Chapter 17
When Ben entered the sitting room, he recognised the place as where he had, very recently, been ‘spooked’ by the fluttering of a curtain, which Sam had disrupted with the breeze from a hand fan.
Now, it was a lot less creepy, and more depressing. The mood in the room was sombre and quiet, and the residents where basically keeping to themselves. Heads down, or staring out the window.
“Alright Mister Beiderman,” Nurse Chatam murmured in a tone that struck Ben as an attempt at ‘motherly’ that drifted uncomfortably into condescension. “You just let me know if you’re getting nervous, okay? I know there’s a lot of people in here today. I’ll be just across the hall—got it?”
“Got it,” Ben replied, trying not to sound too put-off.
The nurse left the room, and Ben looked for somewhere to sit and try and figure out what was going on. If Addison showed up, there wouldn’t be anywhere private to speak to her. This wasn’t an ideal situation.
“Hey—did she just call you ‘Mister Beiderman?’” came the voice of a man who was sitting on the floor against a wall, a picture book in his lap.
Ben nodded, squinting at the man. He had an innocent look in his deep brown eyes. Innocent, but with a twinge of sadness.
The man shook his head in wonder. “Wow! I can’t believe it happened again!”
“What happened?” Ben approached the man, who was grinning up at him.
“Well… sometimes, Mister Beiderman turns into somebody else. A whole different person! I seen it with my own two eyes! It happened, um—two years ago, I guess. The last guy got real sick from the electroshocks. They don’t do that to Mister Beiderman no more. Nope.”
“Are you… talking about Sam Beckett?” Ben said in a whisper, lowering himself to the ground.
“Uhh, yeah, Al told me that was his name. But he was calling himself all different names. It was like he was changing channels on the TV.” He leaned in close, dropping the volume of his voice. “One of them was a lady, but Al kept calling her a ‘him.’” He snorted as if it was a funny joke.
“So…” Ben said, gesturing to himself, “when you look at me, you see…”
“A Chinaman!” The gormless man gave Ben a wide smile.
Ben winced, and suppressed the urge to laugh. “Uh, I’m Korean actually.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said, shaking his head. “I ain’t never met no Korean people before. So what’s your name? I’m Tibby.”
Ben’s eyes scanned the room, and decided it was safe enough to reveal his name. “Ben.”
“Nice to meetcha, Ben,” Tibby said, extending his hand. Ben accepted his enthusiastic shake. “Are you here to help me at reading? Because that’s what Al did before, and I’m learning—just like he said I would. See?” He proudly held up his children’s book.
Ben smiled at the mention of Al. This guy had seen Al alive more recently than anyone he knew.
“Well, I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing here,” Ben muttered, rubbing a hand over his chin. “But maybe we can help each other out… I’ll help you with your reading, and maybe you can tell me more about Sam—uh, both Sams, I guess.”
“You have yourself a deal, Ben!” Tibby said with a grin, and jumped to his feet, excitedly crossing to the bookshelf.
* * *
Magic rubbed his eyes. He’d been going through these old films for a while now. They were largely boring—the same questions again and again, and rarely a different result.
Though, as time went on, it became obvious that Sam Beiderman was getting more and more unwell. Less eye contact, less personal care, less structure in his sentences. It was as though his whole person was wearing away bit by bit. From the beginning, there hadn’t been much light in his eyes, but what little had been there was dead in the water after a couple of years.
That was how he’d so easily noticed Ben. There was a complete change in demeanour from one day to the next.
And it was also how he noticed Sam.
But it wasn’t the intelligent-eyed, cautious demeanour that had been indicative of Ben that tipped him off, but rather something much closer to panic. Wild fear in those dark eyes.
Magic leaned in at this new development. The film was dated February 13th, 1955. A matter of months after the initial leap that started it all.
Sam Beiderman’s face on the previous day had been listless, and his words came out in mutters. But today, his eyes were wide and sharp.
“Please state your name.”
“Sam. Beckett,” he said, eyes focused on the camera lens rather than the doctor behind it.
“I’m sorry? Did you say ‘Beckett?’”
Sam nodded. “I don’t know if he knows I’m here, but I need to get a message to the future.”
“If who knows you’re here? And what do you mean the future?”
“Sam Beiderman. I—look, I think I’m gonna die.” He looked down at his wrists, nervously rubbing at one of them. “I’m—I’m from the future, and I hope to God these film reels survive until then.”
“So, you’re a new personality. Mister Beckett.”
Sam dropped his gaze. “Doctor, actually. And—sure, feel free to interpret me as such.” He chuckled. “I already know you did.”
“You’re a doctor from the future?”
“Yes.” His eyes moved back to the camera. “Janis, we need your help. I think Ben’s more temporally stable than me, because they only identified him once. If you can figure out the date he’s stuck in, you may be able to target his brainwaves; but you need to account in your equations for the precise displacement from the prime temporal coordinates. If you can do that, you just might be able to sync up your hologram with him.”
“I’m sorry—are you talking to your friends in the future right now?”
Sam sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Trying to.” He let his hand slide down his face and off his unshaven chin, and returned his focus to the camera. “Listen, we somehow need to help Beiderman. I just hope it’s not too late.”
“Mister—uh, Doctor Beckett,” the psychiatrist behind the camera cut in, “that’s what we’re trying to do here. Help Mister Beiderman. Help you.”
“Well, you failed,” Sam said flatly. “But—so did I. I failed him the worst.” He looked downward. “And if this is my penance, I just hope Ben doesn’t suffer for my mistakes.”
The film cut off there.
“Oh boy,” Magic mumbled, and stood up to call everyone in to his office.