Javert shook his head. "Keep asking. Ask patients whom you don't recognize, who claim to come from different worlds and future times. Their stories match up more often than not. I asked when I first arrived. There's no-one here closely connected to me. Is it impossible to believe? Certainly. But there are patients here who have unbelievable powers, and no logical explanation for them. Where do you think I got this sword?" He gestured at the blade, the finely crafted hilt. "A young girl made it for me out of scrap metal. I don't have to tell you there are no forges within a ten-mile radius of this building, and certainly no reason for an insane asylum to store weapons of this quality."

No doubt Badd believed he was mad now, too. There was little point in arguing that he had traveled at least a century into the future--not when he had no proof, and when anything he claimed was unknown could easily be ascribed to amnesia. "I wish you best of luck searching tonight, then. This place is certainly meant to drive us mad, and undoubtedly there is some sort of master plan, but that isn't part of it."