I’m afraid, is 1973. A.D., of course. Does that ring a bell?”
I shook my head. “Sorry, major. But I’ll agree with you on one thing. I’m obviously completely insane.”
“Let’s hope it’s not permanent,” smiled the doctor. “Probably been reading a bit too much H.G. Wells, eh?”
CHAPTER FIVE
My First Sight of Utopia
E vidently out of a mistaken sense of kindness, both the doctor and Major Powell left me alone. I had received a hypodermic injection containing some kind of drug which made me drowsy, but I could not sleep. I had become totally convinced now that some peculiar force in the catacombs of the Temple of the Future Buddha had propelled me through Time. I knew that it was true. I knew that I was not mad. Indeed, if I were mad, then there would be little point in fighting such a detailed and consistent delusion—I might just as well accept it. But now I wanted more information about the world into which I had been plunged. I wanted to discuss the possibilities with the doctor and the major. I wanted to know if there were any evidence of such a thing having happened before—any unexplained reports of men who claimed to have come from another age. At this thought I became depressed. Doubtless there were other accounts. And doubtless, too, those men had been considered mad and committed to lunatic asylums, or charlatans and committed to prison. If I were to remain free to see more of this world of the future, to discover, if I could, a means of returning to my own time, then it would not do for me to make too strong a claim for the truth. It would be better for me to affect amnesia. That they would understand better. And if they could invent an explanation as to how I came to be in the ruins of Teku Benga seventy years after the last man had been able to set foot there, then good luck to them!
Feeling much happier about the whole thing, having made my decision, I settled back in the pillows and fell into a doze.
T he ship’s about to land, sir.”
It was the voice of the orderly which wakened me from my trance. I struggled up in the bed, but he put a restraining hand on me. “Don’t worry, sir. Just lie back and enjoy the ride. We’re transferring you to the hospital as soon as we’re safely moored. Just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks,” I said weakly.
“You must have been through it, sir,” said the orderly sympathetically. “Mountain climbing is a tricky business in that sort of country.”
“Who told you I’d been mountain climbing?”
He was confused. “Well, nobody, sir. We just thought... Well, it was the obvious explanation.”
“The obvious explanation? Yes, why not? Thank you again, orderly.”
He frowned as he turned away. “Don’t mention it, sir.”
A little while later they began to remove the bolts which had fixed the bed to the deck. I had hardly been aware—save for a slight sinking sensation and a few tremors—that the ship had landed. I was wheeled along the corridors until we reached what I guessed to be the middle of the ship. Here huge folding doors had been lowered to form steps to the ground and a ramp had been laid over the steps to make it possible to wheel my bed down.
We emerged into clear, warm air and the bed bumped a trifle as it was wheeled over flattened grass to what was plainly a hospital van, for it had large red crosses painted on its white sides. The van was motorized, by the look of it. There were no horses in evidence. Glancing around me I received my second shock of pure astonishment at the sight which now met my gaze. Dotted about a vast field were a number of towers, smaller than, but strongly resembling, the Eiffel Tower in Paris. About half of these towers were in use—great pyramids of steel girders to which were moored the best part of a dozen airships, most of which were considerably larger than the giant in which I had been brought! It was obvious that not all the flying monsters were military vessels. Some were
I shook my head. “Sorry, major. But I’ll agree with you on one thing. I’m obviously completely insane.”
“Let’s hope it’s not permanent,” smiled the doctor. “Probably been reading a bit too much H.G. Wells, eh?”
CHAPTER FIVE
My First Sight of Utopia
E vidently out of a mistaken sense of kindness, both the doctor and Major Powell left me alone. I had received a hypodermic injection containing some kind of drug which made me drowsy, but I could not sleep. I had become totally convinced now that some peculiar force in the catacombs of the Temple of the Future Buddha had propelled me through Time. I knew that it was true. I knew that I was not mad. Indeed, if I were mad, then there would be little point in fighting such a detailed and consistent delusion—I might just as well accept it. But now I wanted more information about the world into which I had been plunged. I wanted to discuss the possibilities with the doctor and the major. I wanted to know if there were any evidence of such a thing having happened before—any unexplained reports of men who claimed to have come from another age. At this thought I became depressed. Doubtless there were other accounts. And doubtless, too, those men had been considered mad and committed to lunatic asylums, or charlatans and committed to prison. If I were to remain free to see more of this world of the future, to discover, if I could, a means of returning to my own time, then it would not do for me to make too strong a claim for the truth. It would be better for me to affect amnesia. That they would understand better. And if they could invent an explanation as to how I came to be in the ruins of Teku Benga seventy years after the last man had been able to set foot there, then good luck to them!
Feeling much happier about the whole thing, having made my decision, I settled back in the pillows and fell into a doze.
T he ship’s about to land, sir.”
It was the voice of the orderly which wakened me from my trance. I struggled up in the bed, but he put a restraining hand on me. “Don’t worry, sir. Just lie back and enjoy the ride. We’re transferring you to the hospital as soon as we’re safely moored. Just wanted to let you know.”
“Thanks,” I said weakly.
“You must have been through it, sir,” said the orderly sympathetically. “Mountain climbing is a tricky business in that sort of country.”
“Who told you I’d been mountain climbing?”
He was confused. “Well, nobody, sir. We just thought... Well, it was the obvious explanation.”
“The obvious explanation? Yes, why not? Thank you again, orderly.”
He frowned as he turned away. “Don’t mention it, sir.”
A little while later they began to remove the bolts which had fixed the bed to the deck. I had hardly been aware—save for a slight sinking sensation and a few tremors—that the ship had landed. I was wheeled along the corridors until we reached what I guessed to be the middle of the ship. Here huge folding doors had been lowered to form steps to the ground and a ramp had been laid over the steps to make it possible to wheel my bed down.
We emerged into clear, warm air and the bed bumped a trifle as it was wheeled over flattened grass to what was plainly a hospital van, for it had large red crosses painted on its white sides. The van was motorized, by the look of it. There were no horses in evidence. Glancing around me I received my second shock of pure astonishment at the sight which now met my gaze. Dotted about a vast field were a number of towers, smaller than, but strongly resembling, the Eiffel Tower in Paris. About half of these towers were in use—great pyramids of steel girders to which were moored the best part of a dozen airships, most of which were considerably larger than the giant in which I had been brought! It was obvious that not all the flying monsters were military vessels. Some were
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