«You’ve got needles in you. When General Veerspike finally let Doc Archenstone examine you, she was most distressed.» The man made a frowny-face of mock seriousness. «She insisted on proper medical care.» He nodded at the I.V.
«Oh,” said Bantam. «Thanks. I guess. Who are you?»
The man burst into laughter. «Well, you passed the first test! I’m only the most famous man in America. The name’s Cliff Cleveland. Astronaut.»
Astronaut?
Cleveland let go of the tube and landed on his feet with the perfection of a cat or a trained gymnast.
«Hardin wanted to see if you’d let your guard slip when you woke up. See if you were faking. But not you!»
«So what now?» Bantam asked.
«Well, I asked Hardin if I could take you out for a walk. That is, if you feel up to it.»
«You mean … outside?» Bantam asked.
«Yes, I mean outside. You’re still on a leash, mind you. You’re still a prisoner. But … well, to be perfectly honest, they don’t know what to do with you. They can’t let you go — not at least until my launch. But they don’t want to be uncivilized. That would be ungentlemanly, of course. So. Are you game for a walk?»
«Sure,” Bantam replied, hardly able to believe his luck.
«Great,” Cleveland said. «There are clothes in the closet. I’ve heard you say you’re an Army Captain; we have no verification of that so I can’t let you dress as an officer. So for now, you’re a civilian again, and these are civilian clothes. I’ll give you a few hours to get ready.»
Cleveland rose. As he left he said: «Oh, and I would not endeavor to escape via the balcony — it’s a long way between floors, you’d drop to your death. And you’ll be shot while you are dropping. And when you are on the ground, you’ll be shot again. See you in a few hours!»
BANTAM removed the needle from his arm and rose to inspect his surroundings.
One vertigo-laced peek off the balcony verified everything Cleveland had told him. He opted instead for a bath.
It took Bantam nearly half an hour to don the strange clothes they’d given him. The straps and the buttons and collar were thoroughly bizarre.
But it was the newspapers lying around the room that Bantam found the most interesting.
He had expected to see news of World War II. The battles. The dead. The heroes. But he saw none of those things.
Instead, the front page story was about the grand opening of something called the Phlogistonian Aerotel — a spectacular building supposedly ‘installed in the sky itself’, kept perpetually aloft by a combination of dirigibles and propellers.
No way, his mind snorted.
The next story was about the rising fortunes of a company called Neptune, Inc., the leading makers of 'hydrologic' devices. From the article, it sounded like Neptune produced some sort of water-based computing: the reporter connected the rise in stock price to a recent miniaturization advance using the liquid water state as a 1 and steam state as a 0.
What was this?
Was this a joke?
Furiously, he turned the page.
The next article was about the supposed President of the United States: someone called Phineas T. Cobb. President Cobb was apparently en route to the South American summit.
Next came a story about the German Space Program and how it was behind America’s. Ah, here we go, he thought. But then again, it was all wrong. This wasn't Nazi Germany; this was just regular old Germany.
To his utter shock, Bantam read that none other than Albert Einstein was the head of the German Space Program. A picture accompanying the article showed Albert — white hair waving the wind — standing proudly next to the German spacecraft: a great Jules Verne-looking eggish device made of iron and glass and gold. It was attached to a black-diamond pole that stretched up forever.
With a start, Bantam realized it was very similar to the pole he’d seen when he'd first arrived at MacLaren.
After reading the article several times, Bantam surmised that this spacecraft would not ascend with rockets, but instead was to be lifted out of Earth's gravity well by elevator. A space elevator. That's what the giant pole-thing was.
As he flipped pages, he saw several pictures of dirigibles. No airplanes, he noted. Not a one. And people still used horse and buggies to get around, judging from other pictures. There were, however, several ‘personal dirigibles’ it looked like. They were like cars, but with wings and propellers and a cigar-shaped balloon to allow them to fly.
It seemed that the cities were clogged with these things. They flew amongst the buildings at all altitudes.
But on the other hand, they had exotic materials that didn't correspond to anything Bantam knew of in his world. There were several mentions of Unbuntium and Naphtholeum. And a gas called Helux.
And those giant space-elevator poles were not possible in his own world — there was no material strong enough to build something so thin and so tall. And yet, somehow these horse-and-buggy people had managed just that.
He also noticed that in the backgrounds of several pictures there always seemed to be great masses of tubes hoisted above the ground. They were raised by poles, and occupied the place where telephone and power lines would normally be. A few moments later, he came upon a picture in the crime section of someone smashing one of these tubes open and removing cylindrical items from it — this man was referred to as a 'hacker' and ‘a menace to the Pneumanet's security’.
The Pneumanet? Was that supposed to be some sort of Internet?
Everything here was all wrong, all off. This newspaper was like something from an alternate reality, a wrong reality. He felt dizzy suddenly.
Has he traveled to a parallel world? One where electrical things were never invented?
But no, he corrected himself, it was more than that. His own electrical things didn't work here. His iPad and iPhone. The time capsule. And Doctor Hardin had told him electricity didn't exist here …
He had questions. Lots of questions.
There was a knock on the door. Cleveland's voice called out, «Mr. Bantam. Are you ready in there?»
Time for some answers.
THE MACLAREN ARMY base of this world was more like a university campus than anything else. It was idyllic, bucolic, and filled with trees and long rolling lawns, and even gardens with many spectacular varieties of flowers. The base did not have the spartan, sterile feel that usually came everything Army that Bantam had ever known.
It was a foggy morning. It reminded Bantam immediately of his own basic training. A dew clung to the grass and yellow shafts of dawn light danced through the leaves. Rosy-cheeked cadets shouting songs merrily as they jogged in formation. Whenever they passed Cleveland, their eyes drifted to him in wonder and shameless hero-worship. He waved with a broad movie-star grin each time.
«Well aren’t you a proper swell now?» Cleveland had said when he’d first seen him.
«What?»
«Your clothes. You look like a proper swell now.»
«What’s that?»
«A dandy.»
«A what?»
«A fancier. A toff. With that mitting, those kecks and shiny crabshells —! You’re a fancy lad, sure.»
Bantam gave up.
«Sorry about keeping you close. Security and all. You understand,” Cleveland said.
«It’s alright,” Bantam said, eyeing a dirigible crossing the sky. «But I wouldn’t mind if you explained a few things to me.»
«Yes, of course. I love to converse as I stroll. Don’t you?»
«Oh. Well. I don’t really … stroll. But anyway. So I gather that America is not at war with Germany.»
«War? Oh, Heavens, no. Friendly competition, yes. National pride at stake, yes. But not war.»
«Was there a World War I here?»
Cleveland looked confused. «World War you say? No.» Then his eyes twinkled with mischief: «But aren’t you from the future? Shouldn’t you already know all this?»