 Suspense, and the producer of radio's outstanding theatre of thrills, the master of mystery and adventure, William M. 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. Here with 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. And 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 and the event I cannot contact you by phone. That's 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 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 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 four feet eight 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'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. This thesis, Dr. Bader will open a door to a cure for man's worst disease, cancer. As for myself, you'll find detailed instructions on how to reverse the action, which I've accidentally initiated. You'll 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. I had better place another telephone call to your office, Dr. Bader, while I'm still big enough to dial a 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? Who would think I would have to use both hands to dial a telephone? Ms. Prichard, has Dr. Bader come in yet? Whom shall I say is calling? This is James Howard, Ms. Prichard. It's urgent. It's me all right. Are you sure? Yes, I am. Now look, Ms. Prichard, don't pull that. Dr. Bader isn't in stuff to me. You tell Dr. Bader I have to talk to him. Look, this is a matter of life and death. There's nothing anyone can do but Dr. Bader. He's the only man in the world that can help me. Yes, you do that, Ms. Prichard. 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? Self-preservation is the most powerful instinct. It is now 3.30 in the afternoon and I have shrunk to the unbelievable height of 6 inches. And I'm continuing to shrink, yet I'm taking every precaution to guarantee that I stay alive. What have I got to live for? What am I? A 32-year-old old man that's losing his hair, walks with a stoop from years of hunching over microscopes. 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 with no dignity, certainly. 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. Pasteur, and one green and gold parakeet with the name of Pasteur. To pose a hypothetical problem, Dr. Pasteur, 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. Well, 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. Got to open that cage and let him loose. But how? I can push the latch open with that? Yes. Yes, I can just reach it. There! You're free, Dr. Pasteur. You're free. The window is open across the room. There's a whole world. Just fly away and make a name for yourself. The whole world. I've got the whole world ahead of me, too, if I live. After I publish my thesis, I'll be famous. We'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 cake deck. Push it, recording again. You'll not receive your phone call, but I have not given up hope. I've made the necessary precautions for isolating myself in the event that you do not call before tomorrow morning. I have made a ramp or the roller to the stage of the microscope. Load 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-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. Still something left. So I went ahead with the preparation for my survival thing, too. It's not yet half an inch tall, arranged. In the center of the petri dish on the microscope stage, is a prepared slide complete with slip cover and label. 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. Able to see me for some time to come because I focused the microscope. Dr. Bader is, look, a different place now. Pencils seem like telephone poles. They will look like if no one ever finds me. 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. You refuse to leave so long as the last monster you are from this perspective. Your feathers are like scales of armor. Infested with lice, I see. The Spence 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. For news analysis, which follows immediately on CBS Radio.