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Bibliography. James Howard, a research scientist




Act 3

Act 2

Act 1

Characters

James Howard, a research scientist

Miss Pritchart, a secretary

Dr. Bader, Director of Research

 

 

[Music: Up and out]

James: [Gaining presence with the breathy quality of an amateur] Testing... one two three. Testing-testing. Attention, Dr. Warren Bader, Department of Pathology, School of Medicine, State University. Dear Dr. Bader: This is James Howard, Research Fellow in Pathology speaking. Ahhh, I don't know quite how to begin. At the moment I am seated on the tape recorder that is recording this message to you. As a point of fact, by the yard stick on my desk, I stand exactly one foot, one inch tall and I am steadily decreasing in size. Ahhh-hem. I am on top of my desk; I climbed up here before I should shrink to a point where I would be physically unable to get from the floor to the chair and thus to the desk top, and the telephone.

Ahh, it is a very strange experience to find one's desk an insurmountable object, like a mountain, to climb. However, the phone is by my side now and since it is my last contact with the outside world, it is imperative that I do not become separated from it. I have been trying to reach you by phone since eight this morning. As you are not at home, and have not yet arrived at your office, it occurred to me there exists a distinct possibility that I might not be able to contact you before it becomes too late. I calculate that if I continue to shrink at my present rate of speed, it is possible that I will become invisible to the human eye sometime before midnight.

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 that I cannot contact you by phone. [Quickly] I'm confident that it will just be a matter of moments before I do; this recording is merely a precaution.

As you will have discovered by now, I have gone against your orders and pursued my theory of cancer cell growth by working at night after my regular duties. This is the same theory I proposed in publication December 1, 1957, and which you publicly ridiculed in the Scientific American Journal, September 3, 1958. Unfortunately, you were wrong, Dr. Bader. The biochemical agent not only stops abnormal cell division, but reduces the existing cells in physical size until the neutralizer is induced. [Groping for proof] The fact that I have shrunk from five 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 could observe 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 awoke this morning to dis­cover myself literally lost in a sea of blankets.

I had shrunk five feet 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'll find a more complete report of my theory, and the experiments which I've conducted to prove it, in the uncompleted thesis here on my desk. [Trying to conceal his pride] My thesis, Dr. Bader, will open the door to a cure for man's worst disease: Cancer. Ahhh-hem.

As for myself, you'll find detailed instructions on how to reverse the action which I've accidentally initiated upon myself. You'll find this on pages [grunting] 79.

[Sound: Exaggerated sound, as if the first page of a manuscript were being turned close to a microphone]

James:... through 82, yes, that's right: 79 through 82. No matter how small I may become, even microscopic, you will be able to reverse the process if you follow the instructions on those pages. [He grunts, as if dropping the leaf of a heavy book]

[Sound: The swish and thud of page and book cover closing]

James: [Introspectively] To think that the cover of my thesis, the manuscript I used to carry easily in one hand, has become as difficult for me to move as the cover to my grave. [Shaking himself out of his reverie] Here now, no time for morbidity. I had better place another telephone call to your office, Dr. Bader, while I'm still big enough to dial the phone.

[Sound: Under his speech, James’ footsteps across the papers on his desk to the phone]

James: It is just possible your efficient secretary forgot to tell you that I called. [Amused] The phone has grown almost half as tall as I am. [He lifts the phone] A strange sensation.

[Sound: We hear the phone being bumped from its cradle and then clatter as he lets it fall to the desk. The dialing of the phone is exaggerated in amplitude; while the release spin is normal, the wind up is tortured]

James: [Dialing, with effort] Who would think [Grunt] the tensor springs on these... dials would be so... strong. [He laughs] And who would think... I would have to use both hands... to dial a telephone. [He chuckles mirthlessly] Steady, James Howard; now is no time to misdial.

[Sound: The last digit of the number spins into place and we settle down to wait as the phone rings at the other end of the line, once, twice, three times before it is finally picked up]

Miss Pritchart: [She is a woman who has retained her maidenhood for fifty-three years, not only physically, but mentally as well] [Filtered] Pathology, Dr. Bader's office. Miss Pritchart speaking.

James: [Unable to hide the urgency of his situation from his voice] Miss Pritchart, has Dr. Bader come in yet?

Miss P.: [Filtered] Who shall I say is calling?

James: This is James Howard, Miss Pritchart. It's urgent.

Miss P.: [Filtered] It doesn't sound like you, Mr. Howard.

James: It's me – I – all right.

Miss P.: [Silence as the line goes dead] I'm sorry, Dr. Bader isn't in. I have your number...

James: Are you sure?

Miss P.: [Filtered] Yes, I am sure. Dr. Bader is not, at this moment, in his office.

James: Now look, Miss Pritchart, don't pull that Dr. Bader-isn't-in stuff to me. You tell Dr. Bader I have to talk to him.

Miss P.: [Filtered] I'm sorry, Mr. Howard, Dr. Bader is not in.

James: Look, this is a matter of life and death.

Miss P.: [Filtered] Mr. Howard...

James: Tell him to answer his damn telephone.

Miss P.: [Filtered] Mr. Howard, I assure you Dr. Bader is not in his office. I will have him call you as soon as he comes in. In the meantime, is there any­thing I can do?

James: There's nothing anyone can do but Dr. Bader. He's the only man in the world that can help me. Do you understand that?

Miss P.: [Filtered] Well, I'll tell him as soon as he comes in.

James: Yes, you do that, Miss Pritchart.

[Sound: The filtered click of the receiver being hung up at her end of the line, the thump and clatter of the phone at his end as he replaces it on the cradle]

James: [Silence, after a moment] Why Dr. Bader, why of all days did you have to pick today to change your routine? For the last twenty years you've been in your office from nine until twelve. Why in hell did you have to pick this morning to change?

[Music: Up and out – end of Act 1]

 

 

[Music: Up and out, indicates passage of time]

James: Yes, self preservation is the most powerful instinct. It is now three-thirty in the afternoon, and I have shrunk to the incredible height of six inches, and I am continuing to shrink, yet I am taking every precaution to guaran­tee that I stay alive.

But what have I got to live for? What am I? A thirty-two-year old, old man that's losing his hair in front and walks with a stoop from years of hunching over microscopes to watch little cells divide. And what have I got to show for it? A cheap furnished room, a meager position as a research fellow, which doesn't pay enough to live like other people. Not enough to have a wife or children. And no dignity certainly: Yes, Dr. Bader, no, Dr. Bader, most assuredly, Dr. Bader. The old hypocrite!

[Sound: In the background, we hear the tentative chirp of a parakeet

James: All that I can call mine is in this room: one suit, some socks with holes in them, piles of heavy books, the 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.

Sound: The chattering of the parakeet attracts our attention. He is in a cage overhead]

James: [Slightly cheered] Excuse me, Dr. Pasteur.

[Sound: Bird again]

James: And one green and gold parakeet with the name of Pasteur.

[Sound: Bird]

James: [Shouting up to cage] To pose a hypothetical problem, Dr. Pasteur, who's going to change the water in your cage if I shrink away to infinity? Cer­tainly not Dr. Bader; he might steal what little water you had, but he wouldn't change it.

[Sound: Bird chattering]

James: [To himself] Who will? If I don't contact the good 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 yard stick.

[Sound: His walking to the yard stick]

James: I can push the latch open with that... yes...

[Sound: The distant sound of the stick knocking against the metal cage]

James: Yes... I can just reach it... [The effort of swinging the stick] There. Ah, come on out, the door's open, Dr. Pasteur. You're free. The window is open across the room. There's a whole world ahead of you. Fly away and make a name for yourself. [To himself] The whole world. What am I talking about? I've got the whole world at my feet 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 has all the instructions. So, we resume taping. But I can't reach the start button on the recorder. These books, like a grand staircase to the top of the recorder.

[Sound: Clambering footsteps. Feet on metal]

James: And now to start the machine. [Effort] But I can't push it. Kick it – ow, that hurt. I've got it. Jump on it.

[Sound: Jumps. Big click. Big whirr of machine]

James: 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. The call will come. [The strain is evident in his voice] I am convinced of that. It is just a matter of time. 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 taped a ramp, from a ruler, to the stage of the microscope. Glued 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 that time? I could be lost in the petri dish. I could prepare a slide for myself. [Thinking] If I diminished to the size of a one-celled 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.

[Sound: With piercing suddenness the phone begins to ring]

James: [With unconcealed joy and relief in his voice] You've called, Dr. Bader. You've called at last.

[Sound: The footsteps of a six-inch man running across the desk to the telephone and then the silence that follows as we hear him tugging and grunting. Phone ring. The noise of a phone being pushed this way and that in its cradle]

James: [Horrified] No.

[Sound: Again the struggle and the phone rings again]

James: I can't lift it. I'm too small. I can't lift it off the cradle.

[Sound: Phone ring]

James: Don't stop ringing, please! I'll lift it... but how? A lever! Give me a lever and I can move the world.

[Sound: Phone ring]

James: But what? A pencil! I can do it with a pencil. Don't hang up, Dr. Bader... I'm looking... I'm looking.

[Sound: His scuffling through the papers on his desk]

James: A pencil... a pencil, a pen... Here we are.

[Sound: Phone ring, and james running to the phone]

James: Please don't hang up, Dr. Bader, I'm coming, I'm coming.

[Sound: The sound of the pencil being jammed between the receiver and its base and the ensuing struggle to lever it off its base]

James: Just don't stop ringing... please don't stop ringing... please...

[Sound: Phone ring]

James: [Almost hysterical] I'm trying... I'm trying... just don't hang up, Dr. Bader... I've almost got it... just a little more.

[Sound: Suddenly the phone receiver clatters against the desk, followed by the run­ning whip of cord against the edge of the desk]

James: No.

[Sound: A bump and the crash and ring characteristic of a phone base as it hits the floor after a fall from a table]

Miss Pritchart: [Filtered] Hello?

James: [Yelling] Miss Pritchart?

Miss P.: Mr. Howard?

James: Can you hear me? Get Dr. Bader.

Miss P.: [Impatient] Hello?

James: [Yelling] Miss Pritchart, I'm on top of the desk. The phone fell on the floor.

Miss P.: Hello?

James: I'm only six inches tall. You've got to get me help.

Miss P.: Hello, are you there, Mr. Howard?

James: Yes, I'm here. I'm here.

[Sound: The electric buzz of an office intercom filtered over. The phone lying on the floor]

Dr. Bader: [Filtered – curtly] Howard!

Miss P.: [Filtered] No, this is Miss Pritchart. I called Mr. Howard's room but he doesn't answer or something.

James: [Yelling] I'm here, Dr. Bader, I'm here.

Dr. Bader: What do you mean he doesn't answer?

Miss P.: Well, I rang and rang and then the phone just went dead. You can hear for yourself.

Dr. Bader: Went dead?

James: [Yelling] The phone didn't go dead, it fell on the floor.

Dr. Bader: [Filtered] Well, call him back in about an hour. See if he answers then.

James: Don't hang up, Miss Pritchart. I can't put my phone back on the hook.

Miss P.: What if he doesn't answer then?

James: [Yelling] All you'll get is a busy signal.

Dr. Bader: What do you mean, what if he doesn't answer? He will.

Miss P.: When he called this morning, he sounded very strange.

James: Don't let him hang up, Miss Pritchart.

Dr. Bader: 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.

James: No... no... no...

Miss P.: Yes, Dr. Bader.

James: No-o-o... please don't hang up...

[Sound: The click of the receiver being hung up at the far end, followed by the unrelenting dial tone]

James: I'm still here... please don't hang up... Dr. Bader, please...

[Sound: In the background, again the dial tone continues...]

[Music: Up and out. End of Act 2]

 

 

[Music: Up and out]

James: 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 an inch and a half tall.

But everything is now arranged. In the exact 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 life time, I hardly thought the last one might become my epitaph. Specimen: James Howard; Species: Homo Sa­piens; Condition: Excellent.

[Sound: The flutter of wings passing close by]

James: Dr. Pasteur.

[Sound: Another pass]

James: Haven't you flown the coop yet?

[Sound: Aflutter and a chirp]

James: Is your loyalty so great that you refuse to leave so long as the last particle of me remains?

[Sound: Chirp]

James: What an ugly monster you are when viewed from this perspective. Your feathers are like scales of armor, infested with lice, I see... and that beak...

[Sound: A chirp and a sharp thud on the desk]

James: [Screams]

[Sound: The scream frightens the bird, evidently, because we hear the flutter of wings lifting in the air and then settling back down]

James: No. Dr. Pasteur, NO. If only I had a weapon...

[Sound: Chirp]

James: Stay away. [To himself] Back up slowly... don't run... low... back between the books and the microphone... slowly: NOW!

[Sound: Confusion of feet and wings and a screaming chirp followed by heavy breathing close to microphone... then a chirp, and a tentative peck at the microphone]

James: I'm safe here... until he loses interest. I should have let him starve to death in his cage. [Suddenly afraid] I wonder if the tape's still recording? I can see the spools still turning, high 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. [Yelling] Are you still there? Am I recording, Dr. Bader? This is James Howard. As soon as that bird loses interest, I'm going to make a break for it.

I'll make the microscope, Bader, don't you worry. Treat that slide marked "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. [Yelling] You hear me, Dr. Bader? Publish my thesis. I can't die smaller than dust unknown. Publish... I have nothing left, Dr. Bader, not even my body. Give me my thesis. [A new idea] You wouldn't dare publish it in your name, Dr. Bader, would you? All you'll have to do is change the name on the title page. You wouldn't stoop that low, would you? [Screaming] No, no! Give me my thesis, Dr. Bader, give me that much. Do you hear me? Am I recording? Give me immortality, Dr. Bader. I want the world to know I lived. Publish the thesis in my name. Do you hear me, Dr. Bader? Give me immort –

[Sound: Under the approaching flutter of the bird – then a huge chirp – and the thud of the bird' s... mandibles closing on mike... fade... fluttering wings and chirp of bird to normal level...][Music: Up and out]


 

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2. Гальперин И.Р. Стилистика английского языка. – М.: Высшая школа, 1981. – 334с.

3. Кухаренко В. А. Практикум по стилистике английского языка. – М.: Высшая школа, 1986. – 144с.

4. Пелевина Н.Ф. Стилистический анализ художественного текста. – Л.: Просвещение, 1980. – 272с.

5. Разинкина Н. М. Функциональная стилистика английского языка. – М.: Высшая школа, 1989. – 182с.

6. Скребнев Ю. М. Основы стилистики английского языка: Учебник для институтов и факультетов иностранных языков. – М.: ООО «Издательство АСТ»: ООО «Издательство Астрель», 2000. – 224с.

7. Сошальская Е. Г., Прохорова В.И. Стилистический анализ. – М.: Высшая школа, 1976. – 155 с.

8. Kukharenko, V. A. Seminars in Style. – Moscow: Higher School Publishing House, 1971. – 184p.

 


 




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