How do you force a bus to be polite without ordering it? By shifting probability with aristocratic concentration, so that stopping seems the most elegant continuation of causality and traffic; the telepath attunes to rhythm, route, and collective distress, projecting not an order but a representative wish. Thus, a miniature polis of relieved shoulders and coded pleasantries emerges at the bus stop, while skeptics reduce the phenomenon to protocols and chance. It is precisely this untraceability that confers dignity – the infrastructure behaves just as well-mannered, the city becomes civilized, and hope proves to be a discreet technique for nudging the banal just millimeters in the right direction.