Let's pick it up tomorrow.

Continuing Education

Things are going pretty well with Hersh so far, so you might as well trust what he says. In any case, this headache is a killer, so you could definately use the break. Hersh says to give him a call tomorrow, when you're feeling up for the next lesson. Considering what you've already learned today, what endeavors will await you in the next day?

The sound of running water makes good company as you wait patiently at Gribbin Bridge. A few weeks ago there were ducks residing in the stream below, but the flock has since moved on to warmer climates. Summer ended rather abruptly, seguing into a brisk fall in no time at all. Gone are the hot sunny days, beach parties, and-- most tragically-- girls in short skirts and skimpy tops. Members of the fairer sex stroll casually through the park, bundled up in sweaters, beanies, and scarves. True, you can't enjoy the wonders of their bodies as you had less than a month before, but if things pan out with Hersh as hopefully they will, the new season won't be any concern.

He's late again, but the situation is different now. Previously, there was no telling what you were getting yourself into. Now, at least, you know that what Hersh said is real. Now-- even without your host-- you can entertain yourself with the thoughts of others. Well, maybe. This is only your second day of being a "pusher," so it's still hard to differentiate between someone else's thoughts and your own. You can thank the whole empathy concept for that. But from here, it can only get easier, right?

At last, Hersh comes plodding up the short arched overpass, carrying a humongous fur coat, and wearing one of his own. Where does one get something like that? And two of them, no less.

"Don't mind me," he says, grinning widely. Hersh removes his winterwear and hoists both the big heavy coats onto the guard rail.

"Whew. So how're you feeling?" he asks. Despite the migraine, it wasn't too much trouble falling asleep yesterday. Hardly had you lifted a finger, but the mental pushing took a lot more out of you than anticipated. This morning the headache was gone, and you enjoyed a humongous breakfast of eggs, cereal and whatnot. That was something new: it was probably the hungriest you'd ever been. Well, all that energy has to come from somewhere. Maybe when you're ready, you can get yourself some bitches to cook for you, among other things...

"Pretty good," you reply. "What's with the coats?"
"Oh these." Hersh pets the smooth brown fur like you would a dog. "This is some fancy-ass shit, my friend. When you have a superior mind like I-- er-- -we- do, you can have anything you want."
"So, you just -wanted- those?"
"We'll come to them if need be. Don't worry about it. Seriously." He pats you on the back and with a cock of his head, indicates the entire park scene.

"Look at this place," he says, "all kinds of women, all shapes and sizes and all this... -clothing- getting in the way!" He turns to face you, gripping your shoulder. "We are kings, my friend. Nay, we are gods. Not even Old Man Winter can get in our way. As long as we have these inferior-minded pawns, we practically rule the earth!"

Not that you've known Michael Hersh for a long time, but there's a gleam in his eye that makes him look somehow different: a little zealous, a little crazy... megalomaniacal, perhaps. It's like watching the beginning stages of some mad genius bent on one day taking over the planet, except that there's no doomsday machine for him to build, to bring civilization to its knees. Unless he mind controls a team of scientists to build one for him...

"Now what I want you to do today," begins Hersh, "is make a girl take her clothes off." Well that seems a little advanced, doesn't it? Afterall, what girl is going to take her clothes off on a cold day like this, and in public, no less? How are you supposed to break down that wall of inhibition on only your second day?

"Don't worry, I've got you covered," Hersh assures you. "Just pick any girl you see here in the park, and do it. Remember, empathy. Don't just stick it in her mind that she's gotta take her clothes off. She'll flat-out reject pushing like that. Make it subtle, make it believable. She needs to think that your thoughts are her own."

With that in mind, you lean onto the bridge railing and scope out the goods, taking a moment before settling on a tall, bespectacled brunette, reading on a park bench. Her blue jeans, deep green turtleneck and dark jacket hide most of her fair skin, so it's difficult to tell what kind of body she has. Well, that's the purpose of this practice session anyway, isn't it?

Hersh looks and approves. "Stationary, preoccupied. Good target. Okay, Buddy. Get to it!"