LEARNING THEORY
BY JAMES MC CONNELL
Destiny's tricks can be pretty weird
sometimes. And this was one to be proud
of. A cosmic joke, a witch that could
make a nightmare seem tame!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Worlds of If Science Fiction, December 1957.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
I am writing this because I presume He wants me to. Otherwise He wouldnot have left paper and pencil handy for me to use. And I put theword "He" in capitals because it seems the only thing to do. If I amdead and in hell, then this is only proper. However, if I am merely acaptive somewhere, then surely a little flattery won't hurt matters.
As I sit here in this small room and think about it, I am impressedmost of all by the suddenness of the whole thing. At one moment I wasout walking in the woods near my suburban home. The next thing I knew,here I was in a small, featureless room, naked as a jaybird, with onlymy powers of rationalization to stand between me and insanity. Whenthe "change" was made (whatever the change was), I was not consciousof so much as a momentary flicker between walking in the woods andbeing here in this room. Whoever is responsible for all of this is tobe complimented—either He has developed an instantaneous anestheticor He has solved the problem of instantaneous transportation of matter.I would prefer to think it the former, for the latter leads to too muchanxiety.
As I recall, I was immersed in the problem of how to teach my classin beginning psychology some of the more abstruse points of LearningTheory when the transition came. How far away life at the Universityseems at the moment: I must be forgiven if now I am much more concernedabout where I am and how to get out of here than about how freshmen canbe cajoled into understanding Hull or Tolman.
Problem #1: Where am I? For an answer, I can only describe this room.It is about twenty feet square, some twelve feet high, with no windows,but with what might be a door in the middle of one of the walls.Everything is of a uniform gray color, and the walls and ceiling emita fairly pleasant achromatic light. The walls themselves are of somehard material which might be metal since it feels slightly cool tothe touch. The floor is of a softer, rubbery material that yields alittle when I walk on it. Also, it has a rather "tingly" feel to it,suggesting that it may be in constant vibration. It is somewhat warmerthan the walls, which is all to the good since it appears I must sleepon the floor.
The only furniture in the room consists of what might be a table andwhat passes for a chair. They are not quite that, but they can be madeto serve this purpose. On the table I found the paper and the pencil.No, let me correct myself. What I call paper is a good deal rougher andthicker than I am used to, and what I call a pencil is nothing morethan a thin round stick of graphite which I have sharpened by rubbingone end of it on the table.
And that is the sum of my surroundings. I wish I knew what He hasdone with my clothes. The suit was an old one, but I am worried aboutthe walking boots. I was very fond of those boots—they were quiteexpensive and I would hate to lose them.
The problem still remains to be answered, however, as to just where inthe hell I am—if not in hell itself!
Problem #2 is a knottier one—Why am I here? Were I subject toparanoid tendencies, I would doubtless come to the conclusion thatmy enemies had