Original subtitles

People ask, where do you get your ideas?

Well, right here.

All this is mine.

I'll never starve here.

I'm Ray Bradbury.

And this is...

Tennis shoes, to remind me of what? The first nights

of summer, when as a boy I ran in the cool grass?

Or later, walking at night?

being stopped by police who were suspicious of the only one walking for

and miles.

Upset with this encounter with the law, what else could I do but write about

shoes and night and walking as a criminal in some future year in a story

The Pedestrian.

Stockwell. It's Leonard Mead.

Len.

Brought you stuff.

The streets look like a chessboard just waiting for us to make our move.

Stockwell.

I know you're there. I can feel your temperature with my hand.

Damn it to hell. Open up.

Get in.

You wake the dead.

Where were you?

In the bathroom.

The hell.

She had you.

Didn't she, Bob?

Hmm?

The head of the Medusa lies in my parlor and stares.

My friends are frozen to statues, numbed by the Medusa's glares.

Radiant fuzz collects in our ears while this new god...

Paints life on our eyes.

Incredible sop. New dwelling of the Keystone Cop.

Cathedral of the Demi -Divine.

Pint -bye.

Sorry.

Well? You ready?

For what?

What? You put on the black pants?

Eh?

So I did.

And, Bob, look.

Look what I've brought.

A black sweater.

And a dark shirt.

And a black hat.

We'll be almost invisible.

And, Bob, look.

Tennis shoes.

No.

Sound. You'd think we were criminals.

We... are.

Well?

I... Bob, what's on that's good?

Great show.

Trick times ten. Grab a chair. It's very exciting. Bob!

I've seen it.

So have you.

When it was called Fun Times Five.

Sixteen for show.

Go for broke.

I better go.

Now you're peeved. No, no, no.

We'll do it some other time.

What's it like out there at night?

Well...

The air is sweet.

It's deep autumn, you know.

It's a good wind.

The leaves run along the sidewalk and nibble at your feet like a pack of mice.

There's a hill not far from here where you can stand and look down at the

stars of light in the city and then look up at the light of the stars in the sky

and you feel rich and sad.

Alive.

That's how it is.

Give or take a metaphor.

Len, wait for me.

There.

How do I look?

Fine. Well, what are we waiting for?

Nothing.

Let's check Is there danger?

Very little Little?

None Let's go

And, Bob, look.

What is that?

It's dew.

Billions of drops of dew.

Now, which way?

Okay.

So, this is what

you talked about for the last two years. To be a pedestrian.

Yes. I don't feel guilty. Should you?

Well, nobody else is doing it.

Watch it.

Tree root.

Another year, grass cover this all.

Then we'll have to pathfind our way through the wilderness.

Easy. You all right?

People once used these sidewalks a lot.

Yes. People strolled along on a Sunday afternoon.

Over beyond the hills in timeless time on paths, boardwalks, or cement.

But once, oh, yes, people idled by rivers and said things that later made

easy, lazing books of the chewed grass. You ever tasted grass, Bob? Come here.

There.

I would have said sweet.

Here.

What?

They're coming this way.

It's all right.

There's only one patrol helicopter for our part of the city.

Yes, olden times.

Men had eyes and ears, and if they got bored, it was up to them to break the

boredom. Life was a riverboat then, passing the

slow banks.

Life's a rocket today.

So far, so fast, we've no time to see the dust from which we

sprang.

Wait, you're drunk.

The more I walk, the drunker I get.

Yes.

Yes, walking does.

Well, I'm covered in goose flesh.

There, look at that, damn it.

I haven't seen that since I was a boy.

Moon has a baker man face, all coupled with flour, and warm as summer.

You see?

I'm drunk, too.

Hey.

What? What? Hey.

Television voices.

It's all right. See?

Houses are dark.

Our cities are haunted.

Haunted? By the ghost machines.

Think.

Ninety percent of the actors we see on our TV screens have been dead.

Forty years.

Yes. Our telephones are haunted, too.

Yes, yes.

Why, you can't get hold of a real person if you want one.

They're all old taped voices that give out the weather, the time.

Voices.

Immortal now.

Giving out wrong numbers forever.

Listen.

They've got dogs.

The dogs know we're out here. And I'll tell you a secret.

They're frightened of us.

Why? Because we're walking and they're not.

Easy.

Have you ever been caught?

Never.

Oh.

Down, Bob.

I think we best take me home now.

But, Glenn...

I...

I wonder, do they ever miss this?

Who?

What, the sidewalk?

No.

It's easier to sit back and let other people's shadows show their hands on the

wall for you.

Look.

There's a rabbit.

A wolf.

A demon.

Me.

I've always had a pop -up puppet show in my mind for fun.

Games.

Your own theater in your head.

Always. I used to talk myself to sleep in a dozen voices when I was 12.

Len. What good is doing this?

I guess I'm waiting for the day when...

People, like dogs, realize that they're sick. They go into the field to eat

sweet grass.

Oh, my God, they're back.

Now, go.

Oh, my God, if I ever get home, I'm going to hate you forever.

God, run.

Getting me into this.

Stupid never again.

Shh. Pop, quiet.

Quiet.

We're safe now.

Nothing to fear.

Nothing? Safe?

Stay.

That's it.

Sky Patrol Unit 1, two prowlers.

Elm Terrace, Block D.

Prowlers? Suspects.

Suspects? Possible criminals now being photographed.

Take. Heads up.

First suspect.

Height, 6 foot 3 inches.

Age, approximate 50.

Hair, balding. Eyes, gray -blue.

Scar, right cheek.

Bone structure, medial.

Weight, approximate 235.

Name?

Leonard Meade. Hands out. Palms up. Meade.

Meade, stand.

Second man, you.

Eyes open.

It's not so bad. Hands out, you.

Second man.

Height, 5 '8". Age, 44.

Correction, 45.

No scars.

Bone structure, light.

Color of eyes.

Eyes. Open. Eyes.

Open. Eyes.

Brown. Name?

Name? Robert Stockwell.

Name?

Stockwell, I said. Name?

Robert Stockwell. Hands out, palms up, Stockwell.

Me. Address?

0842 Oak Street.

Stockwell. Address?

0867 Oak Street.

I can't see the lights.

Correct. Criminal Assay Unit 9. Audio, visual, sending, receiving.

I got the words.

Recording now.

Everything you say is permanent.

What did I say? What did I say?

What did I say?

Is that my voice?

Patrol armed to shoot. Quiet.

Oh, quiet.

Me. Profession?

I guess you'd say writer.

No guesses accepted.

Profession? Writer.

No profession.

Don't mention it. Stockwell.

Sure machine operator.

What? Repeat.

I make shoes.

Would you believe that nobody ever walks on?

Stockwell, what are you doing out?

I invited him. He invited me.

What are you doing out?

Walking. Walking?

Just walking, walking, walking.

Just walking. Walking where?

Nowhere.

No such destination.

Nowhere is a very fine destination.

Unacceptable data.

Oh, oh. Two blocks east, one block north, two blocks west, one block south.

The Grand Tour.

Grand Tour?

To breathe the air.

The fresh air.

Stockwell, me, at your homes.

Do you or do you not have a complete set of air conditioners?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Then, question repeated.

What are you doing out?

To look at things.

To see, yeah.

Do you have television viewing screens in your homes?

Yes, yeah, fine one. I love to watch.

Mead?

No. No? No.

The viewing screen.

On what date was it broken?

April.

April, that long ago?

Mr.

Meade, are you married?

Nobody wanted me.

Correct.

Stockwell?

My wife's dead. You have yet to explain your actions tonight.

Meade, have you done this often?

Almost every night for years.

Stockwell?

I'm responsible.

Leonard. You know I am, Bob.

He's never been out before.

Bob's innocent.

No, Leonard.

Mr. Meade, get in.

No, Leonard.

Stockwell, go home.

Be it.

Get in.

I'll call you, Bob.

Where are they taking you?

To the Psychiatric Center for Research on Regressive Tendencies. Am I right?

That information is not mine.

Lynn!

Be careful!

Okay. You too.

No more night jaunts, all right? Keep your neck in.

It's empty.

What?

It's empty.

I've never seen one up close before.

It's just a traveling robot.

I wonder if anyone's alive at the other end.

Ha!

Wouldn't that be something?

They were all dead, and this thing just went on all by itself,

enforcing the law.

What will they think of next?

Leonard!

Stockwell, disperse.

Leonard.

Stockwell, disperse. I warned you.

You see?

You see?

It doesn't pay.

Len.

Leonard.

You know what I'm going to do?

I'm going to go right home and burn this black sweater in the black.

pants and his stupid blank tennis shoes.

That's what I'm going to do.

Dandelion!

Gone to seed.