December 23, 2025 • 28 mins
https://www.solgoodmedia.com - Listen to hundreds of audiobooks, thousands of short stories, and ambient sounds all ad free! "Mind Webs Daily" rekindles the charm of old time radio with a daily infusion of psychological and speculative tales. Each day offers a unique journey into the enigmatic and often eerie realms of the human mind, reminiscent of classic radio storytelling but with a contemporary flair. Perfect for daily listeners who appreciate a blend of nostalgia and modern narrative depth.
Mark as Played
Transcript
Episode Transcript
Available transcripts are automatically generated. Complete accuracy is not guaranteed.
Speaker 1 (00:15):
Mind. We welcome to a half hour of mind worbs
(00:36):
short stories from the world expectant of fiction. The story
this time comes from the book Fun with Your New
(00:56):
Head by Thomas M. Dish, a story which is entitled
descending Ketsip mustard, pickle, relish, mayonnaise, two kinds of salad dressing, bacon, grease,
and a lemon oh. Yes, two trays of ice cubes
in the cupboard. It wasn't much better. Jars and boxes
(01:19):
of spice, flour, sugar, salt, and a box of raisins.
An empty box of raisins. Not even any coffee, not
even tea, which he hated. Nothing in the mail box
but a bill from Underwoods, four dollars and seventy five
cents in change jangled in his coat pocket, the plunder
of the kiati bottle that he had promised himself never
(01:41):
to break open. He was spared the unpleasantness of having
to sell his books. They had all been sold. The
letter to Graham had gone out a week ago. If
his brother intended to send him something this time, it
would have come by now. I should be desperate, he thought,
Perhaps I am. He might have looked in the times,
(02:04):
but no that was too depressing, applying for jobs at
fifty dollars a week and being turned down. Not that
he blamed them. He wouldn't have hired himself himself. He
had been the grasshopper for years and the ants were
on to his tricks. Descending the stairway to the first floor,
he encountered Missus Beale, who was pretending to sweep the
(02:26):
well swept floor of the entrance. Again. Afternoon, I suppose
it's good morning for you. Huh h, good afternoon, missus Beale. Hey,
let her come. No, not yet, I remember the first
of the month isn't far off? M yes, indeed, Missus Beale.
At the subway station, he considered a moment before answering
(02:47):
the attendant one token or two. He decided too. After all,
he had no choice but to return to his apartment.
The first of the month was still a long way off.
If Jean val That had a charge account, he would
never have gone to prison. And having thus cheered himself,
he settled down to enjoy the ads in the subway
(03:08):
car smoke, Try, Eat, Live, See, drink, use Buy. At
thirty fourth Street, he got off and entered Underwood's department store,
directly from the train platform. Fancy Groceries was on five,
(03:30):
and he made his selection judiciously. A jar of instant
in the two pound can of drip cround coffee, a
large tin of corned beef, packaged soups and boxes of
pancake mix and condensed milk, jam, peanut, butter, honey, six
cans of tuna fish. Then he indulged himself in perishables
(03:50):
English cookies and eat them cheese, a small frozen pheasant,
even fruitcake. He never ate so well as when he
was broke, when he couldn't afford to. After ringing up
his charge, the clerk checked the number on his card
against her list of closed or doubtful accounts. He smiled
(04:12):
apologetically and handed the card back. The bag of groceries
weighed a good twenty pounds, carrying it with the exquisite
casualness of the burglar passing before a policeman with his loop,
he took the escalator to the book shop on the
eighth floor. His choice of books was determined by the
(04:32):
same principle as his choice of groceries. First, Uh Staples,
two Victorian novels he had never read, Vanity Fair in
Middle March, the Sayer's translation of Dante and the two
volume mentology of German plays, none of which he had
read and few had even heard of. And then The Parishables,
a sensational novel that had reached the best seller list
(04:55):
via the Supreme Court, and two mysteries. He begun to
feel giddy with self indulgence. He reached into his jacket
pocket for a coin, heads and new suit and tails.
The sky Room Tales. The sky room on fifteen was
empty of all but a few women chatting over coffee
(05:17):
and cakes. He was able to get a seat by
a window. He ordered from the other carte side of
the menu and finished his meal with espresso and bacle vun.
He handed the waitress his credit card and tipped her
fifty cents. Over his second cup of coffee, he began
Vanity Fair, and once he to his surprise, he found
himself enjoying it. The waitress returned with his card and
(05:40):
the receipt for the meal. Since the sky room was
on the top floor of Underwoods, there was only one
escalator to take now descending riding down, he continued to
read Vanity Fair. He could read anywhere in restaurants and subways,
even walk down the street. At each landing, he made
(06:03):
his way from the foot of one escalator to the
head of the next, without lifting his eyes from the book.
When he came to the bargain basement, he would be
only a few steps from the subway turnstile. He was
halfway through chapter six, on page fifty five, to be exact,
when he began to feel something amiss. How long does
(06:28):
this dand thing take to reach the basement? He stopped
at the next landing, but there was no sign to
indicate on what floor he was, nor any door by
which he might re enter the store. Deducing from this
that he was between floors, he took the escalator down
one more flight, only to find the same perplexing absence
(06:49):
of landmarks. There was, however, a water fund, and he
stopped to take a drink. Must have gone to a
sub basement, but this was not too likely, after all,
or escalators were seldom provided for janitors and stock boys.
He waited on the landing, watching the steps of the
escalators slowly descend toward him, and, at the end of
(07:11):
their journey, telescope in upon themselves and disappear. He waited
a long while and no one else came down the
moving steps. Perhaps the story was closed. Having no wristwatch,
and having rather lost track of the time, he had
no way of knowing. At last, he reasoned that he
had become so engrossed in the factory novel that he
(07:34):
had simply stopped in one of the upper landing, say
a Nate to finish a chapter, and they had read
on the page fifty five without even realizing that he
was making no progress on the escalators. When he read
he could forget everything else. He must therefore still be
somewhere above the main floor. The absence of exits, although disconcerting,
(07:55):
could be explained by some quirk of the floor plan.
The absence of signs was merely carelessness on the part
of the management. He tucked Vanity Fair into a shopping
bag and stepped on to the grilled lip of the
down going escalator. Not it must be admitted, without a
(08:16):
certain degree of reluctance. At each landing he marked his
progress by a number spoken aloud. By eight he was uneasy,
By fifteen he was desperate. It was, of course possible
that he had to descend two flights of stairs for
(08:37):
every floor of the department store, and with this possibility
in mind, he counted off fifteen more landings, dazedly, and
as though to deny the reality of this seemingly interminable starewell,
he continued his descent. When he stopped again at the
(08:58):
forty fifth landing, he was trembling. He was afraid. He
rested the shopping bag and the bare concrete floor of
the landing, realizing that his arm had gone quite sore
from supporting the twenty pounds more of groceries and books,
He discounted the enticing possibility that was all a dream.
(09:21):
For the dream world is the reality of the dreamer
to which he could not weekly surrender, no more than
one could surrender to the realities of life. Besides, he
was not dreaming of that, he was quite sure. He
checked his pulse. It was fast, say eighty a minute.
He rode down two more flights, counting his pulse eighty
(09:43):
almost exactly. Two flights took only one minute. He could
read approximately one page a minute, a little less than
an escalator. I suppose he had spent one hour on
the escalators, while he had read sixty minutes one hundred
and twenty floors plus five forty seven that he had
counted one hundred sixty seven. The sky room was on fifteen.
(10:06):
One hundred sixty seven minus fifteen equals one hundred fifty two.
He was in the one hundred fifty second sub basement.
That was impossible. The appropriate response to an impossible situation
was to deal with it as though it were commonplace
(10:29):
or ago. He would return to Underwoods the same way
he had apparently left it. He would walk up one
hundred fifty two flights of down going escalators, taking the
steps three at a time, and running. It was almost
like going up with a regular staircase. But after ascending
the second escalator in this manner, he found himself already
(10:51):
out of breath. There was no hurry. He would not
allow himself to be overtaken by panic. No, he picked
up the bag of groceries and books he had left
on that landing, waiting for his breath to return, and
darted up a third and a fourth flight. While he
rested on the landing, he tried to count the steps
(11:12):
between floors, but his count differed depending on whether he
counted with the current or against it, down or up.
The average was roughly eighteen steps and The steps appeared
to be eight or nine inches deep. Each flight was
therefore about twelve feet. It was at least one third
of a mile as the plumb drops to Underwood's main floor.
(11:37):
He ate and he rested, sleeping. He dreamed he was
falling down the bottomless pit. Awaking, he discovered nothing that
changed except the dull ache in his legs, which had
become a sharp pain. Over had a single strip of
(11:57):
fluorescent lighting snaked down the stairwell. The mechanical purr of
the escalator seemed to have heightened the roar of a niagara,
and their rate of descent seemed to have increased proportionately. Fever,
he decided. He stood up stiffly, inflexed some of the
soreness from his muscles. Halfway up the third escalator, his
(12:20):
legs gave way under him. He attempted to climb again
and succeeded. He collapsed again on the next flight. Lying
on the landing where the escalator had deposited him, he
realized that his hunger had returned. He also needed to
have water. He remembered the water fodden he had drunk
from yesterday, and he found another three floors below it's
(12:47):
so much easier going down. His groceries were down there,
To go after them now he would erase whatever progress
he had made in his ascent. Perhaps Underwood's main was
only a few more flights up or a hundred. There
was no way to know. Because he was hungry, and
(13:09):
because he was tired, and because the futility of mounting
endless flights of descending escalators was, as he now considered it,
a labor of sissifus. He returned, descended, gave in. At first,
he allowed the escalator to take him along at its
(13:31):
own mild pace, but he soon grew impatient of this.
He found that the exercise of running down the steps
three at a time was not so exhausting as running up.
It was refreshing, almost, and by swimming with the current
instead of against it, his progress, if such it can
be called, was appreciable. In only minutes, he was back
(13:54):
at his cache of groceries. After eating half the fruitcake
and a little cheese, he fashioned his coat into a
sort of sling for the groceries, nodding the sleeves together
and then buttoning it closed with one hand of the
collar and the other about the hand. He could carry
all his food with him. He looked up the descending
(14:15):
staircase with a scornful smile, for he had decided, with
the wisdom of failure to abandon that venture. If the
stairs wanted to take him down, then down, gidaly he
would go. But then down he did go, down, dizzily, down, down,
(14:38):
and always it seemed faster, spinning about lightly on his
heels at each landing, so that there was hardly any
break in the wild speed of his descent. Down, ever deeper, down.
Twice he slid at the landings. Once he missed his
footing in the mid leap on the escalator, hurtled four forward,
(15:00):
letting go this sling of groceries and falling hands stretched
out to cushion him onto the steps, which imperturbably continued
their descent. He must have been unconscious then, for he
woke up in a pile of groceries with a split
cheek and a splitting headache. The telescoping steps of the
escalator gently grazed his heels. He knew then his first
(15:24):
moment of terror, a premonition that there was no end
to his descent. But this feeling gave way quickly to
a laughing.
Speaker 2 (15:34):
Fit, he shouted, I'm going to hell, though he could.
Speaker 1 (15:39):
Not drown with his voice the steady purr of the escalators.
This is the way to hell. Abandon hope all ye
you wonder here if only I were going to hell,
he reflected, If that were the case, it would make sense,
not quite orthodox sense, but some sense. A little they, however,
(16:00):
was so integral to his character that neither hysteria nor
horror could long have their way with him. He gathered
up his groceries again, relieved to find that only the
Jarvinston coffee had been broken. This time he began a
more deliberate descent. He returned to Vanity Fair, reading it
(16:21):
as he paced down the down going steps. He did
not let himself consider the extent of the abyss into
which he was plunging, and the vicarious excitement of the
novel helped him keep his thoughts from his own situation.
At page two hundred thirty five, he launched on the
remainder of the cheese and fruitcake. At five hundred twenty three,
(16:43):
he rested and dined on the English cookie stipped in
peanut butter. If he could regard this absurd dilemma, merely
as a struggle for survival. Another chapter in his own
Robinson Crusoe's story, He might get to the bottom of
this mechanical vortex, alive and saying, he thought proudly that
(17:05):
many people in his position could not have adjusted. It
would have gone mad. Of course, he was descending, but
he was still sane. He had chosen his course, now
he was following it. There was no night in the stairwell,
and scarcely any shadows. He slept when his legs could
(17:27):
no longer bear his weight and his eyes were tearful
from reading. Sleeping, he dreamed that he was continuing his
descent on the escalators, waking his hand resting on the
rubber railing that moved along the same rate as the steps.
He discovered this to be the case. Somnambulistically. He had
ridden the escalators further down into this mild, interminable hell,
(17:52):
leaving behind his bundle of food and even the still
unfinished Thackery novel. Stumbling up the escalators, he began for
the first time to cry. Without the novel, there was
nothing to think of but this. This. His legs, which
had only been slightly wearied by his descent, gave out
(18:15):
twenty flights up, his spirit gave out soon after Again,
he turned around, allowed himself to be swept up by
the current, or more exactly, swept down. The escalator seemed
to be traveling more rapidly now, the pitch of the
steps to be more pronounced, but he no longer trusted
(18:38):
the evidence of his senses. Continuing his descent, he occupied
himself with a closer analysis of his environment, not undertaken
with any hope of bettering his condition, but only for
lack of other diversions. The walls and ceilings were hard,
smooth and off white. The escalator's steps were dull nickel color,
(19:01):
the treads being somewhat shinier, the crevices darker. Did that
mean that the treads were polished from use, or were
they designed in that fashion. The treads were half an
inch wide and spaced apart from each other by the
same width. They projected slightly over the edge of each step,
resembling somewhat the head of a barber shears. Whenever he
(19:25):
stopped at a landing, his attention would become fixed on
the illusory disappearance of the steps as they sank flush
to the floor and then slid, treading groove into the
grilled base plate. Less and less would he run or
even walk down the stairs, content merely to ride his
(19:46):
chosen step from top to bottom of each flight. At
the landing step onto the escalator that would transport himTo
the floor below the stairwell. Nell had tunneled by his
calculations miles before heath the department store, so many miles
that he began to congratulate himself on his unsought adventure,
(20:06):
wondering if he had established some sort of record. In
the days that followed, when his only nourishment was the
water from the bottens provided at every tenth landing, he
thought frequently of food, preparing imaginary meals from the store
of groceries he'd left behind, savoring the ideal sweetness of
(20:30):
the honey, the richness of the soup which he would
prepare by soaking the powder in the emptied cookie tin,
licking the film of gelatin, lining the open cans of
corned beef. When he thought of the six cans of
tuna fish, his anxiety became intolerable, for it he had
no way to open them. Merely to stamp on them
would not be enough. What then he turned the question
(20:53):
over and over in the Then a curious thing happened.
Quickened again, the speed of his descent faster now than
when first he had done this eagerly, had long, absolutely heedless.
The several landings seemed to flash by like a montage
of flight, each scarcely perceived before the next was before
(21:15):
him a demonic, pointless race. And why he was running? So,
he thought toward his store of groceries, either believing that
they had been left below, or thinking that he was
running up. Clearly he was delirious. It did not last.
His weakened body could not maintain the frantic pace, and
(21:35):
he awoke from his delirium, confused and utterly spent. Now
began another more rational delirium, a madness fired by logic.
Lying on the landing, rubbing the torn muscle in his ankle,
he speculated on the nature, origin, and purpose of the escalators.
(21:58):
Reasoned thought was of no more use to him, however,
than unreasoning action. Ingenuity was helpless to solve a riddle
that had no answer, which.
Speaker 2 (22:08):
Was its own reason, self contained, and the whole He not.
Speaker 1 (22:14):
The escalators needed an answer. Brhanps's most interesting theory was
the notion that these escalators were a kind of exercise wheel,
like those found in a squirrel gauge, from which, because
it was a closed system, there could be no escape.
(22:37):
This theory required some minor alterations in his conception of
the physical universe, which had always appeared highly euclidean to
him before. A universe in which is descent seemingly along
a plumb line was in fact describing a loop. This
theory cheeredy in, for he might hope, coming full circle,
(22:57):
to return to his store of groceries again, if not
to one, perhaps in his abstracted state, he had passed
one or the other already several times without observing theories.
He thought, I don't need theories. I must get on
with it, and so, favoring his good leg he continued
his descent. Although his speculations did not immediately cease, they became,
(23:22):
if anything, more metaphysical, they became vague. Eventually he could
regard the escalators as being entirely matter of fact, requiring
no more explanation than by their sheer existence they offered him.
He discovered that he was losing weight, being so long
(23:42):
without food. By the evidence of his spirit, he estimated
that more than a week had gone by. This was
only to be expected. Yet there was another possibility that
he could not exclude. That he was approaching the center
of the earth. Whereas he understood all things were weightless.
Now that he thought is something worth striving for, he
(24:05):
had discovered a goal. On the other hand, he was
dying in the process. He did not give all the
attention to deserved. Unwilling to admit this eventuality, and yet
not so foolish as to admit any other, he sidestepped
the issue by pretending to hope. Maybe someone will rescue me.
He hope, but his hope was as mechanical as the
(24:29):
escalators he rode intended much the same way. To sink
from the bottom, which he conceived of as the center
of the earth. There would be literally nowhere to go
but up, probably another chain of escalators, ascending escalators, but
(24:50):
preferably by an elevator. It was important to believe in
a bottom. Thought was becoming as difficult as demanding. It
was as painful as once his struggle to ascend had been.
His perceptions were fuzzy. He did not know what was
real and what was imaginary. He thought he was eating,
(25:13):
and discovered that he was gnawing at his hands. He
thought he had come to the bottom. That was a large,
high ceilinged room. Stigns pointed to another escalator ascending, but
there was a chain across it, and a small type
announcement that read, out of order. Please bear with us
while the escalators are being repaired. Thank you to the management.
(25:35):
He laughed with He devised a way to open the
tuna fish cans. He would slip the can sideways beneath
the projecting treads of the escalator, just at the point
where the steps were sinking flush to the floor. Either
the escalator would split the can open, or the can
would jam the escalator. Perhaps if one escalator were jammed,
the whole chain of 'em would stop. He should have
(25:58):
thought of that before, but he was nevertheless quite pleased
to have thought of it at all. His body seemed
to weigh so little. Now he must have come hundreds
of miles thousands Again he descended. Then he was lying
(26:21):
at the foot of the escalator. His head rested on
the cold metal of the base plate, and he was
looking at his hand, the fingers of which were pressed
into the creviced grill. One after another in perfect order.
The steps of the escalator slipped into these crevices, tread
and groove, rasping at his fingertips, occasionally tearing away a
(26:46):
sliver of his flesh. That was the last thing he remembered.
(27:32):
Our story this time is titled descending from a book
by Thomas M. Dish called Fun with Your New Head.
This is Michael Anson speaking Engineering by Steve Gordon. Mind
webs is a production of Wycha Radio and Madison, the
service of the University of Wisconsin Extension Co.
Mind. We welcome to a half hour of mind worbs
(00:36):
short stories from the world expectant of fiction. The story
this time comes from the book Fun with Your New
(00:56):
Head by Thomas M. Dish, a story which is entitled
descending Ketsip mustard, pickle, relish, mayonnaise, two kinds of salad dressing, bacon, grease,
and a lemon oh. Yes, two trays of ice cubes
in the cupboard. It wasn't much better. Jars and boxes
(01:19):
of spice, flour, sugar, salt, and a box of raisins.
An empty box of raisins. Not even any coffee, not
even tea, which he hated. Nothing in the mail box
but a bill from Underwoods, four dollars and seventy five
cents in change jangled in his coat pocket, the plunder
of the kiati bottle that he had promised himself never
(01:41):
to break open. He was spared the unpleasantness of having
to sell his books. They had all been sold. The
letter to Graham had gone out a week ago. If
his brother intended to send him something this time, it
would have come by now. I should be desperate, he thought,
Perhaps I am. He might have looked in the times,
(02:04):
but no that was too depressing, applying for jobs at
fifty dollars a week and being turned down. Not that
he blamed them. He wouldn't have hired himself himself. He
had been the grasshopper for years and the ants were
on to his tricks. Descending the stairway to the first floor,
he encountered Missus Beale, who was pretending to sweep the
(02:26):
well swept floor of the entrance. Again. Afternoon, I suppose
it's good morning for you. Huh h, good afternoon, missus Beale. Hey,
let her come. No, not yet, I remember the first
of the month isn't far off? M yes, indeed, Missus Beale.
At the subway station, he considered a moment before answering
(02:47):
the attendant one token or two. He decided too. After all,
he had no choice but to return to his apartment.
The first of the month was still a long way off.
If Jean val That had a charge account, he would
never have gone to prison. And having thus cheered himself,
he settled down to enjoy the ads in the subway
(03:08):
car smoke, Try, Eat, Live, See, drink, use Buy. At
thirty fourth Street, he got off and entered Underwood's department store,
directly from the train platform. Fancy Groceries was on five,
(03:30):
and he made his selection judiciously. A jar of instant
in the two pound can of drip cround coffee, a
large tin of corned beef, packaged soups and boxes of
pancake mix and condensed milk, jam, peanut, butter, honey, six
cans of tuna fish. Then he indulged himself in perishables
(03:50):
English cookies and eat them cheese, a small frozen pheasant,
even fruitcake. He never ate so well as when he
was broke, when he couldn't afford to. After ringing up
his charge, the clerk checked the number on his card
against her list of closed or doubtful accounts. He smiled
(04:12):
apologetically and handed the card back. The bag of groceries
weighed a good twenty pounds, carrying it with the exquisite
casualness of the burglar passing before a policeman with his loop,
he took the escalator to the book shop on the
eighth floor. His choice of books was determined by the
(04:32):
same principle as his choice of groceries. First, Uh Staples,
two Victorian novels he had never read, Vanity Fair in
Middle March, the Sayer's translation of Dante and the two
volume mentology of German plays, none of which he had
read and few had even heard of. And then The Parishables,
a sensational novel that had reached the best seller list
(04:55):
via the Supreme Court, and two mysteries. He begun to
feel giddy with self indulgence. He reached into his jacket
pocket for a coin, heads and new suit and tails.
The sky Room Tales. The sky room on fifteen was
empty of all but a few women chatting over coffee
(05:17):
and cakes. He was able to get a seat by
a window. He ordered from the other carte side of
the menu and finished his meal with espresso and bacle vun.
He handed the waitress his credit card and tipped her
fifty cents. Over his second cup of coffee, he began
Vanity Fair, and once he to his surprise, he found
himself enjoying it. The waitress returned with his card and
(05:40):
the receipt for the meal. Since the sky room was
on the top floor of Underwoods, there was only one
escalator to take now descending riding down, he continued to
read Vanity Fair. He could read anywhere in restaurants and subways,
even walk down the street. At each landing, he made
(06:03):
his way from the foot of one escalator to the
head of the next, without lifting his eyes from the book.
When he came to the bargain basement, he would be
only a few steps from the subway turnstile. He was
halfway through chapter six, on page fifty five, to be exact,
when he began to feel something amiss. How long does
(06:28):
this dand thing take to reach the basement? He stopped
at the next landing, but there was no sign to
indicate on what floor he was, nor any door by
which he might re enter the store. Deducing from this
that he was between floors, he took the escalator down
one more flight, only to find the same perplexing absence
(06:49):
of landmarks. There was, however, a water fund, and he
stopped to take a drink. Must have gone to a
sub basement, but this was not too likely, after all,
or escalators were seldom provided for janitors and stock boys.
He waited on the landing, watching the steps of the
escalators slowly descend toward him, and, at the end of
(07:11):
their journey, telescope in upon themselves and disappear. He waited
a long while and no one else came down the
moving steps. Perhaps the story was closed. Having no wristwatch,
and having rather lost track of the time, he had
no way of knowing. At last, he reasoned that he
had become so engrossed in the factory novel that he
(07:34):
had simply stopped in one of the upper landing, say
a Nate to finish a chapter, and they had read
on the page fifty five without even realizing that he
was making no progress on the escalators. When he read
he could forget everything else. He must therefore still be
somewhere above the main floor. The absence of exits, although disconcerting,
(07:55):
could be explained by some quirk of the floor plan.
The absence of signs was merely carelessness on the part
of the management. He tucked Vanity Fair into a shopping
bag and stepped on to the grilled lip of the
down going escalator. Not it must be admitted, without a
(08:16):
certain degree of reluctance. At each landing he marked his
progress by a number spoken aloud. By eight he was uneasy,
By fifteen he was desperate. It was, of course possible
that he had to descend two flights of stairs for
(08:37):
every floor of the department store, and with this possibility
in mind, he counted off fifteen more landings, dazedly, and
as though to deny the reality of this seemingly interminable starewell,
he continued his descent. When he stopped again at the
(08:58):
forty fifth landing, he was trembling. He was afraid. He
rested the shopping bag and the bare concrete floor of
the landing, realizing that his arm had gone quite sore
from supporting the twenty pounds more of groceries and books,
He discounted the enticing possibility that was all a dream.
(09:21):
For the dream world is the reality of the dreamer
to which he could not weekly surrender, no more than
one could surrender to the realities of life. Besides, he
was not dreaming of that, he was quite sure. He
checked his pulse. It was fast, say eighty a minute.
He rode down two more flights, counting his pulse eighty
(09:43):
almost exactly. Two flights took only one minute. He could
read approximately one page a minute, a little less than
an escalator. I suppose he had spent one hour on
the escalators, while he had read sixty minutes one hundred
and twenty floors plus five forty seven that he had
counted one hundred sixty seven. The sky room was on fifteen.
(10:06):
One hundred sixty seven minus fifteen equals one hundred fifty two.
He was in the one hundred fifty second sub basement.
That was impossible. The appropriate response to an impossible situation
was to deal with it as though it were commonplace
(10:29):
or ago. He would return to Underwoods the same way
he had apparently left it. He would walk up one
hundred fifty two flights of down going escalators, taking the
steps three at a time, and running. It was almost
like going up with a regular staircase. But after ascending
the second escalator in this manner, he found himself already
(10:51):
out of breath. There was no hurry. He would not
allow himself to be overtaken by panic. No, he picked
up the bag of groceries and books he had left
on that landing, waiting for his breath to return, and
darted up a third and a fourth flight. While he
rested on the landing, he tried to count the steps
(11:12):
between floors, but his count differed depending on whether he
counted with the current or against it, down or up.
The average was roughly eighteen steps and The steps appeared
to be eight or nine inches deep. Each flight was
therefore about twelve feet. It was at least one third
of a mile as the plumb drops to Underwood's main floor.
(11:37):
He ate and he rested, sleeping. He dreamed he was
falling down the bottomless pit. Awaking, he discovered nothing that
changed except the dull ache in his legs, which had
become a sharp pain. Over had a single strip of
(11:57):
fluorescent lighting snaked down the stairwell. The mechanical purr of
the escalator seemed to have heightened the roar of a niagara,
and their rate of descent seemed to have increased proportionately. Fever,
he decided. He stood up stiffly, inflexed some of the
soreness from his muscles. Halfway up the third escalator, his
(12:20):
legs gave way under him. He attempted to climb again
and succeeded. He collapsed again on the next flight. Lying
on the landing where the escalator had deposited him, he
realized that his hunger had returned. He also needed to
have water. He remembered the water fodden he had drunk
from yesterday, and he found another three floors below it's
(12:47):
so much easier going down. His groceries were down there,
To go after them now he would erase whatever progress
he had made in his ascent. Perhaps Underwood's main was
only a few more flights up or a hundred. There
was no way to know. Because he was hungry, and
(13:09):
because he was tired, and because the futility of mounting
endless flights of descending escalators was, as he now considered it,
a labor of sissifus. He returned, descended, gave in. At first,
he allowed the escalator to take him along at its
(13:31):
own mild pace, but he soon grew impatient of this.
He found that the exercise of running down the steps
three at a time was not so exhausting as running up.
It was refreshing, almost, and by swimming with the current
instead of against it, his progress, if such it can
be called, was appreciable. In only minutes, he was back
(13:54):
at his cache of groceries. After eating half the fruitcake
and a little cheese, he fashioned his coat into a
sort of sling for the groceries, nodding the sleeves together
and then buttoning it closed with one hand of the
collar and the other about the hand. He could carry
all his food with him. He looked up the descending
(14:15):
staircase with a scornful smile, for he had decided, with
the wisdom of failure to abandon that venture. If the
stairs wanted to take him down, then down, gidaly he
would go. But then down he did go, down, dizzily, down, down,
(14:38):
and always it seemed faster, spinning about lightly on his
heels at each landing, so that there was hardly any
break in the wild speed of his descent. Down, ever deeper, down.
Twice he slid at the landings. Once he missed his
footing in the mid leap on the escalator, hurtled four forward,
(15:00):
letting go this sling of groceries and falling hands stretched
out to cushion him onto the steps, which imperturbably continued
their descent. He must have been unconscious then, for he
woke up in a pile of groceries with a split
cheek and a splitting headache. The telescoping steps of the
escalator gently grazed his heels. He knew then his first
(15:24):
moment of terror, a premonition that there was no end
to his descent. But this feeling gave way quickly to
a laughing.
Speaker 2 (15:34):
Fit, he shouted, I'm going to hell, though he could.
Speaker 1 (15:39):
Not drown with his voice the steady purr of the escalators.
This is the way to hell. Abandon hope all ye
you wonder here if only I were going to hell,
he reflected, If that were the case, it would make sense,
not quite orthodox sense, but some sense. A little they, however,
(16:00):
was so integral to his character that neither hysteria nor
horror could long have their way with him. He gathered
up his groceries again, relieved to find that only the
Jarvinston coffee had been broken. This time he began a
more deliberate descent. He returned to Vanity Fair, reading it
(16:21):
as he paced down the down going steps. He did
not let himself consider the extent of the abyss into
which he was plunging, and the vicarious excitement of the
novel helped him keep his thoughts from his own situation.
At page two hundred thirty five, he launched on the
remainder of the cheese and fruitcake. At five hundred twenty three,
(16:43):
he rested and dined on the English cookie stipped in
peanut butter. If he could regard this absurd dilemma, merely
as a struggle for survival. Another chapter in his own
Robinson Crusoe's story, He might get to the bottom of
this mechanical vortex, alive and saying, he thought proudly that
(17:05):
many people in his position could not have adjusted. It
would have gone mad. Of course, he was descending, but
he was still sane. He had chosen his course, now
he was following it. There was no night in the stairwell,
and scarcely any shadows. He slept when his legs could
(17:27):
no longer bear his weight and his eyes were tearful
from reading. Sleeping, he dreamed that he was continuing his
descent on the escalators, waking his hand resting on the
rubber railing that moved along the same rate as the steps.
He discovered this to be the case. Somnambulistically. He had
ridden the escalators further down into this mild, interminable hell,
(17:52):
leaving behind his bundle of food and even the still
unfinished Thackery novel. Stumbling up the escalators, he began for
the first time to cry. Without the novel, there was
nothing to think of but this. This. His legs, which
had only been slightly wearied by his descent, gave out
(18:15):
twenty flights up, his spirit gave out soon after Again,
he turned around, allowed himself to be swept up by
the current, or more exactly, swept down. The escalator seemed
to be traveling more rapidly now, the pitch of the
steps to be more pronounced, but he no longer trusted
(18:38):
the evidence of his senses. Continuing his descent, he occupied
himself with a closer analysis of his environment, not undertaken
with any hope of bettering his condition, but only for
lack of other diversions. The walls and ceilings were hard,
smooth and off white. The escalator's steps were dull nickel color,
(19:01):
the treads being somewhat shinier, the crevices darker. Did that
mean that the treads were polished from use, or were
they designed in that fashion. The treads were half an
inch wide and spaced apart from each other by the
same width. They projected slightly over the edge of each step,
resembling somewhat the head of a barber shears. Whenever he
(19:25):
stopped at a landing, his attention would become fixed on
the illusory disappearance of the steps as they sank flush
to the floor and then slid, treading groove into the
grilled base plate. Less and less would he run or
even walk down the stairs, content merely to ride his
(19:46):
chosen step from top to bottom of each flight. At
the landing step onto the escalator that would transport himTo
the floor below the stairwell. Nell had tunneled by his
calculations miles before heath the department store, so many miles
that he began to congratulate himself on his unsought adventure,
(20:06):
wondering if he had established some sort of record. In
the days that followed, when his only nourishment was the
water from the bottens provided at every tenth landing, he
thought frequently of food, preparing imaginary meals from the store
of groceries he'd left behind, savoring the ideal sweetness of
(20:30):
the honey, the richness of the soup which he would
prepare by soaking the powder in the emptied cookie tin,
licking the film of gelatin, lining the open cans of
corned beef. When he thought of the six cans of
tuna fish, his anxiety became intolerable, for it he had
no way to open them. Merely to stamp on them
would not be enough. What then he turned the question
(20:53):
over and over in the Then a curious thing happened.
Quickened again, the speed of his descent faster now than
when first he had done this eagerly, had long, absolutely heedless.
The several landings seemed to flash by like a montage
of flight, each scarcely perceived before the next was before
(21:15):
him a demonic, pointless race. And why he was running? So,
he thought toward his store of groceries, either believing that
they had been left below, or thinking that he was
running up. Clearly he was delirious. It did not last.
His weakened body could not maintain the frantic pace, and
(21:35):
he awoke from his delirium, confused and utterly spent. Now
began another more rational delirium, a madness fired by logic.
Lying on the landing, rubbing the torn muscle in his ankle,
he speculated on the nature, origin, and purpose of the escalators.
(21:58):
Reasoned thought was of no more use to him, however,
than unreasoning action. Ingenuity was helpless to solve a riddle
that had no answer, which.
Speaker 2 (22:08):
Was its own reason, self contained, and the whole He not.
Speaker 1 (22:14):
The escalators needed an answer. Brhanps's most interesting theory was
the notion that these escalators were a kind of exercise wheel,
like those found in a squirrel gauge, from which, because
it was a closed system, there could be no escape.
(22:37):
This theory required some minor alterations in his conception of
the physical universe, which had always appeared highly euclidean to
him before. A universe in which is descent seemingly along
a plumb line was in fact describing a loop. This
theory cheeredy in, for he might hope, coming full circle,
(22:57):
to return to his store of groceries again, if not
to one, perhaps in his abstracted state, he had passed
one or the other already several times without observing theories.
He thought, I don't need theories. I must get on
with it, and so, favoring his good leg he continued
his descent. Although his speculations did not immediately cease, they became,
(23:22):
if anything, more metaphysical, they became vague. Eventually he could
regard the escalators as being entirely matter of fact, requiring
no more explanation than by their sheer existence they offered him.
He discovered that he was losing weight, being so long
(23:42):
without food. By the evidence of his spirit, he estimated
that more than a week had gone by. This was
only to be expected. Yet there was another possibility that
he could not exclude. That he was approaching the center
of the earth. Whereas he understood all things were weightless.
Now that he thought is something worth striving for, he
(24:05):
had discovered a goal. On the other hand, he was
dying in the process. He did not give all the
attention to deserved. Unwilling to admit this eventuality, and yet
not so foolish as to admit any other, he sidestepped
the issue by pretending to hope. Maybe someone will rescue me.
He hope, but his hope was as mechanical as the
(24:29):
escalators he rode intended much the same way. To sink
from the bottom, which he conceived of as the center
of the earth. There would be literally nowhere to go
but up, probably another chain of escalators, ascending escalators, but
(24:50):
preferably by an elevator. It was important to believe in
a bottom. Thought was becoming as difficult as demanding. It
was as painful as once his struggle to ascend had been.
His perceptions were fuzzy. He did not know what was
real and what was imaginary. He thought he was eating,
(25:13):
and discovered that he was gnawing at his hands. He
thought he had come to the bottom. That was a large,
high ceilinged room. Stigns pointed to another escalator ascending, but
there was a chain across it, and a small type
announcement that read, out of order. Please bear with us
while the escalators are being repaired. Thank you to the management.
(25:35):
He laughed with He devised a way to open the
tuna fish cans. He would slip the can sideways beneath
the projecting treads of the escalator, just at the point
where the steps were sinking flush to the floor. Either
the escalator would split the can open, or the can
would jam the escalator. Perhaps if one escalator were jammed,
the whole chain of 'em would stop. He should have
(25:58):
thought of that before, but he was nevertheless quite pleased
to have thought of it at all. His body seemed
to weigh so little. Now he must have come hundreds
of miles thousands Again he descended. Then he was lying
(26:21):
at the foot of the escalator. His head rested on
the cold metal of the base plate, and he was
looking at his hand, the fingers of which were pressed
into the creviced grill. One after another in perfect order.
The steps of the escalator slipped into these crevices, tread
and groove, rasping at his fingertips, occasionally tearing away a
(26:46):
sliver of his flesh. That was the last thing he remembered.
(27:32):
Our story this time is titled descending from a book
by Thomas M. Dish called Fun with Your New Head.
This is Michael Anson speaking Engineering by Steve Gordon. Mind
webs is a production of Wycha Radio and Madison, the
service of the University of Wisconsin Extension Co.
Popular Podcasts
Stuff You Should Know
If you've ever wanted to know about champagne, satanism, the Stonewall Uprising, chaos theory, LSD, El Nino, true crime and Rosa Parks, then look no further. Josh and Chuck have you covered.
Dateline NBC
Current and classic episodes, featuring compelling true-crime mysteries, powerful documentaries and in-depth investigations. Follow now to get the latest episodes of Dateline NBC completely free, or subscribe to Dateline Premium for ad-free listening and exclusive bonus content: DatelinePremium.com
The Burden
The Burden is a documentary series that takes listeners into the hidden places where justice is done (and undone). It dives deep into the lives of heroes and villains. And it focuses a spotlight on those who triumph even when the odds are against them. Season 5 - The Burden: Death & Deceit in Alliance On April Fools Day 1999, 26-year-old Yvonne Layne was found murdered in her Alliance, Ohio home. David Thorne, her ex-boyfriend and father of one of her children, was instantly a suspect. Another young man admitted to the murder, and David breathed a sigh of relief, until the confessed murderer fingered David; “He paid me to do it.” David was sentenced to life without parole. Two decades later, Pulitzer winner and podcast host, Maggie Freleng (Bone Valley Season 3: Graves County, Wrongful Conviction, Suave) launched a “live” investigation into David's conviction alongside Jason Baldwin (himself wrongfully convicted as a member of the West Memphis Three). Maggie had come to believe that the entire investigation of David was botched by the tiny local police department, or worse, covered up the real killer. Was Maggie correct? Was David’s claim of innocence credible? In Death and Deceit in Alliance, Maggie recounts the case that launched her career, and ultimately, “broke” her.” The results will shock the listener and reduce Maggie to tears and self-doubt. This is not your typical wrongful conviction story. In fact, it turns the genre on its head. It asks the question: What if our champions are foolish? Season 4 - The Burden: Get the Money and Run “Trying to murder my father, this was the thing that put me on the path.” That’s Joe Loya and that path was bank robbery. Bank, bank, bank, bank, bank. In season 4 of The Burden: Get the Money and Run, we hear from Joe who was once the most prolific bank robber in Southern California, and beyond. He used disguises, body doubles, proxies. He leaped over counters, grabbed the money and ran. Even as the FBI was closing in. It was a showdown between a daring bank robber, and a patient FBI agent. Joe was no ordinary bank robber. He was bright, articulate, charismatic, and driven by a dark rage that he summoned up at will. In seven episodes, Joe tells all: the what, the how… and the why. Including why he tried to murder his father. Season 3 - The Burden: Avenger Miriam Lewin is one of Argentina’s leading journalists today. At 19 years old, she was kidnapped off the streets of Buenos Aires for her political activism and thrown into a concentration camp. Thousands of her fellow inmates were executed, tossed alive from a cargo plane into the ocean. Miriam, along with a handful of others, will survive the camp. Then as a journalist, she will wage a decades long campaign to bring her tormentors to justice. Avenger is about one woman’s triumphant battle against unbelievable odds to survive torture, claim justice for the crimes done against her and others like her, and change the future of her country. Season 2 - The Burden: Empire on Blood Empire on Blood is set in the Bronx, NY, in the early 90s, when two young drug dealers ruled an intersection known as “The Corner on Blood.” The boss, Calvin Buari, lived large. He and a protege swore they would build an empire on blood. Then the relationship frayed and the protege accused Calvin of a double homicide which he claimed he didn’t do. But did he? Award-winning journalist Steve Fishman spent seven years to answer that question. This is the story of one man’s last chance to overturn his life sentence. He may prevail, but someone’s gotta pay. The Burden: Empire on Blood is the director’s cut of the true crime classic which reached #1 on the charts when it was first released half a dozen years ago. Season 1 - The Burden In the 1990s, Detective Louis N. Scarcella was legendary. In a city overrun by violent crime, he cracked the toughest cases and put away the worst criminals. “The Hulk” was his nickname. Then the story changed. Scarcella ran into a group of convicted murderers who all say they are innocent. They turned themselves into jailhouse-lawyers and in prison founded a lway firm. When they realized Scarcella helped put many of them away, they set their sights on taking him down. And with the help of a NY Times reporter they have a chance. For years, Scarcella insisted he did nothing wrong. But that’s all he’d say. Until we tracked Scarcella to a sauna in a Russian bathhouse, where he started to talk..and talk and talk. “The guilty have gone free,” he whispered. And then agreed to take us into the belly of the beast. Welcome to The Burden.