Percy Mist Control

	I told him. "Presidential motorcade coming! You guys better clear the streets!”
	I pointed down Seventh Avenue. Of course there was no motorcade, but I did my best to imagine one.
	See, some demigods can actually control the Mist. They can make people see what they want them to see. I wasn't very good at it, but it was worth a shot. Presidential visits are common enough, with the United Nations in town and all, so I figured the cop might buy it.
	Apparently he did. He glanced toward my imaginary line of limos, made a disgusted face, and said something into his two-way radio.
	With the wax in my ears, I couldn't hear what, but all the other cops in the square started herding the crowd toward the side streets.