2000 Plus - "Alone" (Old Time Radio, 1950)

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In the year 2060, nuclear physicist John Rhodes leaves a
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psychiatric hospital and returns to his laboratory in Nuclear City,
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only to find the scientific center silent and deserted. His
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search through empty corridors, streets, and businesses for an explanation,
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and for another living person, leads into Alone, from the
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Mutual Broadcasting System's 2000+. Ralph Bell stars as Rhodes, with
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Joan Shea, Nat Pollan, and Carl Eastman. Judith and David
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Bublik wrote the script. First broadcast on November 15, 1950,
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this 30-minute science fiction drama carries us to a future
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city where the usual bustle has vanished. We now take
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you back to the original broadcast.
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2,000 plus. 2,000 plus. Adventures in the world of tomorrow.
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Dramatic stories of the years beyond 2000 A.D.
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Today, a story of the world of 2000 plus 60.
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A story called Alone.
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Alone.
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I listened to my footsteps as I walked down the
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long corridor. Just my footsteps. For the first time in
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so many months. No nurses, no doctors, no burly attendants
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at my side. I was walking alone. I was welled.
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I knew who I was and where I was and
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what I was going to do. I walked past the
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photoelectric cell that operates the huge bronze doors. Out into
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the brilliant sunshine. And down the road leading toward my
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laboratory in the heart of Nuclear City. I passed up
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the hospital limousine service. I wanted to walk. To breathe
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in the air of freedom. To drink in the sunshine.
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peace of the quiet countryside. I walked slowly because I
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realized that all too soon I would be engulfed by
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the noise and the tumult of the Earth's top research center.
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And finally, I reached the city proper. I started up
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the broad avenue lined with laboratories. And then suddenly... Something
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was wrong. Terribly wrong. I stopped a moment and listened...
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And then I realized what was wrong. Not a sound.
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On this avenue, normally bursting with activity, with the whine
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and groan of machinery and the roar and rumble of
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nuclear bombardment, there was nothing. Not a sound. Not a voice.
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Not a soul. Not a single, solitary human being. The
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End For a moment, a wave of panic swept over me.
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How would you feel in my place? They had taught
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me well at the hospital. I fought it off in
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my mind. But my feet hadn't been psychoanalyzed. They began
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to go faster and faster through the streets and down
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the alleys, looking, searching for some sign of life. A cat.
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I stumbled up the two steps and flung open the door.
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Hey!
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Hey, anybody here? There was nobody in the shop.
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It was empty.
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Only the sound of that cat yowling in the back room.
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I stepped over to the door separating us. All right.
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All right, Kitty, take it easy. I'll let you out.
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Just let me slide this bolt. Ah, here we are. Now,
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let's see what you look like. Hey, Kitty. Kitty, where
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are you? Where are you? It was gone. Vanished. One
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moment it was scratching furiously and yowling its full head off.
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The next it had disappeared. All that was left after
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that strange hissing noise was a small dark stain on
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the floor. When something suddenly happens to your nervous system,
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when you find yourself with trembling fingers and a racing pulse,
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it's a good idea to do something physical, some familiar
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mechanical act. There was a pack of cigarettes on the
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counter of that deserted shop right behind the cash register.
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I pounced on it eagerly, put a cigarette between my lips,
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took a quick puff to light it, and then drew
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in a deep breathful of the comforting smoke. And then
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I heard it. The sound of a motor, a big motor.
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I dashed to the door, and it seemed to me
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that the bus must be terribly close. But it wasn't.
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It was fully two blocks away. Only the unearthly quiet
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of Nuclear City made it seem so near. I sprang
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to the middle of the street, waving my arms wildly,
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shouting with relief, Hey, driver, driver, this way! A bus,
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a 300-seater that would be bringing people, voices, news, news
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about this terrible silence that had fallen over Nuclear City.
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It was 150 yards from me now, and my skin
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began to crawl. There was something wrong. Now it was
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100 yards from me, 50, and still the juggernaut hadn't
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slowed down or honked or swerved or given any indication
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that I was blocking its path. At the last split second,
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I jumped. And then turned to watch it thunder past me,
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catapult over the pedestrian ramp, and smash into the concrete
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walls of the deep space observation chamber.
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Ah!
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The bus was a tangled mass of twisted steel and lucite.
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That was all that was left of it. And the people?
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I forced my way in. Threw a gaping hole in
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the side and thrashed through the wreckage looking for some survivor.
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Straining to hear a cry, a faint moan. There was nothing.
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From the rear straight through to the driver's seat, there
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was not a sign of any human being, dead or alive.
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It was a phantom bus. And the passengers and driver...
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who had sat in it when it started its journey,
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had vanished into thin air. I staggered away from the
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incredible spectacle, my senses reeling. It would take more than
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a cigarette, more than a familiar mechanical act to quiet
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the rising terror that was beginning to grip me. I
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had to find someone quickly or my mind would give
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way again as it had once before. You!
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You, down there in the street!
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I shook my head to clear it. Voices. Hallucinations. This
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was one of the first signs of insanity. I remember... Please! You!
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Down there in the street! Look up here!
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I'm up here at the window!
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Slowly, I raised my head and looked up. She was there.
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Framed in the window, a frightened woman with red hair
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and a desperate urgency in her voice. You, you're real,
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aren't you?
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Thank God.
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I thought I was going mad. What's happened? What's happened
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to Nuclear City?
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You are real. You talked. Come in.
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Quickly.
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Quickly.
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I bounded for the front door, tried the knob. I'm
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coming down.
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Don't go away.
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Please don't go away. I heard her fumbling with the bolt,
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and at last I had found someone, someone to talk to.
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In another moment, I would stand face to face with
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the first human being I'd seen in three hours. The
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door swung open. I caught a fleeting glimpse of red hair,
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and then... That soft, sibilant sound. And after that, nothing.
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No voice, no red hair, no woman... Nothing. All at once,
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it dawned on me. I knew now with a dreadful
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certainty exactly what had happened. My mind had snapped again. No, no, no,
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not snapped. Swerved. Swerved into that strange, rare condition doctors
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call Duval's phenomena. There were people on the street. There
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were voices and sounds in the air. But my sick
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mind shut them out. Refused to acknowledge their existence. A
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mind that blotted out all living things might lead to anything...
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I was dangerous. I had to get away while I
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still had some control of my movements. I began to run. Run, run, run, run, run, run.
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Back to one place where I knew I could do
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no harm. Back to the safe, calm, composed climate of
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the psychiatric hospital. Once more, the big bronze doors that
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I thought I would never see again clanged shut behind me.
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And I walked slowly down the corridor with a feeling
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of relief... as though a heavy weight had been lifted
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from me. The elevator operator was not at his post...
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but I knew how to operate the pressure lift. I
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pressed the button that would take me to my own
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pavilion on the 36th floor.
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The therapy room where, just a few short hours ago,
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I had been playing a four-handed game of galaxies with
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my fellow patients. I took three eager steps into the room.
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And then I stopped. For the room was empty. With
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a strange emptiness as though time had stood still. There
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was the table with the cards still laid out, the
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cigarettes still smoldering into ashes. As I snuffed them out,
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I noticed a chess game in the corner. The same
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game I had watched Phillips and Maxim start three hours ago.
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Queen's Gambit declined. Phillips was still a pawn ahead. But
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Phillips wasn't there. And neither was Maxim. Where were Marquand?
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And Lester? And Rosen? And Tien Chung? And Ferrer? I
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stepped out into the hall, plugged in the PA relay,
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and frantically tried to get someone.
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Dr.
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Frankl.
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Calling Dr. Frankel. Please acknowledge.
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Nurse!
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Nurse!
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Nurse!
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Hello, hello!
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Does anyone hear me?
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Emergency!
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This is emergency!
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In the name of heaven, if anyone hears.
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Me, please acknowledge! In all that vast space... which was
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the Regional Psychiatric Hospital... In all the miles of corridors
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and acres of wards and pavilions, there was no one.
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No one to hear my voice and acknowledge it. I
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fled down to the main floor along the silent corridor
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and out into the open. I jumped into the nearest vehicle,
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a turbojet that must have dated back to the year
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2100 and made for Nuclear City. Something kept nagging at
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my mind, tugging at the strings of my consciousness. But
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I shook it off. I was afraid to think. I
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could only keep moving, moving, moving, moving, hoping for... I
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have no idea what. In the city, nothing had changed.
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I wandered through the streets slowly, searching for some sign
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of life, some... I jumped at the six o'clock whistle.
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In a moment now, tens of thousands of workers should
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come pouring out of the tall buildings. Shouts, cries, laughter
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should fill the air. But the whistle only echoed through
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the empty streets, and the traffic lights clicked on and
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off idiotically in a mad cycle. Red, green, cross. Red, green, cross. Red, green, cross. Suddenly,
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a sharp stab of fear knifed through me. I thought
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of my laboratory, the project. The project I'd been working
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on when I became ill. Internal organic dispersion. A method
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of activating the energy within a mass, causing it to
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burst outward. Something must have gone wrong. My assistants had
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misread the formula and let the force get out of control.
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Of course, of course, that could have done it. I
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must get to the lab at once. A burst of
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speed brought me to my intersection. I leaped to the
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escalator onto the high-speed pedestrian ramp. Slidewalk, the kids had
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called it. when there were kids. And a minute later,
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I was racing through the familiar twists and turns of
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the fishing building, pushing through the doors to my own laboratory. Hunting.
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I looked about. Everything appeared to be in order. From
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far below, I could hear the throbbing of the giant
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cyclotron and the hum of the huge electromagnetic dynamos. The
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sharp smell of ozone filled the air. I took a
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quick glance at the control panel. It showed every machine...
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Every piece of apparatus working perfectly. There was nothing wrong,
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except the fact that they were working. It was after
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hours and machines should have been turned off. I switched
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off the main controls. And then... A cold shiver ran
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down my spine. There was a new sound. A sound
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I hadn't expected to hear. Someone was coming up the
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pressure lift. The private lift leading from the cyclotron to
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my own laboratory. I stood facing the cage.
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Watching.
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Waiting. A man stood there. A live man clad in
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the usual anti-radiation suit. I peered through the glass panel
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on the headpiece and then... I had to fight to
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keep the stereo out of my voice. Davis. Davis, it's you.
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It's really you. Sure it's me, Chief. How are you, John?
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Welcome back. We missed you. Davis, you're all right. You're alive.
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Of course I'm alive, John. You're the one who's been.
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Sick, remember? Davis, how long have you been down there
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in the cyclotron housing? Two days. Special inspection tour.
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I'm glad it's over. Help me out of this suit,
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will you?
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The buckle's caught. Yes, of course. Of course. That explains it.
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Explains what? You were shielded when it happened. Hold tight
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now while I yank you. There you are.
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Thanks.
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I can manage now. What do you mean that explains it?
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Explains what?
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I watched him unbuckle the anti-radiation suit. I felt I
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should say something. I tried to, but nothing would come. Finally,
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the suit was undone. Davis started to step out of
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the suit, and finally the words came past my lips. No, no, Davis!
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Get back! Get back in the suit!
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Shh!
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It was too late. Before my very eyes, Davis disappeared.
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And his anti-radiation suit crumbled to the floor. The End
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My legs buckled and I began to tremble all over.
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I knew my hours were numbered. No mind could stand
241
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up under repeated explosive shocks such as I had been through.
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I staggered to the first aid cabinet for a plasma capsule.
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As I tilted my head back to swallow the capsule,
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the building across the street caught my eye and my
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pulses leaped. Communications building. communications, visiphone, long-range tele-sonic broadcasting. This
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was it. My opportunity to establish contact with the outside world.
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I dropped the glass and bottle and capsule and rushed out.
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Two minutes later, I was in the main studio. I
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plugged in the lines, world ascending and receiving controls to
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maximum range, focused the electronic visiscope camera, and switched on
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the power. Nuclear City calling all stations. Nuclear City to
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all stations. Clear wires for disaster report. Emergency. Nuclear City
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00:17:31.490 --> 00:17:36.750
calling all stations. Please acknowledge. I shifted the directional beam.
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00:17:37.769 --> 00:17:45.700
Nuclear City calling St. Louis. Omaha. San Francisco. Guam. Tokyo.
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00:17:46.680 --> 00:17:52.900
Come in, St. Louis. Guam. Tokyo. Come in. Nothing.
256
00:17:52.920 --> 00:17:53.079
Nothing.
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00:17:54.000 --> 00:17:56.400
Not the slightest sign that there was anyone anywhere who
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00:17:56.420 --> 00:17:58.799
could hear the sound of my voice or see my image.
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I turned off the power and swung away. And a
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00:18:03.589 --> 00:18:05.769
slight movement, a tiny flash of light caught my eye.
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00:18:06.250 --> 00:18:10.210
The turntables. The turntables that recorded every program sent out
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were still going. Turning round and round and round, wearing deep,
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00:18:14.779 --> 00:18:18.440
meaningless grooves in the wax platter. I stepped over to
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the first table, moved the pickup arm to the start
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of the record and switched on the playback control. In
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00:18:23.170 --> 00:18:25.369
another moment, I would hear the last sounds that it
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issued from Nuclear City's communication center. Two days later, Rama
268
00:18:29.470 --> 00:18:32.490
and I reached the great spaceport of New Terra. We
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had spent a month in the steaming jungles of Venus
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00:18:35.130 --> 00:18:37.559
and had learned many things. We had learned that the
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00:18:37.599 --> 00:18:40.099
flora and fauna... Oh, shut up, shut up, shut up!
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I'll try the next table. Maybe I'll have better luck.
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00:18:45.599 --> 00:18:47.819
And dispatchers pouring in from all parts of this sector
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have confirmed earlier reports that the disaster which has struck
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Nuclear City is.
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The disaster is due, that is, the condition is caused
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by a wave, a wave of... Once again I heard it,
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00:19:02.289 --> 00:19:07.589
recorded for posterity, the quick seething hiss and the silence.
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I couldn't stand it any longer. I suddenly went berserk.
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I began smashing everything in sight. The records. Piles and
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piles of them. The machines. The tubes. Everything.
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Stop.
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Stop it.
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You'll hurt yourself. I hardly knew what I was doing.
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For hours and hours, an explosive force had been building
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00:19:24.480 --> 00:19:27.470
up inside of me. And now it burst loose. And finally, finally,
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it spent itself. I calmed down. And heard her voice.
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That's better. Much better. My name is Bolter. Well, turn around.
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00:19:42.240 --> 00:19:42.799
Look at me.
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00:19:44.019 --> 00:19:49.930
No. No, I'm afraid so. You'll vanish like the others.
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00:19:50.279 --> 00:19:53.000
Nonsense. I haven't vanished yet.
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Turn around.
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You see?
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You....
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You're beautiful.
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Anyone would look beautiful to you now. Anyone alive and real.
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00:20:08.269 --> 00:20:11.369
How did you escape it, Walter? I... Why are we here,
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we two alone?
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00:20:12.490 --> 00:20:14.730
We must go. We can't remain here any longer.
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00:20:14.839 --> 00:20:17.519
Go. Yes, yes, yes, yes, you're right. We've got to
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00:20:17.539 --> 00:20:19.700
get away from Nuclear City, away from this whole stricken area.
302
00:20:19.920 --> 00:20:20.380
But how?
303
00:20:20.720 --> 00:20:21.799
There is no transportation.
304
00:20:21.819 --> 00:20:24.920
Now, wait, wait. My plane. Plane? Yes, six months ago,
305
00:20:24.960 --> 00:20:26.740
before I went into the hospital, I put it up
306
00:20:26.789 --> 00:20:28.369
in a small hangar at the spaceport.
307
00:20:28.470 --> 00:20:31.950
Six months ago? It wouldn't be any good now. You
308
00:20:31.990 --> 00:20:33.490
couldn't possibly get it into the air.
309
00:20:33.529 --> 00:20:36.700
We can try. It's our only chance, Walter. Come on,
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00:20:36.710 --> 00:20:48.789
there's no time to lose. Do you see anything, Walter? No, John.
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00:20:49.349 --> 00:20:50.470
It's pitch dark out there.
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00:20:50.829 --> 00:20:53.650
No beacon. No clusters of light. Keep trying the audio box.
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I'll see if I can pick up the landing beam.
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00:20:56.789 --> 00:20:57.829
Calling Chicago.
315
00:20:58.529 --> 00:21:05.079
Calling Chicago. Landing instructions requested. I've got the beam. No. No,
316
00:21:05.099 --> 00:21:08.400
it's gone now. Probably a radar reflection. Move over quickly.
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00:21:08.440 --> 00:21:17.519
Let me try that scanner. Chicago. The skyscrapers... The lakefront.
318
00:21:18.819 --> 00:21:22.819
The bullet parts. What's... What's happened to the lights? What's
319
00:21:22.839 --> 00:21:23.700
happened to the airport?
320
00:21:23.799 --> 00:21:24.859
It's no use, John.
321
00:21:25.160 --> 00:21:26.000
It's reached here, too.
322
00:21:26.599 --> 00:21:28.529
We might just as well have stayed in Nuclear City.
323
00:21:28.549 --> 00:21:30.410
No, no, no, no. We've got to go on. We've
324
00:21:30.430 --> 00:21:33.329
got to find someone. I won't believe. I can't believe
325
00:21:33.349 --> 00:21:42.509
there's no one left but us. Calling Detroit. Calling Detroit.
326
00:21:43.250 --> 00:21:46.150
This is John Rhodes of Nuclear City. John Rhodes calling Detroit. Detroit.
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00:21:46.640 --> 00:21:48.980
Channel 407, respond.
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00:21:49.119 --> 00:21:50.700
You're wasting your breath, John.
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00:21:51.240 --> 00:21:57.680
Turn back. I'll never turn back. John Rhodes to Hob City.
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00:21:57.829 --> 00:22:01.750
John Rhodes to Hob City. Come in, please. Come in, please.
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Can you hear me?
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00:22:03.329 --> 00:22:04.579
Come in.
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00:22:08.680 --> 00:22:09.799
Are you convinced now?
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00:22:09.839 --> 00:22:12.339
Sure, I'm convinced. I'm convinced the stricken area is larger
335
00:22:12.380 --> 00:22:13.700
than I thought, but I'm not quitting.
336
00:22:13.829 --> 00:22:14.369
Not quitting?
337
00:22:14.569 --> 00:22:15.990
What are you doing? Strap on your safety belt and
338
00:22:16.009 --> 00:22:18.650
switch on the oxygen control. I'm shifting into nuclear overdrive.
339
00:22:18.849 --> 00:22:20.329
Where are we going? The other side of the Earth,
340
00:22:20.650 --> 00:22:25.829
the spaceport at Rio. Steady now. In less than 40
341
00:22:25.829 --> 00:22:30.049
minutes now, we'll be... What is it? What's wrong? I
342
00:22:30.089 --> 00:22:36.369
don't know. Something's happening. We're swerving. We're swinging around. Some
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00:22:36.390 --> 00:22:40.390
tremendous magnetic force has caught us in its tow. Turn back, John.
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Turn back before the ship flies apart. I can't, Walter.
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00:22:44.740 --> 00:22:48.240
I can't do anything with a plane. She's out of control.
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I lay there.
347
00:23:05.240 --> 00:23:09.900
Looking at the clock. I couldn't bring it into sharp focus,
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but I knew that the number three was slightly chipped,
349
00:23:14.130 --> 00:23:18.170
and that when it chimed, there was distinct hesitation between
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00:23:18.210 --> 00:23:26.430
the second and third notes. I knew these things because
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00:23:26.529 --> 00:23:29.690
that clock was on the wall of the therapy pavilion
352
00:23:30.519 --> 00:23:36.539
on the 36th floor of the psychiatric hospital. Yes, I
353
00:23:36.619 --> 00:23:42.670
remember the clock. But how had I gotten here? What
354
00:23:42.690 --> 00:23:47.730
had happened to my plane? Where was Walter? Or was
355
00:23:47.829 --> 00:23:52.029
any of it real? Had I ever gone down the
356
00:23:52.069 --> 00:23:57.819
long corridor? Had I ever really left the hospital? Was
357
00:23:57.859 --> 00:24:00.759
the awful experience I had lived through anything more than
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00:24:00.839 --> 00:24:08.089
a very vivid nightmare? And if I screamed now. Would
359
00:24:08.150 --> 00:24:11.430
a nurse come running? Help!
360
00:24:12.809 --> 00:24:13.990
Help!
361
00:24:14.690 --> 00:24:16.190
Nurse!
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00:24:19.500 --> 00:24:27.700
It's true, then. Everything really happened. I'm not dreaming. And Walter.
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00:24:29.440 --> 00:24:35.130
What about Walter? I've lost her, too. There's no one
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left on earth but me. I'll never see another face
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00:24:41.710 --> 00:24:48.309
or hear another voice. I know that now. I will
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sit here in the silence and wait for the end. Footsteps. Footsteps.
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00:25:03.549 --> 00:25:04.289
Good evening, Mr.
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00:25:04.349 --> 00:25:04.710
Rhodes.
369
00:25:05.630 --> 00:25:06.170
I'm Dr.
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00:25:06.230 --> 00:25:12.369
Brenneth. Dr. Brenneth. Do... Do I know you?
371
00:25:13.529 --> 00:25:14.049
No, Mr.
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00:25:14.109 --> 00:25:15.430
Rhodes. Not yet.
373
00:25:16.730 --> 00:25:17.329
But you will.
374
00:25:18.869 --> 00:25:20.609
You will be in my charge from now on.
375
00:25:21.609 --> 00:25:25.150
You've been very ill and you're going on a little journey. Here,
376
00:25:25.230 --> 00:25:29.460
take this capsule. But I... Take it, Mr. Rhodes. The
377
00:25:29.500 --> 00:25:34.019
trip you're about to make is long and difficult... There,
378
00:25:34.039 --> 00:25:37.200
that's it. I'll look in again presently.
379
00:25:43.259 --> 00:25:43.880
Dr. Drennis.
380
00:25:44.099 --> 00:25:48.119
He took it, Volta. Yes, I believe we chose wisely.
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00:25:48.710 --> 00:25:52.130
John Rhodes is the greatest nuclear physicist on Earth. He
382
00:25:52.150 --> 00:25:54.569
will be of inestimable value to us and our people.
383
00:25:54.970 --> 00:25:57.529
I think our work here is about finished, Doctor. The
384
00:25:57.569 --> 00:26:01.130
final reports have just come in. The molecular diffusion cloud
385
00:26:01.170 --> 00:26:01.809
worked perfectly.
386
00:26:01.829 --> 00:26:02.710
And according to plan.
387
00:26:03.759 --> 00:26:06.019
Those who were not directly affected by the cloud itself
388
00:26:06.059 --> 00:26:08.140
were disintegrated by contact with their fellow men.
389
00:26:08.920 --> 00:26:12.329
Some died immediately. Some seemed to have a temporary immunity.
390
00:26:12.569 --> 00:26:14.849
Like that woman, Nina, who called to Rhodes from the window.
391
00:26:15.750 --> 00:26:16.289
Poor man.
392
00:26:17.289 --> 00:26:20.369
Even though we protected him from the disintegration mist, he
393
00:26:20.430 --> 00:26:22.450
apparently was still capable of killing others.
394
00:26:22.630 --> 00:26:25.329
But now the chain reaction is complete. There's not a
395
00:26:25.410 --> 00:26:28.250
living human being left on Earth, except Rhodes.
396
00:26:28.750 --> 00:26:32.029
Perhaps it was wrong, Dr. Drannith, to destroy these humans.
397
00:26:32.109 --> 00:26:32.349
Wrong.
398
00:26:33.089 --> 00:26:34.789
They were different from what I had expected.
399
00:26:35.869 --> 00:26:38.670
As I guarded John Rhodes, I found him kind and
400
00:26:38.710 --> 00:26:42.700
intelligent and courageous. Now I'm beginning to think the whole
401
00:26:42.759 --> 00:26:44.079
experiment was cruel.
402
00:26:44.759 --> 00:26:48.180
Cruel? I do not understand you, Volta.
403
00:26:48.680 --> 00:26:50.720
You're familiar with the history of the planet Earth from
404
00:26:50.740 --> 00:26:52.500
the very first pages of recorded time.
405
00:26:53.200 --> 00:26:55.420
These Earth men have bent every effort to kill each.
406
00:26:55.339 --> 00:26:58.720
Other off, to create new and more efficient weapons of death.
407
00:26:59.589 --> 00:27:03.200
We merely fulfilled their destinies. but we did it mercifully.
408
00:27:03.220 --> 00:27:06.339
The new inhabitants we bring here will be kind, as
409
00:27:06.420 --> 00:27:06.779
we are.
410
00:27:07.299 --> 00:27:08.279
I suppose you're right.
411
00:27:09.980 --> 00:27:12.480
Well, here are my notes on the six hours I
412
00:27:12.539 --> 00:27:17.240
spent observing John Rhodes' psychological reactions. You will find them
413
00:27:17.319 --> 00:27:21.299
very illuminating. And now, what do we do with him,
414
00:27:22.059 --> 00:27:24.380
this last human being left on Earth?
415
00:27:24.400 --> 00:27:27.819
What we planned from the beginning, Volta. You may notify
416
00:27:27.900 --> 00:27:30.569
our spaceship anchored beyond the magnetic field to send a
417
00:27:30.609 --> 00:27:31.329
tender for us.
418
00:27:31.950 --> 00:27:32.910
Yes, Dr. Drenner.
419
00:27:33.009 --> 00:27:35.829
We and our specially selected Earth specimen are ready for
420
00:27:35.849 --> 00:27:36.849
the long journey home.
421
00:27:38.130 --> 00:27:39.029
Home to Mars.
422
00:27:39.029 --> 00:28:01.680
2000 Plus is produced by Dreyer and Winn-Olson Productions, Incorporated.
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00:28:02.349 --> 00:28:05.630
In tonight's cast, Ralph Bell played John Rhodes, Joan Shea
424
00:28:05.670 --> 00:28:07.569
was Volta, Nat Poland was Dr.
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00:28:07.589 --> 00:28:09.549
Dranath, and Carl Eastman was Davis.
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00:28:10.170 --> 00:28:21.569
The script was written by Judith and David Bubling. The
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00:28:21.619 --> 00:28:26.349
orchestra was conducted by Emerson Buckley. Music composed by Elliot Jacoby. Sound,
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00:28:26.369 --> 00:28:29.430
Walt Shaver and Adrian Penner. Engineer, Bob Albrecht.
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00:28:30.569 --> 00:29:23.460
THE END Thank you. THE END.
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00:29:44.059 --> 00:29:49.809
This has been 2000 Plus. Excitingly dramatic stories of the future.
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00:29:49.869 --> 00:29:53.190
These are events that you will never witness. Adventures into
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00:29:53.230 --> 00:29:56.329
the world of tomorrow. Tune in again next week at
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00:29:56.369 --> 00:29:59.910
this same time for another thrilling story. This is the
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00:29:59.950 --> 00:30:02.170
United States Armed Forces Radio Service.
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00:30:29.650 --> 00:30:30.069
THE END.
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00:31:05.630 --> 00:31:10.539
That brings us to the close of 2000 Plus and Alone.
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00:31:10.559 --> 00:31:26.099
Follow 2000 Plus for more classic broadcasts.