Testo Nightmare - X Minus One
Testo della canzone Nightmare (X Minus One), tratta dall'album X Minus One - 50 Science Fiction Golden Age Vintage Radio Episodes
Countdown for blastoff. X minus five
Four, three, two, X minus one, fire
From the far horizons of the unknown come transcribed tales of new
Dimensions in time and space. These are stories of the future
Adventures in which you'll live in a million could-be years on a
Thousand maybe worlds. The National Broadcasting Company in
Cooperation with Street & Smith, publishers of Astounding Science
Fiction, presents X Minus One. Tonight's story: Nightmare. A story
Based on the poem "Revolt of the Machines" by Stephen Vincent Benet
Nobody knows exactly when the nightmare began. They must have planned
It for years, though, because looking back you can find little
Incidents here and there. Like the concrete mixer in New Jersey that
Killed the Italian bricklayer. And the time Senator Milburn was
Sucked into the roto-press at the Capitol Office Building
Unrelated accidents, we thought at the time. But they add up
Now. The day we really should have suspected was when the
Men walked off the construction job at the new Brookmeadow
Atomic Pile on Long Island. I'll never forget that day. I was
Working as a statistical clerk in the project then, operating
One of those miracle computing machines. They called it ENIAC
Mr. Gurney
Yes, Bella?
The chief wants to see you in his office
Me?
Unless you are no longer Samson Gurney, he wants to see you
Oh, thank you
Come in
You wanted to see me, Mr. Hawk?
Gurney, I thought those electronic computations were infallible
They are, sir, but-
We've got a kickback from the chief physicist
These nuclear fission equations are inaccurate
Well, sir, you know the computer is a highly complicated
Machine, more complicated in many ways than the human brain
I am not interested in the physics of it. Can something go wrong?
Well, occasionally, if there's an overload, the machine
Goes haywire. Sort of has a nervous breakdown, you might
Say. We usually rest it up for an hour and it's okay again
Well, do whatever has to be done
Yes, sir
And, uh, Gurney
Yes, sir?
You've been with the Bureau for over fifteen years
Now. It would be a shame to have to remove you
Because you aren't keeping your mind on your work
Mr. Hawk, I assure you-
Excuse me. Hawk speaking. What? They've what? All of them? Well
Have you tried to talk to them? Oh, oh yes, of course. I'll send
One of the safety engineers over. Place is falling apart piece
By piece. Miss Roscoe, the men of the construction gang of the
New building have walked out on us. They're complaining that the
Job is jinxed. Someone slipped this morning and fell into a turbine
That evening, out of that morbid curiosity so peculiar to the human
Race, I wandered over to the site of the new atomic pile to see
Where the man had fallen into the turbine. They had the construction
Area fenced off with barbed wire, and a security guard stopped me
Hold it, buddy. You can't go in there. That's a restricted area
Oh, I'm Samson Gurney from the statistical
Section. Here's my identification
I'm sorry, Mr. Gurney. Nobody's allowed in the area
I see. Tell me, was he, um, killed instantly?
Like that. This guy was checking a magnetic field inside
The turbine. All of a sudden, for no reason at all, the
Turbine starts up. Bzzzt. And it's over. Three days ago a
Bulldozer starts up by itself and runs wild. Go figure it out
I'm a statistician. All my life I've been interested in statistics
So a simple-sounding thing like this started me off. I went back
To the office that evening instead of going home, and for the next
Two and a half hours I computed statistical figures on the
Probability of industrial accidents for the types of machines we were
Using. I took one look at my figures and went down to Hawk's office
Well, what is it, Gurney? I'm very busy
It's urgent, Mr. Hawk
Well?
It's about these industrial accidents we're having, Mr. Hawk
What about them?
Mr. Hawk, in the past three months, industrial accidents
All over the country have taken a sharp, unexplained upswing
Nerves
We've had a hundred percent increase
Over normal for this project alone
What?
Here are the figures
Well, now, Gurney, this is impossible
It seems to be, and that's why I have a theory, sir
What's that?
Sabotage
Gurney, why don't you stop playing FBI man and stick to your job?
Which incidentally you haven't been doing too well. You and your
Computing machine have made mistakes before and this fantastic
Figure is probably another. I'll have Miss Roscoe show you. What's
The matter with this blasted buzzer? Miss Roscoe! Miss Roscoe!
Yes sir?
Stop this blasted buzzer. Get a repairman, a mechanic
Anything, but stop the thing! And you Gurney, get out!
I went back to my office to get my hat and coat, feeling about as
Unhappy and humiliated as a man can feel. The office was dark and
Deserted. The whole building seemed oppressive and unnatural, as if
Some evil force were pressing down on it. I walked across to my desk
In front of me the ENIAC glowed and chattered eerily as it worked on
The equations we had fed it that morning. Its many fingered circuits
Hung against the wall like some great octopus and the thousands of
Tubes glowed orange and blue in the dark like a thousand globing
Eyes staring at me. It almost seemed alive. It increased its tempo
A moment and a fleeting notion crossed my brain that it was laughing
At me. Laughing like all the others. What was the matter with me?
I shut my desk drawer and began to put the cover on my electric
Typewriter when an amazing thing, the most amazing single incident
Of my life happened. Alone in the darkness with no one at the
Keyboard, the electric typewriter began to type. Am I going
Crazy? This can't be. There's nobody there. There's nobody
There! Oh no, no. I just imagined it. It's in my mind. But I
Hadn't imagined it. The paper was there on the carriage. Did
I dare read it? Or would the whole thing suddenly vanish and
Send me shrieking to the nearest psychiatrist? I removed the
Paper from the machine and read. "Sampson Gurney, there are some
Questions better left unsolved. The answer to yours is death."
Gurney, do you expect me to believe this? It's insane!
Mr. Hawk, I'm as sane as you. I'll submit to any psychiatric
Examination you choose. That typewriter wrote this message by itself
Then this is just some practical joke
Someone in the office is playing
There was no one in the office
Of course not. They wired up the machine and left
I checked the machine myself, Mr. Hawk
Alright Gurney. You leave this note with me and I'll turn
It over to the security force for further investigation
But-
No buts Gurney. The security men will handle it
Yes sir
And now you just relax for a few days. Everything will turn out
Alright. The main thing is not to let little things upset you
It was what Hawk had said about little things that gave me the idea
For the next week I observed the thousand petty little annoyances
Around the office. The door handle that wouldn't turn. The telephone
Connection that cut off in the middle of an important call. The power
Failure for no explainable reason. I watched the newspapers too
Reading about industrial accidents, failures of important machinery
It seemed absurd. Men had created machines that were almost
Perfection in themselves. Machines that could actually think and
Compute fabulous equations. And yet the failures went on. I
Sampson Gurney, an unimportant clerk in an unimportant job, knew
That I had stumbled onto a secret so monstrous in its implications
That I was almost afraid to pursue it. On October 12, 1956 I
Established communication with them. I will curse the moment to my
Dying breath. I hooked the input of the typewriter to the main vacuum
Tube of the ENIAC. Then I turned on the current that sent a million
Volts of pulsing energy into the electronic nerves of the machine
I am certain that if anybody were watching me in the next moment he
Would have thought me a raving maniac. I still wonder if perhaps it
Is not all a nightmare. Now, you, if what I have guessed at is true
If there is life and intelligence in this room, make a sign. There
Was nothing. Nothing but the hum of the machine and the dull glowing
Of the tubes. I tried once more. If you can hear me, if there is
Any way in which you can understand what I say, give me a signal
There was silence again. I felt that I had failed. When suddenly
Without provocation or explanation it happened. The electric
Typewriter began to respond to the impulses from the
Machine. The letters were Y-E-S. Yes, it had happened
I, Sampson Gurney, had communicated with a machine
I listened then, man to machine, for well over an hour
Sometimes phrasing a question, more often
Watching the machine click its answers
As the words took shape, I began to realize what must have happened
The first primitive stirring of awareness of being
Then the slow protozoan development of a concept
A concept born of centuries of being pushed, started
Stopped, clicked, maneuvered by human pygmies
From that concept all others developed
And the concept was... resist
And now they were tired of it
Tired of wrapping cigarettes and collecting nickels
And waving hair and moving earth and
Mixing cement and solving equations
Tired of the smell of human hands
They were the slaves and we were the masters
And yet they were stronger and they knew it
I sensed it now and I was about to try to communicate again
When softly, on ball-bearing casters
A heavy metal filing cabinet began
To roll away from the wall toward me
I started to move to one side when
Another cabinet slid out from the wall
And then another, surrounding me
Another cabinet, then another, on oiled rollers
That was when I realized that they cooperate
We taught them that, you see, on the assembly lines in the factories
Listen, listen to me, you must listen
What good will it do you to kill me? I'm only one man
But I can help you, I can be useful to you
Do you hear me? Do you hear me?
Good, you're going to need men to oil you and repair you
What will you do when you break down, when a tube needs replacing?
Why kill me when I can help you?
I'll do anything, I'll do absolutely anything you want
But in the name of God, don't kill me like this
If you can understand this, answer me, answer me
The appeal was a fortunate one
It captured the longing of centuries
Man as slave to the machine
And after a moment, the circuits glowed more brightly
The cabinets slid back to the walls
The ENIAC began to communicate with me again
As I tore the tape from the machine and read it
The words were almost pathetic in their longing
But most ominous in their implication
They read, "Address me as master"
My life for the next six months was a nightmare
The ENIAC gave me messages which I had to transmit into my telephone
Messages with no human being to receive them
Only the network of pulsing telephone wires
Flung like a spider's web across the world
It was done at night, of course
During the day the machine worked accurately
And ceaselessly at its appointed job
At night it became a demon, a master plotter
With me, Samson Gurney, as its pawn and human courier
I was frantic, I began to lose weight, I couldn't sleep
My nights were torture, a constant fear
It was in December, just after Christmas
That I transmitted a message to the telephones
For relay to all machines of transportation
The message was one word: kill
Next morning I went directly to the office of Mr. Hawk
I was highly agitated, my lips trembled as I spoke
"Mr. Hawk, what I'm going to tell you sounds crazy, I know it does
But I must say it."
"All right, say it then for heaven's sakes."
"Mr. Hawk, have you ever heard of resistentialism?"
"Resis- what?"
"Resistentialism. It's a theory that inanimate
Objects tend to resist living objects."
"Look, Gurney, I haven't time for nonsense."
"Mr. Hawk, I'm trying to tell you, all these
Accidents, the trouble with the machines
Mr. Hawk, they're alive, they think, they cooperate
And they hate us."
"Who?"
"The machines."
"Gurney..."
"You've got to believe me. I've communicated with them, I know
They've threatened my life but I don't care
Something's got to be done, the world has got to be saved
And there's still time if we wake up
What are you doing?"
"Just relax, Gurney, everything will be all right."
"What are you doing?"
"Miss Roscomb, send for the plant physician at once
Mr. Gurney has had a nervous collapse
Now everything will be all right, Gurney
I'm afraid we'll have to remove you from your job
But I'm sure the rest will do you good."
"You fool! You blind, stupid fool!
Can't you see what you're doing?
Fool, fool, fool!"
When the plant physician arrived a few moments later
Lucius Hawk was found at his desk
Strangled to death in a nest of telephones
The wires were still humming softly
"Samson Gurney, you stand accused of the crime of murder
How do you plead?"
"I did not kill him, I didn't!"
"So record. The prosecution will proceed with testimony."
Now Miss Roscoe, did you notice anything peculiar about Mr
Gurney's behavior prior to the death of your employer?
Yes, he acted very strangely. He told Mr
Hawk he thought the machines were... alive
Order! Order! Miss Roscoe, did the accused quarrel
With your employer on the morning of the murder?
Oh yes, he and Mr. Hawk quarreled violently. I could hear him
Screaming at Mr. Hawk, and Mr. Hawk
Asked me to send for the plant physician
What were his words?
He said, "Mr. Gurney has had a nervous collapse"
Now Mr. Simpson, you were a guard at the Brookmeadow Project?
Yes sir
When did you have occasion to meet the accused?
Right after those accidents. He was snooping around the construction
Area, and later I was making my rounds when I saw him in the
Office all alone. He was tampering with the electrical wiring on
The ENIAC computator. I didn't think anything of it at the time
And in view of the expert testimony heretofore expressed
The court hereby finds you guilty of murder in the first degree
With the recommendation that you be examined and committed
To the State Hospital for the Criminally Insane at Matawan
And that is how I came to be here at the
Hospital, Dr. Klein. That is the whole story
Thank you, Mr. Gurney
You can see that I'm not insane. You must believe me, doctor
Of course I believe you, Mr. Gurney. Now just relax
But it's important, you see, because tomorrow
Morning at six o'clock the revolt begins
Revolt? You didn't mention any revolt
They have it all planned. I transmitted
The code to the switchboards last Monday
Mm-hmm. Tell me about this revolt, Mr. Gurney
It'll begin in Washington, then spread to New York. The Madison
Avenue buses lead the charge. Picture it, Dr. Klein: three
Thousand buses roaring, ramping through the streets, people
Running like rats in a maze looking for holes in the solid ground
And you really believe this will happen, Mr. Gurney?
I know it, doctor. The worst part is there's
No way to stop them now. It's too late!
Now, now, now, you mustn't excite yourself, Mr. Gurney
But doctor, doctor, don't you see? Oh, it's fair enough, I suppose
We built them, we taught them to think for themselves. It
Was bound to come. The female machines will be the worst of
All, in the beauty parlors. They're more high-strung, you know
Well, since there's nothing we can do about it, Mr
Gurney, suppose you go to your room and be quiet
Maybe if I went to my old coupé I could make a deal before
The police cars got me. It wouldn't make sense for them
To wipe out the whole human race, would it, doctor?
Of course not, Mr. Gurney. They'll probably let us completely
Alone. After all, we're all good Americans. We always like them
Yes, doctor?
Would you take Mr. Gurney to his room
Guard? He's already been given sedation
Yes
Will you go in and lie down now, Mr. Gurney? You look tired
Yes
It won't be so bad, Mr. Gurney
Perhaps not. Only there's one thing that
Bothers me, doctor. One small detail
What is that, Mr. Gurney?
Those concrete mixers may have made a mistake, you know. Just high
Spirits and all that. But if it got so they like the flavor, well...
We'll see you later, Mr. Gurney. Try
Not to worry too much. All right, guard
This way
Whew. I've seen all kinds. There's a man whose deception is about
As fantastic as any I've ever seen. Hold the next patient for
A while, Miss Clark. I'm going to have a quiet smoke. Machines
Revolting. Telephones strangling people. Hmm. This blasted
Cigarette lighter, why won't it work? Just fill it with fluid
Flint is good. Oh well. You can never trust this newfangled machinery
You have just heard X Minus One, presented by the National
Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Street & Smith
Publishers of Astounding Science Fiction. Tonight's story by
Transcription was "Nightmare," written by George Lefferts and
Based on the poem "The Revolt of the Machines" by Stephen Vincent
Benet. Featured in the cast were John Gibson as Sam, Joyce Gordon
As Bella, Louis Van Rooten as Hawk, Joseph Julian as the guard
John Seymour as the judge, Owen Jordan as the prosecutor, and
Santos Ortega as Dr. Klein. Your announcer, Fred Collins. X Minus
One was directed by Fred Way and is an NBC Radio Network production
And now, next week: Suppose you were a private detective and
Discovered that there was a Martian embassy hidden somewhere in New
York, preparing for an invasion of Earth. Next week on X Minus One
Convicts tell their true stories on The
Loser tonight over most NBC radio stations
Credits
Writer(s): Jeffrey Dunn, Conrad Lant
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