“It’s the man at the Psychophysical Institute,” announced Dunedin.
The male nurse announced that, for a change, Joseph Noggle was claiming to be Joseph Noggle.
Park grabbed his bonnet and drove the steamer over. Borup asked: “But, my dear, dear Hallow, why must you — uh — see this one patient? There are plenty mair who could use your ghostly guidance.”
Fool amateur, thought Park. If he doesn’t want me to know why he wants to keep Noggle locked up, why doesn’t he say he’s violent or something? This way he’s giving away his whole game. But aloud he gave a few smooth, pious excuses, and got in to see his man.
The original, authentic Noggle had a quick, nervous manner. It didn’t take him more than a minute to catch on to who Park-Scoglund was.
“Look here,” he said. “Look here. I’ve got to get out. I’ve got to get at my books and onmarkings. If I don’t get out now, while I’m in my own body, I shan’t be able to stop this damned merry-go-round for another six days!”
“You mean, my son, that you occupy your own body every six days? What happens the rest of the time?”
“The rest of the time I’m going around the wheel, indwelling ane after another of the bodies of the other men on my wheel. And the minds of these other men are following me around likewise. So every ane of the six bodies has each of our six minds in it in turn every six days.”
“I see.” Park smiled benignly. “And what’s this wheel you talk about?”
“I call it my wheel of if. Each of the other five men on it are the men I should most likely have been if certain things had been otherwise. For instance, the man in whose body my mind dwelt yesterday was the man I should most likely have been if King Egbert had fallen off his horse in 1781.”
Park didn’t stop to inquire about King Egbert or the sad results of his poor equestrianism. He asked softly: “How did your wheel get started in the first place?”
“It was when I tried to stop yours! Law of keeping of psychic momentum, you know. I got careless, and the momentum of your wheel was overchanged to mine. So I’ve been going around ever since. Now look here, whatever your name is, I’ve got to get out of here, or I’ll never get stopped. I ordered them to let me out this morning, but all they’d say was that they’d see about it tomorrow. Tomorrow my body’ll be occupied by some other wheel-mate, and they’ll say I’m crazy again. Borup won’t let me go anyway if he can help it; he likes my job. But you’ve got to use your inflowing as bishop-”
“Oh,” said Park silkily, “I’ve got to use my influence, eh? Just one more question. Are we all on wheels? And how many of these possible worlds are there?”
“Yes, we’re all on wheels. The usual number of rooms on a wheel is fourteen — that’s the number on yours — though it sometimes varies. The number of worlds is infinite, or almost, so that the chances that anybody on my wheel would be living in the same world as anybody on yours is pretty small. But that’s not weightful. The weightful thing is to get me out so-”
“Ah yes, that’s the weightful thing, isn’t it? But suppose you tell me why you started my wheel in the first place?”
“It was just a forseeking in the mental control of wheels.”
“You’re lying,” said Park softly.
“Oh, I’m lying, am I? Well then, reckon out your own reason.”
“I’m sorry that you take this attitude, my son. How can I help you if you won’t put your trust in me and in God?”
“Oh, come on, don’t play-act. You’re not the bishop, and you know it.”
“Ah, but I was a churchman in my former being.” Park fairly oozed holiness. “That’s not odd, is it? Since I was the man the bishop would most likely have been if King Oswiu had chosen for the Romans, and the Arabs had lost the battle of Tours.”
“You’d hold yourself bound by professional confidence?” Park looked shocked. “What a thock! Of course I would.”
“All right. I’m something of a sportsman, you know. About a month ago I got badly pinched by the ponies, and I — ah — borrowed a little heading on my pay from the Institute’s funds. Of course I’d have paid it back; it was really quite an honest deed. But I had to make a few little — ah — rightings in the books, because otherwise one who didn’t understand the conditions might have drawn the wrong thocks from them.
“Ivor MacSvensson somehow found out, and threatened to put me in jail if I didn’t use my mental powers to start your wheel of if going until it had made a half-turn, and then stop it. With another man’s mind in the bishop’s body, it ought to be easy to prove the bishop daft; in any event his inflowing would be destroyed. But as you know, it didn’t work out quite that way. You seemingly aren’t in anybody’s custody. So you’ll have to do something to get me out.”
Park leaned forward and fixed Noggle with the bishop’s fish-pale eyes. He said harshly: “You know, Noggle, I admire you. For a guy who robs his hospital, and then to get out of it goes and starts fourteen men’s minds spinning around, ruining their lives and maybe driving some of them crazy or to self-killing, you have more gall than a barn rat. You sit there and tell me, one of your victims, that I’ll have to do something to get you out. Why, damn your lousy little soul, if you ever do get out I’ll give you a case of lumps that’ll make you think somebody dropped a mountain on you!”
Noggle paled a bit. “Then — then you weren’t a churchman in your own world?”
“Hell, no! My business was putting lice like you in jail. And I still ock to be able to do that here, with what you so kindly told me just now.”
Noggle swallowed as this sank in. “But — you promised-”
Park laughed unpleasantly. “Sure I did. I never let a little thing like a promise to a crook keep me awake nights.”
“But you want to get back, don’t you? And I’m the only one who can send you back, and you’ll have to get me out of here before I can do anything-”
“There is that,” said Park thoughtfully. “But I don’t know. Maybe I’ll like it here when I get used to it. I can always have the fun of coming around here every sixth day and giving you the horse-laugh.”
“You’re — a devil!”
Park laughed again. “Thanks. You thought you’d get some poor bewildered dimwit in Scoglund’s body, didn’t you? Well, you’ll learn just how wrong you were.” He stood up. “I’ll let you stay here a while more as Dr. Borup’s prize looney. Maybe when you’ve been taken down a peg we can talk business. Meanwhile, you might form a club with those other five guys on your wheel. You could leave notes around for each other to find. So long, Dr. Svengali!”
Ten minutes later Park was in Borup’s office, with a bland episcopal smile on his face. He asked Borup, apropos of nothing in particular, a lot of questions about the rules involving commitment and release of inmates.
“Nay,” said Edwy Borup firmly. “We could — uh — parole a patient in your care only if he were rick most of the time. Those that are wrong most of the time, like poor Dr. Noggle, have to stay here.”
It was all very definite. But Park had known lots of people who were just as definite until pressure was brought to bear on them from the right quarter.
The nearer the Sunday service came, the colder became Allister Park’s feet. Which, for such an aggressive, selfconfident man, was peculiar. But when he thought of all the little details, the kneeling and getting up again, the facing this way and that… He telephoned Cooley at the cathedral. He had, he said, a cold, and would Cooley handle everything but the sermon? “Surely, Hallow, surely. The Lord will see to it that you’re fully restored soon, I hope. I’ll say a special prayer for you…”
It was also time, Park thought, to take Monkey-face into his confidence. He told him all, whereat Dunedin’s eyes grew very large. “Now, old boy,” said Park briskly, “if you ever want to get your master back into his own body, you’ll have to help me out. For instance, here’s that damned sermon. I’m going to read it, and you’ll correct my pronunciation and gestures.”