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Everything about this session was questionable - from the audience to the
psychic. Suffice it to say that it happened
in the red corner of the housing department. On a stage that rather resembled a wide one,
a step leading nowhere, two stood opposite each other
very worn chairs. I sat in one of them
hypnotized man from the audience with glassy eyes
eyes, in another, crossing his legs and shaking his torn
sneaker, - psychic. A poster hung above the stage:
"Evening of psychological experiments."
“Study history from documents,” he clumsily stated.
a psychic is like psychology on a corpse.
While we have, one might say, right under our noses
a living source of historical information that scholars
negativists deny because they call it quackery,
but they can’t explain it. I'm talking about genetic memory.
Here's today's case. - The psychic casually pointed
to the hypnotized one. - The comrade himself said before the session,
and you are all witnesses that he was born on the eighth of April one thousand
nine hundred and forty eight. So we'll try now
find out what happened ten years before his birth.The psychic stood up and approached the test subject.
-Can you hear me?
“I hear,” he responded indifferently.
- Show us what you did on the eighth of April thousand
nine hundred and thirty-eight.
Something moved in the glassy eyes, and the experimental
got up. Slowly, he waddled up to the psychic and rolled
gave him a teeth-crushing slap in the face, from which he flew straight
into the chair.
- What, son of a bitch, enemy, Trotskyist? - lazily, through clenched teeth
said the test subject, heading towards the man distraught with fear
to a psychic. - Do you understand now where you ended up?
Then something totally unexpected happened. The psychic's face became
suddenly detached, and a senseless glassy look appeared in his eyes
shine Apparently, out of fright, he himself fell into a kind of
hypnotic state.
- Got it, - without expression, as befits a hypnotized person,
he answered.
“Then inject yourself, bitch,” the test subject continued, still lazily.
- What did you do, you bastard, before you were seventeen?
The psychic stood up. With the silent step of a dancer he slid
towards the test subject and dealt him a crushing blow to the jaw.
The subject waved his hands and fell into a chair. His eyes
glazed over again.
- Bolshevik? - squinting his eyes aristocratically, he inquired
psychic - What are you doing, dear sir? To incite people
against legitimate authority? Ay, that’s not good... when would you, sir,
knew what awaits you now!.. Or are you already guessing?
What?
- I guess -the test subject said indifferently.
“Well, if so,” he continued with a snake-like smile on his lips.
psychic, - if you please answer, young man, what were you doing
in December of the fifth year...
The subject stood up from his chair and, looking from under his brows, caressed
in turn, the psychic hit the cheekbone with his fist.
Here the nerves of the public could not stand it, and clearly unprepared
to the spectacle, the audience, howling in horror, rushed out the door.
When, half an hour later, a reinforced squad burst into the room
police, the test subject could only be distinguished from a psychic
according to the suit. In front of those who burst in, the psychic blurted out
on the test subject’s teeth and, shaking with anger, hissed:
- Thief! Heretic! The dog is slanting! And he dared to utter blasphemy
to the Holy Trinity? Repent, more suffering than the madwoman, for what you have done
with your comrades that summer, when the pestilence was great?
The swinging test subject was stopped by a sambo technique.
From the magazine "XX Century and the World"
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