Time to Time: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective (Ashton Ford Series) by Don Pendleton Page B

unlike any I had ever seen anywhere but still vaguely familiar here
and there, like viewing abstract art; the same with riotously colored fields of
flowers, great bowers of flowering shrubs, towering vines climbing into the
purple sky like seabeds of kelp rising from ocean depths.
    I
was startled by the scene but, again, not alarmed. I walked right into it. I do
remember halting and looking back after maybe a dozen strides, expecting to see
the fog bank behind me. Instead, I was centered in the scene and there was
nothing behind me but more of the same.
    I
remember thinking, there's no way back, but even that came with no sense of
alarm.
    There
was no pathway or roadway, nothing whatever to suggest a desired direction of
travel, no artificial structures to indicate human presence or activity. It
seemed at first to be an entirely static scene, with myself the only sentient
creature within it.
    I
was aware of a greatly heightened sensitivity within myself, as though all my
senses were extended and tingling into the contact with this strange
environment. I was breathing easily and walking effortlessly; I felt light, almost
buoyant; the air was sweet with odors and it seemed that I could even feel it
touching my face. I felt great, almost exhilarated, and I was thoroughly
enjoying my walk though I had no idea where I was or where I was going.
    I
came onto a canal and strolled along its bank for a while before noticing that
the water was totally transparent yet I could not see anything representing a
bottom in its depths. The other bank was forty feet or so distant and though
the canal wound through the landscape, it seemed to hold that same width for as
far as I could follow it with my eyes. I could see things moving deep beneath
the surface but they were so far away I could not identify definite shapes or
patterns to the movements.
    I
stopped and sat down close to the water's edge and lit a cigarette. It tasted
terrible. I tried to poke the cigarette into the water to put it out, but it
would not penetrate the surface. It was like trying to shove a finger into
stiff Jell-O.
    I
was thinking how very weird that was, yet I accepted it without even reaching
for an explanation. It was simply water that could not be penetrated from its
surface.
    But
then I very quickly received a demonstration that the water was not solid like
Jell-O. I saw a form approaching leisurely from the depths; it grew larger and
larger on a direct approach to where I sat until finally I recognized the
object as a dolphin—well, sort of a dolphin.
    It
broke the surface no more than three feet from where I sat, only its head
projecting from the water although I could see clearly the entire body as
though it were suspended in air before me. This dolphin had very humanlike eyes
and its face was highly expressive.
    I
did not see its mouth move but I distinctly heard with my ears a very pleasant
voice speaking in my language, incredibly gentle and melodious.
    "I
thought I saw something up there. Hello. What are you called?"
    Now
I know this must sound to you like Alice in Wonderland or some such, but it
only made me wonder again where Lewis Carroll got his idea for that story in
the first place. I mean I had a divided consciousness here. I knew that it was
a bizarre experience, but at the same moment I was going along with it as
though it was perfectly natural and commonplace. I mean, you know, talking to a
dolphin.
    I
replied, "I am called Ashton Ford. Who are you?"
    "Ashton
Ford," the dolphin repeated. "That is a pleasing sound. I am called
Ambudala." This is a phonetic approximation. It was a definite
four-syllable sound but with musical components that do not translate into
writing.
    I
said, "Pleased to meet you. I seem to be a little lost. I thought Penny
Laker lived here but I can't seem to find her house. Do you know Penny?"
    Ambudala
replied, "Perhaps I have heard the name but I would not know her if she is
a house-dweller. If you would rest a moment,