The Prophetic Camera Read online

that I've beenafraid to divulge it." He gave a sad shake of his head. "People todayare so unwilling to accept the unusual."

  Joey writhed inwardly. This was worse than he had thought. He would makeNugent pay. "Mr. Nugent said something about your photographing anotherdimension," he prompted.

  The old man pushed himself to his feet. "It was accidental. I've dabbledin amateur photography for years." He limped over to his camera. "Notonly took pictures--developed my own." He paused and looked verydirectly at Joey. "About six years ago, I began experimenting with a newdeveloper."

  Ewing's eyes were disturbing. Joey looked away. "You had used commercialdevelopers before?"

  "Yes." Ewing gripped the camera. "I wanted a developer that would give amore sharply defined image. I tried fifty different formulae--neverquite achieving what I had in mind."

  Joey lit a cigarette. "You must have spent a lot of time on it."

  "I had retired. I live alone here. No other interests." The phrases camein little gasps, as if Ewing had to force the words between his lips."Made no progress. And then, I tried Formula #53."

  The pause indicated Joey was expected to react. "Formula #53?"

  Ewing moved back to the light. "My fifty-third experiment. Radicaldeparture from commercial developers."

  "It succeeded?"

  "It succeeded, Mr. Barrett, but not in the way I had imagined." Thefish-white hands rested on the photo album. "I developed some film inFormula #53 and received the shock of my life." His voice was a whisper."The pictures on the negative were NOT the pictures I had taken."

  He paused to watch the effect on Barrett. Joey scratched his ear. "Youtook one set of pictures and the negatives you got were of another set?"

  "I know what you're thinking," Ewing said. "What I thought at first:that I'd gotten hold of the wrong film. But that wasn't the answer. Thesame thing happened again and again. Whenever I used Formula #53 as mydeveloper, I produced a strange set of pictures."

  Joey stood up nervously. The old boy was crazier than he had firstguessed. Humoring him seemed the only answer. "That's incredible."

  Ewing nodded excitedly. "I thought I was losing my mind. But, slowly, Ibegan to realize what had happened."

  "What?"

  The old man sank into the chair by the table. "School of modernphilosophers ... teaches all time is co-existent."

  Joey felt almost sorry for the old boy. He was so much in earnest abouthis crack-brained discovery. "Time ... co-existent?"

  "Past, present, future--all simultaneous. Running along in paralleldimensions."

  * * * * *

  Joey tried a laugh. "Little rough for me, Mr. Ewing," he apologized."Look," he went on quickly, "I've been thinking...."

  But Ewing wasn't listening. "Simplify it. At this moment, Caesarcrossing the Rubicon; Columbus is discovering America; you and I aretalking; a man in the twenty-fifth century is rocketing toward Mars."

  "I see what you mean."

  Ewing was holding the old fashioned photo album in his lap. "Well, Iknow now that what I've stumbled into with Formula #53 is anotherdimension in time."

  "You mean that ... that you can take a picture of what's happening inanother time?"

  Ewing nodded. "I know it's difficult to grasp, Mr. Barrett." He held outthe plush-covered album. "But I have proof."

  Joey stepped toward the old man. "You've got pictures in there--picturesof this other dimension?"

  "Yes." He fumbled in his vest pocket, found a small key, and withtrembling hand inserted it in the album lock. "I've never shown anyonethese pictures before," he said.

  Despite himself, Joey felt excited. Even as he dismissed Ewing as ahopeless crackpot, he was disturbingly eager to see the pictures in theold album.

  Ewing gestured for him to be seated. Joey sat in the chair near thetable and the old man handed him the open album.

  "So far," Ewing said, "I haven't been able to control the process. Iphotograph a subject and the picture may be projected ten years into thefuture or a hundred years into the past. There must be an infinitenumber of dimensions registered on the film, but my developer varies."

  Joey's initial eagerness was quickly dissipated. The photographs in thealbum were disappointingly ordinary. True, there were some that seemedto be trick-shots and a few in which the costuming was unfamiliar, butcertainly nothing to document the old boy's claim. Aside from a fewshots that were interesting because of their violence, there was nothingin the album.

  Ewing waited for Joey's reaction--the parchment face even more deeplywrinkled by excitement--the blue eyes blazing.

  "Well, Mr. Barrett?"

  Joey left the album open at the picture of a gruesome accident.Apparently, two cars had met head-on. The one had been a sleekconvertible. The other was an old sedan. Both were terribly crumpled.Glass littered the street. Steam spewed from the twisted radiator of theold wreck.

  A man sprawled from the front seat of the sedan--an elderly man, with awhite beard--a beard spattered with blood. His sightless eyes staredaccusingly at the small cluster of onlookers who surrounded the wreck.Nearby, thrown from the crushed convertible by the impact, lay a woman.She wore an extreme evening dress, and a fur cape had fallen not farfrom her body. All around her were pearls ... spilled from the brokenstrand at her throat.

  Joey looked up at Ewing. He shook his head. "You've got some interestingpictures, but I can't see that they prove your theory. They could havebeen taken any time." He pointed to the photo of the wreck. "This one,for instance." He smiled up at the old man. "That looks like a shot Imight have made."

  Ewing's entire body seemed shaken by his eagerness to prove his point."Mr. Barrett ... that picture is of an accident that hasn't occurred.One evening, I took a picture of the street out there ... at the corner... where our street joins the Boulevard." His voice was low, urgent."When I snapped that photo, the street was deserted. There were nocars--no people."

  * * * * *

  Joey took another look at the wreck. He closed the album with finality."Mr. Ewing," he said, "I'm not questioning your sincerity. I can seethat you're convinced your developer has extraordinary powers."

  "But you don't believe me." There was despair in the old man's voice."What can I say to make you believe that you've just looked at thepicture of an accident that's yet to happen."

  Joey laid the album on the table. "It's an interesting theory."

  Ewing moved to his camera. "It's more than a theory. I can prove it." Heducked behind the camera. "Let me take your picture, Mr. Barrett, andI'll prove it."

  "Wait a minute!" Joey half rose from the chair in protest, and then,with a shrug subsided. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"

  "Thank you," Ewing answered. He focused the camera, cut on extra lights,posed Joey, took his picture.

  The ordeal over, Joey moved toward the door.

  "You'll see, Mr. Barrett. This picture will convince you."

  Joey nodded. "Sure, sure. You give me a call."

  They were in the entry-hall. "As I said," Ewing continued, "I haven'tmuch time. That's why I'm very anxious to pass on my discovery. It coulddo great good--in the right hands."

  Joey opened the door. "I understand," he said. "You give me a call."

  "I will."

  Joey was outside--the door between him and Ewing's pathetic eagerness.As he bounded down the steps, he was devising a revenge extreme enoughfor Nugent.

  He slipped in behind the wheel. It was surprising that anyone as nearpsycho as Ewing should be loose. The old boy had lived too long alone inthe empty house.

  Just as he drew away from the curb, Joey heard the crash. Squealingrubber, splintering glass, rending metal, perhaps a human scream ...compounded into an awful discord that ricocheted against the quietbrownstone fronts, building to a crescendo of metallic anguish.

  After the first moment of surprise, Joey experienced the curiousexaltation he always felt at a scene of violence. The trip wasn't awaste after all. He'd get a pictu
re, and from the sound of the crash, itwould be a good one.

  As he clambered out of his car, camera ready, people were running downsteps, cars were swinging off the boulevard--the first cluster of thecurious was collecting.

  With professional assurance, Joey brushed people aside and moved in. Onecar had been stopped at the intersection and the other had careened offthe boulevard and smashed head-on into it.

  Joey stopped on the crowd's inner