"But you've been wounded! And you infer you did some bodily harm to someone else."
He chuckled softly. "Bodily harm? I killed him!"
I recoiled in fright. "I must notify the police!"
"No! That would ruin everything! New York would be destroyed!!"
I clucked impatiently. "Please, Mr. Rumplestein, or O'Grady, or whatever your name is. If you cannot give me an honest answer, I shall be forced to call the authorities. This nonsense about—"
He held up his hand and emitted a huge sigh. "Very well," he said, "I will tell you what this is all about because my usefulness may come to an end abruptly and you may have to carry on. Listen carefully." I waited with mounting impatience.
"New York," he said after a brief pause, "is a huge, sprawling metropolis that breeds within itself the seeds of its own destruction. Transportation." I raised an eyebrow. "At best," he went on, "the traffic in Manhattan does not flow—it limps. Let one traffic light fail and vehicles are backed up for several blocks. True?"
I nodded. "Yes."
"Very well. Imagine, then, a situation where, at one given instant every single traffic light on this congested island turns green and STAYS green." I shuddered at the thought. "Picture the beauty of it," he said. "Not red, which would cause all automobiles to stop, but green, the signal to go! Imagine their mad desire to rush forward in righteous obedience to the law, and their awful frustration to find every other automobile and truck obeying the same law, regardless of the direction from which it is coming. It has been estimated by noted mathematicians who are involved in this plan, that within forty-five seconds all traffic in Manhattan would come to a standstill, it becoming impossible for a car to move forward or backward. Oh, what utter chaos!"
"Ab homine homini periculum quotidianum," I said.