Pygmalion's Spectacles - Stanley G Weinbaum

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:00):
Pigmilion Spectacles by Stanley Grum and Weinbaum. What is reality,
asked the gnome like man. He gestured at the tall
banks of buildings that loomed around Central Park, with their
countless windows glowing like the cave fires of a city
of cro magnum people. All his dream, all is illusion.
I am your vision as you are mine. Dan Burke,

(00:22):
struggling for clarity of thought through the fumes of liquor,
stared without comprehension at the tiny figure of his companion.
He began to regret the impulse that had driven him
to leave the party, to seek fresh air in the park,
and to fall, by chance to the company of this
diminutive old madman. But he needed escape. This was one
party too many, and not even the presence of Claire

(00:42):
with their trim ankles behold him there. He felt an
angry desire to go home, not to his hotel, but
home to Chicago, into the comparative peace of the Board
of Trade. But he was leaving tomorrow anyway. You drink,
said the elfin bearded face. To make real a dream,
is it not? So? It is to dream that what
you seek is yours, or else a dream that what

(01:04):
you hate is conquered. You drink to escape reality, and
the irony is that even reality is a dream. Cracked
thought Dan again, or so concluded the other says the
philosopher Berkeley. Berkeley echo Dan. His head was clearing memories
of a sophomore course, and elementary philosophy drifted back. Bishop Berkeley. Eh,

(01:26):
you know him, then, the philosopher of idealism, know, the
one who argues that we do not see, feel, here,
taste the object, but that we have only this sensation
of seeing, feeling, hearing, tasting. I sort of recall it. Huh.
But sensations are mental phenomena. They exist in our minds.

(01:50):
How then, do we know that the objects themselves do
not exist only in our minds? He waved again at
the light flecked buildings. You do not see that wall
of may you perceive only a sensation of feeling sight?
The rest you interpret? You see the same thing, retorted Dan.
How do you know I do? Even if you knew

(02:12):
that what I call red would not be green? Could
you see through my eyes? Even if you knew that?
How do you know that I? Too, am not a
dream of yours? Dan laughed? Of course, nobody knows anything.
You just get what information you can through the windows
of your five senses, and then you make your guesses.
When they're wrong, you pay the penalty. His mind was

(02:35):
clear now, save for a mild headache. Listen, he said,
Suddenly you can argue a reality away to an illusion.
That's easy. But if your friend Berkeley is right, why
can't you take a dream and make it real? If
it works one way, it must work the other. The
beard waggled elf bright eyes glittered queerly at him. All

(02:56):
artists do that, said the old man softly. Dan felt
that something more equivered on the verge of utterance. That's
an evasion, he grunted. Anybody can tell the difference between
a picture and the real thing, or between a movie
and life, but whispered the other, the realer the better. No,
and if one could make a movie very real, indeed,

(03:21):
what would you say? Then nobody can? Though? The eyes
glittered strangely again, I can, he whispered, I did, did?
What made a real dream? The voice turned angry. Fools?
I bring it here to sell to Westman, the camera people,
and what do they say? It isn't clear. Only one

(03:43):
person can use it. At a time. It's too expensive. Fools, fools, Huh, listen,
I'm Albert Ludwig, Professor Ludwig. As Dan was silent, he continued,
it means nothing to you. Uh, But listen a movie
that gives one sight and sound. Suppose now I add taste, smell,

(04:06):
even touch. If your interest is taken by the story,
Suppose I make it so that you are in the story.
You speak to the shadows, and the shadows reply, and
instead of being on a screen, the story's all about
you and you were in it. Would that be to
make real dream? How the devil could you do that? How? How?

(04:28):
But simply? First my liquid positive, then my magic spectacles.
I photographed the story in a liquid with light sensitive chromates.
I build up a complex solution. Do you see. I
add taste chemically and sound electronically, And when the story
is recorded, then I put the solution in my spectacle,
my movie projector. I electrolyze the solution, break it down.

(04:51):
The older chromates go first and out comes a story, site, sounds, smell, taste,
all touch. If your interest has taken your mind supplies
that eagerness crept into his voice, you will look at
it mister Burke, said Dan. A swindle, he thought, Then
a spark of recklessness glowed out of the vanishing fumes

(05:12):
of alcohol. Why not, he grunted. He rose. Ludwig standing,
came scarcely to his shoulder, A queer gnomelike old man,
Dan thought, as he followed him across the park and
into one of the scores of apartment hotels in the vicinity.
In his room, Ludwig fumbled in a bag, producing a
device vaguely reminiscent of a gas mask. There were goggles

(05:32):
in a rubber mouthpiece. Dan examined it curiously, while the
little bearded professor brandished a bottle of watery liquid. Here
it is, he gloated, my liquid positive the story, our
photography infernally hard. Therefore the simplest story, a utopia. Just
two characters and you, the audience. Now put the spectacles on,

(05:53):
put them on, and tell me what the fools the
Westman people are. He decanted some of the liquid into
the mask and trailed the twist to a device on
the table, a rectifier, he explained, for the electrolysis. Must
you use all the liquid? Asked Dan, if he used
part to use, see only part of the story, and
which part each drop has all of it, But you

(06:15):
must fill the eye pieces. Then, as Dan slipped the
device gingerly on, So now what do you see? Not
a damn thing, just the windows and the lights across
the street, of course. But now I start the electrolysis.
Now there was a moment of chaos, liquid before Dan's
eyes clouded, suddenly white and formless. Sounds buzzed. He moved

(06:39):
it to the device from his head, but emerging forms in
the missiness caught his interest. Giant things were writhing there
the scene studied. The whiteness was dissipating like mist in summer. Unbelieving,
still gripping the arms of that unseen chair, he was
staring at a forest. But what a forest? Incredible, unearthly, beautiful.

(07:00):
Smooth bulls ascended inconveniently toward a brightening sky, trees bizarre
as the forests of the carboniferous age infinitely overhead swayed
misty fronds, and the verdues showed brown and green in
the heights. And there were birds, at least curiously lovely
pipings and twitdings were all about him, though he saw

(07:21):
no creatures. Thin elfin whistlings, like fairy bugles, sounded softly.
He sat frozen, entranced. A loud fragment of melody drifted
down to him, mounting in exquisite ecstatic bursts, now clear,
a sounding metal, now soft as remembered music. For a moment,
he forgot the chair, whose arms he gripped, the miserable

(07:43):
hotel room invisibly about him, Oh Ludwig his aching head.
He imagined himself alone in the midst of that lovely
glade Eden. He muttered, and the swelling music of unseen
voices answered. Some measure of reason returned illusion, He told himself, clever,
optic device is not reality. He groped for the chair's arm,

(08:05):
found it, and clung to it. He scraped his feet
and found again an inconsistency. To his eyes, the ground
was mossy, verdure. To his touch, it was merely a
thin hotel carpet. The elfin bugling sounded gently, A faint,
deliciously sweet perfume breathed against him. He glanced up to

(08:26):
watch the opening of a great crimson blossom on the
nearest tree, and a tiny reddish sun edged into a
circle of sky above him. The fairy orchestra swelled louder
in its light, and the note sent a thrill of
wistfulness through him. Illusion, if it were, it made reality
almost unbearable. He wanted to believe that somewhere, somewhere, the

(08:49):
sight of dreams, there actually existed, this region of loveliness,
an outpost of paradise perhaps. And then far through through
the softening mists, he called a movement that was not
the swaying of verdure, a shimmer of sober, more solid
than mist. Something approached. He watched the figure as it moved,

(09:11):
now visible, now hidden by trees. Very soon he perceived
that it was human, but it was almost upon him
before he realized that it was a girl. She wore
a robe of silvery, half translucent stuff, luminous as starbeams,
a thin band of silver bound glowing black hair about
her forehead, and other garment or ornaments she had none.

(09:33):
Her tiny white feet were bare to the mossy forest floor.
As she stood no more than a pace from him,
staring dark eyed, the thin music sounded again. She smiled,
Dan summoned, stumbling thoughts. Was this being also illusion? Had
she no more reality than the loveliness of the forest.

(09:55):
He opened his lips to speak, but a strained, excited
voice sounded in his Who are you? Have you spoken?
The voice I'd come, as if from another like the
sound of one's words and fever. The girl smiled again. English,
she said, in queer, soft tones. I can speak a
little English. She spoke, slowly, carefully. I learned it from

(10:21):
she hesitated, my mother's father, whom they call the gray Weaver.
Again came the voice in Dan's ears. Who are you?
I am called Galatea, She said, I came to find you,
to find me, echoed the voice. That was Dan's lu Khan,

(10:42):
who was called the gray Weaver, told me, she explained, smiling.
He said, you will stay with us until the second noon.
From this, she cast a quick slanting glance at the
pale sun now full above the clearing, then stepped closer.
What are you called, Dan, he muttered. His voice sounded
oddly different. What a strange name, said the girl. She

(11:06):
stretched out her bare arm. Come, she smiled. Dan touched
her extended hand, feeling without any surprise at living a
warmth of her fingers. He had forgotten the paradoxes of illusion.
This was no longer allusion to him, but reality itself.
It seemed to him that he followed her, walking over
the shadowed turf that gave with springy crunch beneath his tread,

(11:28):
Though Galateea leaft hardly an imprint. He glanced down, noting
that he himself wore a silver garment and that his
feet were bare. With the glance, he felt a feathery
breeze on his body, in his sense of mossy earth
on his feet, Galateea said his voice, Galatea, what place
is this? What language do you speak? She glanced back, laughing,

(11:52):
Why this is Paracosma, of course, and this is our language. Paracosma,
muttered Dan. Para Cosma, a fragment of Greek that had
survived somehow from a sophomore chorus a decade in the past,
came strangely back to him. Para Cosma, land beyond the world.

(12:13):
Galatea cast a smiling glance at him. Does the real
world seem strange? She queried? After that shadow land of yours?
Shadow land, echoed Dan, bewildered, this is shadow not my world.
The girl's smile turned quizzical. Poof, she retorted with an
impudently lovely pout. And I suppose then that I am

(12:38):
the phantom instead of you, she laughed, Do I seem
ghost like? Dan made no reply. Who is puzzling over
unanswerable questions? As he trod behind the lithe figure of
his guide, the isle between the unearthly trees widened, and
the giants were fewer. It seemed a mile perhaps, before
a sound of tinkling water obscured that other strange music.

(13:00):
They emerged on the bank of a little river, swift
and crystalline that rippled and gurgled its way from glowing
pool to flashing rapids, sparkling under the pale sun. Galatea
bent over the brink and cupped her hands, raising a
few mouthfuls of water to her lips. Dan followed her example,
find the liquid stinging cold? How do we cross? He asked?

(13:22):
You can wade up there. The dryad who led him
gestured to a sunlit shallows above a tiny falls. But
I always crossed here. She poised herself for a moment
on the green bank, then dove like a silver arrow
into the pool. Dan followed. The water stung his body
like champagne, but a stroker who carried him across, where

(13:43):
Galatea had already emerged with a glistening of creamy bare limbs.
Her garment clung tight as a metal sheath to her
wet body. He felt a breath taking thrill at the
sight of her, and then miraculously the silver cloth was dry.
The droplets rolled off, as if from oil old silk,
and they moved briskly on. The incredible forest had ended

(14:05):
with the river. They walked over meadows studded with little,
many huge star shaped flowers, whose fronds underfoot were soft
as a lawn. Yet still the sweet pipings followed them,
now loud, now whispered soft in a tenuous web of melody.
Galatea said Dan fennily, where's the music coming from? She

(14:26):
looked back, amazed, you silly ones, she laughed. From the flowers,
of course. See. She plucked a purple star and held
it to his ear. True enough, a faint and plaintive
melody hummed out of the blossom. She tossed it in
his startled face and skipped on. A little copse appeared ahead,
not of the gigantic forest trees, but of lesser, gross

(14:50):
bearing flowers and fruits of iridescent colors, and a tiny
brook bubbled through, and there stood the objective of their journey,
a building of white marble like stone, single storied and
vine covered with broad glassless windows. They trod up a
path of bright pebbles to the arched entrance, and here,
on an intricate stone bench sat a gray bearded patriarchal individual.

(15:14):
Galatea addressed him in a liquid language that reminded Dan
of the flower pipings. Then she turned This is Lukan,
she said, as the ancient rose from his seat and
spoke in English. We are happy, Galateai, and I to
welcome you, since visitors are a rare pleasure here in
those from your shadowy country, most rare. Dan uttered puzzled

(15:35):
words of thanks, and the old man nodded, reseating himself
on the carbon bench. Galateas skipped through the arched entrance,
and Dan, after an irresolute moment, dropped the remaining bench
once more. His thoughts were whirling in perplexed turbulence. Was
all this indeed but illusion? Was he sitting in actuality

(15:56):
in a prosaic hotel room, peering through magical spectacles that
pictured this world about him? Or was he transported by
some miracle, really sitting here in this land of loveliness.
He touched the bench, stone hard and unyielding, met his fingers.
Lu Khan said his voice, How did you know I

(16:16):
was coming? I was told, said the other by whom,
by no one? Why someone must have told you? The
gray weaver shook his solemn head. I was just told.
Dan seized his questioning content for the moment to drink

(16:36):
the beauty about him, and then Galatee returned bearing a
crystal bowl of the strange fruits. They were piled in
colorful disorder, red, purple, orange and yellow, pear shaped, egg shaped,
and clustered spheroids, fantastic unearthly. He selected a pale, transparent ovid,
bit into it and was deluged by a flood of

(16:57):
sweet liquid, to the amusement of the girl. She laughed
and chose a similar morsel, biting a tiny puncture in
the end, she squeezed the contents into her mouth. Dan
took a different sort, purple and tart as rainish wine,
and then another filled with edible almond like seeds. Galatea
laughed delightedly at his surprises, and even Lucan smiled, a

(17:20):
gray smile. Finally, Dan tossed the last husk into the
brook beside him, where it danced briskly toward the river. Galatea,
He said, do you ever go to a city? What
cities are in Paracosma? Cities? What are cities places where

(17:40):
many people live close together? Oh, said the girl, frowning, No,
there are no cities here. Then where are the people
of Paracosma. You must have neighbors. The girl looked, puzzled.
A man and a woman live off there, she said,
gesturing toward a distant blue range of hills dim on
the horizon, far away over there. I went there once,

(18:03):
but Luca and I prefer the valley. But Galateea protested Dan.
Are you and Leucan alone in this valley? Where? What
happened to your parents? Your father and mother? They went
away that way towards the sunrise. They'll return some day.
And if they don't, why, foolish one? What could hinder them?

(18:27):
Wild beasts? Said Dan, Poisonous insects, disease, flood, storm, lawless people, death.
I never heard those words, said Galateaea. There are no
such things here, She stiffed, contemptuously, lawless people, not death.
What is death, it's, Dan paused helplessly. It's like falling

(18:53):
asleep and never waking. It's what happens to every one
at the end of life. I have never heard of
such a thing. Is the end of life? Said the
girl decidedly. There isn't such a thing. What happens, then,
queried Dan desperately. When one grows old? Nothing silly. No
one grows old unless one wants to. Like Lukan, a

(19:16):
person grows the age he likes best and then stops.
It's a law. Dan gathered his chaotic thoughts. He stared
into Galateaea's dark, lovely eyes. Have you stopped yet? The
dark eyes dropped. He was amazed to see a deep,
embarrassed flesh bread over her cheeks. She looked at Lukan,
nodding reflectively on his bench, then back to Dan, meeting

(19:38):
his gaze. Not yet, he said, And when will you, Galatea?
When I have had the one child permitted me? You see,
she stared down at her dainty toes. One cannot bear
children afterwards, permitted permitted by whom by a law? Laws?

(19:59):
Is everything here governed by laws? Would have chance and accidents?
What are those chance and accidents, things unexpected, things unforeseen.
Nothing is unforeseen, said galateaeas still soberly, she repeated slowly,
nothing is unforeseen. He fancied. Her voice was wistful. Lukan

(20:26):
looked up. Enough of this, he said abruptly. He turned
to Dan. I know these words of yours chance, disease, death.
They are not for paracosma. Keep them in your unreal country.
Where did you hear them? Then? From Galateaea's mother, said
the gray weaver, who had them from your predecessor, a

(20:47):
phantom who visited here before Galateaea was born. Dan had
a vision of Ludwig's face. What was he like? Much
like you? But his name? The old man's mouth was
suddenly grim. You do not speak of him, he said,
and rose, entering the dwelling in a cold silence. He

(21:08):
goes to weave, said Galateea, after a moment. Her lovely
piquant face was still troubled. What does he weave this?
She fingered, the silver cloth of her gown. He weaves
it out of metal bars on a very clever machine.
I do not know the method. Who made the machine?

(21:29):
It was here but Galatea, who built the house, who
plaited these fruit trees. They were here, The house and
the trees were always here. She lifted her eyes. I
told you everything had been foreseen from the beginning until eternity.
Everything the house and the trees and machine were ready

(21:50):
for Leucon and my parents and me. There's a place
for my child who will be a girl, and a
place for her child, and so on forever dead bought em.
Were you born here? I don't know, He noted, in
sudden concern that her eyes were glistening with tears. Galateellya, dear,

(22:12):
Why are you unhappy? What's wrong? Why? Nothing? She shook
her black curls smiled suddenly at him. What could be wrong?
How can one be unhappy? In Paracosma. She sprang erect
and seized his hand. Come, let's gather fruit for tomorrow.
She darted off in a whirl of flashing silver, and

(22:32):
Dan followed her around the wing of the edifice, graceful
as a dancer. She leaped from a branch above her head,
caught it laughingly, and tossed a great golden globe to him.
She lowed ed his arms with the pride prizes and
sent him back to the bench and When he returned,
she piled it so full of fruit that deluge of

(22:54):
colorful spears dropped around him. She laughed again and sent
them spinning into the brook with thrust of rosy toes,
while Dan watched her with an aching wistfulness. Then suddenly
she was facing him. For a long, tense instant, they
stood motionless, eyes upon eyes, and then she turned away
and walk sily around the arched portal. He followed her,

(23:15):
with his burden of fruit, his mind once more in
a turmoil of doubt and perplexity. The little sun was
losing itself behind the trees of that colossal forest to
the west, and a coolness stirred among the long shadows.
The brook was purple hued in the dusk, but its
cherry notes mingled still with the flower music. Then the

(23:36):
sun was hidden, the shadow fingers darkened the meadow. Of
a sudden, the flowers were still, and the brook gurgled
alone in the world of silence. In silence too, Dan
entered the doorway. The chamber within was a spacious one,
floored with the large black and white squares. Exquisite benches
of carved marble were here, and there owed leucon in

(23:57):
a far corner, bent over an intricate glaring mechanism, and
as Dan entered, he drew a shining length of silver
cloth from it, folded it, and placed it carefully aside.
There was a curious, unearthly fact that Dan noted. Despite
windows open to the evening, no night, insects circled the
globes that glowed at intervals from niches on the walls.

(24:20):
Galateas stood in a doorway to his left, leaning half
wearily against the frame. He placed the bowl of fruit
on a bench at the entrance and moved to her side.
This is yours, she said, indicating the room beyond. He
looked in upon a pleasant, smaller chamber, a window framed
a starry square, and a thin, swift, nearly silent stream

(24:40):
of water gushed from the mouth of a carved human
head on the left wall, curving into a six foot
base and suck in the floor. Another of the graceful benches,
covered with silver cloth, completed the furnishings. A single glowing sphere,
pendent by a chain from the ceiling illuminated the room.
Dan turned to the girl, whose eyes were still unwontonly serious.

(25:04):
This is ideal, he said, but Galatea, how am I
to turn out the light? Turn it out? She said,
you must cap it. So A faint smile showed again
on her lips as she dropped a metal covering over
the shining sphere. They stood tense in the darkness. Dan
sensed her nearness achingly, and then the light was on

(25:26):
once more. She moved towards a door, and there paused,
taking his hand. Dear shadow, she said, softly, I hope
your dreams are music. She was gone. Dan stood irresolute
in his chamber. He glanced into the large room, where
Lucan still bent over his work, and the gray reaver
raised a hand in solemn salutation, but said nothing. He

(25:50):
felt no urge of the old man's silent company, and
turned back into his room to prepare for slumber. Almost instantly,
it seemed the dawn was upon him, and bright elfin
pipings were all about him, while the odd ruddy sun
sent a broad, slanting pane of light across the room.
He rose as fully aware of his surroundings as if

(26:10):
he had not slept at all. The pool tempted him,
and he bathed in stinging water. Thereafter, he merged into
the central chamber, Noting curiously that the globe still glowed
in dim rivalry to the daylight. He touched one casually.
It was cool as metal to his fingers and lifted
freely from its standard. For a moment he held the cold,

(26:32):
flaming thing in his hands, then replaced it and wandered
to the dawn. Galatea was dancing upon the path, eating
a strange fruit as rosy as her lips. She was
merry again, once more the happy nymph who had greeted him,
and she gave him a bright smile as he chose
a sweet green ovid for his breakfast. Come on, she called,

(26:53):
to the river. She skipped away toward the unbelievable forest.
Dan followed, marveling that her light speed was so easy,
a match for stronger muscles. Then they were laughing in
the pool, splashing about, until Galatea drew herself to the bank,
glowing and panting. He followed her as she lay relaxed. Strangely,
he was neither tired nor breathless, with no sense of exertion.

(27:15):
A question recurred to him, as yet unasked. Galatea said
his voice, whom will you take as a mate? Her
eyes went serious. I don't know, she said, at the
proper time, you will come, that is law. And will
you be happy? Of course, she seemed troubled. Isn't everyone happy?

(27:38):
Not where I live Galatea. Then that must be a
strange place, that ghostly world of yours a rather terrible place,
it is often enough, Dan agreed, I wish, He paused,
what did he wish? Was he not talking to an illusion,
a dream and apparition? He looked at the girl, at

(27:59):
her glistening black hair, her eyes, her soft white skin,
and then, for a tragic moment, he tried to feel
the arms that drab hotel chair beneath his hands, and failed.
He smiled. He reached out his fingers to touch her
bare arm, and for an instance, she looked back at
him with startled, sober eyes and sprang to her feet.

(28:21):
Come on, I want to show you my country. She
set off down the stream, and Dan rose reluctantly to follow.
What a day that was. They traced a little river
from still pool to stinging rapids, and ever about them
were strange twitterings and pipings that were the voices of
the flowers. Every turn brought a new vista of beauty.
Every moment brought a new sense of delight. They talked

(28:43):
or were silent. When they were thirsty, the cool river
was at hand. When they were hungry, fruit offered itself.
When they were tired, there was always a deep pool
and a mossy bank. And when they were rested, a
new beauty beckoned. The incredible trees towered in numberless forms
of fancy. But on their own side of the river
was still the flower starred meadow. Galateaea twisted him in

(29:06):
a bright blossomed garland for his head, and thereafter he moved,
always with the sweet singing about him. But little by
little the red sun slanted toward the forest, and the
hour stripped away. It was Danny pointed it out, and
reluctantly they turned homeward. As they returned, Galateeus sang a
strange song, plaintive and sweet as the melody of the

(29:27):
river and flower music. And again her eyes were sad.
What song is that? He asked? It is a song
sung by another galateaeis she answered? Who is my mother?
She laid her hand on his arm. I will make
it into English for you, she sang. The river lies
in flower and fern and flower and fern. It breathes

(29:48):
a song. It breathes a song of your return, of
your return. In years too long, in years too long.
It murmurs, bring it, murmurs bring their vain replies, their
vain replies. The flo sing, the flowers sing, the river lies.
Her voice quavered on the final notes. They were silent
save for the tinkle of the water and the flower bugles,

(30:12):
Dan said Galatea, and paused. The girl was again somber eyed, tearful.
He said, huskily, that's a sad song, Galatea. Why was
your mother sad? You said? Every woman is happy in Paracosma.
She broke a law, replied the girl tonelessly. It is
the inevitable way to sorrow. She faced him. She fell

(30:35):
in love with the phantom, Galatea said, one of your
shadowy race. You came to the state and then had
to go back, so when her appointed lover came, it
was too late. Do you understand? But she yielded finally
to the law and is forever unhappy and goes wandering
from place to place about the world. She paused. I
shall never break a law, she said, defiantly. Dan took

(30:58):
her hand. I would not have you on hay, Galateeya.
I want you always happy. She shook her head. I
am happy, she said, and smiled a tender, whistful smile.
They were silent a long time as they trudged the
way homeward. The shadows of the forest giants reached out
across the river as the sun slipped behind them. For
a distance, they walked hand in hand, but as they

(31:19):
reached the path of pebbly brightness to the house, Galateea
drew away and sped swiftly before him. Dan followed as
quickly as he might. When he arrived, Leucon sat on
his bench by the portal, and Galatea had paused on
the threshold. She watched his approach with eyes in which
he again fancied the glint of tears. I am very tired,
she said, and slipped within. Dan moved to follow, but

(31:41):
the old man raised his staying hand from from the shadows.
He said, will you hear me a moment? Dan paused, acquiesced,
and dropped the opposite bench. He felt a sense of foreboding.
Nothing pleasant awaited him. There is something to be said,
Leukan continued, and I say it without desire to pain you.

(32:02):
If phantoms feel pain, it is this Galatea loves you,
though I think she has not yet realized it. I
love her too, said Dan. The Gray Weaver stared at him.
I do not understand substance. Indeed may love shadow, But
how can shadow love substance? I love her, insisted Dan.

(32:22):
Then woe to both of you, for this is impossible
in Paracosma. It is a confliction with the laws. Galateae
is made, is appointed, perhaps even now approaching laws laws?
Muttered Dan. Whose laws are they? Not galatee is nor mine?
But they are, said the gray Weaver. It is not
for you nor for me to criticize them. But I
yet wonder what power could annul them to permit your

(32:44):
presence here. I had no voice in your laws, the
old man peered at him in the dusk, Has any
one anywhere of voice? And the laws he queried? And
my country we have retorted Dan, madness growled lucan man
may laws? Of what use? Are man made laws with
only man made penalties? Or none at all? If you,

(33:05):
shadows make a law that the wind shall blow only
from the east, does the west wind obey it? We
do not pass. Such laws, acknowledged Dan bitterly. They may
be stupid, but they are no more unjust than yours. Ours,
said the gray Weaver, are the unalterable laws of the world,
the laws of nature. Violation is always unhappiness. I have
seen it, I have known it in another. And Galateae

(33:28):
is mother. Though Galateae is stronger than she, he paused. Now,
he continued, I ask only for mercy. Your stay is short,
and I ask it you do no more harm than
is already done. Be merciful, give her no more to regret.
He rose and moved through the archway. When Dan followed
a moment later, he was already removing a square silver

(33:49):
from his device in the corner. Dan turned silent and
happy to his own chamber, where the jet of water
tinkled faintly as the distant bell. Again he rose at
the glow of dawn, and again Galateai was before him,
meeting him at the door with her bowl of fruit.
She deposited her burn and giving him a waning little
smile of greeting, and stood facing him as if waiting

(34:09):
Come with me, Galateae, he said, where to the river
bank to talk? They'd trudged in silence. At the brink
of Galatea's pool, Dan noted a subtle difference in the
world around him. Outlines were vague, the thin flower pipings
less audible, and the very landscape was queerly unstable, shifting
like smoke when he wasn't looking at it directly, and strangely,

(34:31):
though he had brought the girl here to talk to her,
he had now nothing to say but sadden, aching silence,
with his eyes on the loveliness of her face. Galateea
pointed at the red descending sun. So short a time,
she said, before you go back to your phantom world,
I shall be sorry, very sorry. She touched his cheek

(34:51):
with her fingers. Dear shadow, suppose, said Dan huskily that
I won't go. What if I won't leave here? His
voice grew fiercer. I'll not go. I'm going to stay.
The calm, mournfulness of the girl's face checked him. He
felt the irony of struggling against the inevitable progress of
a dream. She spoke, had I the making of the laws.

(35:14):
You should stay, but you can't, dear one, you can't forgotten.
How are the words the gray weaver? I love you Galateeya,
he said, and I you, she whispered, See, dear shadow,
ho I break the same law my mother broke? And
am glad to face a sorrow o ring. She placed
her hand tenderly over his Lucan is very wise, and

(35:37):
I am bound to obey him. But this is beyond
his wisdom, because he let himself grow old, She paused.
He let himself grow old, she repeated slowly. The strange
light gleamed in her dark eyes as she turned suddenly
to Dan, dear one, she said, tensely, that thing that
happens to the old, that death of yours? What follows it?

(35:59):
What follows death? He echoed, who knows? But her voice
was quivering. But one can't simply vanish. There must be
an awakening? Who knows? Said Dan again. They're those who
believe we wake to a happier world. But he shook
his head hopelessly. It must be true. What must be,

(36:21):
Galateea cried, There must be more for you than the
mad world you speak of. She leaned very close. Suppose, dear,
she said, that, when my pointed lover arrives, I send
him away. Suppose I bear no children, but let myself
grow old, older than lucan old until death. Would I
join you in your happier world. Galatea cried distractively. Oh

(36:46):
my DearS, what a terrible thought, more terrible than you know.
She whispered, still very close to him. It is more
than a violation of a law. It is rebellion. Everything
is planned, everything was foreseen except this. And if I
bear no child, her place will be left unfulfilled, in
the places of her children, and of their children, and
so on, until someday the whole great plane of Paracosmo fails,

(37:09):
of whatever is destiny was to be. Who whispered grew
very faint and fearful. It is destruction. But I love
you more than I feared death. Damn's arms were about her. No, Galatea,
no promise me, she murmured. I can promise and then
break my promise. He drew his head down. Their lips touched,

(37:30):
and he felt a fragrance in a taste, like honey
in her kiss. At least, she breathed, I can give
you a name by which to love you. Filametro's measure
of my love A name muttered Dan. A fantastic idea
shot through his mind, a way of proving to himself
that all this was reality and not just a page
that anyone could read who wore Old Ludwig's magic spectacles.

(37:53):
At Galatea would speak his name, perhaps, he thought daringly,
Perhaps then he could stay. He thrust her away, Galateae,
he cried, do you remember my name? She nodded silently,
her unhappy eyes on his. Then say it, Say it, dear.
She stared at him dumbly, miserably, but made no sound.
Say it, Galatea, He pleaded, desperately, my name, dear, just

(38:14):
my name. Her mouth moved. She grew pale with effort,
and Dan could have sworn that his name trembled on
her quivering lips, though no same. At last, she spoke,
I can't, dearest one, Oh, I can't. Allah forbids it.
She stood suddenly, erect recarving Lukan called, she said, and
darted away. Dan followed along the pebbled path, but her

(38:35):
speed was beyond his powers. At the portal, he found
only a weaver, standing cold and stern. He raised his
hand as Dan appeared. Your time, said go, Thinking of
the havoc you have done, where's Galatea, gasp man I've
sent her away. The old man blocked the entrance. For
a moment, Dan would have struck him aside, but something
withheld him. He stared wildly about the meadow. There a

(38:58):
flash of silver beyond the river at the edge of
He turned and raced towards it. While motionless and cold,
the gray weaver watched him go. Galateihi Pia. He was
over the river, now on the forest bank, running through
column vistas that whirled around him like mist. The world
had gone cloudy. Fine flakes danced like snow before his eyes.
Pear of Cosmo was dissolving around him. Through the chaos,

(39:21):
he fancied a glimpse of the girl, but closer approach
left him still voicing his hopeless cry of Galatea. After
an endless time, he paused. Something familiar about the spot
struck him, and just as the red sun edged above him,
he recognized the place, the very point at which he
had entered para Cosma. A sense of utility overwhelmed him,
as for a moment he gazed at an unbelievable apparition.

(39:41):
A dark window hung in mid air before him, through
which glowed rows of electric lights. Ludwig's window. It vanished,
but the trees rised, and the sky darkened, and he
swayed dizzily in turmoil. He realized suddenly that he was
no longer standing, but sitting in the midst of the
crazy glade, and his hands clutched something smooth, and the
arms of that miserable hotel chair. Then at last he

(40:04):
saw her close before him, Galatea, with sorrow stricken features,
her tear filled eyes on his. He made a terrific
effort to rise, stood erect, and fell, sprawling in a
blaze of corus skating lights. He struggled to his knees.
Walls Ludwig's room encompassed him. He must have slipped from
the chair. The magic spectacles laid before him, one lens

(40:25):
splintered and spilling a fluid, the longer water clear but
white as milk. God, he muttered. He felt shaken, sick, exhausted,
with a bitter sense of bereavement, and his head ached fiercely.
The room was drabbed, disgusting. He wanted to get out
of it. He glanced automatically at his watch four o'clock.
He must have sat here nearly five hours. For the

(40:45):
first time, he noticed Ludwood's absence. He was glad of
it and walked out of the door to an automatic elevator.
There was no response to his ring. Someone was using
the thing. He walked three flights to the street and
back to his own room, and love with the vision worse,
and love with the girl who had never lived in

(41:05):
a fantastic utopia that was literally nowhere. He threw himself
on his bed with a groan that was half a sob.
He saw finally the implication of the name Galatea galatea
Pygmalian statue given life by Venus in the ancient Grecian myth.
But his Galatea, warm and lovely and vital, must remain
forever without the gift of life, since he was neither

(41:27):
Pygmalion nor God. He woke late in the morning, staring
uncomprehensiingly about for the fountain pool of para Cosma. Slow
comprehension dawned how much how much of last night's experience
had been real? How much was the product of alcohol?
Or had old Luguin been right? And was there no
difference between reality and dream? He changed his rumple attire

(41:51):
and wandered despondently to the street. He found Lugwood's hotel.
At last, inquiry revealed that the diminutive professor had checked out,
leaving no forwarding what of it. Even Luwood couldn't give
what he sought a living galatea. Dan was glad that
he had disappeared. He hated a little professor professor. Hypnotists

(42:12):
called themselves professors. He dragged through a weary day and
then a sleepless night back to Chicago. It was midwinter
when he saw a suggestively tiny figurehead of him in
the loot, Ludwig. He had what used to hail him?
His cry was automatic, Professor Ludwig. The elefant figure turned,
recognized him, smiled. They stepped into the shelter of a building.

(42:33):
I'm sorry about your machine, Professor. I'll be glad to
pay for the damage. Ah, that was nothing, a cracked glass.
But you have you been ill? You look much the worse.
It's nothing, said Dan. Your show is marvelous, Professor, marvelous.
I'd have told you so, but you were gone when
I ended. Ludwig shrugged. I went to the lob before

(42:54):
a cigar. Five hours of a wax dummy. You know,
it was marvelous, repeated Dan, so real smiled the other
only because you co operated. Then it takes self hypnosis.
It was real, all right, agreed Dan, glumly. I don't
understand it. That strange, beautiful country. The trees were club

(43:15):
mosses enlarged by a lens of Leegwig. All was trick photography,
but stereoscope, as I told you, three dimensional. The fruits
were rubber. The houses a summer building on our campus,
Northern University, and the voice was mine. You didn't speak
at all except your name at the first, and I
left a blank for that. I've played your part. You see.
I went around the photographic apparatus, drapped on my head

(43:37):
to keep the viewpoints always out of the observer. See,
he grinned wryly. Luckily I'm rather short, or you'd have
seemed a giant. Wait a minute, said Dan, his mind whirling.
You say you played my part, then Galatea is she
real too? Tea's real enough, said the professor. My niece
a senior at Northern and likes dramatics. She helped me

(43:59):
out the thing. Why I want to meet her, Dan
answered vaguely, happily, and Nake had vanished, a pain was ceased,
para cosmon was attainable at last end of Pitmailian Spectacles
by Stanley Grumm and Winebaumb