Windle Poons paused. He replayed the last few lines of conversation in the clicking control room of his brain. And then he smiled. “That’s right,” said Mrs. Cake. “Are you by any chance a natural clairvoyant?” “About ten seconds usually, Mr. Poons.” Windle hesitated. “You gotta ask the question,” said Mrs. Cake quickly. “I gets a migraine if people goes and viciously not asks questions after I’ve already foreseen ’em and answered ’em.” “How far into the future can you see, Mrs. Cake?” She nodded.
