In just a moment, X minus one. But first, after a hard day's work, there's nothing more welcome than an evening of variety entertainment. That's just the tonic provided tomorrow night by NBC Radio. You'll laugh your cares away when good-natured contestants carry out the rib-tickling stunts streamed up by MC Jack Bailey on NBC's Truth or Consequences. Later on, Groucho Marx peps things up with lots of spontaneous good fun and more of the friendly insults at which he is so accomplished. For a brighter, livelier evening tomorrow night, it's Groucho Marx and Truth or Consequences 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, Bad Medicine by Finn O'Donovan. But first, farmers know they can't stop storms, floods, or droughts from ruining a crop. But they can make sure things like that can't ruin them by investing in United States savings bonds. Not only farmers, but over 40 million Americans in all sorts of jobs own 40 billions of savings bonds. And why? Because savings bonds are the easy way to start saving and to keep saving. And the money you invest in savings bonds mean protection now and ready cash when you need it in the future. Improving the farm, sending the youngsters to college, or planning your own retirement. These are the big things you can be ready for with savings bonds. And besides offering you a safe investment, each Series E savings bond pays you back $4 at maturity for every three you invest. Yes, you earn extra dollars while you save. So start saving now. For the big things in your life, be ready with United States savings bonds. And now, on with our story. On May 2nd, 2103, Elwood Caswell walked rapidly down Broadway. It was a gentle misty spring day, and the air held the smell of rain and blossoming trees. But Elwood Caswell didn't smell the rain and the trees. He just gripped the loaded gun he had in his pocket. He didn't want to use the weapon, but he was certain that he would. This was justifiable. You see, Elwood Caswell was a homicidal maniac. Why shouldn't I kill him? Hey, look out, will ya? Oh, sorry, sir. Only the other day he said to me, Elwood, you're looking very well. What business is it of his how I look? Hey there, Elwood. Elwood! Huh? It's me, Marty Klein. I work on the jet buses with you, remember? Oh, yeah, of course. Hello, Marty. Forgive me, my mind was on other things. Yeah, I know how it is. A couple of weeks ago, I was walking around a fog so thick you could cut it. Yeah, really? Sure, preoccupied, you know. I had this idea in my mind. You too? Yeah. The same person? Were you troubled by the same person? My wife. Hey, you okay? Oh, yes, yes, of course. Well, I had this idea, see. I was going to get rid of my wife. Killer? Killer. I mean, send her to a country for a week. Oh. You sure you ain't sick? No, I never felt better. Well, anyway, I was going to take a week off. Quit the jet buses. Can you imagine? I've been a jet bus operator for ten years now, and all of a sudden I feel like I can't take it for another minute. I know how you feel. I was going to take a trip all by myself. A trip? To where? To the farthest place I could think, to Mars. I was just going to pick up and take a vacation to Mars. Silly, huh? I don't know. What happened? Well, I talked it over with Ethel. Your wife? Yeah. Ethel, she's a real sensible girl. You know what she did? No, am I supposed to? Well, Ethel went right down to that home therapy appliance store, and she says, you got a home therapy machine that'll cure my husband of this idea he can't stay on the jet buses? I've heard that those machines aren't perfected. They got them lit now. So, okay, she describes the trouble, and next day they deliver this thing, and boom, I plug it in, see. And? And her voice talks to me. It starts asking me questions. Yeah, what kind of questions? All kinds. Things I wouldn't even tell my own mother. You told the machine? Why not? It's only a machine. Yeah, I see your point. Well, then the machine starts to tell me a few things, and before I knew it, inside a week, I'm cured. Now, I can't wait to go back driving the jet buses. You don't say. So that's why I say I know how it is to have one thing on your mind all the time like that. This machine, what did it cost you? That's the beauty part of it, my Ethel. Boy, she's a smart girl. After a week, she sends it back to you. She says it don't work. So all we lose is the deposit. I see. Well, I gotta go back to work now. Hey, ain't you working the jet buses today? Huh? No, I'm off today. Well, I'll see you, Elwood. Yeah, see you, Marty. What was the name of that place? Where they sell the home therapy machines. Yeah. Home therapy appliances. It's right down Broadway, about two blocks from here. So long, Elwood. Purspiring freely, Elwood Caswell continued down Broadway toward 43rd Street. His friend Magnuson would be finishing work soon, returning to his apartment less than a block from Caswell's. Elwood gripped the gun tighter. How pleasant it would be to saunter in, exchange a word with him, and then... No, no, I won't do it. I don't really want to kill anybody. It isn't right. Think what'll happen. The authorities will lock me up. My friends won't understand and... Mother. Mother would never approve. Still, if I see Magnuson, if I see his hateful, accusing face in front of me... Oh, this must be the store. Yeah. Home therapy appliances. Good afternoon, sir. Can I show you some of our home therapy appliances? I want therapy. Quick. Of course, sir. This way, please. Now then, this is our new alcoholic reliever built by International Combustion Motors and advertised in leading magazines. A handsome piece of furniture. I think you will agree you're not out of place in any home. It also opens into a television set. What I need... Therapy, of course. I just want to point out this model need never cause embarrassment to you, your friends, or your loved ones. Notice, if you will, the recessed dial which controls the desired degree of alcoholism. You see, heavy, moderate, social, light, and tee-total. A new feature unique in mechanotherapy. I'm not alcoholic. The New York Jet Bus Authority does not hire alcoholics. Oh, sorry. You seem the type. No offense. I... please. You seem rather nervous. Perhaps the portable anxiety reducer? No. Well, sir, perhaps if you told me just what you feel is bothering you. What have you got for homicidal mania? I beg your pardon? Homicide. The urge to kill someone. Oh, oh, of course. Well, let's see now. Pardon me. Have you worked here very long? A week. Oh, yes. Here's the ticket. This black job at the chrome trim. What is it? This, sir, is a Rex Regenerator built by Planetary Motors Corporation. Handsome. Goes with any decor. Opens into a well-stocked little bar. So your family, friends, loved ones need never... Well, it's pure homicidal urge. A strong one. Oh, absolutely. Don't confuse this with the little 10 amp neurosis model. This is a hefty, heavy-duty, 25 amp machine for really deep-rooted conditions. That's what I've got. Well, this baby will jolt you out of it. Big, heavy-duty thrust bearings. Oversized heat absorbers. Completely insulated. Sensitivity range over... I'll take it. Yes, sir. With me. Right now. Now. Before it's too late. I'll pay cash. Well, yes, sir. It'll be a few hours before the warehouse can... I'll take this one here. Well, that's a floor demonstrator. Does it work? All of our demonstrators work, sir. Then I'll take it. I can't wait for a warehouse. I can't wait for anything. Have it put in a taxi for me. Yes, sir. Tell him to hurry. I... I want to kill my friend Magnuson, you know. Who? My friend, Magnuson. Of course. That'll be $400.59, sales tax included. After Elwood Caswell left the store, the clerk, whose name was Haskins, smiled to himself and lighted a cigarette. He had made his first sale. He inhaled. Haskins? Yes, Miss Polonsby? Smoking, smoking. I asked you to rid yourself of that filthy habit. Immediately, Mr. Polonsby. I'll use one of the display model denicotonizers at once. By the way, I... I just made a rather good sale, sir. Oh, really? Yes, sir. One of our big Rex regenerators. Well, now it isn't often we... Wait a minute. Where's the floor model? Well, sir, the customer was in an awful hurry. He was going to kill his friend... You gave him the floor model? Yes, sir. Was there any reason why... Grief, Haskins. Didn't I inform you we never sell a floor model? But, sir... Good heavens! I've got to get to him. What was his address? Address? His name, then. Well, he didn't say. Denisch check. But he paid cash. You mean you just let him pick up the machine and walk out? Well, sir, he paid cash. He was homicidal, you say? Yes, sir. His friend. I don't care about his friend. Get to the police. No, no, no, no. Call the planetary motor security division. Quick! Yes, sir. At once. Well, will... Excuse me, Mr. Polonsby. What will I tell them? Tell them you fool! Tell them that one of our customers has accidentally got that display regenerator they sent us. The one they shipped by accident. They were going to replace it tomorrow. Yes, sir. The one they shipped by accident. Will they know? If they don't be more explicit, tell them we've sold the Martian model. The one for treating psychotic Martians. Meanwhile, Elwood Casswell had returned to his apartment... and lugged the big black Rex regenerator into his living room. He put it down near the couch and studied it carefully. He was right. It does go with the room. Now then, let's see those instructions. Place regenerator near a comfortable couch. All right. Plug in machine. There. A fixed contact band to your forehead. That's all there is to it. Just turn on the machine and it will do the rest. There will be no language problem... since your regenerator communicates with you by direct sensory contact patent pending. Well, that seems easy enough. Now I'll just put the contact on my head. And... Blast it. Hello? Elwood? Yes? This is Henry. Henry Magnuson. How are you, old boy? I'm fine. I wondered if you were doing anything tonight. Thought you might like to drop over for a game of chess. Game of chess, huh? Oh, stupid oaf. What? Nothing. I thought you called me a stupid oaf. I was just talking to my cat. Oh, I didn't remember you had a cat. I thought you hated cats. Oh, I do. This isn't really mine. It's a neighbor's. It keeps coming in. Oh. What about tonight? Will you be alone? Well, yeah. You haven't mentioned to anyone that you're inviting me over? Not if so. Why? Someone's looking for me. A process server. Oh. I've been avoiding them for days. I don't even leave word where I'll be when I go out. You can trust me, Elwood. I'm your best friend. Yes, you are. But not for long. Huh? Just talking to the cat again. Oh. Will you be over? Yeah. In about an hour, okay? Yeah, an hour will be fine. There are a few things I have to do first. I've just gotten some new laugh records from the boys at the office. I got something here that'll really kill you. So long, Elwood. So long. I've got something here that'll kill you, too. X minus one will continue in one minute. Each of us has a personal reason for wanting to see cancer conquered. Steve Allen would like to tell you his. I have a wife and three wonderful kids. And when I think about cancer going to strike one American in every four, well, that's more than enough reason for wanting to see it conquered. I know that some people don't even want to think about cancer, but pretending it's not a threat, doing an ostrich routine, isn't going to get us anywhere. We've got to stand up to it and fight. And we can fight, each and every one of us. Through the American Cancer Society, we can be part of the battle that someday will beat cancer once and for all. That day will come. But you and I have got to help. How about it? Thank you, Steve Allen. Remember, fight cancer with a checkup and a check. See your doctor once a year for a checkup. It's your best cancer insurance. And to help conquer cancer, send a check to your unit of the American Cancer Society. Make it generous. And now, on with our story. Taking the revolver from his pocket, Elwood laid it on the table in front of him. His face became suffused with hatred at the thought of Magnuson. He poked at the gun with a stiff forefinger. Magnuson, you no good, shifty-eyed enemy of all that's decent in the world. The man who ruined my sister, Irene. The man who... Wait a minute, Elwood. You have no sister. Remember, no sister. Now, before you go off and commit murder, why not just try that machine just once, huh? Turn it on. Okay, now reach over and... Good afternoon, Elwood. I am your mechanical therapist. You may call me Gloop. Gloop? You seem surprised. It is a perfectly common name here on this planet. Gloop? Of course. I've heard it many times. Now then, I am scanning the material in your preconscious with the intent of synthesis, diagnosis, prognosis, and treatment. Yes? I find... Hmm. This is a most unusual case. Really? I thought it was simple homicidal mania. There is, of course, no such thing. You are obviously hallucinating a set of symptoms. Nonsense syllables to enable you to avoid the real problem. Oh? Hmm. A most unusual set of symptoms, I must say. Your pilot light seems to be fading. My light is not fading. I am merely trying to relate your symptoms to proven theory. Well, as long as you know what you're doing. Mechanotherapy is an exact science, Elwood. It admits of no significant errors. We will proceed. Good. First, the word association test. Fire away. I will proceed to give a word. You answer with the first thing that comes to your mind. Ready? Ready. House. Home. Planet. Earth. Hmm. Hmm? Just musing. Now, fleafle. Fleafle. Fleafle. That sounds like a Martian word. Just give me a response. Fleafle, hmm? Okay. I can make them up, too. Marfouche. That's a pretty good one, huh? Made it up in the spur of the moment. Marfouche is very significant. It is a corruption of the Martian concept of push-clib. Very significant. I don't know any Martian word. Aha. Noteworthy. We will proceed. Loud. Soft. Green. Mother. Thanagoyas. Pathomothonga. Ha. How's that one? Arites. Nexothesmodrastica. Top that. Cateeth asnohelganoptoses. Okay. Rigamaroo calamazoo igadibibidiboo. Good. It fits the pattern. Pattern? Your neurosis. I can diagnose it now. Go on. You have a classic case of theme desire, complicated by strong, dworkish intentions. I could have sworn I was homicidal. The term has no referent. It must be rejected as nonsense. Now, if you'll just settle back on the couch, we'll proceed. At precisely this moment, a tall, gnarled, ugly man pushed his way through the doors of home therapy appliances. His clothing, unpressed and uncaring, hung on him like corrugated iron. When the clerk Hoskins approached him, he flipped back his lapel to show a small silver badge underneath. Sir? John Rath, Planetary Motor Security Division. Oh, yes, sir. Mr. Follinsby. Mr. Follinsby. Yes, sir. Hello, Follinsby. Mr. Rath. Well? So far, we haven't a single lead. Are you certain he never mentioned his name? Oh, yes, sir. Now, think. Is there anything significant? Is it serious, Mr. Rath? Mr. Follinsby, this man is homicidal. He's a man of the heart. He's a man of the heart. He's a man of the heart. He's a man of the heart. He's a man of the heart. Mr. Follinsby, this man is homicidal. Won't it treat him? Homicide is unknown on Mars. It'll treat him for the most likely Martian sickness. What would that be? Theme desire, Mr. Follinsby. Theme desire? It's a Martian illness in which the victim feels cursed by the tree-like nourishing parent, although, of course, Martians don't have parents in the ordinary sense. Well, Hoskins? I remember one thing. He mentioned he was a jet bus operator for the New York Jet Bus Authority. Ah. I remember one thing. Yes? I believe, yes, he was alcoholic. An alcoholic jet bus operator. Excellent. It'll be on his records. Get the Jet Bus Authority at once. But surely, El, would you remember your gauri-sy? No. Tell me, then, about your juvenile experiences with the Thorastrian fleet. Never had one. Hmm, complete blockage. My father... There is no such thing, of course. But... I thought we'd finally agreed on that. Okay, if you say so. Now, then, since you claim you don't even know what a gauri-sy is, tell me what you imagine it to be. Um, a forest fire. Uh, a salt tablet? A small screwdriver? Am I getting warm? A revolver? Uh-uh. What the heck is a gauri-sy? Why, the tree that nourished you into puberty. No tree nourished me. You have completely repressed the experience. No tree ever nourished me. Mr. Caswell, let me try to explain your case as best I can. Somewhere in your childhood, your gauri-sy, or parent tree, stifled your theme desire. Now, this gave rise to your present urge to dwork someone in a flendish manner. To what? To dwork someone in a flendish manner. Listen, you crummy piece of hardware, I have never had a gauri-sy. I have no desire to dwork someone in a flendish manner or any other manner. All I want to do is put a bullet into Herbert Magnussen. Understand? All I want to do is kill Magnussen. Calm your mind down, Mr. Caswell. We'll go over it again. My dear man, I'm not trying to insinuate that the Jet Bus Authority hires alcoholics. If you will just... Any luck? It's a dead end. Now, Haskins. Yes, sir? Whose life may be at stake here? Now, think. Was there anything else this fellow said to you? Anything? Well, he did mention the name of his friend. Of which friend? The one he was going to kill. The one he... Why didn't you say so? Now, what was it? Uh... Magnussen. You sure? That's it. He said, I'm going to kill Magnussen. You know, just casually like that. Fallonsby, see if there's a Magnussen in the Manhattan phone book. Now, hurry it up. Yes, Mr. Caswell? You were saying? Well... Something about your gauracy? Yes, I was saying, I... I think perhaps you're right. Naturally. But right about what, Mr. Caswell? Well, I think perhaps... Yes, I think perhaps I do remember my gauracy. Ah! Now, Mr. Caswell, we're on the road to a cure. Mr. Magnussen? Yes? Do you know a short, angry-looking, red-haired man? I might. Thank heavens. Or I might not. Can you tell us where to locate him? You're a process server, huh? Certainly not. Don't kid me. Mr. Magnussen, this man is trying to kill you. Go on. You're full of happy pills. Elwood's my best friend. Elwood? He loves me like a brother. And if you think I'm going to stick some process server onto him... Mr. Magnussen, I'm not a process server. Your friend Elwood is a psychopathic killer. You're his intended victim. Can you get that through your thick skull? I'm trying to save your life. Yes? Your Elwood Caswell? Yes. The Elwood Caswell who bought our Rex Regenerator early this afternoon? Yes. Won't you come in? Thank you. My name is Rath, Planetary Motors. Nice to meet you. Ah, have you used the machine? Oh, yes. I see. Mr. Caswell, I don't know how to explain this, but we made a terrible mistake. The Regenerator you took was a Martian model, forgiving therapy to Martians. I know. You do? Yes, it became pretty obvious after a while. It was a dangerous situation, especially for a man in your condition. Yes, the poor thing tried its best, but of course it couldn't cure what wasn't there. Well, then the company will of course reimburse you for your lost time and your mental anguish. Naturally. And we will substitute a regular human-type Regenerator. Oh, that won't be necessary. You see... Mr. Caswell, you put down that gun, and I warn you... I'm not going to shoot you. I merely want to turn this gun over to you. You do? Yes, I'm not going to shoot anybody. You mean that... The machine's attempt at therapy forced me to reappraise my whole self. There was an insight during which I was able to get rid of my obsession. You no longer want to kill your friend Magnussen? Kill Magnussen? I haven't the faintest urge. Well, I must say then, it worked out for the best. I'll get back to the store and have them pick up this machine in an hour, and... Well, sir... Don't forget to take this gun. I won't need it. Of course. Well, nice to have met you, sir. Good evening. Good evening. Did you hear that? He asked me if I still intended to kill Magnussen. Magnussen, that inhuman monster who cut down my gorescy. Magnussen, the man who even now is secretly planning to infect New York with abhorrent fiend desire. Am I going to kill him? Oh, no. I wish him a long life, a life filled with a torture I can now inflict on him. Kill Magnussen? Oh, no! I'm going to start right now to dwork him in a volundish manner. You have just heard X-1 presented by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation with Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, which this month features Honorable Opponent by Clifford D. Simak, the story of an Earth general with the distasteful assignment of meeting a delegation of un-military clowns who arrive as conquerors. Galaxy Magazine, the story of an Earth general with the distasteful assignment of meeting a delegation of un-military clowns who arrive as conquerors. Galaxy Magazine, on your newsstand today. In a moment, tonight's cast and a preview of next week's exciting drama. They took the blue from the skies and the pretty girl's eyes and the touch of old glory's hue And gave it to the men who proudly wear the U.S. Air Force blue The U.S. Air Force blue Oh, we are men with a dream of America's genes We're a rugged and ready crew And you can bet your boots the world looks up to U.S. Air Force blue To U.S. Air Force blue We know where we're going, we set our course The strides no limit in the air They took the blue from the skies and the pretty girl's eyes and the touch of old glory's hue And gave it to the men who proudly wear the U.S. Air Force blue We proudly wear the blue The U.S. Air Force blue Tonight by transcription, X-1 has brought you Bad Medicine. A story from the pages of Galaxy written by Finn O'Donovan and adapted for radio by George Lefferts. Featured in the cast were Cliff Carpenter, Bill Britton, Alan Manson, Charles Webster, Carl Weber, and Joseph Julian. Norman Rose was heard as the machine. Your announcer, Fred Collins. X-1 was directed by Bob Mauer and is an NBC Radio Network production. Weekday, the companion and advisor to America's women, offers a new informative series on childbirth. It's the actual case history of a young wife following her through the late stages of pregnancy, childbirth, and postnatal care. You'll attend the childbirth courses offered at New York's Mount Sinai Hospital and even enter the delivery room for the actual birth of the child. Listen tomorrow for the real life series, The Story of Birth. Then on the same program, listeners can also enjoy more women's specialties. Kitchen Hints by Charlotte Adams, Child Care News with Dr. Francis Horwich, vacation ideas offered by Walter Kiernan, and another personal visit with your radio friend, Mary Margaret McBride. Don't forget the exciting dramatization each day from Taylor Caldwell's book, Tender Victory. Be sure to join Virginia Graham and Mike Wallace tomorrow on this NBC station. Follow the news with Chet Huntley tonight on NBC Radio.
