The Twilight Zone, Season 3

Narrator:
This is a jungle, a monument built by nature honoring disuse, commemorating a few years of nature being left to its own devices. But it's another kind of jungle, the kind that comes in the aftermath of man's battles against himself. Hardly an important battle, not a Gettysburg or a Marne or an Iwo Jima. More like one insignificant corner patch in the crazy quilt of combat. But it was enough to end the existence of this little city. It's been five years since a human being walked these streets. This is the first day of the sixth year, as man used to measure time. The time? Perhaps a hundred years from now. Or sooner. Or perhaps it's already happened two million years ago. The place? The signposts are in English so that we may read them more easily, but the place is the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
This has been a love story about two lonely people who found each other in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
This object, should any of you have lived underground for the better parts of your lives and never had occasion to look toward the sky, is an airplane, its official designation a DC-3. We offer this rather obvious comment because this particular airplane, the one you're looking at, is a freak. Now, most airplanes take off and land as per scheduled. On rare occasions they crash. But all airplanes can be counted on doing one or the other. Now, yesterday morning this particular airplane ceased to be just a commercial carrier. As of its arrival it became an enigma, a seven-ton puzzle made out of aluminum, steel, wire and a few thousand other component parts, none of which add up to the right thing. In just a moment, we're going to show you the tail end of its history. We're going to give you ninety percent of the jigsaw pieces and you and Mr. Sheckly here of the Federal Aviation Agency will assume the problem of putting them together along with finding the missing pieces. This we offer as an evening's hobby, a little extracurricular diversion which is really the national pastime in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Picture of a man with an Achilles' heel, a mystery that landed in his life and then turned into a heavy weight, dragged across the years to ultimately take the form of an illusion. Now, that's the clinical answer that they put on the tag as they take him away. But if you choose to think that the explanation has to do with an airborne Flying Dutchman, a ghost ship on a fog-enshrouded night on a flight that never ends, then you're doing your business in an old stand in the Twilight Zone.

Bill Stockton:
Grace...now, if it is a bomb, there's no assurance it'll land near us. And if it doesn't--

Grace Stockton:
But if it does, Bill, New York is only forty miles away. And New York's going to get it. We know that. So we'll get it too. All of it. The poison, the radiation, the whole mess. We'll get it.

Bill Stockton:
We'll be in a shelter, Grace, and with any luck at all, we'll survive. We've got food and water enough to last us for two weeks. Maybe even longer if we use it wisely.

Grace Stockton:
Then what, Bill? Then what? We crawl out of here like gofers to tip-toe through all that rubble up above? The rubble and the ruin and the bodies of our friends? Bill, why is it so necessary to survive? What's the good of it? [begins to sob] Wouldn't it...just be...better and easier...just quicker if we...just...

Paulie Stockton:
[calls from the other room] Got the tools, Pa. Anything else you need from out here?

Bill Stockton:
Grace...that's why we have to survive. That's the reason. He may only inherit rubble now, but he's twelve years old. He's only twelve years old, Grace.

Jerry Harlowe:
We could throw a nice big block party, just like old times! Anything to get back to normal! Right, Bill?

Bill Stockton:
Normal? ...I don't know what normal is. I thought I did once; I don't anymore.

Jerry Harlowe:
Oh, we'll pay for all the damages, Bill.

Bill Stockton:
Damages? I wonder...if any of us has any idea what those "damages" really are. Maybe one of them was finding out what we're really like when we're "normal." The kind of people we are, just underneath the skin--and I mean all of us--a lot of naked, wild animals who put such a price on staying alive that they'll claw their own neighbors to death just for the privilege! We were spared a bomb tonight, but I wonder...if we weren't destroyed even without it.

Narrator:
This road is the afterwards of the Civil War. It began at Fort Sumter, South Carolina, and ended at a place called Appomattox. It's littered with the residue of broken battles and shattered dreams. In just a moment, you will enter a strange province that knows neither North nor South, a place we call the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Incident on a dirt road during the month of April, the year 1865. As we've already pointed out, it's a road that won't be found on a map, but it's one of many that lead in and out of the Twilight Zone.

Jesse:
[seeing the dead Fats Brown] It's impossible!

Fats:
Nothing's impossible. Some things are less likely than others, that's all.

Narrator:
Mr. Jesse Cardiff, who became a legend by beating one, but who has found out after his funeral that being the best of anything carries with it a special obligation to keep on proving it. Mr. Fats Brown, on the other hand, having relinquished the champion's mantle, has gone fishing. These are the ground rules in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
This is the face of Ramos Clemente, a year ago a beardless, nameless worker of the dirt who plodded behind a mule, furrowing someone else's land. And he looked up at a hot Central American sun and he pledged the impossible. He made a vow that he would lead an avenging army against the tyranny that put the ache in his back and the anguish in his eyes, and now one year later the dream of the impossible has become a fact. In just a moment we will look deep into this mirror and see the aftermath of a rebellion...in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Ramos Clemente, a would-be god in dungarees, strangled by an illusion, that will-o-'the-wisp mirage that dangles from the sky in front of the eyes of all ambitious men, all tyrants--and any resemblance to tyrants living or dead is hardly coincidental, whether it be here or in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Normally, the old man would be correct. This would be the end of the story. We've had the traditional shoot-out on the street and the badman will soon be dead. But some men of legend and folk tale have been known to continue having their way even after death. The outlaw and killer Pinto Sykes was such a person, and shortly we'll see how he introduces the town, and a man named Conny Miller in particular, to the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Final comment: you take this with a grain of salt or a shovelful of earth, as shadow or substance, we leave it up to you. And for any further research check under 'G' for ghosts in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Tonight's story on The Twilight Zone is somewhat unique and calls for a different kind of introduction. This, as you may recognize, is a map of the United States, and there's a little town there called Peaksville. On a given morning not too long ago, the rest of the world disappeared and Peaksville was left all alone. Its inhabitants were never sure whether the world was destroyed and only Peaksville left untouched or whether the village had somehow been taken away. They were, on the other hand, sure of one thing: the cause. A monster had arrived in the village. Just by using his mind, he took away the automobiles, the electricity, the machines - because they displeased him - and he moved an entire community back into the dark ages - just by using his mind. Now I'd like to introduce you to some of the people in Peaksville, Ohio. This is Mr. Fremont. It's in his farmhouse that the monster resides. This is Mrs. Fremont. And this is Aunt Amy, who probably had more control over the monster in the beginning than almost anyone. But one day she forgot. She began to sing aloud. Now, the monster doesn't like singing, so his mind snapped at her, turned her into the smiling, vacant thing you're looking at now. She sings no more. And you'll note that the people in Peaksville, Ohio, have to smile. They have to think happy thoughts and say happy things because once displeased, the monster can wish them into a cornfield or change them into a grotesque, walking horror. This particular monster can read minds, you see. He knows every thought, he can feel every emotion. Oh yes, I did forget something, didn't I? I forgot to introduce you to the monster. This is the monster. His name is Anthony Fremont. He's six years old, with a cute little-boy face and blue, guileless eyes. But when those eyes look at you, you'd better start thinking happy thoughts, because the mind behind them is absolutely in charge. This is the Twilight Zone.

Anthony:
No kids came to play with me today, not a single one, and I wanted someone to play with!

Mr. Fremont:
Well, Anthony, you remember what happened the last time some kids came over to play. The little Fredricks boy and his sister.

Anthony:
I had a real good time.

Mr. Fremont:
Oh, sure you did, you had a real good time, and it's good that you have a good time, it's real good. It's just that...

Anthony:
Just that what?

Mr. Fremont:
Well, Anthony, you uh... you wished them away into the cornfield, and their mommy and daddy were real upset.

Anthony:
About what?

Gunther Lutze:
You are going to pronounce sentence? Is that what you have in mind now? You will pronounce sentence, and then you shall execute that sentence. Is that correct? Ha! HA! [Bursts out laughing, then smashes out a pane of glass] PIGS! FILTH! YOU WILL ALL ASSEMBLE IN THE SQUARE, THERE TO PASS SENTENCE ON CAPTAIN LUTZE! YOU WILL CRAWL OUT OF YOUR GRAVES TO SEE THAT JUSTICE IS DONE! [Laughs more, then suddenly turns to Becker] Where are they? Where's the judge? Where's the jury? Where's the executioner? I'll tell you where they are. They're in your mind. You've hatched them out of your hatred. You've planned the vengeance out of the crazy quilt of your imagination. So together with thin little threads of wishful thinking, why didn't I kill you when I had the chance?! Why didn't I- [Charges at Becker, then stops] Becker?... I did kill you. I killed you-

Becker:
You killed me the night the Americans came close to the camp. You tried to burn it down, remember? You tried to kill everyone who was left. In my case, you succeeded. So, I think it would be a waste of time, Captain, wouldn't it? A waste of your precious time... of that little time you have left, to murder me again?

[Lutze screams furiously and charges, but Becker vanishes. Suddenly Lutze finds himself outside again]

Becker:
Captain Lutze. Captain Lutze; you have been tried and found guilty of crimes against humanity. It is the judgement of this court that from this day forth you shall be rendered insane.

Narrator:
All the Dachaus must remain standing. The Dachaus, the Belsens, the Buchenwalds, the Auschwitzes-all of them. They must remain standing because they are a monument to a moment in time when some men decided to turn the Earth into a graveyard. Into it they shoveled all of their reason, their logic, their knowledge, but worst of all, their conscience. And the moment we forget this, the moment we cease to be haunted by this remembrance, then we become gravediggers. Something to dwell on and remember, not only in the Twilight Zone but wherever men walk God's Earth.

Narrator:
The word that Mrs. Bronson is unable to put into the hot, still, sodden air is 'doomed,' because the people you've just seen have been handed a death sentence. One month ago, the Earth suddenly changed its elliptical orbit and in doing so began to follow a path which gradually, moment by moment, day by day, took it closer to the sun. And all of man's little devices to stir up the air are now no longer luxuries - they happen to be pitiful and panicky keys to survival. The time is five minutes to twelve, midnight. There is no more darkness. The place is New York City and this is the eve of the end, because even at midnight it's high noon, the hottest day in history, and you're about to spend it in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
The poles of fear, the extremes of how the Earth might conceivably be doomed. Minor exercise in the care and feeding of a nightmare, respectfully submitted by all the thermometer-watchers in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
The time is 1863, the place the state of Virginia. The event is a mass blood-letting known as the Civil War, a tragic moment in time when a nation was split into two fragments, each fragment deeming itself a nation. . . This is Joseph Paradine, Confederate cavalry, as he heads down toward a small town in the middle of a valley. But very shortly, Joseph Paradine will make contact with the enemy. He will also make contact with an outpost not found on a military map - an outpost called the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
On the following morning, Sergeant Paradine and the rest of these men were moved up north to a little town in Pennsylvania, an obscure little place where a battle was brewing, a town called Gettysburg, and this one was fought without the help of the Devil. Small historical note not to be found in any known books, but part of the records in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
The carcass of a goat, a dead finger, a few bits of broken glass and stone, and Mr. Alan Richards, a modern man of a modern age, hating with all his heart something in which he cannot believe and preparing, although he doesn't know it, to take the longest walk of his life, right down to the center of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Some superstitions, kept alive by the long night of ignorance, have their own special power. You'll hear of it through a jungle grapevine in a remote corner of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Mr. Mulligan, a rather dour critic of his times, is shortly to discover the import of that old phrase, "Out of the frying pan, into the fire," said fire burning brightly at all times in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
"To each his own" - so goes another old phrase to which Mr. Woodrow Mulligan would heartily subscribe, for he has learned, definitely the hard way, that there is much wisdom in a third old phrase which goes as follows: "Stay in your own backyard." To which it might be added, "and if possible, assist others to stay in theirs" - via, of course, the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Clown, hobo, ballet dancer, bagpiper, and an army major - a collection of question marks. Five improbable entities stuck together into a pit of darkness. No logic, no reason, no explanation; just a prolonged nightmare in which fear, loneliness and the unexplainable walk hand in hand through the shadows. In a moment we'll start collecting clues as to the whys, the whats and the wheres. We will not end the nightmare, we'll only explain it - because this is the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Just a barrel, a dark depository where are kept the counterfeit, make-believe pieces of plaster and cloth, wrought in the distorted image of human life. But this added, hopeful note: perhaps they are unloved only for the moment. In the arms of children there can be nothing but love. A clown, a tramp, a bagpipe player, a ballet dancer and a major. Tonight's cast of players on the odd stage known as the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
It's August, 1945, the last grimy pages of a dirty, torn book of war. The place is the Philippine Islands. The men are what's left of a platoon of American Infantry, whose dulled and tired eyes set deep in dulled and tired faces can now look toward a miracle, that moment when the nightmare appears to be coming to an end. But they've got one more battle to fight, and in a moment we'll observe that battle. August, 1945, Philippine Islands. But in reality it's high noon in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
'The quality of mercy is not strained, it droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.' Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice, but applicable to any moment in time, to any group of soldiery, to any nation on the face of the Earth - or, as in this case, to the Twilight Zone.

Harold Beldon:
Mother, give me your hand. You see. No shock. No engulfment. No tearing asunder. What you feared would come like an explosion is like a whisper. What you thought was the end is the beginning.

Narrator:
There was an old woman who lived in a room and, like all of us, was frightened of the dark, but who discovered in the minute last fragment of her life that there was nothing in the dark that wasn't there when the lights were on. Object lesson for the more frightened amongst us, in or out of the Twilight Zone.

Radin:
Tell me, Reverend, is life so stinking cheap that you can throw it down a drain?

Reverend:
Life is very dear, Mr. Radin, infinitely valuable. But, there are other things that come even higher. Honor is one of them, perhaps the most expensive of them all.

Narrator:
Mr. Paul Radin, a dealer in fantasy, who sits in the rubble of his own making and imagines that he's the last man on Earth, doomed to a perdition of unutterable loneliness because a practical joke has turned into a nightmare. Mr. Paul Radin, pallbearer at a funeral that he manufactured himself in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Nathan Edward Bledsoe, of the Bowery Bledsoes, a man once, a specter now. One of those myriad modern-day ghosts that haunt the reeking nights of the city in search of a flop, a handout, a glass of forgetfulness. Nate doesn't know it but his search is about to end, because those shiny new shoes are going to carry him right into the capital of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
There's an old saying that goes, 'If the shoe fits, wear it.' But be careful. If you happen to find a pair of size nine black-and-gray loafers, made to order in the old country, be very careful--you might walk right into the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
An old man and a hound dog named Rip, off for an evening's pleasure in quest of raccoon. Usually, these evenings end with one tired old man, one battle-scarred hound dog and one or more extremely dead raccoons, but as you may suspect that will not be the case tonight. These hunters won't be coming home from the hill. They're headed for the backwoods of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Travellers to unknown regions would be well-advised to take along the family dog. He could just save you from entering the wrong gate. At least, it happened that way once--in a mountainous area of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Sunnyvale Rest, a home for the aged, a dying place, and a common children's game called kick the can that will shortly become a refuge for a man who knows he will die in this world if he doesn't escape into the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Sunnyvale Rest, a dying place for ancient people who have forgotten the fragile magic of youth. A dying place for those who have forgotten that childhood, maturity and old age are curiously intertwined and not separate. A dying place for those who have grown too stiff in their thinking to visit the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Mr. Fitzgerald Fortune, theater critic and cynic at large, on his way to a birthday party. If he knew what is in store for him he probably wouldn't go, because before this evening is over that cranky old piano is going to play 'Those Piano Roll Blues' - with some effects that could happen only in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
A man who went searching for concealed persons. And found himself, in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Time, the mid-twenties. Place, the Midwest, the southernmost section of the Midwest. We were just witnessing a funeral, a funeral that didn't come off exactly as planned, due to a slight fallout from the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Jeff and Comfort are still alive today, and their only son is a United States Senator. He's noted as an uncommonly shrewd politician, and some believe he must have gotten his education in the Twilight Zone.

Pat:
Mr. Chambers! Don't get on that ship! The rest of the book, To Serve Man, it's... it's a cookbook!

Narrator:
The recollections of one Michael Chambers, with appropriate flashbacks and soliloquy. Or more simply stated, the evolution of man, the cycle of going from dust to dessert, the metamorphosis from being the ruler of a planet to an ingredient in someone's soup. It's tonight's bill of fare on the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
It's been said that science fiction and fantasy are two different things: science fiction the improbable made possible; fantasy, the impossible made probable. What would you have if you put these two different things together? Well, you'd have an old man named Ben who knows a lot of tricks most people don't know and a little girl named Jenny who loves him, and a journey into the heart of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Mrs. Gann will be in for a big surprise when she finds this under Jenny's pillow, because Mrs. Gann has more temper than imagination. She'll never dream that this is a picture of Old Ben as he really looks, and it will never occur to her that eventually her niece will grow up to be an honest-to-goodness queen, somewhere in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Missing: one frightened little girl. Name: Bettina Miller. Description: six years of age, average height and build, light brown hair, quite pretty. Last seen being tucked into bed by her mother a few hours ago. Last heard--aye, there's the rub, as Hamlet put it. For Bettina Miller can be heard quite clearly, despite the rather curious fact that she can't be seen at all. Present location? Let's say for the moment--in the Twilight Zone.

Chris:
What is it?

Bill:
The opening.

Ruth:
To what?

Bill:
I think... to another dimension.

Craig:
[Showing Fletcher the statue of him] The little people did that. They did it overnight.

Fletcher:
What do you give them in return, Craig?

Craig:
I won't tramp my feet down... on their town.

Craig:
Whoever invented this stuff must have had stomach trouble; no compassion for his fellow man or his fellow man's bowels! Well, there may come a moment in time when I'll enjoy this.

Fletcher:
There may come a moment in time when you'll lick your own foot, as if it were the drumstick of a Thanksgiving turkey! But until it does come to that, buddy, you'll eat what is prescribed to eat! And if you've got tears to shed, you save them for bedtime and weep them into your pillow; don't spray them all over me! It's a waste of time, and it's a waste of effort; it's also dull, and it's tough to live with! Is that clear, Craig?

Craig:
Loud, and...

Fletcher:
Then dwell on it! And while you're dwelling on it, you might count a few blessings. We don't have much food or water, that's a fact. But we landed in a place where there's oxygen, and we can survive. Plus, we walked away from that crash with hardly a bone out of place. Now, the standing order is as follows: you got any deep-rooted complaints, you jot them down in the ship's log; don't bother me with them! Now, is THAT clear?

Craig:
Still loud and, COMMANDER.

Narrator:
The reluctant gentleman with the sizeable mouth is Mr. Frisby. He has all the drive of a broken camshaft and the aggressive vinegar of a corpse. As you've no doubt gathered, his big stock in trade is the tall tale. Now, what he doesn't know is that the visitors out front are a very special breed, destined to change his life beyond anything even his fertile imagination could manufacture. The place is Pitchville Flats, the time is the present. But Mr. Frisby's on the first leg of a rather fanciful journey into the place we call the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Mr. Somerset Frisby, who might have profited by reading an Aesop fable about a boy who cried wolf. Tonight's tall tale from the timberlands--of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Mr. and Mrs. John Holt, aging people who slowly and with trembling fingers turn the last pages of a book of life and hope against logic and the preordained that some magic printing press will add to this book another limited edition. But these two senior citizens happen to live in a time of the future where nothing is impossible, even the trading of old bodies for new. Mr. and Mrs. John Holt, in their twilight years--who are about to find that there happens to be a zone with the same name.

Narrator:
From Kahil Gibran's The Prophet: 'Love gives not but itself and takes not from itself, love possesses not nor would it be possessed, for love is sufficient unto love.' Not a lesson, just a reminder, from all the sentimentalists in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
The place is Mexico, just across the Texas border, a mountain village held back in time by its remoteness and suddenly intruded upon by the twentieth century. And this is Pedro, nine years old, a lonely, rootless little boy, who will soon make the acquaintance of a traveller from a distant place. We are at present forty miles from the Rio Grande, but any place and all places can be--the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Madiero, Mexico, the present. The subject: fear. The cure: a little more faith. An Rx off a shelf--in the Twilight Zone.

Willie:
You made me what I am today. I hope you're satisfied...like the song, by the same name...

Narrator:
What's known in the parlance of the times as the old switcheroo, from boss to blockhead in a few easy lessons. And if you're given to nightclubbing on occasion, check this act. It's called Willie and Jerry, and they generally are booked into some of the clubs along the 'Gray Night Way' known as the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
You're looking at the house of the late Mrs. Henrietta Walker. This is Mrs. Walker herself, as she appeared twenty-five years ago. And this, except for isolated objects, is the living room of Mrs. Walker's house, as it appeared in that same year. The other rooms upstairs and down are pretty much the same. The time, however, is not twenty-five years ago but now. The house of the late Henrietta Walker is, you see, a house which belongs almost entirely to the past, a house which, like Mrs. Walker's clock here, has ceased to recognize the passage of time. Only one element is missing now, one remaining item in the estate of the late Mrs. Walker: her son Alex, thirty-four years of age and, up till twenty minutes ago, the so-called 'perennial bachelor.' With him is his bride, the former Miss Virginia Lane. They're returning from the city hall in order to get Mr. Walker's clothes packed, make final arrangements for the sale of the house, lock it up and depart on their honeymoon. Not a complicated set of tasks, it would appear, and yet the newlywed Mrs. Walker is about to discover that the old adage 'You can't go home again' has little meaning in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Exit Miss Virginia Lane, formerly and most briefly Mrs. Alex Walker. She has just given up a battle and in a strange way retreated, but this has been a retreat back to reality. Her opponent, Alex Walker, will now and forever hold a line that exists in the past. He has put a claim on a moment in time and is not about to relinquish it. Such things do happen--in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
They make a fairly convincing pitch here, It doesn't seem possible, though, to find a woman who might be ten times better than mother in order to seem half as good--except, of course, in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
A fable? Most assurdly. But who's to say at some distant moment…?

Narrator:
Submitted for your approval: the case of one Miss Agnes Grep, put on Earth with two left feet, an overabundance of thumbs and a propensity for falling down manholes. In a moment she will up to her jaw in miracles, wrought by apprentice angel Harmon Cavender, intent on winning his wings. And, though, it's a fact that both of them should have stood in bed, they will tempt all the fates by moving into the cold, gray dawn of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
A word to the wise now to any and all who might suddenly feel the presence of a cigar-smoking helpmate who takes bankbooks out of thin air. If you're suddenly aware of any such celestial aids, it means that you're under the beneficent care of one Harmon Cavender, guardian angel. And this meesage from the Twilight Zone: lotsa luck!

Narrator:
Professor Ellis Fowler, a gentle, bookish guide to the young, who is about to discover that life still has certain surprises, and that the Rock Springs School for Boys lies on a direct path to another institution, commonly referred to as the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Professor Ellis Fowler, teacher, who discovered rather belatedly something of his own value. A very small scholastic lesson, from the campus of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
One old man in a private world of irrational urgencies. For Dr. Jeremy Sinclair not too common sight but Edgar Witherspoon is a most uncommon old man with a secret that reaches out to the four corners of the Earth as the good doctor is about to discover.

Narrator:
If in the next few months you notice that there has been a spate of catastrophes or things are just not going right, remember that Edgar Witherspoon's replacement is learning how to make some precise adjustments. Don't worry, his education will not last long and then you might give thanks to a physician whose practice extends to the well-being of the entire planet. Dr. Jeremy Sinclair offers a unique form of preventive medicine found only in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
It's been said that the body is the means through which an athlete can best reveal the dynamic potential of the human spirit. But what happens when the means to that expression is injured beyond repair? Meet Ed Handler, a once-prominent player in the big leagues, a man who's never resolved himself to his faith as a non-participant, who will soon be forced to bat in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Ed Handler, Monty Hanks. To some, a mere face on a trading card but to a special friend, he is an eternal boy of summer. An athlete who found himself drafted by a unique team in a league that plays its games, in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
There dwells in this parish, a modern day apostle and master builder, who lists among his tools of trade: a Bible, a rosary, and a calculator. His name: Father Mark Cassidy. Age: 42. A fair and noble man who's about to discover one of his accounts is still open. That account is labeled "guilt" and its concealed in a ledger stored...in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Blessed are the pure in spirit for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. A message delivered from thousands of pulpits to millions of people yearning for peace, including one local parish priest whose road to peace and salvation crossed right through...the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
A beautiful summer day full of adventure for a young boy. On the surface, a field, like any other, soon to be covered with neatly arranged family homes. But today, this curious boy is about to discover a terrifying secret that can only be shared within the confines...of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Time is the invincible enemy of mortal flesh; or so modern man believes. But somewhere in the dark past a few of our distant ancestors discovered a way to bridge the millenia. It's a secret that was buried 12,000 years ago, and rediscovered for a brief moment...in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Portrait of a man having a bad dream. His name: Roger Simpson Leeds. Place of residence: A retirement home. Roger Simpson Leeds, who since the death of his wife three years ago, has dedicated himself to living a life in which he touches no one and no one touches him. But now, contact has been made and Mr. Leeds is about to find himself touched...by the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Mr. Roger Simpson Leeds, lately returned from a journey into shadow, who found that there is no darkness so complete that it cannot be penetrated by the human heart, or...the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Mary McNeal, dealer in dreams and memories to whom the recovering of past lives is the greatest good she can render to a forgetful humanity. 8:57 P.M. and Mary McNeal makes another attempt to discover a previous life. However, the journey she is about to take is to another place; a land whose borders are defined by the region we call...the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Mary McNeal, who set out on a voyage of discovery that brought her home again by a most curious route. Now, appointed guardian of doors best kept sealed, in the mirror, mirror world...of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Miley Judson, an everyman who has strayed from the path, slipped and fallen, many times. A man who seeks solace from his problems at the bottom of a glass. A good man, at war with himself, slowly drowning in alcohol, swallow by swallow. Pulled down by the insidious undertow of an endless ocean of booze, helpless to stop doing the one thing he does better than anything else: drink.

Narrator:
Miley Judson happened upon the simple discovery that there is no sure-fire cure, no quick fix, no shortcut to either sobriety or peace of mind. Some people achieve it through an individual act of will, others find strength in numbers. What Miley Judson needed was a little something extra, something that could only be found...in The Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Your attention is drawn to the residence of the Brockman clan. An ancient mansion, its paneled walls polished by darkness; a lifeless, soundless place, upon which a greater darkness has fallen. The object of the deathwatch, Selena Brockman, grand dame of the menagerie, who lies in her bed in an inch-by-inch battle with death, trying somehow to reach a compromise instead of a capitulation.

Narrator:
Jane Doe: age unknown. Sole survivor of a terrible fire, soon to undergo a miraculous recovery. A living warning to those who fail to perceive the distinction that there is a difference between the fear of death and the love of life, especially...in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Norman Blane, whose greatest fear is that, if he were to vanish from the Earth tomorrow, no one will notice, or mourn, or question, and whose greatest sadness is the realization that he is probably right. Sofa, coffee table, chair, and pet; solitary decorations in a life noted chiefly for its isolation. Point of origin and point of destination for Norman Blane, whose days and nights are routinely swallowed into unhappy silence.

Narrator:
On display: a very special exhibit, cast in bronze and loneliness; a tender symmetry of line and form, suggestive of love, finally found...in the Twilight Zone

Narrator:
Lights. A crowd. The proper atmosphere. And the common coin of desperate belief. Commodities necessary to the life and times of Leonard Randall, who may or may not be someone else as well.

Narrator:
Critical reviews received and reluctantly acknowledged by Mr. Leonard Randall. A case study in showmanship who found himself upstaged, in the final act...by the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Louise Simonson, considered quite pretty once, not long ago. Before the arguments, and the years and the stick took it out of her. Louise Simonson, like so many, broken on the wheel, with one subtle difference...this wheel has a name.

Narrator:
Louise Simonson, driven by pain and anger, into the desperate regions of the human heart, only to discover the preeminence of her own personal power and an act of recognition that reverberates in and out of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Focus on Warren Cribbens, a myopic little man. Precise with figures, awkward with people. His horizons? A bottom line dotted with decimal points. But his safety in numbers is about to be erased.

Narrator:
Accidents will happen, and Warren Cribbens had a lucky break. Instead of blindly following orders, his eyes were opened and he saw humanity and discovered it was his greatest asset. Add him to the list of those who have peered into...the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Not so very long ago, before computerized toys and cathode-ray characters did our speaking and thinking for us, one of the storytellers most important tools was imagination. The imagination of an audience. That was how it used to be. Once upon a time...

Narrator:
There was an old woman. A page in a book. Mere phrases and words, of which no one would look. But a tale worth telling has a life of its own. Happily ever after, in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
It's been said that all good things come to those who wait. This is Willy Gardner, a man whose lifetime of waiting is about to end. Willy Gardner, a man with limited space, limited horizons, and limited contact with humanity. People float in and out of his life like flotsam and jetsam washing up on the beach. But the law of salvage is about to change all that. Today, Willy is about to find something very valuable on his particular beach...in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Willy Gardner, a simple man who discovered in a steamer trunk the difference between possessions and real wealth. Once adrift in a sea of humanity, he's finally found a safe harbor, in a port of call...known as the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
One man, one heart. An obsolete fact of life. Witness Tom Bennett, a man who accepts this new organ as just one more item money can buy. A man who would tell you that the boundaries of the Twilight Zone are shrinking as miracles become commonplace.

Narrator:
A philosopher once wrote: "The heart has its reasons that reason does not know." Perhaps he was born knowing that truth. Or perhaps, like Mr. Tom Bennett, he discovered it with a little help...from the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
On the frontier, any frontier, there can be little margin for error. Just as the first covered wagons making their way across the American desert had a finite supply of food and water, so too on this even vaster frontier are there laws that must be strictly observed. Thomas Barton has been piloting Emergency Dispatch Ships for five years. He has never been faced with this particular law of the frontier, until now. Thomas Barton is about to discover firsthand that there are limits, even here in the boundless reaches of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
In the darkness, Thomas Barton hurtles toward his destination with the realization that there is room for emotion on the wilder frontiers of the universe. Emotion and memory of a girl who had not known that sometimes it takes a human life to balance the cold equation in the black geometry...of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
For Danny Wilkins, a sunny afternoon is a world of adventure. He's a typical boy who likes nothing better than following a trail, just to see where it goes. But today, that trail will lead Danny through a private reserve, which lies just inside the borders...of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Danny Wilkins, beneficiary of an act of kindness offered by a stranger. A stranger who's been reminded of a truth, the power of which cuts across races, cultures and even species-the love between parent and child. It's a truth that can change minds and actions even in a place known...as the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Steve Cranston, a man living what Thoreau called 'a life of quiet desperation'. A man once successful, once firmly ensconced in the American Dream, only to have it turned into a nightmare. Steve Cranston, a statistic, whose number is about to be called...from the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
It has been a time of changes for Steve Cranston. And the hard times are by no means over. But perhaps now the decisions ahead will be a little easier to make. There are no easy answers, here...or in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
We direct your attention to the man with the sleek, black briefcase. His name: Dr. Mallory Craig. Occupation: psychologist, newly employed by the Crest Ridge Sanitarium. For the last two weeks, he has been visualizing his first day, looking forward to it with eager anticipation. But there's a terror behind those cold institutional walls that nothing in his education has prepared him for.

Narrator:
Next time you're alone, look quickly at the wallpaper, and the ceiling, and the cracks on the sidewalk. Look for the patterns and lines and faces on the wall. Look, if you can, for Sharon Miles, visible only out of the corner of your eye or...in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Jesse Cardiff, pool shark; the best on Randall Street, who will soon learn that trying to be the best of anything carries its own special risk, in or out of...the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Lives of great men all remind us, we can make our lives sublime; and departing, leave behind us footprints on the sands of time, on the earth, as we know it, and...in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Alexander McAndrews, former test pilot, with a paper trail of commendations and a closet full of broken records. A man for whom the unknown is to be faced, not feared; conquered, not surrendered to. Alexander McAndrews, who is about to face yet another unknown, but this one is unlike all the others, for this one burns at the very heart...of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Major Alexander McAndrews, retired, who learned that there is a better world and that sometimes heaven is place better left untouched by human hands. There may be one more commendation yet to come for the major. One that says 'for services rendered in the Twilight Zone'.

Narrator:
Current guest in room 2426: Martin Decker, theoretical biochemist, checked in for observation a week ago. It seems he was displaying antisocial behavior, wrong thinking and other intellectual crimes against the state. Diagnosis: schizophrenia. Curable only by intense therapy sessions, followed by a full confession and disclosure of the facts. Once cured, Martin will be released...or buried.

Narrator:
As man has progressed, up from the mud and down from the trees, his best tool has always been logical thought. That tool has taken us in a grand arc, from the first flint against steel to the apocalypse of colliding atoms. What Martin Decker, man of science, has learned is that every once in a while, we must step out of the confines of logic and take a leap of faith...into the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
The year is nineteen hundred and ninety nine. Within the box, evidence that some things do not change with the passage of time; its contents, the collected debris of a shattered life, now valuable only for the dimes and nickels they can solicit from a third party. A familiar process and a familiar long walk that is about to lead into the unfamiliar terrain...of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Exit: Simon Foster; a patchwork collection of lost dreams held together by the stolen memories of strangers. A man who discovered that we truly are the sum of our parts. Mr. Simon Foster, a very special resident... of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Andrea Moffatt longs for true love. A man who is strong, handsome, and exotic; who desires her above all other women. She is about to learn that naivete has a price and that the universe has a very curious sense of humor.

Narrator:
A lesson on romance versus reality, with a word of warning for those who want to mix the two: don't, or you may find your head in the clouds, your feet on the ground, and the rest of you, somewhere...in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
A city hospital, 8 P.M. An unexpected visitor has just arrived, bearing unwelcome tidings, a disease so new the textbooks haven't recorded it. This then is its first case history, documented from the medical files...of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Enigma, draped in hospital sheets and self-imposed darkness with the added sobering thought that Claire Hendricks is perfectly correct in her own diagnosis. Take it as a warning, a cry for humanity or a simple plea for responsibility from the dark places of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Barbara LeMay, the woman in black, out of place in a world of colors and sounds and life. A woman caught between fascination and something more profound, and less earthly. Barbara LeMay, with one foot in the grave; the other, firmly planted in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Incident in a hospital room. Part of the status quo of life and death. A visitation accompanied by cold winds and warm hands locked in a midnight embrace...in the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
The next time you think people are talking about you behind your back or a happy coincidence seems just a little too good to be true, check behind the bathroom mirror or see if there are any channels missing from your TV. It just might be that John Selig's ratings have dropped and you've become a star in the phosphor-dot world...of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
The man behind the wheel is Jack Haines, a long-haul trucker. On any other night, he'd be on the lookout for a good time, but that's changed. A lot has changed for Jack because of one overheard telephone conversation. He learned that tonight his wife is meeting another man here at the Mustang Bar, his name unknown. The only thing Jack Haines knows for certain is that tonight, there's going to be murder at the Mustang, a little place ten miles from town and deep in the heart...of the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
No comment necessary, except to note the necessity of caution when the hands show midnight in the dark hour of the human soul. A song of warning and hope written in somber red and copyrighted...by the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
As certain as death and taxes, we are told that the meek will definitely inherit the Earth. Perhaps, but not always. Consider if you will Mr. Arky Lochner, a well-known petty crook, sidebar six-for-five or shylock, registered coward, and owner of a yellow streak so vivid it could be slathered on a hot dog. Mr. Lochner was written out of the will when the meek were guaranteed their inheritance, and just now he is trying to avoid another kind of payoff, a soulful payoff, in that off-track betting parlor we call...the Twilight Zone.

Narrator:
Oh, Arky, Arky. Poor Mr. Lochner. In the magical, mystical bookie parlor we call the Twilight Zone, there's an old, old, very old saying: "Making a deal with a demon is seriously crazy. But making a deal with a master of demons, well, that's crazy as a soup sandwich".

Narrator:
Don't be deceived by the youthful appearance of our subject, Darius Stephens. He abused his body for seventy-nine years. Now he's walking on his own bought-and-paid-for two feet, down a path he hopes will lead him to a new life.

Narrator:
Darius Stephens, the product of a new generation of medical miracles that began with false teeth, expanded into prosthetic limbs, and reached near-godhood in plastic surgery and mechanical hearts. As we continue to second-guess and improve upon nature, we are reminded that there is more to being alive than mere flesh and blood...in the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
What you're about to watch is a nightmare. It is not meant to be prophetic, it need not happen. It's the fervent and urgent prayer of all men of good will that it never shall happen. But in this place, in this moment, it does happen. This is the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
No moral, no message, no prophetic tract. Just a simple statement of fact. For civilization to survive, the human race has to remain civilized. Tonight's very small exercise in logic from the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
No comment here. No comment at all. We only wanted to introduce to one of our very special citizens: little Anthony Fremont, age six, who lives in a village called Peaksville in a place that used to be Ohio. And if by some strange chance you should run across him, you had best think only good thoughts. Anything less than that is handled at your own risk. Because if you do meet Anthony, you can be sure of one thing - you have entered the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
An old woman living in a nightmare, an old woman who has fought a thousand battles with death and always won. Now she's faced with a grim decision - whether or not to open a door. And in some strange and frightening way she knows that this seemingly ordinary door leads to the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
What you have just looked at takes place three hundred feet underground, beneath the basement of a New York City skyscraper. It's owned and lived in by one Paul Radin. Mr. Radin is rich, eccentric and single-minded. How rich we can already perceive. How eccentric and single-minded we shall see in a moment, because all of you have just entered the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
Some one-hundred-odd years ago, a motley collection of tough mustaches galloped across the West and left behind a raft of legends and legerdemains. And it seems a reasonable conjecture that if there are any television sets up in cowboy heaven, and any one of these rough-and-woolly nail-eaters could see with what careless abandon their names and exploits are being bandied about, they're very likely turning over in their graves - or worse, getting out of them. Which gives you a clue as to the proceedings that'll begin in just a moment, when one Mr. Rance McGrew, a three-thousand-buck-a-week phony-baloney discovers that this week's current edition of make-believe is being shot on location - and that location is The Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
Respectfully submitted for your perusal – a Kanamit. Height: a little over nine feet. Weight: in the neighborhood of three hundred and fifty pounds. Origin: unknown. Motives? Therein hangs the tale, for in just a moment, we're going to ask you to shake hands, figuratively, with a Christopher Columbus from another galaxy and another time. This is the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
Cameo of a man who has just lost his most valuable possession. He doesn't know about the loss, yet. In fact, he doesn't even know about the possession. Because, like most people, David Gurney has never really thought about the matter of his identity. But he's going to be thinking a great deal about it from now on, because that is what he's lost. And his search for it is going to take him into the darkest corners - of The Twilight Zone.

Oliver Crangle:
Four o' clock, Pete. That's when we'll make it occur. We'll make it occur at four o'clock. At that moment, at that precise moment, we shall...destroy evil. This is both my charge and my obligation, Pete: to destroy evil. And we shall do it at four o'clock. I'm not quite sure of the method yet, but that will come to me. It will come to me assuredly and it will be...a revelation. It will be the exploration of immorality, the exordium of the end. Four o'clock, Pete. That's when we'll make it happen, Pete, whatever form I choose. Four o'clock.

Rod Serling:
That's Oliver Crangle, a dealer in petulance and poison. He's rather arbitrarily chosen four o'clock as his personal Gotterdammerung, and we are about to watch the metamorphosis of a twisted fanatic, poisoned by the gangrene of prejudice, to the status of avenging angel, upright and omniscient, dedicated and fearsome. Whatever your clocks say, it's four o'clock - and wherever you are, it happens to be the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
At four o'clock, an evil man made his bed and lay in it, a pot called a kettle black, a stone-thrower broke the windows of his glass house. You look for this one under 'F' for fanatic and 'J' for justice - in The Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
You're watching a ventriloquist named Jerry Etherson, a voice thrower par excellence. His alter ego, sitting atop his lap, is a brash stick of kindling with the sobriquet 'Willie'. In a moment, Mr. Etherson and his knotty-pine partner will be booked in one of the out-of-the-way bistros, that small, dark, intimate place known as the Twilight Zone.

Rod Serling:
As of this moment, the wonderful electric grandmother moved into the lives of children and father. She became integral and important, she became the essence. As of this moment, they would never see lightning, never hear poetry read, never listen to foreign tongues without thinking of her. Everything they would ever see, hear, taste, feel would remind them of her. She was all life and all life was wondrous, quick, electrical - like Grandma.

Rod Serling:
A fable? Most assuredly. But who's to say at some distant moment there might be an assembly line producing a gentle product in the form of a grandmother whose stock in trade is love? Fable, sure, but who's to say?

Narrator:
Introduction to Mr. John Selig, a reasonably average man who goes through life with both eyes open and both hands firmly on the wheel. Mr. John Selig, practical and steady, who's about to be blindsided...by the Twilight Zone.