The Gift

As a boy, Carl Sloan began to perform miracles, healing the sick. But the world hated him--for being born a thousand years too soon....

[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy November 1951 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]

The tenseness in the tiny court room was a live thing that you could feel clear down to your insoles. The thick silence was broken as the judge said solemnly: "Your objection will be taken under advisement by the court, Counselor. In what manner will the childhood of the defendant be relevant to this case, Mr. Prosecutor?"

"It is my purpose to show, your Honor, that the defendant has been of unsound mind since birth, and therefore has long been a public menace, not merely a victim of circumstance as the defense would have us believe." The prosecuting attorney nodded briefly in the direction of the table for the defense.

"Objection overruled," the judge said. "You may call your witness."

"Thank you, your Honor." The prosecutor helped the flighty woman into the witness box.

"Will you please give the court your name?"

The woman simpered. "Ida Mae Holk. Mrs. Ida Mae Holk."

The prosecutor cleared his throat and ruffled the papers in his hand.

"How long have you known the defendant, Mrs. Holk?"

"Why, ever since he was about two years old. Him and his Ma came to Elmwood right after his Pa was killed in that big Oak Ridge explosion. He was born right there on the government project, you know. Never could understand why Mrs. Sloan, that was his Ma, never did get married again, her being so pretty and all, and any number of nice widowers just--"

"Uh, yes, Mrs. Holk," the prosecutor interrupted. "Was your acquaintance with the defendant continuous throughout his childhood?"

"Well, it was until he was ten years old. They sent him away to that crazy house then."

"I object to the term 'crazy house', your Honor," the public defender addressed the court.

"I am sure that the witness meant to say the Rochelle School for Retarded Children," the prosecutor said mildly. "Didn't you, Mrs. Holk?"

"Well, I guess that is what they call it," she said grudgingly. "Anyway, they kept him there until he was eighteen. Then he came back to Elmwood and I've known him ever since."

"As a child, was the defendant er, ah, strange; that is, different from the other children?"

"He certainly was." The woman drew herself up primly. "Why, the first time that I ever laid eyes on that boy I said to my neighbor 'did you ever see a child with such a big head and such brooding eyes', why--"

The public defender started to rise.

"I don't mean physical characteristics, Mrs. Holk," the prosecutor hurriedly interjected. "The court is interested only in facts that will prove relevant to the case at hand."

"Oh." Mrs. Holk seemed disappointed. "Well, he never played much with the other children because they made so much fun of him. Not that they didn't have a right to, the way he was always acting. Picking up stray dogs and cats, and every thing else under the sun, and telling everybody that would listen how he cured their sores. It was enough to make a person sick. He even claimed that he could cure himself, and that was the reason that he was never sick! Hmmfp.

"Of course, he wasn't ever sick. No sir, not a day in his life. Never had the measles or the mumps like my Sally, and even when that terrible flu epidemic hit town he was just as chipper as you please. If you want incidents, I can tell you a dozen. There was one time when he was about five and I was over visiting with his ma. He came running into the house telling some big story about a bird with a busted wing that he had fixed up. Of course, his ma shut him up; she always was too easy on him. Another time--"