Mind Webs - Weep No More Called The Lady

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Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:41):
Mind Way. Welcome to a half hour of mind Way
Short Stories, the world's respective of fiction. No. This mind

(01:18):
Web story comes from the book edited by Roger Elwood,
Future Quest. It's a story by C. L. Grant titled
Weep No More, Old Lady. During the past few weeks,

(02:21):
I've been struck with an almost desperate feeling of empathy
with anyone who is or has been imprisoned. I imagine
I know exactly what it's like to be stripped, naked
of whatever freedoms there may be, to be forcibly placed
in a room so isolated that it precludes any meaningful
communication with a so called outside world. It does happen,
of course, and in fact happens quite often. There are

(02:43):
various kinds of prisoners and different types of wardens. In
my case, I suppose there should really be some attempt
at formulating a distinction in order that I not be
confused with, well, say, a prisoner of war. I myself
have tried on one or two occasions to do justine,
but it's awfully hired to be objective. You see in

(03:04):
this cell such decidedly unpleasant and even morbid thoughts come
easily most of the time. Unbidden, and usually from reacting
over emotionally to my predicament and indulging in a tasteless
bath is self pity. But I cannot be sure that
I'm not lowering myself to rationalizing when I eventually get
hold of myself and contend that I'm not a prisoner

(03:25):
at all, not all the time anyway. In fact, this
place is as comfortable as a small room can be.
When I begin to forget things, I stretch out on
the floor and re establish its length and width at
nine and ten feet, respectively. By handing squarely in the
center of the room and raising my hand and arm
over my head, estimate the height at approximately eight feet.

(03:46):
There's a wonderfully soft double bed that waits within one wall.
If you look carefully between the animal patterns on the wallpaper,
even just make out the almost invisible lines which mark
its place, it really is comfortable, and I sleep quite
There's a bookcase that hides one complete wall and has
been thoroughly stocked. The locked room mysteries I've read none

(04:08):
of them. I never will. Among the others. I have
my favorites, but I'm afraid that they will pale soon.
Perhaps I shall be free by then. But damn it,
I'm not a prisoner. I'm a brainchild. It's easy to
dream and less than easy to do something about your dreams.

(04:29):
When I tend toward patulance in irrational moments, I lay
the blame for my condition on my parents, justifiable in
some ways, but not wholly so. As intelligent as I am,
I should have been able to foresee something like this happening.
Father was not really an extraordinary person, a professor of
ancient history who had a fondness for dry sharing, leather

(04:50):
upholstery and the Boston Red Sox and the wrecked stout.
You enjoyed being alone. Mother, on the other hand, was
a joiner, president of so many women's clubs. Was it
often when I was younger I'd read in the newspapers
something like President visits Brazil and would run through the
house crying because she didn't say goodbye to me. She
had a fondness for cognac, blue satin draperies, the Boston Bruins,

(05:13):
and ellery Queen. I have dreams of fairies and goblins
and elves, and visions of sugar plums and a big
rock candy mountain. My parents were beautifully matched, and I
was their only child. Occasionally they were mister her, and
I often wondered what I was to be then their
distorted mirror. I'm blonde and brown eyes and barely perceptibly

(05:38):
bucked tooth, gently hooked nosed, slightly on the heavy side,
and though I tried to hide it, painfully pitching told
but they were handsome and I am not. They were
my parents, and I am their son. They caused my being,
They molded me. They were the ones, rightly or not,
who fed me with knowledge and saw to it that
my potential as a genius was exploited. And it's very

(06:01):
hard to try to undo all that which has been done.
Jesus's lonely Special schools, public schools, and public children apparently
could not handle me. Special schools and special tutors were
the damnedest. Educational theories were the forces that drove me
headlong out of my early years and threw it all

(06:22):
over the binding webs of ecology, astronomy, philosophy, geology, and mathematics,
not to mention theology, antology, biology, and oceanography. Freedom of choice,
study what I wanted. Even now, I grinned a little,
remembering the expressions on my teachers' faces when I saw
it past them so rapidly that my incessant wise and
howes toppled their egos and crushed them. Of course, I

(06:46):
was too young to know that they merely looked humorous
to me, frustrating. I must have tried myself to sleep
a thousand times for the understanding I was unable to
achieve in depth being a vampire. And it frightened me.
Scared me. God, but I was scared. God, I'm scared.
I'm lonely. Sometimes I dream of gazelle and lions and

(07:11):
tigers and elephants and Batman and the lone ranger. Did
I tell you I was a brainchild. I adn't know.
I'm sleepy. But it's not time for bed to come,
not now, later at eight o'clock. It's the experiment, you see,

(07:32):
but don't tell anyone. It's a secret. Then there was
a time of crisis. His mother calls it in her book,
which was twenty three months on the Times bestseller list.
The names were changed, but that still made me rather
famous to those in the know. The book's supposed to
be fiction. I hate her for that. Well, it became

(07:56):
readily apparent that even geniuses of my particular ilk had
their limits of absorb. Father's wobbly little renaissance man was
turned out to be just another bright kid who peaked
a few years before anyone else. Mother was only disappointed,
but Father's face with redden and his voice fairly thundered
throughout the house. When I was totally unable to assimilate
another iota of material, he damn near cried when I began,

(08:20):
My paintings became static, my composition stale, and together we
pronounced my academic future as bleak as an English More
in autumn, I hated that I really did, and I
raged and throw tantrums and even wept at my helplessness.
One of the few childlike things I ever did enter

(08:41):
the government, which shares the blame, and I cannot forgive them,
for they knew exactly what they were doing, the bastards.
I never saw the president, or a cabinet member, or
even an assistant to an assistant secretary see for me,
the government was mister Bernard Poleiski, as plain a man
you will never see. He appeared out of nowhere, and
I used to sit at the bottom step in the

(09:01):
hall and fall asleep to the drone of his monotonous voice.
He came once a week, then every night, talking and
listening and arguing for about an hour or so, and
then there'd be nothing left of him when he'd gone,
no feeling, no atmosphere, no odor, no memory of him.
It was just as if he had never been. I
doubt seriously that I'd know him if you walked through

(09:22):
the door this moment only there is no door or windows,
trusting the air in a nice cream cone or two. However,
what turned out to be the final conversation did finally believe.
I spent the rest of the evening by mother's chair,
clutching her arm and grinning Richard. Father said to me, Richard,
this gentleman would like very much to assist us, rather

(09:43):
assist you with your problem. Your mother and I have
done all that we can. I think you're intelligent enough
to realize that without some further, perhaps even artificial guidance,
you'll remain just about where you are. Yes, Father, I
was grinning. Did I say that already you know what
the problem is? That question, naturally was for the consort
of the God, and Father loved to show me off. He

(10:05):
was kind of proud, yes, father, I said, but did
not move away from mother's side. To put it very
very simply, it seems like I'm all stored up, as
if there's no place for anything to go any more,
partly because I've concentrated on all subjects instead of one.
Partly because I'm unable to tap unused areas of my

(10:27):
brain for further storage and recall. And what portions are
being utilized are overburdened because they cannot strengthen themselves to
handle the load. I'm starting to forget things. It's kind
of like a solution which has so much salt dissolved
in it that eventually the salt begins to reform and precipitate. Yeah,

(10:49):
it was all play acting, nothing more. Father was proud
of me and wanted me very much to be chosen
for something. Did he think of me? I was picked,
of course, and so ungrammatically that I was. I was
quite disappointed. Every two weeks I was cutted off to
a dingy office in Boston where all I got were pills. Pills.

(11:10):
I could hardly believe it, pills for crying out a loud.
After so many stories and articles I had read about
experimental surgery, and serums and objections, all to give you knowledge,
and all of them so tragically resolved pills. When I
first saw them, I thought they were aspiring. Mother and
father were terribly excited and so let down when I

(11:33):
was unable to share in their enthusiasm. But believe me,
there's nothing at all exciting about pills which I took,
and they worked. So I climbed from my stagnant plateau
and continued to reach greedily for more. I specialized in
nothing and recalled everything, and eventually the price was paid.

(11:55):
The price was me. My parents loved me, you see,
and let me go. I saw the wisdom in this move.
And since they were allowed to come and see me
regularly until I began this experiment and forbade it, there
was little of the pain of parting tears, mostly in
effusive promises to write. They drove me all the way
to Princeton, where I was to live and study. Father

(12:17):
was cheerful, as indeed he should have been. His only
son was at the top and still climbing for the fame.
No professor could realize. It was a beautiful day the fall,
if I remember correctly, And even though Mother tended to
sniffle and wipe her eyes once in a while. She
laughed too, and was beautiful. Father sang badly, does he
still but gustily. He had never brought himself to learn

(12:41):
more than one line of a song, and that not
always correctly. I knew him all, but never helped him,
you understand. So it was weep no more, old lady,
a million times from Connecticut to New Jersey. And when
we were finally alone in the car, in the shadows
of a hundred trees as old as the country, Mother
hugged me, and Father shook my hand. He told me

(13:02):
I was a man. I wanted to cry. I dreamed
of ankles and thighs and breasts and lips and raggedy
ann and made me stole. When he left, he was
still singing, only now, as if he were going to
a funeral. So melodramatic when I can remember it. But
then Father was a great actor. It was nearly two

(13:31):
years before I discovered exactly what the government wanted with me.
Although they had moved me to Princeton, had given me
my own cottage and let me go my own way,
not once did they express more than a passing interest
in my various inventions, scientific studies, paintings or musical compositions.
But while I was puzzling their intentions and swallowing that

(13:51):
miserable aspirin and varying amounts at staggered times, I was
in an earth bound heaven. For short time. I experienced
great concern over the side effects of those pills, but
soon realized the dangers were minimal, if they existed at all. Meanwhile,
I prepared myself physically, embarking upon a program of rigorous

(14:13):
exercise push ups one to buckle my shoe, walking and
jogging to keep limber and nimble, jack the quick isotonic
and isometric interludes to break the routine of my work.
I almost wished I had permitted mirrors so that I
could have seen myself grow, But obviously the government was
not treating me as an Anglo Saxon Leonardo for purely

(14:34):
altruistic reasons, and eventually I tired of my being placed
on exhibit, however limited. I began brooding and complaining. I
baited every visitor and demanded explanations. When my mother cried
from the moment she saw me on her last visit,
Father kept her away or did I forbid them to come?

(14:56):
I am quite obviously the means I would say, say, so,
what the hell are the ends? I became obdurate in
my refusal to do anything at all. I allowed myself
to grow slovenly and crude in my daily progress reports. Today,
I developed a self flushing toilet and mastered Kamasutra number

(15:17):
fifty six. I threatened to run away and lo and behold,
but didn't. Mister Bernard PLAISKI pop out of the woodwork
and ask for a moment of my time. Time is
a man made fabrication, I said. I loved being pompous
and obtuse, though pomposity in his sixteen year olds bound
to be ludicrous. I know he thought so because he

(15:40):
was about to lose his griff on his anonymity and
slap me. Sit down, he ordered. I did. The grass
was warm in August, and I was spending most of
my time outside in the backyard. Richard. We're all pretty
proud of you, you know. I knew it, of course,
but I had a good heated feeling in my cheeks
test on hearing it. You'll proven a number of things

(16:03):
for us, Richard. I'm ever, so glad, I said, as
caustically as I could. He ignored me for more than
having merely a photographic memory. Richard, if you'll pardon the
layman's term, you have also developed the power of reasoning,
albeit a limited understanding, but has kept a remarkably even
pace with your memory. The pills don't work on every one,

(16:26):
you see. This was the first confirmation I'd had that
I wasn't alone, but at the time it was no consolation.
In fact, Richard, you're the only person with extraordinarily high
intelligence that has benefited more than just a little from
the experiment. I was grinning, even though I knew it

(16:46):
was in the torure way of covering my embarrassment. He
didn't seem to notice. He rambled along the same vein
for several minutes, floundering in the sea of platitudes and
eventually running out of words. He smiled and stared at me. Okay,
I said, okay, so, so what that's it? Richard? You

(17:09):
wanted to know what was going on, didn't you. You
were observed, you were tested, and though the pills will
continue to increase your memory and ability to learn, accumulative
effects from now on will be so small as to
be practically negligible. If you must have it crudely, Richard,
you worked. I worked like a rat that can run

(17:34):
the maze and avoid the shocks and answer the bell
and slapped the lever. I worked worked on a damn
new machine. Mister Pulaski was distressed. He smiled as he
patted me on the shoulder and tozzled my hair. You see, Richard,
he said, because obviously I didn't. You see, several important

(17:57):
people were concerned that those pills would make everyone in
the country a genius, must leave no one left for
the actual manual labor so vital to any society's viability.
But you and the others have proved this worry to
be without foundation. There is a limit, Richard, for everyone,
even you. Each person can go just so high and

(18:19):
no higher. Do you remember that saturated solution you told
me about when we first met. Well, even with the pills,
the analogy fits you a little bit frightening, I guess,
isn't it. But you will be allowed to stay here
and work if you want. Remember, though, you'll eventually reach
the same problem you had before we came into the picture.

(18:40):
So you see, son, you worked You're a hero, a
bona fide hero, and your country is grateful. I remember
screaming Pulaski and even throwing a well aimed, perfectly unexpected
punched with mid section. I dreamed with silver bells and

(19:04):
cockle shells and dotties howl in wishing wells. To be truthful,
I behave like a fool. I even vowed eternal revenge,
until I realized how silly it was. Instead, I continued
my work, and this time an active interest was exhibited
toward my projects. I also consented to live in Princeton

(19:27):
with a lovely community. I think it's in New Jersey.
And when I grew tired of remembering it all, I
went on a trip across the country and came back
because I have a new experiment. Women, have you ever
sat in a park, or walked in a forest, or
waited in an ocean with a girl who, at that
particular moment is the most beautiful creature in the world

(19:51):
and found you could not keep from commenting stagey on
the gold content of salt water, or the average lifespan
of conifers versus dessiduous trees, or the advantages of south overseed.
Have you ever tried to make friends with another kid
who can't understand a word you're saying and ends up
either laughing at you or beating you up. When you're seventeen,

(20:13):
a man, a genius, you are. I am a bore.
You're lonely. You can't be scientific playing the scratch game
of baseball. You can't be wise at a junior prob
oh hell, But in this cell it has dolls and

(20:42):
cutouts and comic books and bubblegum and trading cards, electric
trains and television at a radio, and college pennants and
model cars, and a baseball glove and a football, a
record player, a tape recorder. My favorite record was made
especially for me. It's Dad singing a Week no More,
Old Lady, over and over and over again. Once in

(21:03):
a while, I think I can catch Mom laughing in
the background. The government pays me a pension. I built
the room myself. I'm a genius to see and tend
to act a bit weird. Sometimes the new experiment is
what I told them. I'm trying very hard to remember
and forget. But I'm seventeen, and that's a very long time.

(21:28):
There are no mirrors that I tell you how Dad
tried to kid me about being a vampire, and how
it scared me. And I keep telling myself that my
hands are awfully rough from all my work, and that
I don't really have any wrinkles or gray hair. I'm
only seventeen. Do you understand I'm only seventeen. I think.

Speaker 2 (21:57):
My own needs. Let be not sub blind deep their
are o world snows, Their body.

Speaker 3 (22:12):
Is slowly freezing, their.

Speaker 2 (22:15):
Feeling fine, The morning small, too small to see their
ways with freeing, their evening talk, my arny childtreman.

Speaker 3 (22:55):
Well, the words that you are told point.

Speaker 2 (23:02):
For some of them, it is only easy to survive.
Their hands.

Speaker 3 (23:22):
Their places called, Their body is closes, freezing their.

Speaker 2 (23:33):
The morning small, the evening to men and five artisting that.

Speaker 3 (23:55):
Time, the time that lies be.

Speaker 2 (24:03):
At home in sweetness, and the night drinking the bitter bar.

Speaker 3 (24:17):
There had their faces cold, their bodies clothes freezing, their
feeling fine, the morning

Speaker 2 (24:39):
Small, the evening talk