could feel it.

After about a minute or so it became clear no one was willing to risk a dollar to find out. The big kid again spoke first.

He knows somethin. It’s some kinda trick.

The other boys gladly accepted this as a way out. They soon left looking for something else to do, at which point he found himself, once again, alone.

Jason was unlike other kids. Most kids his age had rooms littered with clothes, dust and toys. His was littered with clothes, dust and books. His insatiable appetite for reading, along with his extraordinary memory, left him with few friends. He would much rather read than play. It was just more fun to find out something new than to interact with another child his age.

He was constantly correcting everyone, (quoting this and citing that), and had the very unpleasant habit of continually being right. He seemed to be forever coming up with strange ideas concerning one thing or another and invariably finding ways of testing them out. Adults found him a bit of a curiosity. The other kids mostly just ignored him.

As he turned and looked at the forty-year old oak tree a gust of wind blew a dozen or so leaves from its branches. He smiled to himself as they came to the ground, landing nowhere near the circle.

*******

The drawings were disordered at best. Miss Redmond was content at this stage to have her preschoolers hold their crayons effectively and, of course, use both sides of the paper. Budget cuts being what they were nothing was to be wasted. Her four-year old class had progressed enough in their development to demonstrate controlled repetitions of motions, draw crude circles, and most could tell stories about the drawings they had created. All in all, she was pleased with their progress. The whole class seemed to be developing suitably in their motor skills and in their ability to visualize in pictures.

Putting the children’s folders together, it occurred to her how productive this year had been. No one was left behind in any of the expected stages of development, and discipline issues seemed non-existent. It was probably the best class the young pre-school teacher could have hoped for. They were all pretty good students. Except of course for Sarah. And even she wasn’t much trouble really. Simply a little slow to understand things at times. Nothing to be overly concerned about, she would tell Mr. and Mrs. Newman at the parent teacher conference later that night. I’m sure she will do just fine by the time she reaches kindergarten.

*******

Donna Newman carefully rinsed the dinner dishes one by one above the garbage disposal before putting them in the dishwasher. First the plates and bowls, they go in the bottom rack, then the glasses and cups for the top. She found herself getting upset when the big pieces stuck to the plates and had to be pushed off. She was not, of course, concerned about food sticking to plates. Her anxiety had started two hours before. The very idea that her child was in any way not…well…normal was just unacceptable. It had to be some kind of mistake on the teacher’s part. It just had to be. Her child was every bit as smart as the other kids. Smarter.

Hon, relax. You’re making too big a deal about this. You really are. Think about what she said for a minute, will you! You’re acting like the teacher said she was retarded or something. All she said was…

Would you please keep your voice down. She’s in brushing her teeth. She’ll hear you.

Fine, I’m sorry. But you honestly are getting worried over nothing. I mean if her only concern is over Sarah’s artwork, who cares? We both know how good she is with numbers, and that’s a much better yardstick for intelligence, if you ask me.

It isn’t her artwork that Miss Redmond was talking about, John. It was more than that. She said Sarah was having trouble taking direction and…

Mommy, I’m ready.

Ok, sweetheart. We’ll be right in.

John Newman hugged his daughter just like he always did, walked back to his own bedroom and fell onto the bed. He worked hard and rose early. His eyes closed and he enjoyed the feel of the mattress under his tired body. By the time his wife  looked in five minutes later he was already snoring.

Sarah, show me which one of your pictures you like the best.

This one, mommy.

Let me see, sweetheart. Donna Newman looked at the one her daughter had chosen. It really was about two steps above a scribble. Circles inside circles, (eyes?), and multiple lines, (hair, noses?), and what appeared to be several arms on each side. She asked Sarah why it was her favorite.

Because it’s you and Dad.

Her heart soared.

Sweetheart, do you remember what your teacher said about both sides?

Yes, mommy.

Can you tell me what she said?

She said to do both sides.

Did you do both sides?

Yes, mommy. I always do all the sides.

She had laid awake for what seemed half the night while her husband slept undisturbed. Every paper in Sarah’s’ folder had the same style of drawing. All had multiple lines and crude circles. All with coloring only occasionally inside the lines. All, from the perspective of motor skills, typical for a four-year old. All with the drawing on only one side of the page.

Maybe the teacher was right. Maybe she had to consider the possibility that Sarah was behind the other children, even if only a little. Maybe she just had to face it. (How could John be so unconcerned as to just fall asleep?). When Donna Newman finally drifted off, she had convinced herself that she would just have to deal with something that was not quite normal about her daughter.

She had no idea.

2

The Director of Operations looked through the report again without really reading it. He had been over it repeatedly and long since made up his mind. Putting down the folder, he pushed the expensive leather chair back from his desk and stretched. The momentary emptiness in his head cleared as he exhaled.

Why was it that as one’s authority increased the decisions came easier, seemed more obvious? Was it a measure of experience, a repetition of similar situations? Maybe instincts do sharpen with age.

At Universal Biotech, they didn’t get resume information equivalent to other companies, but in-depth personal histories of their applicants. That certainly helped. Then again, maybe it was just the simple luxury of having fewer people above you second guessing things. That would tend to simplify. Well, whatever the case, this one was a distinct no-brainer. There was a great deal to like and little to dislike about Mr. Jason P. LaCost.

According to the report, LaCost had graduated number one in his class and gone on to earn a doctorate in molecular biology, along with a masters in computer science, in only one calendar year. Such a demanding workload precluded him from having much of a social life, but the boy genius apparently preferred it that way.

Following graduate school disaster struck, both parents killed in a car crash. Having no siblings, LaCost came into a small inheritance. It consisted of a $50,000 life insurance policy, three-bedroom house, and a two-year-old Chevy. Nothing in the way of investments and a few dollars from a simple passbook savings account.

After finalizing his parents’ affairs, LaCost had sold the house and car, cashed in the insurance policy, and then taken a year-long sabbatical, traveling extensively in India, China, and Europe. He had toured the Taj Mahal and studied meditation in remote Indian villages. He had walked the Great Wall and seen Ming’s Tomb and the Forbidden City. He had visited virtually all of the great castles and churches of Europe.

LaCost listed his hobbies as reading and playing word games. His nature seemed entirely cerebral.

When he returned from his travels, LaCost took a position as Associate Professor of Biology at the University of Illinois. His four years there had been exemplary, but frustrating on a personal level. Research, not teaching, was the real passion for him. While the university did offer the opportunity to do research it wasn’t really full time and not even in the same ballpark with what the facilities at Universal Biotech could offer. This was why he had looked for work in the private sector and ended up applying here. This seemed to be the place where he could do the kind of research he longed to do. A place where he could satisfy his curiosity and be comfortable.

Bob Schimmel had not become the Director of Operations at one of the largest biotech companies in the Midwest because of bad hunches.

Schedule a second interview for Mr. LaCost-Thursday, 10:30.

                                          *******

The place was gigantic. It consisted of three buildings - A, B, and C, plus parking facilities, all on a fifty-acre park like setting around a beautifully landscaped retention pond. There were benches, jogging paths, even tennis courts. The buildings were all three stories and rectangular. They formed a V-shape with parking in front and the park area in back.

Building A formed the base of the V and contained the front entrance, conference rooms, and cafeteria. It was the smallest of the three. Building B was the east wing, and contained the production department, advertising, shipping and receiving, and the company gym. Building C was the west wing. It was devoted exclusively to research and development. The whole place was hospital clean and beautifully decorated.

LaCost was met at the entrance of building A by Janet Riker, an attractive woman in her mid-forties. Mrs. Riker’s official title was head of Public Relations for Universal Biotech. She was in reality the closest thing to a chief of staff that Bob Schimmel had.

Good morning, Mr. LaCost. I’m Janet Riker. It’s a pleasure to meet you, she said extending her hand. I’m the head of the P.R. department around here. Mr. Schimmel is expecting you.

LaCost concentrated and relaxed at the same time while shaking her hand.

Please, come this way.

She led him past the guard station and down the hallway toward the elevator center in the middle of the building. The guard simply tipped his hat as she said hello but kept his eyes on them until the elevator doors closed. It stopped at the second floor. This way please, she said, as she gestured to the right. This is one of our conference rooms. Mr. Schimmel will be here shortly. Please sit down and make yourself comfortable. If you like, I could have some coffee sent in, or maybe some bottled water?

Coffee would be fine, thank you. Um Ms. Riker, may I ask a question? 

She still wore her wedding ring even though she had been divorced two years.

"Sure can. But how did you know?

LaCost smiled.

I was wondering why the head of Public Relations greeted me instead of the receptionist I got last time?

You’re a bright young man, she responded with a smile warm enough to melt butter. You tell me.

After a few seconds he answered.

I hope in the few minutes I’ve been here I’ve made a good impression on you because, I think Bob Schimmel wants to hire me and, I think that you, being a good judge of character among other things, are relied upon for more than just public relations around here.

She involuntarily raised her eyebrows but continued to display that delightfully warm smile. It really was quite disarming.

And I think you are a very perceptive young man. Let me have that coffee sent in, she said, heading for the door.

*******

The wind gusts were pushing 40, and the rain was coming down hard. With the visibility at about zero, John was concentrating intensely on keeping the minivan on his side of the road. He was tired, as seemed his lot, and he was upset. Bad combination for a night like this. He hoped the argument wouldn’t start up again, at least until they got home. He didn’t need any more distractions.

For her part, Mrs. Newman had no intention of speaking to her husband any more this night, or maybe ever. The man had been behaving like an absolute jerk.

Sarah was in the back, buckled in her car seat listening to the rain as it hit the roof and windows. To her it was a well-choreographed symphony. The notes blending into a beautifully arranged simmering of sound and color, rising and falling in intensity as the minivan drove through one sheet of rain after another.

*******

Tommy Jefferies had played this game before, but never with girls in the car.

It bolstered his courage.

It heightened his excitement.

It blunted his judgment.

No one ever kept their lights off as long as Tommy did. No one had the nerve. The two girls in the car started screaming for him to stop. The other boy in the car said nothing. He couldn’t admit to being scared. Not in front of the girls. Not in front of Tommy. He was already going over in his head how he would tell the story in school on Monday, how he would pump it up, make it even scarier than it really was.

It was the last thought he had before his head smashed into the skull of the girl in the front passenger seat, a fraction of a second before both of them were crushed by the engine of Tommy’s car.

*******

Oh, for crissake, now what.

He’ll be alright, Jim. Just give him a minute, the other officer responded. He’s just never seen one this bad, that’s all.

Having been a state patrolman for almost thirty years James Donaghan had seen just about every conceivable configuration of crashed cars imaginable. He was a tough cop and well-seasoned. This was one of the bad ones. He didn’t know how bad just yet. He didn’t realize this was the one that, later this evening, would convince him to take his retirement eighteen months early. For now, he was doing what cops always do-put personal feelings on the shelf and get the job done.

The academy taught it to every recruit. Unfortunately, the only way to really learn it was through experience. It was a rough initiation. The young officer vomiting by the side of the road could testify to that.

Donaghan stared for just a moment at the firemen rushing to the minivan with a pair of jaws of life cutters. To him it was an all too familiar scene. In frustration he turned back to the other officer.

"Well tell him to get his shit together now! We need help here. There’s a survivor in the car seat of that minivan. And where the hell is that ambulance?

3

When Janet Riker walked into the R and D wing, it was about midday. She found the staff heading out for lunch break. It was such a beautiful spring day that she was thinking of going outside to eat as well.

Excuse me, where might I find Mr. LaCost?

A pretty young girl of about twenty-five, on her way out, hung her lab coat on a wall clip and grabbed her purse. She hooked her thumb over her shoulder indicating the far corner of the lab.

Where else? she answered, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

Looking through the windows of his office Riker saw LaCost holding a half-eaten banana in one hand, going over the research papers which he held in the other.

At thirty-years old and six-foot-two, with thick brown hair and engaging blue eyes, Jason LaCost was a very attractive young man. The thing was, after almost two years, the young ladies who worked at Universal Biotech were at a loss to figure out what you had to do to look better to him than his computer.

As she approached his office Riker felt the whole scene was a bit sad. She couldn’t help but think to herself,

This young man needs to spend more time outside the lab. He is in desperate need of the company of one of these young women around here.

No, I’m not. And don’t start feeling sorry for me either. I’m having the time of my life, LaCost said without looking up.

It still stunned her whenever he did this. A person could just not get used to it. He smiled conscious of her surprise even though she tried to hide it.

Um, department head meeting today at two o’clock sharp, she said. And Jason, try to make this one. It looks bad to miss three in a row.

The normal reminder for a meeting would have been an inter-office memo. Having Janet remind him meant Schimmel was sending a personal message.

I guess I can’t skip them all, he said, eyes never leaving the research papers.

How about stopping for lunch? she asked. It’s a beautiful day with lots of pretty girls in the courtyard.

I will, I will. Just a little more to finish up here first. And thanks for the reminder.

Riker shook her head the way people often do when feeling a bit frustrated, but not really mad. As she walked toward the door she stopped for a moment before leaving and considered trying again to get him to take a break but decided against it. It would be like trying to convince a small child to put down his toys and come eat his broccoli. Oh well, his loss.

*******

Recombinant-DNA formation, or gene splicing, is a process by which segments of genetic material from one organism are transferred to another. If done successfully the genetic material, once inside the cell, will be replicated along with the hosts’ DNA each time the host divides. The possibilities are enormous. This is why people have been doing this kind of research for years. LaCost felt he could take things a bit further. He envisioned doing this kind of work not at the molecular or even sub-molecular level, but at the sub-atomic level. Working at such a level, the quantum level, allows unlimited DNA tailoring while also avoiding the problems associated with current GMO techniques.

Jason often wondered what might have happened if Leonardo Da Vinci, one of his heros', had been given access to things like computers and modern research facilities.

*******

Alison Russo really couldn’t believe her eyes. This just wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be right. But then there it was, right in front of her. At first, she assumed it to be simple coincidence, so she just waited for more results. The results were the same every time. There was no coincidence, no mistake.

Bringing it to the school’s principal turned out to be an exercise in futility.

I’m sure this is all quite interesting from an art teacher’s point of view Miss Russo, and I really do appreciate your interest. Most of the teachers who spend summers here are trying to help at first, but then they lose interest. With you I can see it’s more than that. You show genuine interest and the kids respond to you.

Alison thought about the children in the school. All orphans, all wards of the state. Her mind reflected on her own history. Her mother dying during her birth. Her father drinking himself to death because of it. She never knew either one of them. She had spent her childhood alone, going from one friend of the family or distant relative to another. All of them well intentioned. All with their own problems...

She snapped back to the present.

Maybe that’s because I can relate to them on a personal level. I’ve been an orphan myself since I was three.

"Well, uh, yes of course. But with all due respect, Miss Russo, I think you may be over estimating what I'm able to do here. You see, this facility tries to find enough funding every year, to feed, clothe, and educate these kids until someone becomes a foster parent, and then hopefully adopts. If these kids make it through here without drugs, pregnancy, or severe anti-social neurosis kicking in, we call it success. You come to me with this and expect me to...to do what exactly?

4

The sun was out, the breeze was just right, even the food was good. It was one grand day for a picnic. All of the standard company picnic games, (three-legged sack race, egg toss, water balloon toss, etc.), were being played by Universal Biotech employees, their spouses and children. There were softball games and volleyball games. There were people chasing frisbees. There were kids chasing frisbees. There were dogs chasing frisbees. The entire thirty-acre park area was being used. It hardly seemed room enough.

Every year the whole thing got bigger and bigger. Every year over Janet’s objections, (she was the one who had to organize this fiasco), Schimmel insisted on trying to outdo the previous year. He felt it provided a needed break for everyone and was good for morale. Bob Schimmel was good to his employees, very good. He also was used to getting his way. Everyone was expected to come to the picnic. You did not argue with the boss at Universal.

Jason was making the rounds that afternoon so that he could get back to the lab. As he approached one of the buffet tables, it hit him. He had never felt it like this before. The intensity almost made him lose his balance. He regained his composure and looked around to find where it was coming from but came up empty. Continuing his search for a minute or so he found the source. She was behind the tree closest to the retention pond. At once he reversed direction and headed straight for her, not seeing the young lady to his left. When they collided, his momentum broadsided hers knocking her to the ground, dumping the plate of food she was carrying all over the place.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry. Are you all right?

Uh, I think so, she said, a bit shaken. I didn’t see you coming.

Oh no, please, it was completely my fault. I was distracted and didn’t see you. I really do apologize and I…uh, I uh…are you sure you’re all right?

He was fumbling through this, flustered, and feeling more foolish by the second. When she started to brush the potato salad off of her blouse, he momentarily began to reach over to help her, caught himself and felt his face begin to flush. He just didn’t know what to do. She extended her hand and smiled.       

I’m Alison.

I’m Jason, he responded, taking the diminutive hand into his. Here, let me help you up.

She was taking all of it in stride, and so he began to feel more at ease. Well uh, now that I’ve ruined your lunch, the least I can do is replace it, he said gesturing to the nearest buffet table.

Looking at him after he helped her up, she thought to herself, clumsy, but awful cute!

That would be nice, thanks, but the food wasn’t my lunch. It was for one of my students.

Oh, so you’re a teacher with the orphanage.

Not exactly. I’m volunteering this summer. My real job is teaching in district 511. I teach art, k through 12.

Well I’m sure they appreciate the help.

They do, but it’s good for me too. I really enjoy working with the kids. Inviting them to this picnic was a very nice thing for your company to do. They don’t get out much.

No, I bet they don’t.

"So, Jason, what exactly do you do around here?’

I run interference for the buffet tables. Doesn’t pay much but I get all I can eat for free. He thought it was clever but judging from the look on her face…oh well.

Actually, I do research, been here about two years.

As they reached the table the conversation stopped and didn’t start up again until Alison had filled her plate. Jason noticed it included small portions of potato salad, corn, green beans, and bread.

A vegetarian I see.

Oh no. Like I said it’s for one of my kids. Me, I like steak.

It’s for the girl behind the tree! Jason thought.

Mind if I tag along?

She looked up at him and smiled. No, not at all.

*******

You know, you insist on having this damned thing get bigger and bigger every year, require that everyone attend, and now I find you in your office doing...WORK! 

Janet wasn’t really upset, simply embellishing a bit to make her point. Schimmel put down the papers, removed his glasses, and turned toward her, looking perplexed. She had known him for nearly ten years. She had seen him angry, sad, happy, confident, (mostly confident), and on rare occasions indifferent, but couldn’t remember ever seeing him perplexed.

I’m sorry, Janet. You’re, uh, you’re right of course. It’s just that, well, these projections on the gene manipulation research are, well they just can’t be right!

Look boss, I don’t know if they’re right or not. Not what I get paid for around here. I just know that we’ve had a picnic going for almost three hours and no one has seen you out there. Don’t you think it’s time you made an appearance?

Uh right, he answered returning his eyes to the papers in his hand. I’ll be right there. Just give me five minutes.

At this point Janet Riker gave Bob Schimmel a look, that no one else in the entire employ of Universal Biotech would have dared. He quickly put down the papers, took off his reading glasses and looked, not at her but past her directly at the door.

Well come on, let’s go, he said, quickly passing her on his way out.

*******

When they got to the tree, they found Sarah sitting cross-legged, with her back up against the trunk, staring out across the water. Jason looked down at Sarah, and they connected. He was overwhelmed by the depth of her mind. It was enormous.

Alison bent down to offer Sarah the paper plate of food, but she ignored it and stared directly into Jason’s eyes. After a moment, she held out her hand to him. He smiled, took her hand in his as he helped her up, and without a word they began to walk toward the water.

Alison was dumbfounded. The plate of food dropped from her hand.

Sarah, the seven-year old girl who, having no other relatives, had become a ward of the state after losing both parents in a car wreck. Who, for the first year afterward, had spoken not a single word to anyone. Who, if not for Alison, (the only one Sarah responded to at all other than on the most perfunctory level), taking a special interest in her after she saw those amazing drawings, would never have come to this picnic at all...was walking with this stranger around this pond as though they were old friends, holding hands! This just couldn’t be.

It took Alison a full two minutes to realize she had dropped the plate. She never considered picking it up. She ran full speed to catch up to them and did so on the far side of the pond. As she approached, she noticed they were not talking. Not a single word. Just walking peacefully, looking straight ahead.

What the hell was going on? Who is this guy?

5

Monday morning after the picnic found Jason feeling more alive than ever. He pulled into the parking lot faster than usual, and quickly parked the car. He was almost trotting towards the front entrance, when a breeze blowing through the oak trees slowed him to a stop. Looking up, he saw the old oak’s branches and leaves moving independently, and in unison, simultaneously. As always, it fascinated him. He was captivated by it. He knew it would fascinate Sarah as well. He knew, because he had felt that depth in her as soon as they had connected. He also knew that while he found such complexity remarkable, it was something which Sarah was able to comprehend at a much higher level.

Jason’s mind returned to the present, and he noticed Bob Schimmel’s car was also parked. The boss often worked late, if the situation dictated, but he rarely arrived before nine. Jason glanced at his watch. It was 6:20-odd?

As he continued walking, Jason thought back, to the day before...

You’ll have to excuse me OK, but I don’t exactly know how to react to this. Just what is going on here? Alison asked, a little out of breath. Jason turned to her and smiled. Sarah, however, was the one who answered.

Nothing, Miss Russo. We were just enjoying the view.

Enjoying the view…enjoying…the...view! Uh, Jason, can we talk?

Sure, of course. Why don’t you follow me to the cafeteria, he said, gesturing with an open palm in that direction. Sarah, would you wait here by the pond for a little while? Miss Russo and I need to talk.

She looked up at him, visibly uncomfortable with the idea of his leaving.

Jason looked down into Sarah’s eyes. A connection formed that was much more than visual. It won’t be for long. I’ll be back very soon, he said softly.

Reassured, Sarah sat, crossed her legs, and looked out over the water.

OK, she said, pointing to the ground between her legs. I’ll wait right here.

Jason escorted Allison across the lawn, to the closest courtyard door and into the cafeteria. They walked to the nearest table and sat down. Sarah was visible through the windows. The place was empty. Everyone was outside.

Alison, we just met, and I know this must seem kind of crazy. Believe me when I tell you it took me by surprise as well, but Sarah is a very special girl. I know that. I also know you think Sarah is unusually talented, but I don’t think you realize the extent of that little girl’s intellect.

She gave him the most incredulous look possible.

What! How do you know about Sarah? And how do you know what I think about Sarah?

I just do, that’s all.

Look, Alison shot back, I’ve been working with Sarah for months. I’m the only one who took the time to do so. I’m also the only one she seems to respond to. You spend a few minutes with her, and presume to tell me...why don’t you tell me what else you know, Jason? Or should I say Mr. Houdini?

He put his head down momentarily, and then looked straight into her eyes.

I’m not Houdini, and I’m not some kind of carnival mind reader. Mind readers are all fakes by the way. It’s just that, I’ve always been able to get kind of a feel for what people are thinking. Maybe it’s some kind of exaggerated intuition, I don’t know. I’ve been doing it ever since I was a kid. Sometimes, I’ll respond to what someone is going to say before they say it. The more intelligent a person is, or the more they’re concentrating, the easier it is. 

Then, with a half-smile he put his head back down, softened his speech and continued. 

Ask anyone who knows me around here. It drives them crazy.

It seemed like he