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Updated: May 6, 2025
Another thought struck him, and he looked sharply at his second-in-command. "Our hostess was a field agent, Audra. Were any of these tapes waiting for you?" King looked startled, then nodded. "Two of them, yes. And one answers your question they don't know how long the effects of the projective empathy last. Which may mean they won't use it to infect or change you for fear it'll backfire on them."
Sang Huin could not do much of anything to fill in the crevices of time and in awkward moments of not knowing what to say he just stood there uncomfortably but with a degree of appreciation for Seong Seob. Sang Huin had empathy as deep as the gods. Had it not been for her youth that allowed her to engage in prostitution, she would have been at the welfare office every month.
Maybe she had serviced him during this period or maybe she had just fallen into a vacuous state of one who knew the state of the world: the multitudes who were calculative and disingenuous users; life as the frivolous extroverted game of using others to rack up points; a smile as an artifice; society as billiard balls slapping against each other and rebounding; they who were customers of that which was deleterious to them and were ready to use or be used to get it; and the few higher ones linked to compassion and empathy, whose intellect saw the world and yet had to give a cheerful rendering of it as "life" because one did have to live in this world and celebrate it the best one was able to do.
This state of feeling deep sadness not only for the dog that had left him but the entire world was like being paralyzed by the pallets of a tranquilizer gun even though there was nothing halcyon or pleasant in being shot with sympathy unless, in more lucid seconds, it was in considering the fact that he should be grateful that it was not empathy.
Had they not become soul mates for the reason that each of them had possessed empathy for the other innocent being charred in the torturous hells of family? He had not even known her. In all of these years of marriage on top of those comprising their friendship of youth he had not known her any more than one did the strangest of strangers. "Still tired," asked Nawin. "Of course," said Boi.
Yet within the limits he has set for himself he has used human psychology to good advantage. His stories do not lack empathy, and they are rich in pictorial detail. Inevitably they reflect the mores of the time, but do not emphasize them unduly. As a consequence they remain readable and entertaining even to this day.
This thin, helpless, frightened woman was his only resource. She had to work. He had to make her work. Ihjel had done it used projective empathy to impress his emotions upon Brion. Now Brion must do it with Lea. He had had some sessions in the art, but not nearly enough to make him proficient. Nevertheless he had to try. Strength was what Lea needed. Aloud he said simply, "You can do it.
Not wishing to provoke her to hate him, he put the brazier in his coat pocket and then descended from the tree. And like any goddess from Hera to Athena she knew the sweet venom of empathy, could see the corroding batteries of Her specimen's heart without wincing, and would have stared that way indefatigably until he at last fell from the tree.
She could see the prostitutes near the National Monument with its hard rockish flame like the torch of the Statue of Liberty. She felt empathy for them as deep as the gods and it was a torturous perspective indeed.
Media attention only exacerbates the narcissist's addiction and makes it incumbent on him to go to ever-wilder extremes to secure uninterrupted supply from this source. The narcissist lacks empathy the ability to put himself in other people's shoes. He does not recognize boundaries personal, corporate, or legal.
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