CHAPTER I

My first sensation on awakening was of being submerged and fighting my way back to the surface. Then a murmur of women’s voices.

“He’s breathing naturally now, but keep the pulmonator ready in case of a relapse.”

My mouth was forced open and some liquid of a salty taste ran like fire down my throat.

“What temperature?”

“Raise him to ten above zero, but slowly and hold it there for ten minutes. Then continue to heat the body gradually until we reach forty. How is the heart action?”

“Strong.”

“Respiration?”

“Excellent.”

“Give him the saline every half hour.”

After that I must have lapsed into unconsciousness again, for the next impressions were fitful and interrupted like the lifting and settling of a fog at sea. Gradually under the effects of some powerful restorative I became feebly awake, but every sensation of the body was diminished. I heard sounds as though from a great distance. From time to time I was aware of the same salty, fiery liquid passing down my throat. My eyes perceived the glimmerings of a colored light and my body felt in its numbness a touch of warmth, as though a myriad of small flies were delicately passing over the dried surfaces of my skin. This feeling of returning sensation became more acute. I opened my eyes, but the effort was like a straining of the back muscles to raise an unaccustomed weight. I tried to raise my hand but found no reaction. Again I went through the mental processes of ordering my limbs to move only to find that not the slightest physical response occurred. My mind was awake, my body asleep. Some heavy substance enclosed my eyes and let in a diluted minimum of feeble purple light.

My first thought was that I was coming out of ether but my brain was clearing so rapidly that I rejected this explanation. I tried to remember and discovered that my memories were clear. I recalled distinctly the last words of my friend, Dr. Sachaloff, the boring sensation of his eyes above me and the pleasant sensation of fading consciousness. Was I awake or in the grip of an artificial dream induced by an opiate? Were the voices I heard about me simply the figments of my imagination?

At this moment I felt a sensation of warmth at the back of my neck which gradually extended over my back and down my arms like the tingling heat of a myriad electric needles.

“Are you conscious now?” said a voice.

By great effort I succeeded in producing a sound in my throat.

“I hear you. Everything is going well. Relax completely. I am going to put you to sleep again while we complete the defrigeration of your body. By tomorrow all will be normal.”

“What beautiful teeth and all his own,” I heard another voice say as I passed blissfully into unconsciousness.

* * * * *

When I awoke for the second time, I found myself strapped to a stretcher, enveloped in warm soft coverings. My head alone was free to move but a bandage over my eyes shut out all opportunity to see what was transpiring about me. At the motion of my head a soft hand was placed on my shoulder and a voice said:

“How do you feel?”

“All right.”

“Are you warm enough?”

“Yes.”

“Any buzzing in your head or ears?”

“No.”

“Can you move your fingers?”

“Perfectly.”

“Your feet?”

“The same.”

“Without pain?”

“Absolutely.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Not particularly.”

“Thirsty?”

“No.”

“Is there anything you want?”

“I want to see.”

“Very well, but be careful to obey implicitly my directions. Otherwise you may be blinded by too sudden an exposure to the light.”

A heavy glass frame replaced the bandages.

“I am giving you a fortifying solution to strengthen your eyesight. Open your eyes and keep them open. Does that hurt?”

“No, very pleasant.”

“Now I am letting in the light gradually. If you feel any strain tell me at once.”

I became aware of the same misty violet light that I remembered on first awakening. This dissolved into a greyish blue, to be succeeded by a green changing to orange. This process of gradual modification lasted about two hours, without having produced any disagreeable effect. My eyes were again washed out and a pair of greyish glasses replaced the weight on my forehead. I sat up and looked about me.

The first thing I perceived was a great stretch of blue sky without horizon. At the same time I was aware of a pleasant floating motion. My first thought was that I was on the deck of a ship, riding on a lazy sea. But a second glance showed neither masts nor funnels to mar the blue unity above me. I soon recognized that I was in an open air hospital, with rows of white cots and moving white-clad nurses. Probably, I was on top of a modern skyscraper, two or three thousand feet from the ground. A score of women in loose Grecian robes were standing around, gazing at me with the utmost curiosity. Two things struck me at once. They were all of a uniform stature, at least seven feet in height, slender, broad-shouldered, and all had the blue eyes and pale yellow hair of the true Scandinavian blonde. Furthermore as far as I could judge, they appeared all to be of an age between twenty-five and thirty. One who evidently was of superior rank approached and put me through the following interrogatory:

“Have you any sensation of dizziness?”

“Not the slightest.”

“You can move your arms freely?”

“Perfectly.”

“Do you feel able to answer a few questions?”

“Gladly. Only tell me where I am.”

“You are in the Aerodrome Hospital above New York.”

“Above? How far above?”

“About three miles.”

“How long have I been here?”

“A month. We have purposely extended the defrigeration process in your case to eliminate all danger of sudden shock.”

“What month is this, then?”

“Athena, the thirteenth month of the year.”

“And the date?”

“2181.”

Strange to say I felt no giddiness. From my first awakening, I had been prepared to find Dr. Sachaloff’s experiment successful, though I confess the extent of my journey through time was unexpected.

“Now if it does not tire you too much--”

“Not at all. I feel astonishingly well.”

“What year then were you committed to the Frigidrome?”

“1929.”

There was an outburst of exclamations at this. I felt myself the cynosure of all eyes.

“You are certain of the date?”

“Absolutely. November 15th, 1929.”

“But the Frigidrome was not in general use until the year 2075.”

“Nevertheless I repeat the date was November 15, 1929, tenth year of prohibition, and two weeks after the collapse of the stock market in the reign of Mr. Hoover.”

I heard a murmur in which I distinctly caught the words, “prohibition,” “stock market,” “Hoover,” pronounced in various degrees of incomprehension.

“You speak of things that are strange to us. For the moment we’ll postpone our inquiry until you have had time to thoroughly recover. But first, what is your name?”

“My family name? Bogardus. John Bogardus.”

“Family name? What is that?”

“Why the name of the father and mother--the name of the children. Family name--name of the family.” I looked around at their puzzled expressions and a light dawned on me. “What--doesn’t the family exist? Has marriage been abolished?”

My interlocutor made a sign to her companions who withdrew, and approaching me said gently:

“Bogardus, if what you say is true, you will find many startling changes. You must prepare yourself, but your arrival here is so revolutionary that in the interests of science we must guard against any shock that might affect your brain.”

In my impatience, I started to make a feverish protest but a hand laid on my lips stopped me short.

“Never fear. I shall take the best of care of you. Tomorrow, we’ll talk over many things. Now as the weather bureau is turning on the rain tonight, we must hurry down.” She stopped and looking at me with a fascinated intentness said, “Bogardus, you have the most beautiful hair and teeth I’ve ever seen. And I love your eyes and smile. We don’t have males like you now-a-days.”

She put her arms under me and lifted me lightly up, holding me a moment suspended. Her blue eyes were close over mine, she was smiling with a smile that was tantalizing, magnetic, and ardently possessive. She reminded me, yes, all at once she reminded me of Ernesta.

“I’ve seen you before,” I said drowsily. “What is your name?”

“Acquilla.”

I could not meet the flame in her glance, my eyelids closed and with a sigh, my head relaxed against her protecting breast.