2150 A.D.

I soon found myself flowing as a mighty river with the powerful feeling of peace, joy, and contentment.

Suddenly the river lost power, washed back on itself, and became murky. The tones grew ever more distant as the backwash seemed to carry me away from them. I broke out in the cold sweat of fear, frantically grabbing for the tones. The more anxious I became, the faster they disappeared.

Somewhere from the back of my mind came an ancient Confucian definition of love-something about two fish in a pond. The pond went dry. Through joining together the two fish made it over the vast desert to another pond. Arriving there, they let go of each other and went their separate ways. It was said that their ability to let go was love.

Why had I thought of that? What did it have to do with my present state? Was the letting go a kind of acceptance of what is, as perfect-that fine level-ten trait? Was my own anxiety for the experience driving it away?

I was losing ground so fast that I had little left to lose, so I bet all my chips on acceptance, commanding my body, mind, and emotions to stop struggling to relax, and to appreciate the absolute perfection of all that is, all that was, and all that ever will be.

Some cubbyhole of my mind was amused at the paradox and laughed at me for having the audacity to think I could keep anything by frantically hanging on. Laughter relaxed me. I stopped resisting the backwash and began to appreciate its power and beauty.

It whirled me around then, lifting me to the top of its crest, hurled me forward. The river was clear, sparkling, and powerful.

Was it-had it always been that way? Was my mind playing tricks on me? Was its change actually only within my own mind, a product of my own anxiety?

More laughter overflowed the corners of my mind. I had always loved philosophic puzzles, and this one was a beaut!

Yielding myself totally to the emental (a 2150 contraction of emotional and mental) movement, I flowed joyously on and on through what seemed an endless series of dimensions. Finally I reached the infinite ocean and experienced the unspeakable joy of Macro contact.

When at last I opened my eyes again, Carol was smiling radiantly.

"You attained Macro contact a second time, Jon, in less than a day," she beamed.

"But I have a feeling," I said, "that I almost didn't make it." Then I realized that Carol had not succeeded. I was deeply touched by her happiness for me.

"Things happen in their own time, Jon. We have to learn to understand and accept that. You can't push the river. Come on, I'm starved!"

Extracting two tiny tablets from her mib, she handed one to-me.

"What's this?" I inquired.

"That's our lunch!"

"Our what?" I asked incredulously.

Carol had gone to the wall and come back with two transparent, seemingly weightless, cups of water. "It's magic! If you'll swallow it and drink the whole cup of water I promise you won't be hungry again till this evening." Whereupon she downed her pill and the water.

I followed her example and, in moments, experienced the satisfied well-being of having just finished a complete meal. What's more, Carol told me that it contained a balance of all the necessary food values that my body would require for six hours. When I asked her why they bothered with developing solid foods such as the delicious seaweed steak I had enjoyed so much, she said that they enjoyed the taste of food when they were with their Alphas, but used the food tabs when busy with other activities.

"Speaking of other activities," she said, "it's time you visited the other triads."

We left the library-research building and walked leisurely in the pleasantly warm early afternoon sun. We left the path and walked in the shade of stately trees toward the student recreation area. As I breathed the sweet fresh air and felt the luxuriant green life about me I thought how incredibly fortunate I was to have the opportunity to experience such beauty, tranquility, and joy.

Carol used her mib to talk with Alan concerning which recreation area we would visit first. This reminded me of a question:

"Why do you use your mib to talk with others when you have telepathic powers?"

She laughed. "With my limited telepathic powers about all I can do is send or receive very general messages. Unless a person is close, my power is not clear enough to maintain integrity throughout transmission."

"You mean it's like tuning in a television or radio cha

"Yes, that's a good analogy. The quality of your reception depends on how powerful the sender and how sensitive the receiver." She paused and then said, "Actually, only ninth and tenth levels can communicate with each other totally telepathically."

"How about the other Macro powers like clairvoyance; precognition, retro cognition, and PK (psycho kinesis)?" I asked.

"As a rule," she answered, "the Macro powers are somewhat limited at the lower levels of awareness. In fact, even third and fourth levels demonstrate far more excellence in the first three Macro attributes of love, leadership, and wisdom than the seven Macro powers."

"So you have to wait, then," I said, "until attaining ninth– or tenth-level awareness before demonstrating complete adequacy with the Macro powers?"

"That's right," she answered. "Now you can understand why I didn't try to teleport those water cups we used earlier. The cups alone I could have managed without too much effort, but fill them with water and I would have had to really work at it to keep from spilling. It would have taken a long time and would have left me tired."

"I didn't realize it would tire you," I said, surprised.

"You've already begun learning that true power lies simply in knowing acceptance, desire, and belief. When we first begin using Macro powers we, almost without exception, think it will all go more effectively if we try harder. This almost irresistible urge to try takes a lot of energy."

"You mean, then," I said, "that it's just a matter of practice."

She smiled and said, "Yes, that and emental discipline. Our problem is that our lives are so happy and peaceful that we lack the necessary desire to practice very often."

"Hmm," I said, "maybe that's true for you who have grown up in the Macro society and have forever to attain your goal, but I've got only three months to attain mine or return to the 20th century for the rest of my life."

"Exactly," Carol replied, "and that's why the level nines and tens were willing to try bringing you here, because you would have more to lose, and thus, greater motivation than anyone in the Macro society ever had."

"Okay," I said, "I'm ready to start practicing. Where do I begin?"

"Great! That's what I've been waiting for. You had to ask, we could not force you to start practicing."

She threw her arms around me and planted quick kisses about my face.

"Well, well," I teased. "I'll bet even old B. F. Ski

"I don't know about Ski

I looked at the pebble she was pointing at and decided that since it was very small it should be an easy place to start. I reached out with imaginary fingers to pick it up. It didn't budge.

"You're trying too hard," Carol suggested. "Relax your mind by remembering your Macro contact experience."

After a couple of minutes of recalling how I almost lost Macro contact I stopped trying, to the best of my ability, and found my mind blissfully serene. I gently reached out for the pebble and easily raised it to eye level. Then I made it dance and weave through the air about us. For the next few minutes I experienced the strange joy of successfully using PK.