Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Reluctant Genius by Henry Sleisar. It is said that life
crawled up from the slime of the sea bottoms and
became man because of inherent greatness bred into him before
the dawn of time. But perhaps this urge was not
as formless as we think. Bos was chastising La Looi
(00:20):
as they sped through the ionosphere of the green planet.
But like the airy creature she was, La Loi ignored
the criticism and rippled zephyrl like through a clump of daffodils.
When they completed their descent, So pretty, she sighed. She
flung her incorporeal substance around each flower, absorbing their unified
beauty of scent, sight, and feel. Bos shrilled himself into
(00:42):
a column of wind and expressed his displeasure at her attitude. Stupid, silly,
shallow thing, he said, If the others only knew how
you behaved, and you'll be glad to tell them. Of course,
she said, extending her fingers of air into the roots
of the wind bent grass. She rolled across the hillstatically,
and Bos followed in grumbling billows of energy. I don't
(01:04):
carry tales, he replied, somewhat mortified, but we're here as observers,
and you insist upon making this world a plaything. I
love it, she said, happily. It's so warm and green.
Bos whipped in front of her angrily. This is an assignment,
he snapped, his emotion crackling the air about him. We
have a purpose here, purpose, she groaned, settling over a
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patch of crowded clover. How many centuries will this assignment last?
This world is young, said Bos. It will take time.
But how long? She asked mournfully. Our world will be
shriveled and dead before these people have the knowledge to
rescue us. Why can't we spend our lives here and
leave the others behind? Said Woe stiffly, selfish being, he said, sadly,
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this world cannot support one forth our number. Oh I know,
I know, Lelois said, I do not mean to say
such things. I am twisted by my sorrow. As if
to express her self abnegation, she corkscrewed out of the
clover and into a thin spiral of near nothingness. Settle down,
foolish one, said, wos not unkindly, I know your feelings.
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Do you think I am not tormented as well by
the slow pace? Of these earth things, crude, barbaric beings,
like children with the building blocks of science. They have
such a long way to go, and so few know,
said Leloy despairingly, a handful of seeing minds, tens of
millions of ignorant ones, not even first principles. They're stupid, stupid.
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But they will learn, Boss said stubbornly. That is historical fact.
Some day they will know the true meaning of matter
and light and energy. Slowly, yes, slowly, but in terms
of their growth it will seem like great speed to them.
And in terms of our world, said le Looy, spinning
sadly over the ground, they may be far too late. No,
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in his excitement, bos forgot himself and entwined with the
flowing form of the she creature, and the result was
a rending of the air that cracked like heat lightning
over the field. No, he repeated again, they must not
be too late. They must learn. They must build from
the very ground, and then they must fly, and then
their eyes must be lifted to the stars, and desire
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must extend them to all the universe. It seems so hopeless,
it cannot be. Our destiny is not extinction. They must
come to us in fleets of silver, and replant our soil,
and send towers of green shooting into our sky, breathing
out air. Yes, yes, le Loy cried pitifully. It will
be that way, Bos, It will be that way, that
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man creature. We will begin with him. Wos floated earthward disconsolately.
He is a dreamer, he said, cheerlessly. His mind is good.
He thinks of tomorrow. He is one of the knowing ones.
But he cannot be moved, le Loy. His thoughts may
fester and die in the prison of his brain. No,
they will not. We have watched him. He understands much.
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He will help us. I have seen his like before,
said Bos helplessly. He thinks and he works, and his
conclusions will die stillborn for lack of a moving force.
Then let us provided Bos. Let us move him with
what said the other disdainfully, arms of nothing, hands of vacuum,
(04:29):
a breeze against his cheek, a rustle of leaves, a
meaningless whistle in his ear. Let us try. Let us try.
This empty watchfulness is destroying us. Let us move him.
Boas come faster than the sky sweeping clouds. They flew
over the gently swelling hills, over the yearning branches of
the trees, over the calm blue waters of the lakes.
(04:51):
Swifter than the flight of birds, they came, Searching for
a thinking mind. They found him at last. He knows,
he knows, said La Lood. Only now to say this
is so, because and this must happen, when only to
think to understand. They hovered over his head in a
pandemonium of helplessness. They whirled and tumbled and shrilly circled,
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and then to le looy the inspiration came. The apple,
caught by a sudden gust of wind, twisted from the
tenuous hold of the tree and fell to the ground.
The man startled, picked it up. He gazed at it,
deep in thought and of reluctant genius. By Henry Sleisar