London? Did she say?â
âShe enjoyed the performance.â
âMusic hall,â the senator explained to Blake. âRevival of an ancient entertainment form. Very primitive, I understand. My wife is taken with it. She is an arty person.â
âWhat a horrible thing to say,â said Elaine.
âNot at all,â said the senator. âItâs the truth. But to get back to this business of bioengineering. Perhaps, Mr. Blake, you have some opinions.â
âNo,â said Blake, âI canât say that I have. I find myself somewhat out of touch.â
âOut of touch? Oh, yes, I suppose you would be. This business of the stars. I recall the story now. Encapsulated, as I remember it, and found by some asteroid miners. What system was it, now?â
âOut in the Antares neighborhood. A small starâjust a number, not a name. But I remember none of that. They waited to revive me until I was brought to Washington.â
âAnd you remember nothing?â
âNot a thing,â said Blake. âMy life began, so far as Iâm concerned, less than a month ago. I donât know who I am or â¦â
âBut you have a name.â
âA mere convenience,â said Blake. âOne that I picked out. John Smith would have done as well. It seems a man must have a name.â
âBut, as I recall it, you had background knowledge.â
âYesâand that is a strange thing. A knowledge of the earth and of its people and of its ways, but in many ways hopelessly outdated. I continually am astounded. I stumble into customs and beliefs and words that are unfamiliar to me.â
Elaine said, quietly, âYou donât need to talk about it. We hadnât meant to pry.â
âI donât mind,â Blake told her. âIâve accepted the situation. Itâs a strange position to be in, but some day I may know. It may come back to meâwho I am and where I came from and when. And what happened out there. At the moment, as you may understand, I am considerably confused. Everyone, however, has been considerate. I was given a house to live in. And Iâve not been bothered. Itâs in a little village.â¦â
âThis village?â asked the senator. âNearby, I presume.â
âI donât actually know,â said Blake. âSomething funny happened to me. I donât know where I am. The village is called Middleton.â
âThatâs just down the valley,â said the senator. âNot five miles from here. It would seem that we are neighbors.â
âI went out after dinner,â Blake told them. âI was on the patio, looking toward the mountains. A storm was coming up. Big black clouds and lightning, but still a good ways off. And then, suddenly, I was on the hill across the creek from this place and the rain was coming down and I was soaked â¦â
He stopped and set down his brandy glass, carefully, on the hearth. He stared from one to the other of them.
âThatâs the way it was,â he said. âI know that it sounds wild.â
âIt sounds impossible,â said the senator.
âI am sure it does,â said Blake. âAnd there was not only space, but time, as well, involved. Not only did I find myself some miles away from where I had been standing, but it was night and when I stepped out on the patio dusk had just begun to fall.â
âI am sorry,â said the senator, âthat the stupid guard threw the light on you. Finding yourself here must have been shock enough. I donât ask for guards. I donât even want them. But Geneva insists that all senators must be guarded. I donât know exactly why. There is no one, I am sure, thirsting for our blood. Finally, after many years, Earth is at least partway civilized.â
âThere is this bioengineering business,â said Elaine. âFeelings do run high.â
âNothing is