Claire Canning and I have never met, but we have communicated via electronic mail on several occasions. Our exchanges are sporadic but fertile, if I may put it this way. A week ago she sent me the following message:

Today I had a funny experience on the tube. As you know, people in London don’t talk to one another when they’re commuting. Any exchange, however brief, is met with blushes on one or both sides—this very British thing. Anyway, I am sitting on the tube between Victoria and Oxford Circus. There’s this businessman of about sixty sitting opposite me. A smart coat, case, etc. Balding, grey, doing his crossword, not at all sleazy. I am staring into the middle distance and thinking, as it happens, about sex. Suddenly, the businessman looks up from his crossword, looks straight at me with a gleam in his eye, and says loudly: “What are you thinking about?!” The whole carriage is silent, and so everyone tunes in. “Well,” I say after a pause to catch my breath and get back to reality, “I can’t possibly tell you that!” End of conversation.

By the way, this was the entire message. No hellos, no goodbyes. Perhaps Claire sent it to a number of people, some of whom she knows rather well. At any rate, I responded the following day, as soon as I read this delightful account:

Lovely story. Two things come to mind at once. God only knows whether minds can connect in this way, but I do not see any reason to worry about accepting the possibility as a working hypothesis. For good transmission, you would need a powerful emitter and a sensitive receiver. Let’s imagine the fellow is blessed with a fine receiver. Now, and this is the second thing that comes to my mind, what was it you were actually thinking about? You can tell me, of course.

I have been waiting for an entire week to see whether or not I will learn from Claire anything else about her side of the mysterious exchange on the tube. So far, nothing. Chances are I will not hear from her for a while. It is thus time to wrap this story up.