 Wheaties presents Dimension X. Adventures in Time and Space. Transcribed in Future Tense. Stage 9 Dimension X. Another in the Wheaties big parade of exciting half-hour presentations. Just about the time you're getting up tomorrow morning, you know what's happened? You've been without food for so long that you gotta get more if you're going to get your work done. That's why first you need your Wheaties. Sure, Wheaties. Because when you dip into those golden flakes, you're getting real whole wheat. Yup, every single Wheaties is a kernel of wheat. And you know what that means. Vitality for working well, feeling well, looking well, whole wheat energy, whole wheat vitamins. All the goodness of plump whole wheat and crisp little flakes that are mighty nice to meet any morning of the week. So be good to yourself. Tuck into the Wheaties at 7 a.m. and see if you don't feel the difference. Have yourself breakfast of champions and see how Wheaties at 7 can help at 11. Come on now. Try them. What will happen when man, finally conquering the galactic distances of interstellar travel, finds life on the strange worlds across the universe? Will he discover civilizations of incredibly advanced scientific knowledge or primitive cultures deep in a stone age of savagery? Here is a story of the relation between men of our world and beings from beyond the stars. On the desk stood a yellow bowl, the profile a simple curve clean and sharp. His body was thin without fragility and the beauty of its shape was matched by the glowing intensity of the glaze, a glorious transparent yellow, soothing his sunlight, yet glowing with the fire of a volcano's core. The desk belonged to Michael Tom, Regional Administrator for the Department of Interplanetary Affairs. Bowl? Why, it's a souvenir. I got it many years ago on the planet first. I'd been out on the channel planet in the frontier servers for 19 months. When my transfer came through to FERSC, I was surprised to see that I'd been promoted three graves and my orders read to report to the Regional Officer as Assistant Resident. My ship came in at Panolpan Spaceport and I was met by the office car and show port. Mr. Tom? That's right. I'm Wiracheck, sir. Welcome to FERSC. Thanks. Well, I didn't expect to find a 1992 Rolls here. The resident had it shipped out in part. Mr. Covel changes every year for the new model. Pretty smooth. Hey, this is certainly different from the channel planet. Nothing there but ice, frost, please, and the dullest aborigines in the system. Well, you won't find the aborigines very dull here. What kind of people are they? The Metoon? Well, they're humanoid. Very close to us, systemically. Tall, sort of amber-colored and graceful. Oh, is that one, the girl balancing the bowl on her head? Yeah. Yeah, she's a me too. There isn't a very big human population at first. Oh, well, well. Looks like Mike Tom has found a home in this service. You haven't met Mr. Covel yet, have you? What do you mean by that? Oh, nothing, sir. Nothing. Look, Wiracheck, if there's anything wrong, you'd better tell me. Well, there's nothing, sir. Nothing you won't find out. It's just that Mr. Covel is a very forceful personality. Very forceful. We drove through Penalpan, threading our way through narrow streets between rows of low houses of reed, parchment, and wood. Canals of green water laced the city and the bridges trailed ivy and orange flowers. Suddenly we turned a corner, and there on the bank of the main canal was a large concrete and glass building, Earth Star. This was the district office, and in a room that gleamed with black plastic and glass, I found George Covel's senior residence. You're Tom, Michael Tom? Yes, sir. My last junior took off for the hills with a dancer from a Mitu and Grog shop. If I have any trouble with you, I'll ship you back to Earth with a minus 50 efficiency rating. That clear? That's clear, sir. And don't get edgy with me. Sit down. Now, listen, Tom, I'm easy to get along with. I like things done, done right the first time. Got to give a good example for the gooks. Gooks? Yeah, the natives. I don't know what's good for them. I brought in a high-grade silica yarn to replace the root fiber they were using at fishnets. Took me three months to talk them into using it. I thought the Bureau policy was to avoid introducing Earth technology to stable cultures. Yeah, that's what those boneheads of the main office say. They don't have to live here. Have you seen those pigsties they live in? There isn't a concrete building on the planet. The Mitu in delegation, Mr. Covel. Tell them I'm busy for 15 minutes. Yes, sir. Well, I'll be going along then, sir. Why? Well, if you're busy. Forget it, forget it. I always let those gooks wait at least 15 minutes. Softens them up. They're not hard to handle, if you know how. I was assigned to pest control, a duty Covel considered beneath his dignity. In the next few weeks, I carted rat poison and insect spray through the poorest sections of an old man, where the trees ended and the plains stretched out to the Cookmount Mountains. It was there that I first heard of the potters of first. I had found a pottery bazaar, long shells of jars of every size and shape, crocs, paper thin vases, bowls, damejons, tankards. The glazes were remarkable, deep glowing colors. And yet something was missing. I looked up and down the shelves. Mr. Tom, is anything wrong? No, no, it's just... Oh, I've got it. There isn't any yellow. Yellow? That's right, there are no yellow glazes at all. They have every other color, ruby, green. There's a jar that's translucent, but no yellow. Oh, maybe it's a superstition. It could be. Yellow might be connected with death or a disease. Well, you can find out, Mr. Tom. Here comes a me too, and she probably runs a place. May I help you, sir? Oh, you speak English? We trade with the Earth's colony. Your wares are very beautiful. For example, how much is this bowl? Seventy-five credits. That much? They are our ancestors. And to sell them as cheaply as wood or glass would be irreverent. Your ancestors? You mean the bowls? Yes. Uh-huh. Tell me, where's the pottery made in Pinot Pong? No, back there. In the mountains? There our ancestors go, and the pots are brought back. Aside from this, I know nothing. The meat you infear, the potters. Why? No one knows what lies beyond the first hill, Earthmen. Sometimes we see the glow of furnaces. And when there are no dead for the potters, they take the living. The living? The potters now. What are they shouting? That they have sold all their wares. That they will ride back to the mountains now. Hey, big devils, aren't they? Red-haired. They are very strong. I think I'll visit the potters one of these days. No, Earthmen. No, why not? It is dangerous for you. They've guarded their secrets from all Pinot Pong. They are very fierce. I told you to get the estimates for that power plant. I put them on your desk, sir. Oh, yeah. And so you did. Say, what do you know about the potters back in the cookmunks, Mr. Coville? Oh, they're a tribe of bandits or something. I was at the bazaar today. A girl called the vases Ancestors. It seems strange. Ancestors? Well, it probably has something to do with religious death rites. They take away the dead bodies and cremate them for a fee or trade goods. A girl said that when they don't get the dead, sometimes they take the living. What? Well, so that's it. What, sir? Rating. Not every month or so, a couple of me too and turn up missing. The whole city clams up like tongue-tied parrots. For two years, I've been trying to track it down. Tom, these potters must be behind it. Rating, huh? We'll see about that. No, we don't know anything. Death... Well, we will. Get where, check to roll out the copter. We're flying out to those mountains. I'll put a stop to this if I have to blow them clean off the planet. We'll never find a village in that mess down there. Look at those cliffs. There's a smoke trail over there to the right. Potters need kills, kills need heat. That's a volcano, not a chimney. Let's try out along that ridge and we'll go back. Wait, I think we found them. Where? At the base of the volcano. Look close, you can see buildings. Yeah, yeah. Set it down. Should we land, sir, there? They're supposed to be pretty rough on home ground. We're official representatives of the system. Remember that. That might not mean much to a tribal mountaineer. Don't argue with me, Tom. Land. Get your pistol ready. I don't see anybody. The village is deserted. They're hiding. The potter's all right. There's a heap of old broken jars. But I don't see the kill. They'll stay here till something moves. What's that? One of the potters. Wait a minute, here they come. Three of them. You cover them, Tom. I'll do the talking. Hey there. You. What brings strangers to the village of the potters? I'm Coville, chief of the Planetary Affairs Bureau in Penalpan. This is an official visit to see how things are going with you. We make no complaints. Oh, I've heard reports of you potters kidnapping me too. Is there any truth in that? There is an ancient agreement. The potters are granted the bodies of the dead. And occasionally, when the need is great, we do anticipate nature by a year or two. You mean you admit it? The soul lives forever. In the bowl it's beautified. What do you mean? Look here, just what do you do with the corpses? Our glazes require lead, sand, clay, alkaline, spar and lime. Oh, but the lime is at our hand. And this we take from the bones of the dead. I see. Well, we don't interfere in any native customs or rights. Corpses, that's between you and the me too. If you need lime, I can ship you in tons of them. Natural lime is a poor substitute for fresh, live bones. The spirit of the person is in the bones and it passes into the glaze and gives it an inner fire. Well, you listen to me. I don't care what you use as long as there's no kidnapping or murder. Tell me, Potter. I don't see any furnaces. Where are your kilns? Our firing is done by the great monthly burn. You mean the volcano? Yes, Earthman. Once each month the heat roars up white and glowing. I see. Potter, why don't you ever use yellow glaze? Yellow glaze. We have no metal to give the pure rich yellow the color of the sun. It is strange, Earthman, that you talk of the yellow for my people have sought the sun glaze for thousands of years. Listen, if there's any technical help you people want, that's my business. But there'll be no more murder. Necessary, I'll put a stop to the potting altogether. Your words are not friendly. I'll die! Don't think I can, Dork. I'll drop an atom bomb down the throat of your volcano and cave in the whole mountain. We'd better pull out, Mr. Covey. Shut up, Tom. You understand? My job is to protect everyone on this mud-hole planet. And that includes the me too. Get back in the cockpit, Mr. Covey. They're getting ugly. Fire over their heads, keep them back. Quick, get in, sir. They're scared now, but in a minute they may jump. All right, let's go. Don't worry, Tom. Now those cooks know who's boss. Now, sir, we won't have any more trouble from the potters. Covey kept me pretty busy the next few weeks. But I got to spending a good deal of time at the pottery bazaar with the girl. Her name was Sue Then. She was interested in everything I had to tell her about the rest of the galaxy. And I was lonely. So I got to looking forward to my visits there. I was on my way there one evening when suddenly I heard shouts down the side streets. I hurried toward them pulling out my gun. And then I heard the deep cry of the giant potters and the crack of holes on the cobbled streets. Suddenly a group of writers burst around a corner and charged down on me. I hurried to the pottery bazaar. Sue Then was gone. This man. She's not here. They took her. She has gone to her ancestors. Did they kill her? No, no, they have taken her to the hills. But soon she will live forever. Her spirit wrapped in the glorious glaze. Sue Then. There is nothing to be done when the potters take you. It is the end. I've been raiding again, huh? Four me too on tonight. Bring the copter around in front. It's ready. Tom, I'm gonna break out the atom bomb from the arms locker. You fly out there and drop it down that volcano crater. I'll teach those murdering devils a lesson they won't forget. But the meat will come crawling to the city on their hands and knees. I know how to run this planet. Dimension acts. Well, continue in just a moment. Friends, this is Frank Martin, the Wheaties' man, and I want you to know an associate of mine, Ed Printers. Okay, Ed. Folks, I'd like to have you meet a good friend of mine and a prominent member of a fine little organization known as the Chicago White Sox, Mr. Lucius Benjamin Atwood. Oh, Ed, don't say it like that. Whoever heard of a ball player named Lucius. What if I went around calling you Paul Edward Printers? Let's just make it Ed and Luke, huh? All right, Luke. Say, just how long have you been with the White Sox? Over 20 years, Ed. Golly, I've played in darn near 2,500 games. Then it bat almost 9,000 times, man. I'm from way back. Well, Luke, you don't look it. How do you keep up the pace, anyway? Well, Ed, I sleep good. I eat good. I eat mighty good. Wheaties about four mornings a week. Those little old flakes put a lot of snappy even in an old time like me. Must be because they're 100% whole wheat. I sure like wheaties and milk and fruit. You know, Luke, that's exactly what I hear from a lot of ball players and plenty of other people, too. Now, wonder they call wheaties the breakfast of champions. Thank you, Mr. Prentice and Mr. Luke Appling of the Chicago White Sox. Mighty nice of you to say those good things about wheaties. Now, folks, you and I may not be playing baseball for a living, but we can use those whole wheat wheaties, too. Step around to the grocery tomorrow yourself for wheaties, breakfast of champions. Breakfast for you. Dick, swing over it. Shall I pull a safety on the bomb? No, no, hold it. But Mr. Colwell said we... I know what he said. They got a girl down there, and I'm going to get her out alive. And I'm going to start by trying to talk with that seven-foot red-headed potter. All right, we're a check. Set her down right in the middle of Main Street. Here they come. Tall one to the chief. Oh, this is the insolent lordling again. Come on, out of the copter. Good. We are in need of bone lime, and yours will suit us well. They're closing in, Mr. Tom. Prepare your soul for the great burn. Stand back. I'll kill a lot of potters, and you'll be the first. Ha-ha! You need to understand that we can punish you. We potters do not fear death. Death is merely eternal meditation from the glass. Potter, listen to me. I didn't come here to threaten but to bargain. You have a me too and girl. Is she still alive? She still lives. Chief Coville gave me orders to destroy your volcano. We can do that easily. If I'm harmed, the next bomb will drop on your village. I've come down here against his orders to bargain. Bargain? With what? We care for nothing but our craft. Potter, I can give you the secret of the yellow blade. Empty words. No, the truth. In exchange, I want the girl and the other me too and you've stolen, and your word, not to raid again. How would we get lime? We've told you, we can ship it in. Pure lime, as good as yours. Do the potters of first want the yellow glaze? Why, that has been the goal of the tribe of potters for a thousand years. And if I show you the yellow glaze? Earthmen, if it comes clear through the burn, I agree to your bargain. If it does not, your spirit will be lodged forever in the ugliest bowl we can spin on the wheel. It's a bargain. All right, we're a check. Disarm the bomb. Disarm it? Mr. Tom, you're crazy. They'll kill us. I mean, nothing left to stop them. Nothing but the yellow glaze. Yeah, but do you know how to make it? We'll soon find out. I've been doing a little reading on the subject lately. Reading? Holy smoke. Enough, Earthman. I will take you to the potter's shed. If your glaze is the bright yellow of the sun, you live. If not, you die. Come on, Racheck. Let's get to work. With what? You never made a glaze in your life. What are we supposed to work on now? Our last will and testament? Why did you come? They will kill you, too, Earthmen. Maybe. How did you get in here? When I heard that you were here, I asked the chief potter to come. He said it would not matter. They would have all our bones soon. Cheerful, Zo. Hey, you stir this, Racheck. Yes, sir. They said you were trying to make the yellow glaze. Oh, Earthmen, we will die. This goo may turn out yellow. It is better. No one on first has been able to make it. But I'm not from first. Hang on, Sufen, we're not dead yet. Earthmen, I'm glad you came. Although I wish you had not. Sufen. All right, Racheck. Call that redhead. Tell him I got his glaze ready. Earthmen, are you ready? Here's your glaze. Test it. You have six bowls of glaze. I'm no potter. This stuff ought to turn out yellow, but I can't be sure in one mixture. We will coat six tablets, one with each glaze. Then we will fire them. How long will it take? Twenty hours before you know if the burn has brought you life or death. How long can they keep that up? It's been hours. Tiles ought to be done soon. Earthmen, here comes the chief potter. It must be time. The tiles are cooled. It is time now to open the kiln and test your glaze. I know! The bargain has been made. The glaze is yellow or you die. I will open the kiln. Mr. Tom? I can't see inside. It's dark. All right, potter. Pull him out. What are you waiting for? I will remove the first tile. A dull, dirty brown Earthman. Pull out the next one. The color of mud. And I'll wait a minute. What is the use? There is no yellow glaze. Get that next tile out. We made a bargain. Mr. Earth Brown, your glazes are worse than the creepiest work of our children. Prepare your spirits for the great burn. Now wait, wait. Look in there, the next tile. Get it out here. Earthman, you waste time. I'll get it out myself. There. There, look at it. Yellow. Bright, shining yellow. There it is. The yellow glaze. We're in thunder, have you been? Mr. Cobill, I've been trying. I sent you out on business which should take two hours and you stay two days. Why? I got the four-meter and back and I made a contract with the potters. No more ratings. You what? I made a deal with them and it turned out to be a better idea than yours. You disobeyed. You deliberately... Tom, you're through here. Through with planetary affairs. Listen, Mr. Cobill. The man can't be trusted to carry out orders. Not worth a lead nickel to the bureau. Get your gear together. Leave on the next ship out. Yes, sir. Wait. Your own company time to four o'clock tonight. Until then, you obey my orders. Take the copter back to the hangar. Bring the atom bomb back to the armory. I can't. What? I've been trying to tell you. There's only one way I had to make that yellow glaze. Tom, what the devil have you done with that bomb? I gave it to the potters. What? It was a uranium salt that made the yellow glaze. The potters didn't have any so I gave them the uranium out of the bomb. That was part of the bargain. You gave that murdering tribe of gooks at uranium. You heard me. And if you think you could have used it better by blasting them out of that mountain, you're crazy. Why, you abysmal blasted imbecile. That's the only bomb we had. Those potters could tear Penalpan off the face of the planet. If you want that uranium, Cobill, you can go out and get it. If I'm fired, I'm through now. Why, you frist mutt, you yellow-libered louse. I got to kill you. If you asked me, I'd say it would be dangerous business trying to get that uranium back now. We're a check. We're a check. Yes, Mr. Cobill. Yes, sir. Get the copter fuel. Give me a double holster and a full bandelier of ammunition. Yes, sir. Tom, when I get back, I'll see that you rot in the deepest cell in the Gallatin Tower. I'm going out now to those hills. I'm going to bring in that uranium myself. Two days later, Weracek came into my office. His face was pale. His hands shook with excitement. He's... He's here, Mr. Tom. He's here. Cobill? No, the chief potter. The potter. Bring him in. Should I call the guard? Just bring him in. Well, potter, I was just going to the mountains to see you. Earthman, does that bargain we made still stand? Just a minute. First, I want to know what happened to my chief. He has not returned. A madman came to the village of the potters. He said you had no authority. He said he could not allow the potters to keep the heavy metal that makes glaze like the sunset. What happened to Cobill? Tell me. There was violence. He killed six good-wheel men. He was captured. I come to find whether our contract is good. All right, potter. The contract is good. It is bound by my word and by the word of my great chief back on Earth. But only if Cobill is returned. He must be brought back. Good. Then to steal the bargain I have brought to you the first bowl made with a new yellow glaze. It's a beautiful vase, potter. And now, about returning, Cobill. It is done. The madman is the lucky man, indeed. For his spirit dwells in the brightest glass ever to come from the great burn. You mean that Cobill? Here. I return him to you. The fiery soul of the madman has given lustre to an already glorious glaze. He will live forever in the shining light. On the desk stood a yellow bowl and the beauty of its shape was matched by the intensity of the glaze. A glorious transparent yellow glower of a volcano's core. Tonight, Dimension X has transcribed The Potters of First, written by Jack Vance and adopted for radio by Ernest Kanoy. Featured in the cast were Carl Weber as Michael Tom, Wendell Holmes as Cobill and Raymond Edward Johnson as the chief of the Potters. Your narrator, Norman Rose. Music by Albert Berman, engineer Bill Chambers. Dimension X is produced by Van Woodward and directed by Edward King. Oh, here Sam Spade. Now it's Truth or Consequences on NBC.