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“It was never publicized. It was built in 1943 for experiments on nuclear fission.”
    “But Oak Ridge…”
    “That was another one. It was strictly a limited venture. Mostly guesswork. Only a few people outside of the plant knew anything about it.”
    “But…”
    “Listen. We were working with U-238.”
    The priest started to speak.
    “That’s an isotope of uranium. Constitutes the bulk of it; more than 99 percent. But there was no way to make it undergo fission. We were trying to make it do that. Do you understand…”
    The priest’s face reflected his confusion.
    “Never mind,” said the prisoner hurriedly. “It doesn’t matter. What matters is that there was an explosion.”
    “An…”
    “An explosion, an explosion.”
    “Oh. But…” faltered the priest.
    “This was in 1944,” said the prisoner. “That’s…ten years ago. Now I wake up and I’m here in…where are we?”
    “State Penitentiary,” prompted the priest without thinking.
    “Colorado?”
    The priest shook his head.
    “This is New York,” he said.
    The prisoner’s left hand rose to his forehead. He ran nervous fingers through his hair.
    “Two thousand miles,” he muttered. “Ten years.”
    “My son…”
    He looked at the priest.
    “Don’t you believe me?”
    The priest smiled sadly. The prisoner gestured helplessly with his hands.
    “What can I do to prove it? I know it sounds fantastic. Blown through time and space.”
    He knitted his brow.
    “Maybe I didn’t get blown through space and time. Maybe I was blown out of my mind. Maybe I became someone else. Maybe…”
    “Listen to me, Riley.”
    The prisoner’s face contorted angrily.
    “I told you. I’m
not
Riley.”
    The priest lowered his head.
    “Must you do this thing?” he asked. “Must you try so hard to escape justice?”
    “Justice?” cried the prisoner. “For God’s sake is this justice? I’m no criminal. I’m not even the man you say I am.”
    “Maybe we’d better pray together,” said the priest.
    The prisoner looked around desperately. He leaned forward and grasped the priest’s shoulders.
    “Don’t…” started Father Shane.
    “I’m not going to hurt you,” said the prisoner impatiently. “Just tell me about this Riley. Who is he? All right, all right,” he went on as the priest gave him an imploring look. “Who am I supposed to be? What’s my background?”
    “My son, why must you…”
    “Will you
tell
me. For God’s sake I’m to be exec—…that’s it isn’t it? Isn’t it?”
    The priest nodded involuntarily.
    “In less than two hours. Won’t you do what I ask?”
    The priest sighed.
    “What’s my education?” asked the prisoner.
    “I don’t know,” said Father Shane. “I don’t know your education, your background, your family, or…”
    “But it’s not likely that John Riley would know nuclear physics is it?” inquired the prisoner anxiously. “Not likely is it?”
    The priest shrugged slightly.
    “I suppose not,” he said.
    “What did he…what did I do?”
    The priest closed his eyes.
    “Please,” he said.
    “What did I do?”
    The priest clenched his teeth.
    “You stole,” he said. “You murdered.”
    The prisoner looked at him in astonishment. His throat contracted. Without realizing it, he clasped his hands together until the blood drained from them.
    “Well,” he mumbled, “if I…if
he
did these things, it’s not likely he’s an educated nuclear physicist is it?”
    “Riley, I…”
    “
Is
it!”
    “No, no, I suppose not. What’s the purpose of asking?”
    “I
told
you. I can give you facts about nuclear physics. I can tell you things that you admit this Riley could never tell you.”
    The priest took a troubled breath.
    “Look,” the prisoner hurriedly explained. “Our trouble stemmed from the disparity between theory and fact. In theory the U-238 would capture a neutron and form a new isotope U-239 since the neutron would merely add to the mass of…”
    “My son, this is