"This is Costa, West Goodland, in the Continental Federation. Say, you must come from an umpty remote part of the world if you don't know about this country." His eyes narrowed. "Where'd you learn to speak Federal, if you come from so far?"
Jeff said helplessly, "I can't explain, if you don't know about the United States. Listen, can you take me to a bank, or some place where they know about foreign exchange?"
The policeman scowled. "How'd you get into this country, anyway? You got immigrate clearance?"
An angry muttering started among the bystanders.
The policeman made up his mind. "You come with me."
At the police station, Jeff put his elbows dejectedly on the high counter while the policeman talked to an officer in charge. Some men whom Jeff took for reporters got up from a table and eased over to listen.
"I don't know whether to charge them with fakemake, bumsy, peekage or lunate," the policeman said as he finished.
His superior gave Jeff a long puzzled stare.
Jeff sighed. "I know it sounds impossible, but a man brought me in something he claimed was a time traveler. You speak the same language I do—more or less—but everything else is kind of unfamiliar. I belong in the United States, a country in North America. I can't believe I'm so far in the future that the United States has been forgotten."
There ensued a long, confused, inconclusive interrogation.