In just a moment, X minus one. But first, your home will be filled with the voices of top entertainers and fascinating experts in the homemaking field tomorrow, when Virginia Graham and Mike Wallace bring you another broadcast of NBC's Weekday. Among the special guests is Rita Gamm, Hollywood star and one of Grace Kelly's prospective bridesmaids. And Rita will be joined by a singer whose unique style is well known to his many fans, Johnny Ray. Then from Britain, it's actor Trevor Howard. Meet them all tomorrow when NBC's Weekday brings you another day of fact and fun on this station. Now stay tuned for X minus one on NBC. Countdown for blast off, X minus five, four, three, two, X minus one, fire. From the far horizons of the unknown come transcribed tales of new dimensions in time and space. These are stories of the future, adventures in which you'll live in a million could be years on a thousand maybe worlds. The National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine presents. X minus one. Tonight, a story by Frederick Pohl, tunnel under the world. On the morning of June 15, Guy Burkhart woke up screaming. It was more real than any dream he had ever had in his life. He could still hear and feel that sharp metal ripping explosion, that searing wave of heat. He sat up. Mary, Mary, Mary, Mary, where are you? Guy, what's wrong? You're trembling. Where were you? In the kitchen cooking breakfast. What is it? I don't know. A dream, I guess. An explosion. Did you say an explosion? Yes. But that's the dream I had. What? I dreamed there was a big explosion and then something sort of hit me on the head. Holy smokes me. Maybe there really was some sort of explosion at the start of the streaming. Well, there'll be an explosion down at your office if you don't hurry and get to work. Coming in on the bus, Burkhart watched to see if there was any evidence of an explosion. There wasn't. If anything, the town looked better than ever. The only thing that seemed strange to him was the fact that none of the usual crowd was on the bus. He was a little relieved when his old pal, Henry Swanson, finally got on. Excuse me. Henry. Pardon me, sir. Henry, what's the matter with you? It's me, Guy Burkhart. Burkhart? Sorry, I don't believe we've met. What? Henry, for Pete's sake, it's me. If you'll excuse me, this is my stop. Well, I'll be... I'll be a like that. Guy Burkhart got off in front of the gigantic contrachemical building, took the elevator to the 98th floor where he had worked in the accounting department for 12 years. It wasn't until he was almost at his floor that he realized the speaker was not playing the usual commercials. Well, the answer to your problems is a feco freezer. Feco freezers are better freezers. Most wives would do anything for a feco freezer. Friends, are you happy with your present home freezer? Morning, Miss Horn. Good morning, Mr Burkhart. Well, new hairdo, I see. Why, yes. Do you like it? It makes a lot of difference in your appearance. Mr. Barth in? No, sir. He had an appointment with Mr. Dorchen of the Human Research Institute. Today? But today's the 15th of June. He has to sign the quarterly statement. He said he wouldn't be in. That's mighty peculiar. Yes, sir. Oh, by the way, Miss Horn, what the devil is a feco freezer? A feco freezer? There's some new copy on the elevator commercial. Dorchen must have landed another account. Feco freezers. I really don't know, Mr. Burkhart. It's a funny day. Can't quite put my finger on it, but there's something strange going on. He couldn't shake the thought out of his mind. It persisted all through the day and through dinner. He was still brooding as he and Mary got ready for bed. Did I do? No. Anything wrong? I don't know. Well, I guess I'll get a good night's sleep. Coming? I think I'll sit up and read for a while. Well, good night, darling. Night, dear. At exactly midnight, Guy Burkhart lapsed into a sudden deep sleep. And the following morning, he woke up screaming. Darling, what is it? What's wrong? Oh, nothing. Bad dream, I guess. You gave me such a shock. I seem to be having a lot of nightmares lately. Really? Yes, the one I had yesterday. This was the same. A big explosion and then nothing. You had a nightmare? Of course I did. You had the same sort of dream. I? Guy, you're mistaken. I don't remember dreaming. Mary, you told me. Guy, you're mistaken. Mary! Maybe you dreamed I had a dream. Yes, I might have done that, I suppose. Everything did seem sort of strange yesterday. That's probably it. You'd better get dressed, dear. Today's the 15th. That's when the quarterly statement... 15th? Yes. Well, it must have been a dream because yesterday was the 15th. Guy Burkhart got up, dressed, ate breakfast, and took the usual bus to work. Once again, everything seemed even brighter and newer than usual. And once again, he was puzzled when he noticed none of the old crowd on the bus. Pardon me, please. Look, don't shove so... Oh, morning, Henry. Morning. For God's sake, don't talk to me. What is it? You being followed or something? Don't you know? I was sure you remembered. Remembered what? I can't talk. This is my stuff. Will you excuse me, please? Well, Henry, for Pete's sake... As in yesterday's dream, Guy Burkhart got off at his stop and took the elevator to the 98th floor. The speaker in the elevator purred a new commercial this time. Marlin cigarettes. They're sanitized. Does your present cigarette make your throat feel better? Marlin cigarettes make your throat feel raspy and unpleasant? Marlin cigarettes contain a miraculous new drug which actually gives you the sensation of smooth, creamy smoke. Marlin cigarettes. Marlin cigarettes. He walked down the marble corridor to his office. Good morning, Mr. Burkhart. Good morning, Miss Horn. You like my new hairdo? Uh, yes. Is Mr. Barth in? No, sir. He had an appointment with Mr. Dorchin at the Research Institute. Appointment with Mr. Dorchin at the Research Institute. I know. You know? Well, I guessed it anyway. And today is the 15th of June, and he won't be here to sign the quarterly statement, and I'm going nuts. Let me have a cigarette, will you? Yes, sir. Try one of these. They're Marlins. I've never heard of Marlins before today. What are we, a bunch of guinea pigs? Something wrong, Mr. Burkhart? Wrong? Perish the thought, Miss Horn. Perish the thought. He went to his desk and stared at the mail. Before he opened it, he knew that the factory distributor's envelope contained an order for 12 new electronic computers. He knew that the development journal contained an article about a new method of transprinting selective brain circuits of human engineers onto the electric brain circuits of robot engineers to facilitate the operation of automatic factories. He knew that there was a complaint from Feinbeck and Sons about the contrachemical's newest household robot circuit. After a long while, he forced himself to open them. They were exactly as he suspected. Hello? This is Swanson, Henry Swanson. What is it? Do you remember? Remember what? Just remember. All right, now listen, Henry, let's stop playing games. Yesterday either I was dreaming or you stopped me on the bus. Today the same thing happens. Oh, you do remember, thank heavens. I thought so when I saw you, but I couldn't be sure. What is it you want? Listen, tomorrow morning when I get off the bus, you get off with me. Be casual, they may be watching. Who may be watching? Swanson! Hello! Do you buzz, Mr. Bearcar? Yes, I'm still out of cigarettes. Would you buy me a pack of Kelvins? Wouldn't you rather have Marlins? I smoke Kelvins. But Mr. Bearcar, Marlins have that soft, creamy smoke that's so soothing to your throat. Oh, you really believe that stuff? Well, it's true. I wouldn't say this, Mr. Bearcar, except that, well, I've gotten to know you pretty well and I've grown to admire you so much. You see? Would you mind, Mr. Bearcar, if I told you that for months now? I wanted to, well, comfort you. I know how troubled you feel. Well, you've never mentioned your feelings before, Ms. Horne. April. My first name's April. Oh, that's a pretty name. You see, I do have your welfare at heart. That's why when I see you smoking Kelvins and I know Marlins are so much better, won't you let me buy some of them for you, huh? Well, I suppose so. Why not? Here, bring me a carton. Oh, thank you, Mr. Bearcar. Guy. I, uh, I think you ought to go. I'll be back. There was something wrong. Something definitely peculiar about what was happening. The call from Henry Swanson. The strange behavior of his secretary, Ms. Horne. These new products, the dream. Guy Burkhart went home that night feeling like a man in a nightmare. Is that you, dear? It's me. Did you have a good day? Fair. Oh, before you sit down, will you go down the cellar and put in a new fuse? The switch in the hall closet blew out. I shut it off. Okay. Supper will be ready in a minute, so don't start fooling around with that old boat hull you've been building. I won't. Mary! Mary! What is it? Come down here. Hurry up. What is it? I don't know. I'm not sure. I was looking for a fuse, and I thought maybe I'd drop one under the boat hull so I scratched around. Look. Let me put the flashlight on it. Well? Look at the floor. What about the floor? It's supposed to be cement. Well? Well, it's copper. There's a thin layer of cement underneath its metal. Look here. Underneath the concrete, more metal. And here on the wall. You see? Metal. Metal under the floor, behind the walls, every place. Well, I don't really understand. Mary, I know this sounds crazy, but somebody, for reasons I can't even begin to guess, has taken this house and replaced it with a clever imitation. Guy! Mary, I'm going to look around a little more. Well, your dinner will be ready. All right. Say before me. There are a couple of things I've got to figure out. The following morning, Guy Burkhart woke up screaming. He dragged himself into the kitchen where his wife Mary was preparing breakfast and discovered it was still June 15th. Mary, where's the morning paper? Where is it? It's outside the door, I guess. Uh-huh. June 15th. You'd better hurry, dear. Today's the day Mr. Barth fills out the quarterly tax returns. Oh, no, it isn't. Why? He won't be there. He'll get a meeting with that crackpot Dorchen at the Human Research Institute. Mr. Dorchen? He'll be there. And Miss Horne will have a new hairdo, and the elevator will be selling some new product, and Swanson... What about Swanson? Swanson, he said, I wonder if it's going to be the same today or whether... Guy, what in the world are you talking about? Huh? Uh, nothing of the mind. Where's my coat? You haven't had any breakfast yet. I don't want to miss my bus. I'll see you tonight. Guy Burkhart got on his bus. There were the same unfamiliar faces, the same unusually new-looking buildings, the same unusually bright sunshine. And on the customary corner, Henry Swanson, pale and furtive, climbed aboard. Excuse me, sir. It's quite all right. Do you remember the phone call? Yes. Oh, thank heaven. Get off at the next corner and follow me. Where are you going? There's an excavation for a building about a block down. Make sure you aren't followed. I'll go first. Burkhart! Here, behind the fence. All right now, Henry, what's this all about? I'm not sure. At first I thought perhaps they were Russians. Now I'm beginning to think they're Martians. No humans could have accomplished what they've accomplished. Now, wait a minute. Start from the beginning, Henry. What's going on? Look, Burkhart, peculiar things have been happening to you, right? Yes. A lot of your friends are missing. Your house seems changed. There's something stranger than that. The date. Today is June 15th. Yet I could swear yesterday was June 15th and the day before that. You got it, friend. It's always June 15th. And you and I are the only ones who know it. Why, Henry? How? I'm not sure. I think it's some sort of mass hypnosis or something. Well, why doesn't it work for us? My wife Mary doesn't remember a thing. Somehow when it happened they missed us. We were protected from the full force of the rays or whatever they used. Burkhart, where were you on the night of the 14th, about midnight? Let me see. That was Sunday night. Yes. Yeah, I was down in the cellar under the boat I'm building. I was in my dark room developing some pictures. This just doesn't make any sense to me. Russians, Martians. What makes you think that? I've seen them. Where? At the end of the tunnel. What tunnel? The one they built under Tyler Town. A tunnel under Tyler Town? Yes, that's right. It's made out of copper or some alloy. Copper? Wait a minute. I found a copper layer under my cellar floor last night. So did I. That's how I discovered it. I found a way to get in too. It's at the bottom of this excavation. Holy mackerel. Henry, why don't we tell the police? Because we can't trust them. Even the police may be Martians in disguise. Oh, come on. Are you being melodramatic? Oh, am I? But you just come with me. Where? Into the tunnel. I'll show you. The Henry Swanson led Guy Burkhart to a small hole on the side of the excavation. There he removed a cut-out piece of metallic substance and they crawled into a dimly lighted tunnel. They walked for what seemed like two miles until Swanson held his finger to his lips. We've got to be quiet now. Henry, this is fantastic. They've got a tunnel right under the whole town. Oh, you haven't seen anything yet. There's a room a little farther down. We'll be able to look through a glass in the door. Is it safe? It's perfectly safe. Unless one of them comes along. Oh, come on. Okay. Here. Now Burkhart, look through this glass. Now, just so I know I'm not completely insane. Tell me what you see. What do you see? Good Lord. Well, a tremendous panel with dozens of telescreens. And in front of each there's a servo robot. They seem to be computing something. Yes, I've watched. They're evaluating data from the screens. Have you gotten a chance to look at the data on those screens? No. I've been afraid to go in. There might be a warning circuit somewhere. Well, if we knew what those robots were working on, we could go to the authorities. I'll risk it if you will. All right, it's worth the chance. We're lost anyway. Okay. Open the door. So far, so good. Come on. Let's take a look at that data. But don't interfere with the robots. Don't worry. Here, let's look at this screen. Listen to this. Tests in the 47 K-12 group of Marlin cigarettes pulled 80% using the soft feminine approach. Indications are that an extension of this approach would influence at least 70% nationwide. The direct elevator pitch pulled only 10%. They should be abandoned and a new series of high persuasion personal elements introduced. Henry, do you know what this means? I haven't the faintest idea. I don't blame you. This is crazy, but it fits the facts when I think about it. Do you know who's behind this? Martians. No, not Martians, Henry. Humans. What? Humans who are interested in developing the perfect propaganda machine. What? I don't know who they are or how they've done it, but somehow they've taken Tyler Town over. Hypnosis. Hypnosis, drugs, maybe some kind of array or something. However they do it, what happens is that they let us live through a single day. During that day, they pour all kinds of suggestions and propaganda into us. At the end of the day, they evaluate the results, see how we've reacted. And at midnight, they wash the day out of our minds, and the next morning we start the same day over again with different stimuli. Do you know what that means, Henry? Suppose one man learned how to influence people 100%. Why, in a year, he could sell us anything from freezers to political candidates. Wait a minute. Guinea pigs, Henry. This whole community is one big test tube for Dorchans propaganda research. Burr God, what do we do? I don't know, but somehow we've got to get out of this town and get to the FBI. Who do you think we can? It's worth a try, come on. Wait. What is it? Look through the door. There's somebody coming down the tunnel. We've got to hide. Behind the circuit box, quick. Shh. Good Lord, it's Dorchin, the head of the research institute. Quiet. All right, Burr God, come out. We know you're in this room. Miss Horn has informed us that you remember. I must warn you that it's useless to buck us. Come out peacefully. Let our maintenance crew adjust you properly, so you don't remember from one experiment to the next. It will be quite painless. If you don't come out peacefully, we'll have to get you. Henry, take this wrench. When I give no word, jump him. But he may be armed. We've got nothing to lose. Very well. I'm coming after you. Now. Burr God, I've killed him. Wait. Get his coat unbuttoned. Maybe his heart is still beating. Henry. What is it? What's wrong? Look underneath his coat. Heaven help us. It's a robot. A humanoid robot designed to look like Dorchin. Come on, let's get out of here. Wait. What's that? It's a loudspeaker. I told you it was useless, gentlemen. Who are you? Mr. Dorchin, naturally. The real Mr. Dorchin. What are you trying to do to us? Merely trying to prevent you from damaging my experiment, gentlemen. You can't get away with this, Dorchin. Sooner or later, somebody, the FBI or somebody, is going to get wind of this madness. Really, Burr God, you're quite naive. Now why not be reasonable and let the maintenance crews adjust you? And if I refuse? I suppose you'll kill me. That would be quite impossible. Oh? You see, Burr God, you're already dead. Dead? You're shocked. It's quite true. You and everyone else in this town were killed by a premature atomic blast at the contrachemical plant. The blast occurred at 7 a.m. on June 15. That is the last thing imprinted on your minds. That is why you wake up screaming each morning. No, it isn't true. But it is. What I and my associates did was take the brain circuits from your dead bodies. We stored them in electrochemical batteries until we had a chance to rebuild the cities and begin our tests. Do you think I believe a fantastic tale like that? I imagine you find it incredible. Of course, we didn't rebuild everything exactly. After all, it only has to last for a single day, June 15. At midnight, we turn off the power and wash out the memory of the day. You and your friend Swanson, unfortunately, have defective circuits. You remember. Burkhard, it's no use. We're trapped. Give up. No, not me. What can we do? We can make a run for it down the tunnel. Come on. It's useless, Burkhard. Keep going. It's useless, useless, useless. Now, now, this door is open. It opens. Oh, no. No, I don't believe it. Swanson, look. It's a ghost. It's a ghost. It's a ghost. It's a ghost. It's a ghost. It's a ghost. It's a ghost. They were standing on a ledge of smooth, finished metal. At their feet, the ledge dropped away into a chasm so deep they could not see the bottom. Beyond was only a glare so bright that their eyes could not stand to look into it. And yet, just at the limit of their vision, something towered, something so huge it was almost inconceivable. Something. Burkhard? Yes? This is Dorchen. Now do you understand why it's useless? The great looming figure moved closer. It seemed to take shape now. It was so gigantic as to be unbelievable. It came closer. The glare was partially blocked. And then Guy Burkhard knew that the towering shape was none other than Dorchen himself. You see how I did it, Burkhard? I took your brain circuits and had them reduced so they could be transferred to tiny humanoid mannequins. There you are, Burkhard, a tiny miniature of yourself. And this city, this whole experiment I'm conducting, is built on a tabletop. It was the morning of June 15, and Guy Burkhard woke up out of a dream, screaming. You have just heard X-1 presented by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, which this month features another story by tonight's author, Frederick Pohl. It's the second installment of his novel, Slave Ship. Your announcer, Fred Collins. X-1 was directed by Daniel Sutter and is an NBC Radio Network production.
