THE GIFT
By Melvin Sturgis
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 couldfeel clear down to your insoles. The thick silence was broken as thejudge said solemnly: "Your objection will be taken under advisementby the court, Counselor. In what manner will the childhood of thedefendant be relevant to this case, Mr. Prosecutor?"
"It is my purpose to show, your Honor, that the defendant has been ofunsound mind since birth, and therefore has long been a public menace,not merely a victim of circumstance as the defense would have usbelieve." The prosecuting attorney nodded briefly in the direction ofthe table for the defense.
"Objection overruled," the judge said. "You may call your witness."
"Thank you, your Honor." The prosecutor helped the flighty woman intothe 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 toElmwood right after his Pa was killed in that big Oak Ridge explosion.He was born right there on the government project, you know. Nevercould understand why Mrs. Sloan, that was his Ma, never did get marriedagain, her being so pretty and all, and any number of nice widowersjust—"
"Uh, yes, Mrs. Holk," the prosecutor interrupted. "Was youracquaintance with the defendant continuous throughout his childhood?"
"Well, it was until he was ten years old. They sent him away to thatcrazy house then."
"I object to the term 'crazy house', your Honor," the public defenderaddressed the court.
"I am sure that the witness meant to say the Rochelle School forRetarded 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 backto Elmwood and I've known him ever since."
"As a child, was the defendant er, ah, strange; that is, different fromthe other children?"
"He certainly was." The woman drew herself up primly. "Why, the firsttime that I ever laid eyes on that boy I said to my neighbor 'did youever 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 prosecutorhurriedly interjected. "The court is interested only in facts that willprove relevant to the case at hand."
"Oh." Mrs. Holk seemed disappointed. "Well, he never played much withthe other children because they made so much fun of him. Not thatthey didn't have a right to, the way he was always acting. Picking upstray dogs and cats, and every thing else under the sun, and tellingeverybody that would listen how he cured their sores. It was enough tomake a person sick. He even claimed that he could cure himself, andthat was the reason that he was never sick! Hmmfp.
"Of course, he wasn't ever sick. No sir, not a day in his life. Neverhad the measles or the mumps like my Sally, and even when that terrible