walked out of the office. As his back disappearedfrom the doorway Margaret's head poked up in its place. She looked quitestartled.
"It's all right, Margaret," Victor Quink said. "He was just a bit upset.You get all kinds in here. This one claimed there's something abnormalwith his _wife_. Better leave an hour free tomorrow. He'll come back."
But he didn't.
* * * * *
He didn't come back during the following three weeks, then one afternoonMargaret ushered him through the doorway. He walked to the chair beforethe desk, looking neither at the doctor nor to the right nor left, andsat down, holding his hat in his hands.
"My wife believes she's just," he waved his hat vaguely toward theshielded window, "just like everybody else here."
"And isn't she?" Doctor Quink queried, with the patience due hisprofession.
"No, she isn't. But she's forgotten. She hasn't _really_ forgotten. Idon't know your technical terminology; she refuses to remember. Oh,_you_ know. Her subconscious, or unconscious, or whatever, is blindingher. She won't face reality. And it's time for us to go back. But shewon't budge. She claims she's normal, and I'm the one who's crazy. Infact, she was very happy that I was coming to see you today. I _told_her I was going to see you, but she persisted in insisting that I wascoming here because _I_ needed help. She said I'm coming to you becausesubconsciously I know I need you. Well, enough of that. I'm here becausewe have to go home, and if you could just make her face life long enoughto admit that, I'm sure that when we do get home our doctors will haveno difficulty with her case. It won't be so bizarre to them, of course,as it must seem to you."
"Frankly, Mr. Fairfield," Dr. Quink said, "you're not being entirelyclear in this matter. First of all, you say you have to go home. You'renot a native of New York then?"
"A native? How quaintly you put it, Doctor. You might better say asavage, mightn't you? But that's neither here nor there. I am, ofcourse, a native, as you say, of New York. I thought I explained lasttime. I am simply not of this _time_."
* * * * *
Doctor Quink slowly shook his shaggy head. "I'm afraid the precisemeaning of your phrase escapes me, Mr. Fairfield."
"I am not of this _time_, Doctor. Nor is my wife. We are from ... well,from the future."
"From very _far_ in the future?" Quink asked quietly.
"Quite far. I'm not sure just exactly _how_ far. Systems of timemeasurement have changed, you understand, between our time and this, sothat the calculations become rather involved, though, of course, onlysuperficially."
"Of course. Quite understandable."
"Quite. You _are_ being understanding about this. Much better than I hadhoped for, actually. At any rate, let's get on with it. For some obscurereason my wife has fled reality, and now that our vacation is up sherefuses to return with me, stating flatly that she has never, to make along story short, traveled through time--except, of course, at thenormal velocity with which we all progress in the course of things--andthat it is I who am out of my head and though, while not actuallytroublesome, it would be thoughtful of me to see a doctor or at least toshut up about this nonsense before the neighbors hear me. Could you seeher tomorrow evening? She'd never come here, feeling as she does, but Ithought if you would come to dinner you might hypnotize her unawaresor--"
"I don't think that's feasible under the circum--"
"Isn't it really? I'm afraid I don't know much about this sort of thing.I'm quite helpless in this affair, really. I assure you I was driven todesperation to tell you all this; I mean, you must understand thatabsolute silence, secrecy, that is, is our most absolute sacred rule.Perhaps you could just slip something into her drink, knock her out, soto speak, and I could then bodily take her back--"
"Mr. Fairfield," Dr. Quink felt it necessary to interrupt, "you mustunderstand that it would not be ethical for me to do as you suggest. Nowit seems to me that the essence of your wife's peculiarity lies in herrelationship with you, her husband. So if you don't mind, perhaps wemight talk about you for a while. It might be more comfortable for youon the couch. Please, it doesn't obligate you in any way. Yes, that'smuch better, isn't it. And I'll sit here, if I may. Now, then, go on,just tell me all about yourself. Go on just start talking. You'll findit'll come by itself after you get started."
* * * * *
"I suppose I asked for this. I mean, coming here as I did. I don't knowwhat else I could have done, though. They prepare one for everyemergency, as well, of course, as one can foresee the future, which isin this case actually the past, speaking chronologically. Yourchronology, that is, not ours. I'm sure you follow me, though it seemsto me I'm talking in circles. Are we accomplishing very much, do youthink?"
"We mustn't be impatient," Dr. Quink said. "These things come slowly,they take time, if you'll pardon the expression. But of course, it'simpudent of _me_ to lecture _you_ on temporal effects."
"Not at all, not at all, I assure you. I am no expert on the timecontinuum, no expert in the slightest. I daresay I don't understand themost basic principles behind it, just as you aren't required tounderstand electromagnetic theory in order to flick on the electriclight. In fact, I believe it wasn't even necessary for Edison tounderstand it in order to invent the damned thing."
"You know about Edison then?"
"Oh, certainly. I've studied up quite a bit on this section of ourhistory."
"You're sure," Dr. Quink went on, "that you simply didn't learn aboutEdison in grammar school?"
"Quite. Oh, yes, quite. No offense meant, sir, but you must certainlyrealize that between my time and this there have been a great manydiscoveries in the manifold fields embraced by science, so that peoplewho in your own time were famous to schoolchildren are now, then, thatis,--oh, I hope you know what I mean--known only to scholars of theperiod involved. In the time to which I belong the schoolchildren mayknow of Newton, Einstein and Fisher, but of such lesser luminaries asEdison, or even Avogadro or Galdeen, they are quite ignorant."
"Galdeen?"
"Yes, Galdeen. Surely you know of Galdeen. Perhaps I'm mispronouncingit. Oh, damn. I'm actually rather proud of my knowledge of yourhistories, I hate to be tripped up on something like this. Galineed,perhaps?"
"Well, it's not worth bothering about."
"Damned annoying, just the same. It's on the tip of my tongue. Galeel?"
"Would you mind very much if we went on to some other subject? I don'tthink we're gaining much right here."
* * * * *
"You're the doctor, you know," Fairfield replied. "I was just explaininghow I knew about Edison, though I never attended grammar school in thiscentury. So, then, where were we? You asked me to tell you about myself,didn't you? You know, I'd much rather you told me about yourself."Fairfield suddenly sat upright on the couch, drew his legs up to hischest, crossed his ankles, and hugged his knees. "I was noticing thatpicture you have hanging on the wall," he said. "The sea, la mer, dasWeltmeer, te misralub, et cetera. The roaring, crashing waves, thebubbling, foaming spray. The deep dank mystery of the green wet sea.Marvelous, marvelous. Do you indulge in sex? I mean you, personally, ofcourse, not as a representative of your species."
Victor Quink laid down his pad in his lap. "I'm not married, Mr.Fairfield," he said. "Do you often ask such questions of people you'verecently met?"
"The sun came up this morning, Dr. Quink," Fairfield answered jovially,"the sun came up. You'll pardon my answer, of course, I was merelytrying to top your own non sequitur. Many of your people do indulge,you know. In fact, it would seem, from my own necessarily limitedobservations, that it is more universal in its appeal than any of yourother sports. Do you classify it as a sport? It's amazing, really, howthese simple connections escape one until one tries to formulate one'srecollections into a consistent line of reasoning. Have you evernoticed? Of course, though, you do it for procreation, don't you? _Now_I mean you as a representative of your species, naturall
y. Seeing as youare not married, eh, doctor," and he winked at Quink. "It seems to me,however, and again I insist that I am no expert in the field, howeverit does seem to me that this matter of procreation is in many casesjust an excuse; there seems to be an inherent taste for mating per se,or wouldn't you agree?"
"You seem to take a disinterested view of the whole business, Mr.Fairfield. Do _you_, ah,