The Trace Beginning by James Bryce Bryce by James Bryce Bryce - Read Online

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The Trace Beginning - James Bryce Bryce

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on.

TOM LOT

You revel in cheap, rented premises.

PETER WYNN

Where rebel freedom is not marginal!

You have a place, commitments, salary.

Well done! That system has not bred success.

Endeavour onwards though, it frames the way.

TOM LOT

You are my leader, captain of command.

PETER WYNN

I am a sacked man.

TOM LOT

Best yet in the field.

You have not failed, but from the way been spurned.

PETER WYNN

This rig looks plaything, after seeing real.

Components all are borrowed, old or cheap.

TOM LOT

Yet see the science!

PETER WYNN

It is wonderful!

We replicate, at specks' costs, monuments

Which reach the forward edges of intent.

TOM LOT

Delight!

PETER WYNN

The parts that make experiment!

We knew our path; it just needed its way.

Now you go on to work for Malevol,

As long as runs the greaser salary.

Collaboration frame as well with me.

Exit PETER WYNN and TOM LOT.

Enter the NARRATOR.

Long labours' days run on as nights, which reach

Into the next days' yawning morn. There is

No idling in the byways' coffee shops,

Small time for glinting small indulgences.

But coffee keeps the yawning morns awake;

Espresso for experiments plays part.

Tom works on at the Turton company,

His sunrise hours and after nights devout

To Peter's cheap, concealed alternative.

Judge not yet less of great things done in sheds:

Two people here, and one in cast-off time,

Pursue the vigour elsewhere sown by ten.

Fine, expert standards also they maintain.

Atomic measures and high-value stuffs

Work intricacy through the taped-up rig.

So intricacy, expertise and clips

In a shed's elbow progress more than tips

Of commerce and what high cost vouches bright.

Exit the NARRATOR.

Scene: ELLA PENGE'S office.

Enter ELLA PENGE and KARIN STEUER.

ELLA PENGE

Have you worked all the night? The coffee tells.

KARIN STEUER

I see the jewel interest; it shines bright.

ELLA PENGE

What magpies up to leap from circumstance?

KARIN STEUER

A glinting rumour more than torchlit news.

The Turton company its research yet

Continues, but as unsuccessful ends.

There order turns to strewn assemblages

And each top hope sags, practised, back to flat.

ELLA PENGE

So?

KARIN STEUER

Peter Wynn, a name I sometimes know,

Has left the business, yet researches on

In some shed's elbow, improvising high.

ELLA PENGE

His name I never heard. What merits he?

KARIN STEUER

The Turton company out-legions all,

Employing to wring profit from the world

Long wringing millions from across the world.

But Peter Wynn, delighted gossip's hiss

Says years throughout has been all best research.

His was the talent, his the hope and pole.

Just painted surface came from Malevol.

Now Malevol is not pale, stable man -

ELLA PENGE

I know! The brunt is shine-wet recent yet!

KARIN STEUER

In anger's wrong slipped instant did the boss

This central researcher sack off and blame.

I hear the lab of intricacy past

Is now flat empty ends and parts, where from

Indulgent wreckage they build back with second

Team experiments a second time.

But what was great before – this Peter and

His rig improved by cares repetitive -

Is no more under Turton Malevol.

ELLA PENGE

And so? I know you: failure's not a tale.

KARIN STEUER

One sip of coffee, let me one more sip.

You right infer. I hear a better more.

Delighted gossip's hiss says Peter still

Experiments his same thoughts onward far.

So progress moves though Malevol stays stopped.

ELLA PENGE

A better more, indeed, a better more.

No business matters more than company.

It is from people, wrought with thought, that each

Tomorrow stretches reach for betterment.

Is Peter talent open to employ?

KARIN STEUER

Here all my knowledge ends.

ELLA PENGE

Hiss out for more!

The leaping point at innovation's reach

Is hard for blur-allowing eyes to fetch

A moment on. The race's front is fast.

A game enabler, helper like myself,

Thus strains at what the eye not quite aligns.

The blur ahead is where the better plays.

KARIN STEUER

I'll find out more.

ELLA PENGE

Learn on, capture that blur.

We progress most when harness we the best.

O fortune! Malevol in rage has lost

What steady work and ours might forward most.

Exit ELLA PENGE and KARIN STEUER.

5.2

Scene: Malevol's office.

Enter TURTON MALEVOL and DON UCKFIELD.

TURTON MALEVOL

You told me of a picking point of news?

What was it?

DON UCKFIELD

Unexpected muttering.

I hear that Peter Wynn is working on.

I know not where, I know not how, with whom;

But in some creaking shed somewhere I hear

That Peter bends an end continuous

On still the same design. I heard it not

Internally. Our people do not speak.

But in the pub shouts -

TURTON MALEVOL

Was there football on?

DON UCKFIELD

Of course! I heard from others, other trade,

The word at other companies is that

Research plies on; and they might purchase it.

Now Peter Wynn is free, not owned employed.

TURTON MALEVOL

He is a nothing in a zero in

A failure of a dust. We spent whole empires

Of attention, wealth and time, and from

It bought indeed frustration's wreckages.

DON UCKFIELD

All true. Yet Peter was the best, is yet,

Repute says in its sizing of the line.

And in his creak-block shed unknown somewhere

There's coffee drunk, and early until late

He scrapes at progress.

TURTON MALEVOL

And do you believe?

DON UCKFIELD

I'm not a white coat wearer.

TURTON MALEVOL

Hence I trust.

DON UCKFIELD

The long scrape on is wherefrom progress comes.

If he believes and fettles on long hours,

Who knows.

TURTON MALEVOL

But I know everything. I do.

I threw him out, off, broken, wholly spent.

I owned the ever venture, wide design,

Inception came when I the ribbon snipped.

The pieces of the vessel and the ends

Were all but toys in my business design.

And Peter's pieces failed to be their dream.

DON UCKFIELD

They did; but in the shed, will they always?

TURTON MALEVOL

He is a failure.

DON UCKFIELD

Failure, yes, he was.

You made him free -

TURTON MALEVOL

His value ended low.

DON UCKFIELD

You gave him your rig's leftovers. Now do

The pub shouts say what white coat wearers hear.

It's that the creak-block shed somewhere holds fresh

A taped-up, clipped cheap wobble copying

And scraping on what our lab's rig once did.

TURTON MALEVOL

How can a clipped-up wobble game our frame?

O rage, come you again!

DON UCKFIELD

To calculate -

TURTON MALEVOL

So do they say this company is weak?

The passing voices that from moments come

And in a play of pieces build a tale.

How dare this word -

DON UCKFIELD

I make it not, I pass

You understanding and wide ear, to make

Advising only -

TURTON MALEVOL

Do the darers call

Me