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He felt an overwhelming panic—if he didn’t get back before Proctor woke up, he’d be up shit creek. Or, even worse, he might never get back at all. He might be stuck in this universe forever, rotting in a jail cell. He had to stop this, now.
“I’m from the future! You saw the watch! There’s proof! Just let me go,please!I’ll leave, I’ll just go back! I didn’t hurt anybody!”
“You hear that, Jonesey? Says he’s from the future.”
“Move it, pal!”
They half dragged, half pushed him into the back of the paddy wagon. And now Ferenc realized there was only one person on earth—onthisearth—who could save him, one person who had the presence of mind and the gift of articulation to sort this out…and quickly.
“Listen to me, please!” he said, voice rising in desperation. “I told you, I’m from the future. Listen,listen!!Let me find Pendergast. He’ll explain everything, he’ll make this right!”
And his cries continued, even as they grew muffled by the clanging of the steel doors at the back of the wagon. “Pendergast! Get Pendergast!Get Pendergast…!”
67
DR. ENOCH LENG STEPPEDinto the massive shadow of Bellevue Hospital, the expression on his face preoccupied and distant as he made his way inside. Potential patients at the Five Points had recently proven unsatisfactory, due to spreading typhoid, even as his accelerating research was requiring more subjects than ever. He had planned to confine his rounds today to the young women’s infirmary, his attention focused on the new arrivals.
But he’d barely set foot inside the building when he was accosted by the medical resident, Norcross, who would soon qualify as a specialist in afflictions of the mind. He had considered, briefly, taking the man into his confidence, but then he realized that while brilliant and of a subservient disposition, Norcross did not have the requisite elasticity of moral judgment. A shame.
“Dr. Leng!” the student resident said, coming up to him. “I thought you might come by today.”
“Why is that, Norcross? What is special about today?”
“Well…” Norcross hesitated. “I’d assumed you’d heard about the anarchist bank robber who’s been admitted. The police brought him in. The entire hospital is aflutter.”
“Is that so?” Leng was interested in neither anarchists nor bank robbers. He continued to walk toward the women’s ward while Norcross fell into step beside him.
“He’s a special case,” Norcross went on. “They asked me to examine him, and I did, but…” He hesitated. “I found the presentation of his illness rather outside my experience. The police asked the hospital for a judgment of confinement as a criminal lunatic, but of course I wasn’t qualified to provide it and Dr. Stamm doesn’t arrive on the premises until this afternoon.”
“What exactly is the presentation of symptoms?”
“For one thing, he claims to be from the future. He was hysterical, struggling and raving, and yet…he didn’t seem fulminant.”
“Not fulminant,” echoed Leng, slowing his step. This mildly stimulated his curiosity. “And claims he’s from the future. Well, Norcross, let us take a look at him.”
“Very good, doctor.” They turned down a flight of stairs and through the two doors of banded iron, then along the passageway leading to the ward for the criminally insane.
“He quieted down when the orderlies threatened him with a straitjacket. But he’s remained in an agitated state, continually demanding to see a particular person.”
“I see,” Leng replied as he followed the student in residence. There were in fact standing orders for him to be notified whenever a particularly unusual patient was committed, and this one seemed more than a little curious. “Where was he apprehended and what were the circumstances?”
“At the Federal Bank of Commerce, where he started a fracas. After he was subdued, several strange devices were found on his person. The police confiscated a knife and some other kind of weapon that accidentally discharged, wounding a bystander…The other two items are here, under lock and key.”
“What are they?”
“It’s hard to say. He claims one is a timepiece and the other he claims is a kind of voice telegraph.”
“A timepiece from the future?” This grade of psychosis might be unusual enough to merit a note in theLancet.
They stopped outside a cell, locked and barred like the others. Inside, a man was pacing back and forth in great agitation, talking to himself and showing other signs of emotional distress. He was dressed in a red-and-black plaid shirt, dark trousers, and boots. Seeing Norcross, he stopped pacing and hurried toward the bars.
“Have you brought him?” the man asked. His eyes were red-rimmed, and sweat beaded his face. “Have you brought Pendergast?”
On hearing this name, a shock like a bolt of electricity passed through Leng’s body.
“Listen, you’ve got to find Pendergast—he’ll clear everything up.” The man’s voice was trembling, on the verge of hysteria.
Leng recovered his presence of mind. “Pendergast? May I have a first name, please?”