Cryptozoic! (27 page)

He was nudging James to the door, opening it. "Look, Mr. -- sir . . .
I admit that Ted's a bit high-flown, egotistical, and all that. He was
always very individual, even as a boy -- but, look . . ." Language
was breaking down. James skirmished on the threshold, searching for
a formula. "You, as a doctor, sir, can help Ted to a state between
. . . well, between this rampant individualism of his and the -- the
impersonal what-d'-y'-call-it of our state, can't you?"
"Anonymity?"
"Er, no . . perhaps that's what he's escaping from."
"'The personal anonymity' . . ."
"Oh, I see what you mean. Well -- "
"As I've told you, my present duty is simply to keep your son quiet.
Now, this way!"
No longer masking his impatience, Frankland pushed James out of his room.
In the corridor, a scuffle was going on. A lean man clad in grey pyjamas
stood in a doorway a little way off, struggling to get away from two female
nurses. He was calling for the supervisor.
"Dr. Wenlock, you must come back to bed!" one of the nurses said,
tugging at his arm.
"Excuse me!" Frankland exclaimed, and ran down the corridor towards the
struggling group. Before he got there, a burly orderly in a white overall
emerged from inside the room, put a hand over the patient's face, and
dragged him ruthlessly back out of sight. The door slammed. The incident
was over in a few seconds.
Frankland returned, red in the face. "I have other work to do, Mr. Bush --
work of a rather pressing nature. No doubt you can find your own way out?"
There was nothing for it but to go.
The Carlfield Institution stood in ample grounds, bounded by a high wall.
The dentist knew he could catch a bus fairly close to the front gates.
With only two changes of bus he could be home; but the connections were
bad and few buses ran in these hard times. It was raining steadily.
He had no hat. He wound his scarf over his head and pulled up the collar
of his thin mack before setting off bravely down the drive. It would be good
to get home and have a drink. He was shaking a little.
Frankland had defeated him, of course. Next time he came, he would demand
to see one of the SKGs Ted was supposed to be working on. Somehow, the truth
had not been told. It was all very distressing.
Ceased to relate indeed! He and Ted would always be related, whatever
happened to the boy. Of course, the blame for all this could be laid
partly at Lavinia's door! No, that wasn't fair; it was the fault of
the time they were living in. James began to pray as the rain whipped
through him.
The drive was a long one. He could feel his legs getting wet through his
trousers. He'd have a mustard bath when he got home, if there was enough
mustard left; otherwise he'd be laid up. What misery it was, growing old,
and at times like these! O Lord, in thy infinite mercy look down . . .
They checked his pass at the gate and he walked through into the
undistinguished street. Head down as he moved towards the bus stop,
he never saw the slight-figured girl standing watching under a tree, water
dripping from her lank fair hair. She could have touched him as he passed.
O Lord, in thy infinite mercy. . . .

"One of
the best
S.F. novels
of the
decade."
Science Fiction Book Club
Edward Bush is a young artist millions of
years from home, sketching the desolate
landscapes of the Devonian age. There he
meets Ann, another mind traveler, and they
decide to travel together to the later
Jurassic age -- where they materialize
beside a 20-foot stegosaurus.
Thus begins an extraordinary adventure
across aeons of time, from Bush's home
time, 2093 A.D., to the utterly alien
experience of time uncreated -- the
CRYPTOZOIC!