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About this Episode
A surreal sci-fi series exploring speculative concepts, dreams, and philosophical what-ifs. Each episode is a cerebral journey into the mind’s deepest questions.
Hosts & Guests
Transcript
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Warning, the following Zipper Cruder radio spot you are about to hear
is going to be filled with F words.
When you're hiring, we at Zipper Cruder know you can feel frustrated.
For learn even.
Like your efforts are futile.
And you can spend a fortune trying to find fabulous people.
Only to get flooded with candidates who are just fine.
F***.
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And right now, you can try Zipper Cruder for free.
At zippercruder.com slash zip.
With Zipper Cruder, you can forget your frustrations.
Because we find the right people for your roles fast.
Which is our absolute favorite effort.
In fact, 4 out of 5 employers who post on Zipper Cruder get a quality candidate
within the first day.
Fantastic.
So, whether you need to hire 4, 40 or 400 people.
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Finally, that zippercruder.com slash zip.
My way.
Finally, let's go.
Welcome to a half hour of mind waves.
Short stories from the worlds of speculative fiction.
This is Michael Hansen, the Wide Web Story.
This time from the ninth galaxy reader edited by Fredwick Paul.
This is a story by John Brunner titled Wasted on the Young.
The doorbell sounded.
Hal Page had been attending the two final tasks.
First, checking around the apartment and making sure everything was ready for this.
Which was going to be one hell of a party.
And second, trying to decide where to put the notice.
He would have liked to destroy it.
But when he came to the mouth of the disposal and opened it.
Letting the faintest faintest whiff of the stink from the far away incinerator's mingle
with the heavy perfumes loading there in the room.
Early found he had changed his mind.
He needed the solid feel of it in his hand.
The crinkly rustle of it in his ears to drive into the completion of his ultimate purpose.
At a party like this, no hiding place was likely to remain secret,
especially in view of his reckless reputation.
The guests would make it a point of honor to seek out and if possible,
ruin his most costly possessions to make him break new records when he cleared up the mess
and replaced the spoiled items.
But he dared not have anyone even guess at the motive for throwing such a party
in this randomly chosen day.
If anyone realized word would spread like the rumour of plague
and he would spend tonight alone staring at nothing and filling the cold hand of terror on his heart.
Hard dim, he sent a loud snatching a notice into a place of concealment
in the front of his loose silk shirt.
Automatically he consulted his watch, though he knew the bell had sounded 20 minutes
at least ahead of party time.
It was the most expensive watch in the world that had cost him four full years
and sat on the back of his left index finger measuring the decay rate of a tiny grain of radium.
The bell sounded a second time.
He reached his decision.
What the hell point was there in keeping the notice?
Every word of it was ingrained in his mind.
It could be summed into the single terrible warning tomorrow.
But if he had no intention of being here, of being alive tomorrow,
why hesitate to have the paper destroyed?
He thrust the document into the disposal as he had originally intended.
The gesture brought him a sense of calm, of boats being burnt.
He went smoothly and coolly to open the door.
Well, you're early, but coming anyway, no reason to delay that.
He got that far before he realized that the man facing in,
a little older than himself, say 35, slim, satternide, bright eyed,
was wearing the black of an adult.
And then with a twisting grimace of disgust, he made to close the door,
wishing it were possible to slam it with a crash.
Wait, the man in black said softly.
Wait, remember me, how?
The page has a page.
He made a violent effort to see the face above the drab black garb,
as that of an individual, instead of merely as the mask of an adult,
and relays of memory closed, he said.
Yeah, why at a party of, what was the girl's name?
Karen Satini, but that doesn't matter.
Mine does, I'm Thomas Thompson.
Are you going to make me stand here, Hal,
where anyone passing down the corridor might see me?
Are you going to have them start to wonder
why an adult comes calling on Hell Page,
the professional youth?
You see, I know about the notice you've had,
and the reason for this spectacular party tonight.
You're not going to, you're not going to be here.
I said open house, but Hell's name, I didn't mean.
No, of course not.
Your guests won't be less than half an hour late now.
You know that as well as I do.
Even for glimpses of the legendary Hell Page,
you gambled and got away with it,
who's dragging so many others after him by his example.
So you've come for a sight of me, huh?
Well, to see what you missed.
All right, come on in.
I have what you wanted, my expense.
He waved out some past him with a grandiose gesture,
indicating the array of delicacies
with which the room was stocked.
Antiques and Abjadar had been thrust aside hastily
to make room for them.
Champagne, genuine champagne from France.
You want some caviar, larks, tongues?
Take your pick, Dopson.
It's all charged to me.
Well, thank you.
Dopson's like the sliver of hard toast
to it licks to dip into a bowl of red caviar.
You know, he said musingly when he'd swallowed the first muffle.
You know, to shame, you're not equipped to value this
for what it is now.
But you should see it only as a gigantic prop for your ego.
You're not equipped to enjoy anything.
Yeah, even the first time I met you,
oh, it was a five years ago,
and you weren't equipped to get fun out of life.
You sat there like a brooding ghost
and poured out secondhand philosophical clap-trap
that nobody wanted to listen to.
You listened.
Dopson dipped the second portion of the caviar
and the toast crunched noisily between his teeth.
Yeah, listen only because I didn't believe you could be real.
There you sat.
There was this girl alongside you.
The one with pretty red hair in the mouth.
Well, I'll skip that.
But I got her afterwards.
I know, she told me.
Dopson swallowed the last of his toast
and dropped into his soft chair.
A fugitive smile crossed his face.
You mean, she looked at you twice?
We got married.
A course of action which probably wouldn't interest you very much.
Yeah, Dan Wright.
She had a hell of a body,
but her mind was all cluttered
with the same kind of nonsense
that you were spouting that evening.
And yet, you know,
I guess I should be grateful to you in a way.
After that time, I'd run with her herd.
I'd taken it for granted.
You know, all the pious and nothings
which I had had spooned into my ears and school.
I looked at you and I thought,
hell, if you're going to take me
and grind me into the same mold as you,
I'm going to get my kicks first.
And well, yeah, it was right on the following day
that I went out and got myself something
which cost a whole year for the first time.
I felt great.
And I went right on from there.
Tell me something.
Didn't you feel anything
when you ran your dead-up over a century?
Sure.
I felt I was getting out from under.
Nothing else.
I know what you mean.
You're trying to say,
wasn't I scared that they'd come along
and cut the ground from under my feet?
Hell no.
You take yourselves too seriously,
dobs and you adults.
A minimum of 30 years free.
That's what they tell you, granted.
I had a bad moment of the day I woke up
and found I was a week past 30.
I'd sort of lost counter in a weekend party
but it kept on and it kept on.
And here I am, 32 years, one month and four days.
Stop.
It's a dobs and quietly,
and reach another good, good career.
So what's going to be done about it?
My death's up to 300 years now
and there isn't a damn thing you can do.
It's spent.
Or it will be by dawn tomorrow.
And what do you have to show for it?
I have to show what anyone will tell you.
I have proof of more guts than you.
I have proof I wasn't scared of the consequences.
I didn't turn around and make myself into an adult
I had to do day so that when they call from me
I'd go fawning and say,
look here I'm already acting like one of you please be kind to me.
A sudden thought broke his train of words
like a railman he shot out an accusing finger.
Hey, hey, dobs and how do you know about the...
The question trailed off in the silence
colored with more than a little alarm.
Dobs and said,
no, I haven't come to get you of that's what you're thinking.
I am in fact required to call on you
and make sure you understand the responsibilities
which go with all the privileges you've enjoyed.
Sure, I understand them fine.
Now, look, sports you got on your way
and lead me to have my last fling.
Sorry.
I have to do the job now
and if I don't get to complete it before your guests arrive
I just have to try and do it later.
So the choice is fairly simple.
Sit and listen now
or sit and listen later.
Because there won't be anyone else here
to keep you company.
The word will have got around.
You know how superstitious everyone in your group
is about someone who's been given notice.
As though they had suddenly carried the pain
of a deadly disease.
He'd been comparing it mentally to play earlier
and that's how I've got through pages of annoyance
he dropped into a chair facing Dobson inside.
I'd rather take you and push your smug face down
to this pose hall, but all right,
spit it out and make it short.
Dobson, full of his hands, come we on his lap.
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Warning.
When Zippercruder radio spot you're about to hear
is going to be filled with F words.
When you're hiring, we at Zippercruder know you can feel frustrated.
For Lauren even.
Like your efforts are futile.
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When you're hiring, we at Zippercruder know you can feel frustrated.
For Lauren even.
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I said.
I doubt if you've caught up on the classics of literature
during this expensive whirlwind of a life.
But maybe if you've done so,
you'd have developed a greater insight into your situation.
Particularly if you've read a couple of works
by the dramatist Shaw early in the 20th century.
Mean anything to you?
Come on, come to the point.
Like I've had my notice, you know that.
And I don't want to be bored tonight of all nights.
Yes.
Yes, you have rather a marked capacity for boredom, don't you?
It seems somehow unfair.
Well, to be precise, what I had in mind
was a beautiful capsule summary of the contemporary economic setup,
which is probably apocryphal, but who can be sure?
Clearly Shaw said in his old age that youth was wonderful,
or the pity it had to be wasted on the young.
For in his view, as expounded at some length
and back to Methuselah,
only the wisdom which age and trains can fit an individual
to make optimum use of the energies of youth.
Thompson's eyes went once around the room,
seeming to take in some up and dismiss everything
for which page had stake three centuries of existence.
The page shivered and ordered him violently
to hurry up with this little chat.
All right, hell.
Well, even enclosed as you are in your psychologically
incestuous circle of good-time chums,
it must have been born in on you that there has been progress
since the old days,
that we have colonized two other planets in the system,
that we're reaching out to explore
the planets of other stars.
I caught something about it on 3V.
Yes.
Moreover, we enjoy a universally high standard of living hell,
in which we apply as the only truly dependable economic
artistic investments of individual effort.
I spent three centuries worth.
All right, it got me knows it isn't stale.
Patience, hell.
I'm required to do this, as I told you.
Even if your interruptions compel me to spend all night at it.
I heard.
I just don't see the point of the lecture on current affairs.
Are you softening me up to tell me that I'm to be sent out
to Mars in some way to sort of one of those damn construction projects?
You caught that on 3V too, presumably.
No hell, you're not to be sent to Mars.
The work there is almost at the point where human effort
can be submitted by machinery,
and only skilled options are likely to remain open there in the future.
Do I get the chance to make my point,
or do you so much like the sound of your own voice
you'd rather hear only it,
between now and tomorrow morning?
Page made a disgusted gesture,
and leaned back in his chair.
Dobson went on.
Thank you.
Hell, in your last year of school,
when you should by rights have been old enough
to make a fairly enlightened decision,
you were instructed in the forums of modern society.
You were told, for instance,
of the expenditure against credit,
which would be made available to you,
at least until age 30,
and that the credit was charged
like all expenditure nowadays,
against a standard base scale of individual work.
Only the time counts.
There's no question, for example,
of someone who's not capable of highly skilled work,
being made to return more years of unskilled labor
to balance the accounts.
We're pretty rich as a race.
We human beings.
We don't have to be petty in such things.
You were told a reasoning behind the system now.
You were told, and like most adolescents,
you certainly didn't believe,
that an endless round of pleasure
and self-indulgence ultimately would grow boring.
And by the time you got your notice
to repay the society, the credit you had drawn,
you'd wish to make some more constructive views of your life.
We're told also that there was nothing fixed
or inevitable about this repayment.
There's a certain, inalienable, minimum available to everyone
so that by living frugally, a person may continue to be
his own absolute master as long as he wishes.
Of course, it's usually chosen by those
with a strong rebellious and creative vent
who would rather sit on the edge of a desert
and paint sunsets and take up an adult's post in the world.
I don't wish to criticize such people, by the way.
Hell, in my view, that marks the mod is among the most mature
and self-reliance by salons of the race.
Unused to sitting and listening,
Paige had begun to fidget.
Now, he burst out, again, angrily this time.
Yeah, I was certainly told all this,
but I wasn't convinced.
And I still am not convinced.
I'm getting a hell of a lot of kicks out of life, Dobson.
The idea of being arbitrarily grabbed by the knack
and nuts arbitrarily.
You were told.
You didn't listen.
Told what?
That how did you put it that an endless round of self-indulgence
would end up by boring me?
Hell, the only times I've been really bored of been like now
when some stuff he brained adults started preaching at me.
He jumped up and went to fetch himself a shot of brandy.
And the fact remains, I'm not fooled as easily as most people.
You know how to go around almost in awe of me
like I'd done something special?
All I did was see through this guff about my debt to society
and what it consists of.
I told you, frankly, I had some bad moments when I realized
I'd hit age 30 with a debt already topping two centuries.
Then I caught on.
If you jumped on me right then and there,
the first possible moment, the very day I got past the promised limit,
you'd mark yourselves were scared.
People would have said, it's a fraud.
They jumped on Hell Page because he took what he wanted from life
and didn't give it to him about the time he used up.
Hell, if we're all going the same way,
let's take what we can while we can.
Isn't that the size of it?
You're visualizing the whole of your generation
spending their credit by the century, the same as you.
Hell, do you seriously think that would matter?
I said we're a rich race.
You have no conception of how rich we are.
If every single one of you were guests
that you've ever had to all of your wild parties,
if every guest at every party you've ever been to,
if every one of your entire generation
decided to spend as freely and lavishly as you,
all it would take to absorb this
would be to reprise their expenditure down
to the productive effort we can reasonably accommodate
during their later lives.
We're embarrassingly rich hell.
These days we seldom even have to send a notice to people.
With the 30th birthday coming gone,
people tend to get restless.
They lose interest in their round of pleasure.
They turn up one day and ask
to be assigned for some real work.
I did that myself.
But I'm not like you.
The point I'm making still stands.
Our difficulty is in utilizing the resources
which make themselves available to us.
Nine people out of ten who reach the age of 30 nowadays
have already lost heart from near-passing amusements.
They've taken a course of study
or set themselves a small research project
or made plans for a family.
Done something adult and short.
And we have to cope with this tremendous flow
of creative energy, channel it,
make the most of it.
That's why we're going out to the stars.
It'll be a hell of a long time before we actually
reduce star flight to a routine operation
like a trip to the moon.
But we're going to need that escape route
simply for the sake of not wasting
the potential modern human society boils off
like surplus heat from an engine.
Are you finished?
Now I'll drain this glass of brandy and board another.
Not quite.
We can't let things slide.
This is what I'm trying to put across to you.
We can't raise the age of full credit
to 35, for example,
simply to reduce the pressure on us
to absorb the would-be adults.
I'd have no objection.
Worded hell, thinking of the terrible warning
notice the atrust into the disposal.
Your full free credit period terminates tomorrow.
But already people are finding it hard
to last hour 30 years fully in a round.
Did you not just hear me say so, Hell?
I've heard it all.
Yeah, I'm sick of it all.
There's nothing more you can tell me.
How about using the door?
And Paige tossed down the second brandy as though he hated it.
Yes.
Yes, Hell, it's all been sent to you over and over.
You just don't seem able to draw the conclusions.
None so tough as those who will not.
Never mind.
Paige watched him move towards the door.
We hastily died in his eyes as the final question
burned upwards towards full consciousness.
Without intending, he found himself starting to voice it.
Daphson, Daphson, do you know what?
And they're at faulted partly because he was ashamed
to admit to this black, carved, and fruiter
that the prospect made him afraid,
partly because he was afraid.
The satanine man paused and looked back.
Do I know what they'll make you do?
As a matter of fact, yes.
But I'm not empowered to tell you.
Make me.
I thought there was supposed to be a range of free choice.
You poor fool.
How many choices do you imagine remain open to someone
who spent more than 300 years worth of credit?
And he was gone.
But it was a great party.
There were just two bad moments.
The first, when MediTex had to be hauled after a fight
developed between two men over some shit of a girl
Paige had had last year and didn't think worth the trouble.
The second, when he found himself screening at the crowd
to drink more, eat more, dance more frantically.
And realized that their eyes were on him.
Their faces halfway frightened at the dreadful intensity
of his manner.
He checked himself deliberately,
and covered his moment of self-betrayal
by seizing the nearest girl around the waist
to smother her face in kisses.
He must not.
Dare not.
Let it be suspected that he was under sentence of death.
Tonight, up to the very last minute,
he must be with people.
He must have the noise and laughter
in the crash and smash of priceless articles
a soft hot sweat-purled body under his.
A silk pillow for his head ringing with dobsons calm,
terrifying voice echoing in memory.
With the third girl, around three in the morning,
he failed to make it and knew that the time was come.
abruptly, he pushed her aside and got off the bed.
He went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.
Luckily, there was no one in here just now.
So, earlier, three or four people had been charring down together
and writing unseemed verse in the tiled walls
of the barb lavender colored soul.
He studied himself with one hand and gazed
at his reflection in the floor to sealing mirror.
Last time.
Last time.
But they'll remember me.
The one who cheated them.
The only ambition he had ever conceived.
It wasn't unique to himself.
But others whom he'd heard of who tried the same
will find the prospect of being snatched away
from this ceaseless, selfish delight and tolerable
had botched the job.
There were whispers, there were shuttering rumors
and answered a casual questions.
We're so and so lightly.
I haven't seen moron.
Oh, he got his notice.
And tried to get out from under, cut his throat.
And they healed him.
I guess Dobson would accept that.
Page told his reflection, seeing the grim lines
form around his soft mouth.
I guess he'd say they were warned
and had to take the consequences.
The being told in advance doesn't justify it.
I don't give a damn for paying back what I've had in credit.
No one asked me when they set up this filthy system.
And I opt out.
His voice had peaked to a loudness that scared him.
He didn't want to be overheard.
When he went, he wanted the party to continue.
Maybe it would go on till the news came back.
Hal Page made it.
Hal Page got out from under.
One final twinge of our resolution over Canaan.
Then he recalled the expression on Dobson's face
as he went out and thought about the implications
of his parting promise.
No, no better, the silent dark of death.
And he wasn't going to watch the job.
The aircar had cost him one and a half years credit.
It was going to be well worth it if he thought
dreamily as he fell down the five capsules of hypnotic
three hours credit.
And set the controls to carry him out to sea.
There was just about enough fuel for 50 miles.
By then, he'd be at 30,000 feet and hitting water
from such a height ought to be pretty much like smashing
into a stone wall.
If they even got back enough to use for prosthetics,
they'd be lucky.
But that was the most they could hope to have back from.
Hal Page's famous record breaking debt of more than 300.
Blackness.
And horror.
Light and darkness.
Awareness.
A shocking horrifying lack of bodily presence.
Vision indestructible without lids to lower over the
traitor eyes.
He tried to scream and found he had no voice.
He tried to rise and run.
And found he had no legs.
He was in a large light room pale walled without a window
and facing him on a steel chair was the grim black form of
dobson, somehow elongated from front to back as though he
was deeper than he should be.
A voice said, on now, and a white-ish presence moved
at the edge of vision crazily out of proportion to woman
and a sterile cover all.
I think you have the lenses too far apart.
Dobson said.
He's probably getting exaggerated stereo vision.
Something monstrous little pages field of vision and the
perspectives of the environment shrank to something nearer
normal.
I'm sorry for you Hal.
Dobson said softly.
And by the way, don't try to talk.
We haven't cut in the vocal circuit yet.
The consciousness of hellpage with Drew turned into something
smaller than a mouse began to run frantically around and around
in the confines of his brain which he knew and could not
face knowing was all that was left to him.
You may go insane, Dobson said.
But I guess in some senses you've always been insane.
And capable of drawing a rational conclusion from what you
were told and capable of empathizing to the point of taking
someone else's word.
I guess we have to be grateful that people like you still
turn up occasionally.
It's our greatest strength as a race that we can build on our
own weaknesses.
There was almost nothing left of you Hal, but you should have
known from what I told you when I called that your apartment
that you were a rarity.
Too rare to waste.
Working pal to be strictly honest Hal, there are unpleasant
tasks to undertake and we never hide the fact.
You elected yourself for one of them in full possession of
all the information which would have enabled you to back out
if you cared too.
But you didn't.
You went right ahead.
You spent credits found it on other people's efforts until
the free choice is open to you as repayment dwindled to a single
possibility.
So here I am with a task of telling you after you made the
mistake of thinking you could welsh on your debt.
We have to go to the stars Hal, creeping outward.
As I told you it's forced on us because we have so much energy
to absorb so much frantic creativity, so much skill and
impatience.
One day we'll go at the speed of light freely and easily.
But before that epic arrives there must be scouts,
explorers, pathfinders.
You, Hal, you are going to ride you as the commander and
the crew of a slow, slow rocket ship.
And the round trip-how is going to last just about three
hundred years.
That story is titled Wasted on the Young by John Brunner.
It appears in a collection edited by Frederick Paul titled
The Ninth Galaxy Reader.
This is Michael Hanson speaking technical production for
Mindwebs by Leslie Hilsenov.
Mindwebs comes to you from WHA Radio in Madison,
a service of University of Wisconsin Extension.
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Access to affordable credit helps me pay my employees.
But I don't really need it.
Infliction is killing me.
Who cares? Big retailers and making record profits.
That's why we support the German Marshall Credit Card Bill.
You see, banks and credit unions help small businesses make pay roll.
This bill would cut the vital resources they need.
While increasing Megastore profits.
They deserve it.
Don't they?
Tell Congress, stop the German Marshall money grab for corporate megastores.
Paid for it by the Electronic Payments Coalition.
Warning, the following Zippercruder radio spot you are about to hear
is going to be filled with F words.
When you're hiring, we at Zippercruder know you can feel frustrated.
For Lauren even.
Like your efforts are futile.
And you can spend a fortune trying to find fabulous people.
Only to get flooded with candidates who are just.
Fine.
F***.
Fortunately, Zippercruder figured out how to fix all that.
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At zippercruder.com slash zip.
With Zippercruder, you can forget your frustrations.
Because we find the right people for your roles fast.
Which is our absolute favorite effort.
In fact, four out of five employers who post on Zippercruder.
Get a quality candidate within the first day.
Fantastic.
So whether you need to hire four, 40 or 400 people.
Get ready to meet first rate talent.
Just go to zippercruder.com slash zip to try Zippercruder for free.
Don't forget that zippercruder.com slash zip.
Finally, that zippercruder.com slash zip.
