The Fable of the Radio. By Greg Williams

THE FABLE OF THE RADIO

By Greg Williams, Rt. 1, Box 302, Gravel Switch, KY 40328

Distributed at the Control Systems Group Meeting, Durango, CO, August1991

Note: This is a work of fiction. Any similarity between characters in thisstory and real individuals, living or dead, is purely contingent, whatever thatmeans. [Insiders realize, of course, that Fred refers to B.F. Skinner and Billto William T. Powers].

Once upon a time, a well-offlittle boy named Fred bought a radio with money his parents gave him (usually,but not always) when he took out the trash. Why Fred wanted a radio isn'timportant. What's important is that it didn't take him very long to figure outhow to work the radio. When he turned the knob marked "ON-VOLUME"clockwise until there was a click, he sometimes could hear soft sounds from theradio. He discovered that the sounds got louder if he kept turning the "ON-VOLUME"knob clockwise, as far as it would go without a lot of force. If he then turnedthe knob counterclockwise, the sounds got softer. He also discovered thatwhether the radio made sounds at all (other than a hissing which also gotlouder when he moved the "ON-VOLUME"knob clockwise, and softer when he moved the knob counterclockwise) depended onthe position of another knob, marked "TUNING."

Fred was happy with his radio --at least he stayed near it much of the time, moved both knobs occasionally(according to a schedule which his parents decided was sometimes "essentiallyrandom" and sometimes correlated with the sounds produced by the radio beforeand/or after the knobs were moved), and evidenced facial expressions and limbmovements correlated with the intensity and frequency patternings of the soundscoming from the radio. Soon Fred could get his radio to make sounds thatwouldn't result in his parents leaving the room; this occurred more frequentlyas allowance-payingday approached.

By and by, Fred's friends got radios, too, and Fred discovered that hecould work those radios in the "same" (Fred's word) way as he worked his own;in truth, there were some differences, which Fred said were "of noconsequence," between working his radio and working his friends' radios --for example, some of the latter had "ON" knobs, rather than "ON-VOLUME"knobs, and some made louder sounds when their "ON-VOLUME"knobs were turned counterclockwise, rather than clockwise. Still, it took Fredonly a little while (with a bit of screaming from his friends' parents) to beable to work all of the radios equally well. Fred exclaimed to his parents, "Ireally know how to work radios well!" His parents agreed with him, not becauseof his claim, but because they saw him working the various radios in wayswhich, to them, could be classified, if not as "good," then at least as"correct."

Alas, one day about six weeks after he got his radio, Fred could not workit. He moved the knobs as he had before, but the radio made no sounds at all.Fred moved them again. No sounds. And again. Still no sounds. Gradually, Fredmoved the knobs less and less frequently. (However, whenever he came home fromworking a friend's radio, he moved the knobs on his own radio quite frequentlyfor awhile, even though the radio produced no sounds.) But eventually, none ofhis friends' radios could be worked, either, and Fred didn't move the knobs onhis radio at all --the radio just sat silently in his room. Exactly 83 days after the last time hemoved the knobs (on a day not noticeably different to his parents than thosebefore or after it), Fred threw the radio out with the trash, mutteringobscenities. (His parents, hearing the cursing, washed Fred's mouth out withsoap. Fred kept on cursing, and his parents kept on using soap "to deal withhis inappropriate verbal behavior." Fred confided to his closest pals, but notto his parents, that he had discovered he "liked" the taste of soap.)

Now, it happened that Fred's radio was found at the local dump by Bill, astreet-smartkid who appreciated gadgets --the more complicated, the better. Bill had never seen the insides of a radiobefore, and he was delighted when he pried off the back and gazed upon the mazeof wires and little objects interconnected inside. "Wow!" he exclaimed. "Iwonder how it works?" Bill took the radio home, where he hid it from hisfather, who would probably try to prevent Bill from "breaking it by messingwith its guts" enough to find out how it worked. Excitedly, Bill went to thepublic library and began looking for books on radios. He found a book withpictures of a radio being taken apart and put back together, in steps, but theradio in the book wasn't the same kind as the radio he had found, and he wantedto know how radios work in general, not just how the one he found or the one inthe book could be repaired (which generally involved replacing "defective"parts with little understanding of how those parts worked). Then he came acrossa book titled BASIC ELECTRONICS: RADIO CIRCUITRY, VOLUME 1 and perked up; eventhough he didn't know what "electronics" meant, the words "basic" and "radio"so close together seemed encouraging. To make a long story short, Bill readthat book (and also VOLUME 2 and VOLUME 3), spent hours looking at theconstruction of the radio he had found, and finally announced to his fatherthat he had learned how radios work. (To which his father replied "so what?"but Bill didn't let that bother him.) Bill was so happy about knowing howradios work, he told his father about the radio he had found, currently hiddenunder a heap of broken concrete blocks. "Give it to me!" demanded his father.Bill got the radio and meekly gave it to his father. Of course, when his fathertried to work it, he found that it was no use --Bill hadn't changed anything inside the radio, and it still wouldn't make asound. "Bah! What good is it?" Bill's father shouted, as he threw the radiodown. As his father walked away, Bill calmly walked over to the radio and tookoff its back. He speculated about why the radio didn't work. "It probably needsa new battery," he thought, and then he saw that one wire to the RF-coilwas loose, probably due to his father's anger.

Bill took $3 from under his father's mattress, wrote out an I.O.U. (withinterest) and stuffed it under the mattress, and headed for the local RadioShack store with the radio in hand. On the way, as fate would have it, his pathcrossed that of Fred, who warily approached Bill, eyeing his non-designerjeans as if in disgust (or so Bill supposed). For a reason which Fred himself,to this day, says he "cannot explain --apparently, random variability," Fred began yelling "That's my radio! That's myradio! That's my radio!" over and over. Bill dropped the radio and took offrunning. When Fred recovered his composure, he did not stoop to pick up theradio; rather, he kept on walking and never so much as looked back at the radiolying on the sidewalk. But he emitted, almost inaudibly, "I'll fix that peon!"and his course changed slightly from its direction prior to encounteringBill.

From a hidden vantage point up the block, Bill saw Fred walk away -strangely,without the radio. As soon Fred disappeared in the distance, Bill hurried backto the radio, grabbed it, and hurried to Radio Shack. On the way, he got tothinking about Fred's claim that the radio was Fred's. Well, maybe it was...maybe it had ended up at the dump by some crazy mistake or weirdmisunderstanding... and maybe getting it back in good working order would makeFred feel better... and maybe Fred, who looked pretty upscale, might thank Billand introduce him to one of those fancy uptown girls. It would be worth a try,and $3.

The Radio Shack clerk didn't seem to know an RF-coilfrom his rear end, but he did show Bill how to use the soldering gun which hekept hot for repairing speaker leads and such. Bill paid for a new (overpriced)battery and moved the radio's knobs gingerly. The resulting chorus of "Louie,Louie" resounded throughout the store! The clerk yelled, "Get outside with thatnoise!" Bill complied. And just then, Fred appeared! With two cops!! BeforeBill had a chance to run, one of the policemen grabbed him around the waist andthrew him to the ground. Bill, who had never been in such a situation before,knew exactly what to do: he tried not to move a muscle (which was only partlysuccessful; his left eye started to twitch uncontrollably). The radio continuedto produce loud sounds (something about a "very last chance sale" at Harry'sCarpet Barn) while the other policeman searched Bill for crack and Fred, with astrange look (at least it seemed strange to Bill), grabbed the radio.

It all turned out better than Bill expected. No, he didn't get introducedby Fred to any uptown girls; he never even spoke to Fred. Fred was immediatelyand rather mysteriously influenced by the (sound of the? sight of the? soundand sight of the?) again-workingradio, and the again-workingradio was immediately and rather mysteriously influenced by Fred (or Fred'smuscles?). The upshot was that Fred scampered away with the radio, rapturouslytwiddling its knobs in an incredibly sophisticated way (or so it seemed toBill). With nobody around to press charges, the policemen had to release Billwith a warning against "fooling around with somebody else's property in waysthey wouldn't approve of."

Bill thought that, as they parted company, Fred had seemed very happy. Billwas happy that he had helped Fred become so happy. And Bill was also happybecause he knew how radios work, even if he didn't know as well as Fred how towork radios (although he suspected that he could figure out how to work radiosas well as, and maybe even better than Fred, if he wanted). In fact, for therest of his life, Bill remained very happy. (He even married an uptown girl,but that's another story).

For six weeks after the fateful meeting of Fred and Bill, Fred told hisparents (with an annoyingly high frequency) that he was "very happy." Theybelieved Fred, not because he said so, but because he took out the trash soregularly, even on the day after allowance-payingday, during every one of the six weeks. (And after those six weeks? Well,that's another story, too.)