Suspense.
And the producer of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, the master of mystery and adventure,
William N. Robson.
Faithful listeners, and who among you is not, will remember a strange and wonderful story
we presented some time ago about a member of the Beat Generation called the Tennis Shoe.
It was the first radio play by a young man of whom we have expected much, and we have
not been disappointed.
Herewith another strange and wonderful story by 26-year-old George Bamber.
In years to come, we feel confident that we will be proud to recall that it was on suspense
that this brilliant writer was first heard.
Listen, listen then as Richard Beals stars in Return to Dust.
Now, Return to Dust, starring Mr. Richard Beals, a tale well calculated to keep you
in suspense.
Testing, one, two, three.
Testing, testing.
Attention, Dr. Warren Bader, Department of Pathology, School of Medicine, State University.
This is James Howard, research fellow in pathology speaking.
At the moment I am seated on the tape recorder that is recording this message to you.
As a point of fact, by the yardstick on my desk, I stand exactly 12 inches and I am steadily
decreasing in size.
I calculate if I continue to shrink at the present rate of speed, it is possible that
I will become invisible to the human eye sometime before midnight.
I have been trying to reach you by phone since 8 this morning, but you are not at home and
have not yet arrived at your office.
Since you are the only person with an adequate scientific background and technical knowledge
to save me, it is imperative that my last whereabouts is known to you in the event I
cannot contact you by phone.
Thus the precaution of this recording.
As you will have discovered by now, I have gone against your orders and pursued my theory
of cancer cell growth by working in the lab at night after my regular duties.
I have been trying to prove that the biochemical agent not only stops abnormal cell division,
but reduces the existing cells in physical size until the neutralizer is induced.
The fact that I have shrunk from 5 and one-half feet to one foot should be proof beyond refutation,
though my condition is the result of an accident.
While trying to introduce a more powerful catalyst in the laboratory last night, I inadvertently
created an uncontrolled reaction which manifested itself as a white mist which filled the entire
lab.
The mist lasted no more than a few seconds and as I observed no effects other than this,
I continued working.
When I got home, I descended into one of the deepest and blackest sleeps I have ever experienced.
I woke this morning to discover myself literally lost in a sea of blankets.
I had shrunk 4 feet 8 inches during the night.
Naturally, my first reaction was one of panic, but I soon realized that my only salvation
was to remain calm until I contacted you.
You will find a more complete report of my theory and the experiments which I have conducted
to prove it in the uncompleted thesis here on my desk.
This thesis, Dr. Bader, will open a door to a cure for man's worst disease, cancer.
As for myself, you will find detailed instructions on how to reverse the action which I have
accidentally initiated.
You will find this on pages 79, 80, and 81.
No matter how small I shall become, even microscopic, you will be able to reverse the process if
you follow the instructions on those pages.
Now I had better place another telephone call to your office, Dr. Bader, while I'm still
big enough to dial the phone.
It is just possible that your efficient secretary forgot to tell you that I called.
The phone has grown almost half as tall as I am, a strange sensation.
Who would think the tensor springs on these dials would be so strong?
And who would think I would have to use both hands to dial the telephone?
Ms. Pritchard, has Dr. Bader come in yet?
Whom shall I say is calling?
This is James Howard, Ms. Pritchard.
It's urgent.
It doesn't sound like you, Mr. Howard.
It's me, all right.
I'm sorry.
Dr. Bader isn't in.
Are you sure?
Yes, I am sure.
Dr. Bader is not at this moment in his office.
Now look, Ms. Pritchard, don't pull that Dr. Bader isn't in stuff to me.
You tell Dr. Bader I have to talk to him.
I'm sorry, Mr. Howard.
Dr. Bader is not in.
Look, this is a matter of life and death.
I'll tell him when he comes in.
In the meantime, is there anything I can do?
There's nothing anyone can do but Dr. Bader.
He's the only man in the world that can help me.
Well, I'll tell him as soon as he comes in.
Yes, you do that, Ms. Pritchard.
Why, Dr. Bader, why of all days did you have to pick today to change your routine?
For the last 20 years, you've been in your office from 9 until 12.
Why did you have to pick this morning to change?
Yes, self-preservation is the most powerful instinct.
I'm not going to lie.
I'm not going to lie.
I'm not going to lie.
I'm not going to lie.
I'm not going to lie.
I'm not going to lie.
All that I can call mine is in this room.
A couple of suits, some socks with holes in them, piles of heavy books, a microscope on my desk,
and a tape recorder to record my notes on.
That's all that will be left of Mr. James Howard.
Research fellow.
Oh, excuse me, Dr. Pastor, and one green and gold parakeet with the name of Pastor.
To pose a hypothetical problem, Dr. Pastor, who's going to change the water in your cage if I return to dust?
Certainly not Dr. Bader.
He might steal what little water you had, but he wouldn't change it.
Who will? If I don't contact the doctor, it may be a week before the landlady comes up here to clean.
He'd starve to death.
I've got to open that cage and let him loose.
But how?
The yardstick!
I can push the latch open that?
Yes!
Yes, I can just reach it.
There! You're free, Dr. Pastor. You're free.
The window is open across the room. There's a whole world.
Fly away and make a name for yourself.
A whole world.
I've got the whole world ahead of me too if I live.
After I publish my thesis, I'll be famous.
I'll have everything I ever dreamed of.
But not unless Dr. Bader gets the instructions.
So, we resume taping.
But I can't reach the start button on the recorder.
These books, they're like a grand staircase to the tape deck.
And now to start the machine.
I'm no longer big enough to push it.
Kick it!
Ooh! That hurt!
I've got it!
Jump on it!
There we go!
Dr. Bader?
Dr. Bader?
This is James Howard recording again.
I have still not received your phone call, but I have not given up hope.
In the meanwhile, I have made the necessary precautions for isolating myself in the event that you do not call before tomorrow morning.
I have made a ramp with a ruler to the stage of the microscope.
Loaded to the microscope is a transparent glass petri dish.
As soon as it becomes apparent that I'm in danger of being lost from view on the desk, I will make my way to the petri dish.
But what if you haven't called by the time I could be lost in the petri dish?
I could prepare a slide for myself.
If I diminished to the size of a one-filled organism, I would have no difficulty in crawling under the cover glass and taking up a position directly under the lens.
Perhaps I should prepare a slide now.
You've called, Dr. Bader! You've called it last!
No! I can't lift it! I'm too small!
I can't lift it off the cradle!
Don't stop ringing! Please! I'll lift it somehow!
But how? A lever!
Give me a lever and I can move the world!
A pencil! I can do it with a pencil! Don't hang up, Dr. Bader!
I'm looking! I'm looking!
Please don't hang up, Dr. Bader! I'm coming! I'm coming!
Just don't stop ringing! Please don't stop ringing! Please!
Just don't hang up, Dr. Bader! I've almost got it! Just a little more!
Oh, no!
Hello?
Miss Pritchard!
Mr. Howard?
Can't you hear me? It's Dr. Bader!
Hello?
Miss Pritchard, I'm on top of the dish! The phone fell on the floor!
Hello?
I'm only six inches tall! You've got to get me help!
Hello? Are you there, Mr. Howard?
Yes, I'm here! I'm here!
Howard?
No, Doctor. This is Miss Pritchard. I called Mr. Howard's room, but he doesn't answer or something.
I'm here, Dr. Bader! I'm here!
He made it, but he doesn't answer.
Well, I rang and rang, and then the phone just went dead. You can hear for yourself.
It went dead?
The phone didn't go dead! It fell on the floor!
Well, call him back in about an hour. See if he answers.
Starting up, Miss Pritchard! I can't put my phone back on the hook!
Well, what if he doesn't answer, then?
All you'll get is a business signal!
What do you mean, what if he doesn't answer? You will!
When he called this morning, he sounded very strange.
Don't let him hang up, Miss Pritchard!
Howard's been very strange since the day he joined the department.
If you can't get him today, I'll talk to him when I see him tomorrow.
No! No!
Yes, Dr. Bader?
No! No, no! Please don't hang up! I'm still here!
Please don't hang up! Dr. Bader! Please!
I almost gave up when you hung up, Dr. Bader.
But then I remembered a simple law of mathematics.
No matter how often you divide a thing, there's still something left.
So I went ahead with the preparation for my survival.
And a good thing, too.
It's not yet six o'clock and I am now only a half an inch tall.
But everything is now arranged.
In the center of the Petri dish on the microscope stage is a prepared slide complete with slip cover and label.
The only thing lacking is the specimen.
And that is me.
If I become so small that I am in danger of being lost in the Petri dish,
I will make my way to the exact center of the slide and take up a position there.
You should be able to see me for some time to come because I focused the microscope.
All you have to do, Dr. Bader, is look. Just look to see me.
My world is such a different place now.
Books are as huge as buildings and pencils seem like telephone poles.
I wonder what my world will look like if no one ever finds me.
Oh, yes, Dr. Bader.
The slide under the microscope is labeled carefully.
Of all the slides I've labeled in my lifetime, I hardly thought the last one might become my epitaph.
Specimen, James Howard.
Species, Homo sapiens.
Condition, excellent.
Dr. Pasteur, haven't you flown the coop yet?
Is your loyalty so great that you refuse to leave so long as the last particle of me remains?
Or are you hungry?
What an ugly monster you are from this perspective.
Your feathers are like scales of armor, infested with lice, I see.
And that beak.
No, Dr. Pasteur, no, Julie!
I must back up slowly.
Don't run.
Slow.
Back between the books and the microphone.
Slowly.
Nah, I'm safe here.
Until he loses interest.
I should have let him starve to death in his cage.
I wonder if the tape's still recording.
I can see the spool's tilt turning.
I see above me the clear plastic reflecting the last rays of the sun setting outside my window.
But I can't see if there's tape.
Are you there?
Are you my recording, Dr. Bader?
This is James Howard.
As soon as the bird loses interest, I'm going to make a break for it.
I'll make the microscope, Dr. Bader, don't you worry.
I'll hide my James Howard just like it was me.
You understand?
Even if you don't think I'm in it, if you can't bring me back, publish my thesis for me.
You hear me, Dr. Bader?
Publish my thesis.
I can't die smaller than just unknown.
I have nothing left, Dr. Bader.
Not even my body.
Give me my thesis.
You wouldn't dare publish it in your name, Dr. Bader, would you?
All you'd have to do is change the name on the title page.
You wouldn't stoop that low, would you?
No.
No, give me my thesis, Dr. Bader.
Give me that much.
You hear me?
Give me immortality, Dr. Bader.
I want the world to know I live.
Publish the thesis in my name.
Give me Dr. Bader.
Give me immortality.
Suspense.
In which Richard Beals starred in William M. Robeson's production of Return to Dust, written by George Bamber.
Supporting Richard Beals in Return to Dust were Paula Winslow and Lawrence Dobkin.
Sound patterns by Bill James and Tom Hanley.
Listen.
Listen again next week when we return with Victor Jory in Death Notice.
Another tale well calculated to keep you in...
Suspense.
Stay tuned for News Analysis, which follows immediately on CBS Radio.