The Non-Statistical Man by Raymond F. Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

well as the method, is one which Society is loathe to accept. The pragmatic test —in itself a non-logical method—is the only one applicable. I think, however, it has been applied sufficiently to allow you to reach a conclusion!”
    “A man would have to possess a very large dose of sheer faith in order to live by intuition if he could never prove a hypothesis until it had been tried in actual experience.”
    “Yes,” Magruder nodded soberly. “I would say that faith is a large component of intuition.”
    “There is only one thing you have left out: the mechanism by which these weird exercises of body and mind, and the little colored pills are supposed to restore one’s intuition.”
    “That, too,” said Magruder, “is something which can only be tested pragmatically. You understand, of course, that these methods do not restore anything. You have never learned to use intuition in any degree; your wife is considerably more proficient. Yet, comparatively speaking, you are both readers who move your lips. You have to learn to do it by scanning—and the only proof that this is better is in learning it.
    “So, if you continue, you will learn how to use your intuitive powers. The little pills contain a shading of vitamins to satisfy those curious enough to analyze them. The active ingredient is the other material which is necessary to subdue the automatic reaction of fear in dropping statistical thinking. This fear is very real and dominating; it says that use of intuition is a defiance of the billions of a man’s fellows who have lived since the beginning of the race. It says they will crush him for daring to step out on his own and be an Individual who does not consult and bow to their wishes.
    “Without a proper biochemical compensation of this fear, it would be all but impossible for a man to ever command his intuitive powers. So do not attempt it without use of the pills; it would tear you to pieces.”
    “And one final question,” said Bascomb. “If I were to believe all this, and become one of your men who ‘know what it’s like to be on both sides of the statistical fence,’ what use would you make of me?”
    “I would ask you to assist in the spread of these methods, particularly among your own professional group, which is among the strongest fortresses that intuition has to attack. Such attack can best be done by someone from the inside.”
    “I see.” Bascomb rose suddenly and took up his hat. “It has been most entertaining, Professor; many thanks for your time.”
    “Not at all.” Magruder smiled and accompanied him to the door. “I will expect you at the next lecture.”
    “It is doubtful I will be there,” said Bascomb. “Quite doubtful.”

5

    Bascomb had it in mind to return to the office as he left Magruder’s hotel room, but once out on the street he knew this was impossible. His brain churned with the impossible mixture of fantasy and faintly-credible truth which Magruder had dispensed.
    He turned down the street in the direction away from his up-town office and moved slowly, dimly aware of his surroundings, murmuring apologies to his fellow pedestrians with whom he collided at intervals. Finally, he stopped and found an empty bench in Moller’s Park; he sat down, the pigeons clustering expectantly about his feet.
    He had nothing to feed them, but their random motion and the sharp whine of their wings served to bring him in closer touch with the present moment.
    A decision had to be made and made quickly. There was no use quibbling mentally over what Magruder could or could not do. The critical fact was that he could do something. Charles Bascomb had no doubt of this; he sim ply could not deny the run of policy claims. How much of all that nonsense about intuition was true Bascomb didn’t know; for the moment he didn’t care. Magruder was far more than a harmless quack; he was a crank—and a dangerous one at that. If his mysterious doings were extended any further, he could