The introduction of paper
A CAVEMAN and a CAVEWOMAN are sitting on stones, huddled around a fire. They are dressed in animal fur clothing. The Caveman is reading a stone slab propped up in front of him.
I'm worried about this new thing that Junior's been using recently.
Oh? Worried about what in particular?
Well, he's been spending a lot of time using it, instead of working on his stone letter carving and his cave painting.
Hmmm, that is concerning. What is this new thing?
It's called "paper". It's made by a bunch of weirdos in the next valley.
"Paper?" Never heard of it. It's not made by that fruity tribe, is it?
Yes, that's the one. They're always thinking different.
(shakes his head)
Why can't people just respect tradition?
Just then Junior walks into the cave. He's wearing a fur hat that flops over behind his head, and elaborate leather sandals. A leather messenger bag is over his shoulder.
Oh, hello, son! We were just talking about you.
Really? What about?
Well, your mother was telling me about this new "paper" stuff you've been using.
Oh yeah! Dad, it's amazing! I love it!
(He strides over to his parents, pulling a few sheets of paper from his messenger bag)
Look! Here's something I've been working on.
The Caveman takes the sheets from his son's hand, a dubious look on his face. He squints down at them.
So this is it, is it? Paper? Not very heavy, is it?
No, it's light as a feather! It's just brilliant, Dad, I could carry sheets and sheets of it to school, and they would still weigh much less than a slab.
(hand over her mouth)
Oh, you don't use it at school, do you? What do your teachers say?
(turning to her)
Well, they don't really know what to make of it, to be honest. Some of them seem to like it.
The Cavewoman shakes her head and rolls her eyes. Junior looks at her in confusion.
But wait a minute. How do you expect to grow up big and strong if you don't carry slabs of stone around? I have to say I don't like this at all.
Hah! That's the least of your worries. Wait till you see this.
(to her son)
Show your father what you use to write on the paper.
Junior frowns, and takes a thin stick of charcoal out of his messenger bag. He hands it silently to his father.
What? You don't use a hammer and chisel? How on earth do you expect to develop big strong fingers? Why, if you used this to write all the time, I'd be surprised if your fingers didn't wither away and fall off!
God forbid! And another thing, staring at that whiteness can't be good for your eyes. At least stone has a soothing greyness.
(turns to her husband)
And because it's so light and easy to handle, he can switch from one piece of paper to another as easily as you can imagine. Without the discipline of having to move heavy stone slabs around, he can just flit from reading one thing to another in seconds. What it could be doing to his brain I can't imagine.
Junior looks flabbergasted.
But– but what you're saying makes no sense!
Don't you talk to your mother like that!
(he gesticulates with the paper in his hand. Unfortunately the paper touches the fire, and promptly bursts into flame)
Oh my God!
(he throws the paper on the floor of the cave)
It burns! Slabs would never do that! This stuff is unbelievably dangerous!
(dashes to rescue the burning paper)
My work! My writing! My drawings!
His father grabs him roughly and drags him off the burning paper.
What are you doing? Are you mad? You'll hurt yourself or worse!
(to his wife)
I think you're right, this awful stuff has driven him insane. I've seen enough. From now on, paper is banned in this cave.
Junior sits weeping on the floor.