Man Made Monster

Here's another flash

on that highway bus accident.

"Dan McCormick, the lone survivor,

"has been taken to the receiving hospital

for observation.

"Attending physicians

are astounded at his condition

"because he shows no effects

of the electrocution

"that killed the driver of the bus

and all of his fellow passengers. "

You say the man

is conscious?

Yes. It's the most amazing thing

I've ever heard of, Doctor.

After a good night's rest,

he'll be ready to leave the hospital.

Come on, come on, give me those pants.

I want to get out of here.

Here, here!

What's going on?

I can't make him

stay in bed, Doctor.

Well, I guess I ain't as tough

as I thought I was.

Tough? You're lucky to be alive

after a shock like that.

Now, get back into bed

and take it easy.

Okay, okay.

You're the doctor.

This is Dr. Lawrence.

Doctor, Dan McCormick.

How do you do?

Dr. Lawrence wants

to ask you a few questions.

Sure. Glad to have

somebody to talk to.

You know, for a minute I thought

you was one of those reporters.

No. No, there are

several of them downstairs.

You won't lack for publicity.

Oh, say, that's great.

I can use a couple of good

write-ups in my business.

What is your business, Dan?

Oh, didn't you know?

I run a high pitch down

on the midway. It's an act.

I'm Dynamo Dan,

the Electrical Man.

Fool around with storage batteries

and stick my fingers into light sockets

and make sparks jump between my hands.

You know, yokel shockers.

Yokel shockers?

Sure.

Stuff to fool the peasants.

It's all for effect.

Most of it's phony.

Yes, I see.

Hey, Doc,

get a load of this.

Supper in bed

and I ain't even sick.

Yes, we're gonna make sure

they take good care of you.

Well, I must run along now.

Here's my card.

When you get out of here,

just drop in and see me sometime.

Sure, sure, Doctor.

Goodbye.

So long, Doc.

Nice guy, the doc.

Dr. Lawrence is one of

America's foremost scientists.

No kidding!

"Dr. John Lawrence, 515

Forrest Drive. The Moors. "

Thank you, Henry.

That's all tonight.

Thank you, sir.

Good evening, Dr. Lawrence.

Wong.

Hello, Uncle John.

Hello, dear.

Oh, look at you.

What's the matter,

no date tonight?

Yes, and a very nice one.

I waited to tell you

about your tickets.

Tickets? Tickets?

What tickets?

For the convention.

Oh, yes! Yes.

When do I leave?

First thing

Wednesday morning.

Well, that gives me

a couple of days.

I've listed the references

that you wanted.

Oh, can't we get out of that?

I detest speeches.

It's probably because

I've had to listen to so many in my time.

Well, here's your chance to get even,

not that yours will be boring.

I wish I could be sure of that,

but electro-biology sounds terrifying.

Except to electro-biologists,

and that's who you'll be talking to.

Well, good night.

We'll hope for the best.

See you in the morning.

Oh, and don't forget your medicine.

I left it on your desk.

I said good night.

Good night.

Paul, why don't you

give this up?

It will work.

I know it.

With all the constructive things to be done,

why do you concentrate on destruction?

You call my work destructive?

Must we go over that

all again?

This theory of yours isn't science.

It's... It's black magic.

I believe that electricity is life,

that men can be motivated and controlled

by electrical impulse

supplied by the radio activities

of the electron.

That eventually a race of superior men

can be developed,

men whose only wants

are electricity.

But, man, you're challenging

the forces of creation.

The forces of creation? Bah!

You know as well as I do

that half the people in the world

are doomed to a life

of mediocrity,

born to be non-entities,

millstones around the neck of progress,

men who have to be fed,

watched, looked over,

and taken care of

by a superior intelligence.

My theory is to make these people

of more use to the world.

By successive treatments,

their bodies can be so electrolyzed

that they are no longer subject to the pains

and frailties of ordinary mankind.

Sometimes I think you're mad.

I am.

So was Archimedes, Galileo,

Newton, Pasteur, Liszt,

and all the others who dared to dream.

Fifty years ago,

a man was mad to think of anesthesia.

Forty years ago, the idea

of operating on the brain was madness.

Today, we hold a human heart in our hands

and watch it beat.

Who can tell

what tomorrow's madness may be?

No one, Paul,

least of all I,

since I, too, believe that we've only

scratched the surface of electro-biology.

But science, through the ages, has

been used for the betterment of mankind,

to give some faint ray of hope

to these non-entities, as you call them.

But...

Now, now, now.

Together, we've been very successful.

Let's drop it for tonight.

You hurry and clean up.

There's some cheese and beer

in the kitchen.

I'll make a Welsh rabbit

and we'll celebrate.

What do you say?

All right, John.

Good.

I won't be a moment.

Do you like it?

It's terrible.

Say, who are you?

Mark Adams.

Oh!

So, you're Mark Adams,

the big newspaperman.

Well, I have something

to say to you.

You ought to be

ashamed of yourself.

Five people killed and the best thing

you can do is write bad jokes.

"Under his own power. "

Well, look, lady, five people were killed

and we treated it with the proper respect,

but that was yesterday.

Now, the Globe-Dispatch has a circulation

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