He knew they were there; he could hear them scratching inside the walls as he passed through the dark passageway. He wasn't frightened. There was a light at the end of the hall and it was toward this that he walked, slowly at first, then with more urgency.
He could hear their minds all right but it sounded like the static between stations, nothing more.
Once again he regretted his gift.
The light became brighter, illuminating more and more of the filthy hallway. The scratching between the thin plaster walls seemed to crescendo as he approached the brashly lit city street. It was too much. Unable to maintain the first rule of his training he felt himself losing control of his mind. Suddenly his thoughts broke loose and burst free, running together like a child's fingerpaint left out in the rain. Fast and erratic they came, noisily bouncing from one to another, crashing against the strange cacophony in the street, faster and faster as if to keep time with the end of the hallway and his release onto the busy street.