Stay tuned for X minus one on NBC. Countdown
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X minus one. Fire. From the far horizons of the
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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...
Tonight, The Old Die Rich by H .L. Gold. The
uniformed cop at the door told me to get lost,
but Lou Pape spotted me and told the man to let
me in. It was a shabby room, they always are.
There was a woman on the bed, an old woman with
white hair, thin enough to show the tide -drawn
scalp. The medical examiner was going over her
as if she were a side of beef that you had to
put a federal -grade stamp on. When are you going
to stop taking this ham friend of yours around
to these cases, Sergeant, just to gratify his
morbid curiosity? Forget about Weldon, Doc. What
did she die of? Not eating, malnutrition. Oh,
now look, Doc, in the top bureau drawer, she
had bank books showing $32 ,000 from five different
banks. Now, she had the price of a meal. Malnutrition
induced by senile psychosis. They starve because
they're less afraid of death than digging into
their savings. I don't know, Doc. It doesn't
feel right to me. Listen, Weldon, just because
you get up on a stage or on some half -baked
television show and make believe you're 70 years
old doesn't qualify you as an expert on gerontology.
Maybe not, Doc, but I went bald at 25 and I've
been playing old men ever since. There's a lot
more to it than just shuffling around and talking
in a high -crack voice. Yeah, there hasn't been
an actor since Oda Skinner. Maybe. But the way
I work, I have to get inside the character. I
have to decide when he was born, how he got along
with his father, where he went to school, what
he thinks of women, everything about a character.
There isn't a one of them these days can make
themselves heard past the fifth row. Look, I'm
serious. Now, I've tried imagining myself growing
weak from hunger. I've tried to think of not
even spending a nickel to keep me from dying.
Well, I just don't believe it. It isn't right.
I don't feel it. Well, lucky for me, I don't
have to feel these things inside of me because
I'm a doctor and not an actor. Sergeant, malnutrition
induced by senile psychosis. I'll order the wicker
basket from Bellevue. So long, Barrymore. Well,
he's right, Mark. We get a couple of these cases
every year. Some old bat starving to death with
$17 ,000 in old bills pinned on his union suit.
Turns up all the time. Al, it doesn't feel right.
Well, he knows his business. But he doesn't know
old people. I do. It isn't easy to starve to
death. Not when you can buy day -old bread at
the bakery or wilted vegetables the grocer's
ready to throw out. Anyone who's willing to eat
that stuff can stay alive from day to day. Hunger
is a... Well, it's a pretty potent instinct.
Maybe they get too sick to go out after old bread
or wilted vegetables. It takes weeks to die of
starvation. Did you ever try starving for weeks,
Lou? No, did you? Well, the point is somebody
would find out, a janitor, a landlord, somebody,
and they'd get him to a hospital. Ah, forget
about it, Mark. Can't argue with it. Here there
were five bank books, $32 ,000. Yeah, she took
good care of them. They look almost new. Sure
she did. Most important thing in the world, huh?
April 23rd, 1907, $150. The ink's pretty dark.
Shouldn't it be faded? She probably never took
it out in the light. Anyone ever think of testing
the ink? What for? Banks records always check.
These aren't forgeries, if that's what you're
thinking. Well, uh, I'd like to get a chemist
working on this ink. Ah, now, Mark. Look, this
is strictly against regulations. I gotta take
these books down to the squad room and sign them
in. Pretty dark ink for 1907. Well, it's about
five o 'clock in the afternoon. I guess I could
hold them over tonight and bring them down to
the property clerk in the morning. Good. I know
where I can find a chemist. Mr. Weldon, there's
no doubt of it. The ink sample is typical of
inks used 50 years ago. Uh, 1907 would be about
right. There, you see, Weldon? I was supposed
to go to the Trotters tonight. But according
to the amount of oxidation, it's fresh enough
to be only a few months old. There, I was right.
Well, could not, uh... Could not be the result
of unusually careful handling them? Oh, yes,
yes, I suppose it could. An airtight compartment,
perhaps, sealed with one of the inert gases or
a vacuum. That might account for the lack of
normal aging. Lou, you can't keep inert gases
in a top bureau drawer in a fourth -floor walk
-up? Yeah. Well, it's probably some simple explanation.
For fresh ink, half a century old. I've been
going out on these cases for about a year. It's
my specialty playing old people and when I'm
not working television or something on Broadway,
I go down to the homes for the aged or the parks
or just watch. Lou Pape's an old friend of mine
and he put me on these malnutrition cases. But
there was more to it than just picking up color
and tricks of the trade. There had to be a better
reason for it. You can't just starve to death
with upwards of $30 ,000 right at your fingertips.
Not without at least buying a bowl of soup. I
had a run of television that kept me busy for
about a month. Then Lou Pape called me up and
asked me to come down to Bellevue. I'll autopsy
if you want it, Sergeant, but I can give you
the cause of death right now. Malnutrition due
to senile psychosis. What's up, Lou? Well, Mark,
an old guy was found wandering around down on
Hester Street. Suffering from malnutrition, he
had $17 ,000 in cash inside the lining of his
jacket. Is he alive? No, not now he isn't. Doc's
got him in the room there, but he was stumbling
around when the cop on the beat picked him up.
Did he say anything? Well, he talked to the cop.
Pretty smart young kid. Seems the old man kept
talking about money and about his wife. She must
have been dead 20 years. And then just before
he went out completely, he did say something.
Maybe three or four times. What was it? El Greco.
You mean the artist? Well, that's what Stankiewicz
said. He's the officer who picked him up. Said
he remembered he'd heard the name on that television
quiz program. You know, the jockey who's the
art expert. El Greco? Probably some Greek restaurant
where he was bumming his meals. Now, you sure
you want no top seed, Sergeant? It's late. I
won't get to do it till tomorrow. All right,
take your time, Duck. There's something else,
isn't there, Lou? Maybe, Mark. Found the old
guy's room and there was an ad thumb -tacked
over the sink. Nothing too unusual. Yeah. Here
it is. Men and women wanted light work suitable
for old people. No references required. Well,
I checked it with the lieutenant. He says to
forget it. Says it figures for an old guy to
be interested in an ad like that. An old guy
with $17 ,000 in cash? Yeah. Well, I didn't figure
I'd argue with the lieutenant. You mind if I
keep it? No. Go ahead. It was an old brown stone
house in the East 80s. I got in line with the
rest of the applicants. My face was lined with
collodion wrinkles and I wore an antique shiny
suit and rundown shoes. It was a good makeup
job. I looked more authentic than the rest of
the old -timers who were waiting for the interview.
I finally came up to where a woman was asking
the questions. Name? Kernit. Louis Kernet. Kernet.
Mm -hmm. A dress? Well, I don't exactly have
a place. I've been staying with a fellow down
on 12th Street, a friend of mine. I met him in
the cafeteria. A previous occupation. Well, I
worked at a lot of things. Used to be a printer
way back. I could handset... Do you have any
references? Well... Family? No, no, no, ma 'am.
I haven't got any family. I had a cousin in Salt
Lake City, but haven't seen him in 30 years or
more. The ad said you didn't need no references.
Well, that's right. Now, will you wait in the
other room? Yes, ma 'am. Do I get the job, ma
'am? Just wait in the other room. I shuffled
into the other room and sat down to wait. I concentrated
on building a character for Louie Kernet. If
I was going to carry this through, I was going
to have to play a better performance than I'd
ever given before. About half an hour, a young
woman came into the room. I planned to be dozing
the way an old man would, so my eyes were closed
when I heard the door close. When I opened them,
I was looking into the barrel of a .38 revolver.
Are you awake now, Mr. Weldon? I don't think
you need to carry on anymore. If you need any
further convincing, you are Mark Weldon. You're
about 40 years old, and you played this same
character on television about six weeks ago.
You played it fairly well. Thank you. Would you
mind putting down that gun? Yes. Why did you
apply for this position, Mr. Weldon? You're not
old. Not really. Well, uh... As a matter of fact,
it was a bet. I... was having an argument about
the method with an actor who trained at the old
Vic. I... I bet him that I could, uh... Well,
I could get by off the stage... No, well, don't
bother. You've been very busy recently trying
to find out why senile psychotics starve themselves
to death. How did you know that? Well, I happen
to know that you've been present at several police
investigations into these cases, and you're a
good friend of Sergeant Lou Pape. Well, you know
a great deal more about me than I do about you.
Well, I would be glad to enlighten you. My name
is May Roberts. I'm the daughter of the late
Dr. Anthony Roberts, the physicist, who was dismissed
from the Brookhaven Atomic Energy Laboratory
five years ago. I assume you're connected with
these starvation cases, or you wouldn't have
known I was investigating them. Well, that's
obvious, isn't it? I'm not afraid of professional
detectives, Mr. Weldon. They deal only with facts.
But I don't like amateurs. They guess too much.
They don't stick to reality. Consequently, they're
likely to get too close to the truth. Unfortunately,
Miss Roberts, I'm nowhere near the truth. I haven't
the slightest idea how you're tied in with those
starvation deaths. Well, I intend to show you,
Mr. Weldon. I'm happy to announce that you have
the job. Now, look... Don't move, Mr. Weldon.
Oh, incidentally. About 15 minutes ago, I called
Sergeant Pape and told him I was your sister
just in from Pittsburgh. I wanted to get in touch
with you very badly, and Sergeant Pape was very
sorry. He wished he could help me, but he didn't
have the slightest idea where you were. All right,
Mr. Weldon. Right ahead of you, please. Through
that door. She didn't look like the kind of girl
who would forget to hold the gun on me as I went
down the hall. So that's all I did, just go down
the hall. I climbed up to the fourth floor to
a large room. There was a maze of electrical
equipment bolted down, tubes and wires and dials.
In the middle of the room was a wire mesh cage.
She kept that gun on me steady as a rock. She
began to set readings on the dials and flip switches
on the control panel. It'll take about five minutes
for the field to build up, Mr. Weldon. Please
get in the cathode area. You mean that wire cage?
Go ahead. All right, all right. Now, I wouldn't
advise moving now, Mr. Weldon, the wire carries
some 10 ,000 volts. Now look, Ms. Roberts...
Mr. Weldon, you're curious. And you could turn
out to be a great nuisance to me. As long as
you come this far, we might as well both benefit
by it. Benefit? You'll find a suit of clothes
on the floor there. Put it on. But after all...
Put it on! I didn't know whether she was bluffing
about the electric charge, but the revolver looked
real enough so I stripped and changed into the
other clothes. The shoes were a little too tight
and pointed. The collar of the shirt was too
stiffly starched and too high under my chin.
The suit was too narrow at the shoulders and
at the ankles. I remember my father had a suit
like that. The same shiny blue surge. All right.
In your pocket you'll find a set of envelopes.
You'll find a set of instructions on each. Follow
them carefully. I don't get it. You will. Use
the envelopes in the order they are arranged.
What's this all about? Mr. Weldon, I meant it
when I said this could be a benefit to both of
us. There's no use explaining anything. You'll
find out. And don't try to escape. It can't be
done. All right. Now the field generators are
ready. Look, Miss Roberts, this is absolutely...
Just follow instructions, Mr. Weldon. I blinked.
I was standing outside a bank on a sunny day
in spring. I stared at the people passing by.
They were dressed like the characters in a 1930
movie. The women wore long dresses and flower
pot hats. Men had hard straw hats. Suits with
narrow shoulders. Cars were square with flat
radiators in the front. There was a trolley car
passing by. Suddenly I realized that the last
trolley car stopped running in Manhattan years
ago. I tried to figure it out. It was New York,
all right? I recognized some of the buildings.
First I figured it must have been hypnosis. And
then I looked at the first of the envelopes in
my pocket. I read it and walked into the bank.
Yes, sir. Our Mr. Golden tells me that you wish
to open an account. Yes, that's right. Uh -huh.
Well, we're very happy to have a new depository.
Very happy indeed. Of course, you realize the
institution is in sound condition. Very sound.
You didn't worry about all those rumors in this
bank. No, sir. Solid. Solid. Well, that's good.
All right, now then, name? Mark Weldon. You have
no address in the city at present? No, no. And
you're depositing $150? That's right. All righty.
I'll just check the slip here. $150, right. And
the date? May 15th, of course, 1931. 31? Depression
oh now mr. Weldon. This is a very good year for
business this temporary recession is bound to
abate Sound banking policies will see us through.
It's just around the corner. You know what what
is prosperity? All right, mr. Weldon. We're very
happy to have your account I Went outside the
bank and I stood there in the spring sunlight
and let the terror soak into me The possibility
of the entire situation was gnawing at the edges
of my mind and then suddenly I wasn't there.
It was as fast as blinking. I was outside another
bank in the same city. The date on the next envelope
was May 29th and it was still 1931. I made a
$75 deposit there and then $100 at another place
a few days later, spending a few minutes each
time and going ahead anywhere from a couple of
days to almost a month. In 1934, I found myself
inside a broker's office. Very well, Mr. Weldon.
As I understand it, you are buying the stock
for a Dr. Anthony Roberts. That's right. I assume
the stock will be in his name? That's right.
I'm just acting as agent. I follow instructions.
Of course, of course. Well, are you sure I can't
convince you that you're making a big mistake?
No, no. These are my instructions. Well, now,
Mr. Weldon, we are a reputable brokerage house
and, well, frankly, I feel quite shaky about
putting our client's money into this kind of
security. There's no future in it. It's a rare
metal for which there is very little use for
industrial purposes and... Well, however, if
your client is adamant... I have my instructions.
Very well, then. In the name of Dr. Anthony Roberts,
100 shares of Montana uranium. Most unwise, most
unwise. It went that way about 50 -50. I'd deposit
money in my own name in various banks at other
times. Then I'd buy a stock or make a bet for
Mayor Roberts. On June 21st, 1932... I bet Jack
Sharkey to take the heavyweight title away from
Max Schmeling. There was singing wood in 1933
at Belmont Park and Max Bayer over Primo Connera.
I went on skipping through the years, touching
here and there for a few minutes to an hour at
a time. It was in early October 1938, about five
hours after I'd left May Roberts' house, before
I realized what she had me doing. I was making
deposits and winning sure bets, just as those
senile psychotics had done. The ink on their
bank books seemed fresh because it was fresh.
Wasn't given a chance to oxidize. The rate I
was going, I'd be back at my own time in a few
hours with $15 ,000 compound interest in cash.
But those old people had died of starvation somehow
with all that, that cash in banks. I didn't know
how it happened or why. But suddenly it occurred
to me that I didn't want to be found dead in
my hotel room. So rather than make the deposit
in 1938, I grabbed a cab and told the driver
to step on it. I got a mile away from the bank
and then the cab suddenly disappeared. I found
myself in front of a counter at a lunchroom.
The envelope instructed me to make a bet on the
World Series. There wasn't any way to get out
of the range of the machine. It picked me up
at least five miles away from where I was supposed
to be. I came back a week later to get my winnings.
I was hungry so I got myself a hamburger and
went out the door. When I hit the sidewalk it
happened again. Don't touch the cage yet, Mr.
Weldon. I'll have to clear the charge. Hey, what
happened to my hamburger? What? The hamburger.
I had it here. It's gone. I'm hungry. I'll get
you something to eat, Mr. Weldon, before your
next trip. Well, you've done pretty well for
yourself, haven't you? Yes. Yes, I have. About
15 ,000. I had ketchup on my sleeve. It's gone.
Mr. Weldon, I want to talk seriously with you.
Now you've seen part of what I'm doing. Part?
My father was discharged from all his research
and university connections because he insisted
in publishing his findings on the temporal field
research. All the conventional physicists explained
that it was overwork and recommended everything
from hot bullion before retiring to psychoanalysis.
Well, possibly both of these might have been
beneficial. But the fact of the matter is that
temporal field activities are quite true, and
you've seen proof. Well, I suppose I have. So
it seemed just a question of money, although
obviously I can get all I need now. But sending
people back through time to better ensure things
like uranium... It's a fair exchange. I pay well
for service, don't I? I suppose so. But that
isn't the most important thing. I've been able
to save things that would have been lost otherwise.
I've sent people back to find precious treasures
that would have been destroyed or would have
disappeared. Like an El Greco painting? Yes.
and the original score of Mozart's magic flute
that would have been burned in 1942, and a Picasso
miniature that would have been lost at sea in
52. I have them all here. Stolen? No. Bought
with money from the year itself at a fair price.
Well, Mr. Weldon, I sent you back because I've
needed someone to work with me on a regular basis.
Someone who's faster and more alert than the
old people I've hired till now. Why old people?
It's a function of the field. You can't send
somebody back to a year in which they didn't
exist at all. I'm hungry. Please, Mr. Weldon,
this is very important. My father died trying
to prove the validity of his field theory to
conventional scientists. And I don't intend to
bother. We can become the most powerful people
in the world. I don't feel very powerful now.
You haven't got a sandwich hanging around, have
you? I want to make you an offer, Mr. Weldon.
I need someone to help me expand the operation.
plan the projects and research. I chose you because
I was afraid that you might hit on the truth
by yourself. Can I come out of this cage now?
Be careful. Don't touch the contacts. The field
reacts on a random factor for at least an hour
after it's cut off. I'll be careful. Tell me,
Miss Roberts, why haven't you been able to go
back to the time that your father was alive and
bring him back before he died? Dead tissue can't
be transported. We tried it with mice and rabbits
from a laboratory in 1941 and they just disappeared.
Like my hamburger. Mr. Weldon, I assume that
you're interested and that we can make our plans
without using this revolver. I hope so. Fifteen
thousand dollars is a lot of money. Of course
you were able to send those old people back a
lot further. Some of them as far back as 1880.
How long would they be gone? I mean in subjective
time. Several weeks. Perhaps a month though more.
There's only one problem, Miss Roberts. Well,
I'm sure we can work out any details. Well, this
one is a little hard to work out. You see, I'm
hungry. I haven't been this hungry since I got
lost on a hunting trip and went without food
for three days. You see, you forget I've got
an interest in this business because they found
some old people dead of malnutrition and $30
,000 or so tucked away in their pockets. They
had been gone a month or more and they had to
eat during that time, didn't they? When they
came back, the food disappeared like my hamburger.
They disappeared all at once, all over their
body. In one fast jolt, they starved to death.
No, no, you don't understand. They just couldn't
take the field transition. They were too old,
some of them. And they lied to me about their
age to get the job. Oh, no, you can't tell me
that because I know how hungry I am. And I was
only gone about 12 hours. They were murdered.
Get back. You know, they say a hungry man gets
mighty desperate. He'll do almost anything. Let
go. Let go. Let go of it. My arm. Look out. Look
out. The cage. The contact. She fell into that
cage and disappeared before she hit the ground.
I didn't know what happened. I know she said
the field worked in a random factor, whatever
that meant. I called Lou Payton. He came to the
house just after the fire started. Something
went in the control panel, and it turned out
to be a four -alarm fire before they got it under
control. There was nothing left of the machine.
There wasn't much left of the brownstone house.
Lou didn't believe the story I told him. You
mean there won't be any more of them? No more
senile psychotics starving to death with a bankroll
in their hip pocket. No, I told you, Lou. Come
on now, Mark. We get plenty more. We always have.
No, I'll bet you won't. I'll bet you a dollar
there won't be another case like that. I'll take
that bet. I lost the bet. There was one more
case. And perhaps it was the strangest one. A
woman was found wandering in Bryant Park just
before she died of acute starvation. One strange
thing was she was young, not more than 30. And
the other was she had $17 ,000 stuffed in her
pocketbook and a bullet wound in her arm, the
medical examiner said was at least two months
old. I guess that's what she meant by the random
factor. You have just heard X minus one presented
by the National Broadcasting Company in cooperation
with galaxy science fiction magazine Which this
month features this way to the regress by Damon
Knight the story of a man named Sullivan who
strangely enough did not have a great future
behind him But rather a great past ahead Galaxy
magazine on your newsstand today in a moment
tonight's cast and a preview of next week's exciting
drama Farmers know they can't stop storms, floods,
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in your life, be ready with United States Savings
Bonds. Tonight by transcription x -1 has brought
to you the old die rich a story from the pages
of galaxy written by HL gold and adapted for
radio by Ernest Kenoy Featured in the cast were
Jim Bowles Jan minor Bill Zuckert guy rep Wendell
Holmes Ralph Camargo and Ivor Francis your announcer
Fred Collins x -1 was directed by Bob Mauer and
is an NBC radio network production