Original subtitles

There is a fifth dimension beyond that which is known to man.

It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity.

It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and

superstition, and it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his

knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination.

It is an area which we call the twilight zone.

You're looking at act one, scene one of a nightmare.

One not restricted to witching hours and dark, rain-swept nights.

Professor Walter Jameson, popular beyond words.

Who talks of the past as if it were the present.

Who conjures up the dead as if they were alive.

The Union soldiers burned Atlanta.

But I assure you they took no pleasure in their work.

They were forced to it.

By a man they hated more than they could ever hate the rebels.

An ugly, sullen, unbelievably brutal man named William

Tecumseh Sherman.

To give you a more comprehensive idea of this great hero, let me read you a few

extracts from the diary of Major Skelton.

The date is Tuesday, September 11th, 1864.

The city was ours.

There was no need to destroy aught save that which could be of use in the fight

against us.

But Sherman was drunk with victory.

He himself started the awful fires.

The fires that destroyed that great citadel of grace and beauty.

In the view of this man, Professor Samuel Kitteridge...

Walter Jameson has access to knowledge that couldn't come out of a volume of

history, but rather from a book on black magic, which is to say that

this nightmare begins at noon.

Very vivid, Walter.

You had me on the edge of my seat.

Thank you, Sam.

I begin to see why these lectures of yours are so popular. Is that why you

sat in? Well, partially.

Tell me something. Who is this Major Skelton?

Oh, just a lawyer who happened to have missed. Uh, what regiment?

123rd Illinois Infantry.

Well, I must say, this diary of his is a fascinating document.

May I see it?

I don't suppose I could borrow it.

I never lend book stamps and mine to professors.

Remember the last time?

Yes.

You're right.

Anything wrong, Sam?

No.

Could you come for dinner tonight?

Whose invitation?

Yours or Susanna's? Mine this time.

Say, seven o'clock?

All right.

Good.

Really, darling? Must you always be on time?

Always.

Please.

Remember, you're a Ph.D. Not yet, I'm not.

There's a little matter of an examination, remember?

A technicality. Anyway, you're going to be a housewife. The devil she is.

I'm giving you my daughter's hand, not her brain.

She's going to get that Ph.D. If I have to spank her, I know.

Don't tell me you're the cook again tonight.

Indeed, and why not?

Well, I think it's time that I tried Susanna's cooking.

Don't worry, you will.

I'm sure.

Well, shall we sit down?

My lady.

I take it back, Sam.

She'll never be the cook you are.

What do you think you're doing, young lady?

Oh, I'll do the dishes later.

It's not the dishes I'm talking about.

It's books and study.

Upstairs.

Besides, Walter and I have something to discuss.

You're not going to treat me this way, are you?

Worse. Who knows? You may have to support us.

You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Sam.

Susanna's almost 30 years old.

And I'm almost 70. Mm-hmm.

My move, isn't it?

Yes.

What's that for?

Look at them.

Extraordinary, isn't it?

They look very much alike.

12 years ago, those two hands.

Time marches on.

For some of us.

Walter, tell me something, will you?

Of course.

How old are you?

44.

I seem to recall that when you applied for a post on the university staff, you

listed your age as 39.

That was, let me see, 1947, which would make you 51.

Come on, Sam.

All right, I'm 51.

Too old for Susanna, is that it?

In a sense.

Walter, in 1947, I was 58.

I had most of my hair, all my teeth, and hardly a wrinkle.

Look at me now.

In 12 short years, I've turned into an old man.

While you haven't aged at all.

It happens that way sometimes.

I know, but why?

Don't ask me, Sam.

You're the chemist.

I teach history.

Yes, and you teach it very well.

You know what the students say?

They say it's almost as though you'd lived through the period you were

discussing.

I try to make it interesting.

Fake it, you mean?

You could call it that.

Yes, that's what I thought.

But somehow that didn't seem like you.

You're such a precise sort.

What have you got there?

A book of photographs taken by a fellow named Matthew Brady during the time of

the Civil War.

Well, what is it?

You look as though you'd seen a ghost.

Maybe I have.

Walter, was... was your grandfather in the Civil War by any chance?

No.

Then I'd say we have something of a mystery here.

How so?

You made me curious about this Major Skelton today.

I thought it would be interesting to see what he looked like, so I went through

my Brady pictures.

Not really expecting to find anything.

These are three of Sherman's staff officers.

The one seated at the table is identified as Major Hugh Skelton.

That picture was taken almost 100 years ago.

You shouldn't have kept that ring, you know.

It's a dead giveaway.

What are you getting at, Sam? Oh, come, Walter, you know exactly what I'm

getting at.

Oh, you're joking.

Just because I happen to look like somebody in a photograph. And happen to

be wearing the same ring and happen to have the same small mole on the left

side of your face?

Walter, you and I have been very close for 12 years.

Tell me the truth.

You... You are that man in the photograph, aren't you?

Yes.

I've suspected a long time.

But it seemed fantastic.

It is.

Yes.

How old are you, Walter?

You wouldn't believe me.

I can believe anything now.

All right.

Let's say that I'm old enough to have known this gentleman personally.

Plato.

But that was over...

2,000 years ago.

I knew you wouldn't believe me.

No, no, it's... It isn't that. It's... 2,000 years.

How, Walter?

How?

In heaven's name, Walter, this is what mankind has been dreaming of. Sam.

Tell me the secret.

I can't tell you the secret, Sam.

Because I don't know it myself.

I was like you, Sam.

Afraid of death.

And when I thought of all the things there were to know in the miserable few

years that a man had to know them, it seemed senseless.

At night, every night, I dreamed as you dream of immortality.

Only if a man lived forever, I thought, could there be any point in living at

all.

I talked to priests, philosophers.

Then one day, I met an alchemist, told him these things.

He said that he could grant my wish, only, of course, it would cost a great

deal of money. I was desperate. I paid him his money and submitted to his

experiments.

I remember very little about it.

I lay in a coma for many weeks, and when I revived, I was alone.

The alchemist had disappeared.

Go on.

There's really very little more to tell.

I thought, of course, that the experiment had failed because I didn't

feel any differently.

But then... I saw my wife and my children

aging.

My friends dying.

This was something that I hadn't considered, you see.

But surely there's some answer to that problem.

Is there?

Think about it.

I tell you that somehow I can stop you from aging. Where do you want to stop?

At 30?

Then you watch everyone around you grow old.

At 70?

Do you want to live forever the way you are now?

Old, sick.

It's better than dying.

No.

You're wrong, Sam.

I was wrong.

It's death that gives this world its point.

We love a rose because we know it'll soon be gone.

Whoever loved a stone?

I'm not a rose. I'm not a stone. I'm a man.

Very old and very frightened.

Of what? Death?

Yes, of death. You're a fool, Sam.

I want to die.

Then why don't you?

Because I'm a coward.

I haven't changed, you see. I'm the same man I was. I was a coward then, I'm a

coward now.

I'm tired of living.

In my desk I have a revolver, Sam.

And every night I take it out and pray for the courage to pull the trigger.

I can't. You mean to say that you've survived over 2,000 years without an

accident, without being wounded?

Some people are lucky that way.

They go through life without ever breaking a bone or seeing the inside of

a hospital.

Oh, I've been close to death.

Many times.

But never close enough.

Thank you.

For what?

I thought if a man lived forever, he'd grow wiser.

But that isn't true, is it?

You just go on living.

That's all.

It must be lonely.

I suppose you've been married several times.

Yes. How long with each woman, Walter?

Ten years?

Fifteen years?

I see.

Sam, I tried to resign six months ago. You talked me out of it. Do you remember

that? Yes.

I knew Susanna was falling in love with me.

And I knew what would happen.

It's happened before.

A few years of happiness, and then... I tried to warn her.

I did everything in my power to discourage her.

Except tell her the truth.

How could I do that? She'd have thought I was mad.

Then why didn't you leave?

Because by then it was too late.

I was in love with her.

I need her.

Everything is against it.

All my reason and experience.

But that doesn't matter now.

It doesn't matter.

It does to me, Walter.

I can't let you marry my daughter.

And why not?

Well, come on.

Your father seems to think I'm too old for you, darling.

That's the silliest thing I ever heard of.

Good.

Then you'll marry me.

Tonight.

I think you mean it. I do.

You go upstairs, pack your prettiest things. I'll pick you up in 15 minutes.

But... Go.

Go.

I'll tell her.

She won't believe you.

nobody would you won't believe it yourself by tomorrow morning

Hello, Tommy.

Who are you?

Don't you recognize me, Tommy?

Look hard.

Look into my eyes.

You called them the most beautiful you'd ever seen once a long time ago.

I'm afraid you're making a mistake.

No, Tommy.

My name is Jameson.

Professor Walter Jameson.

Don't pretend.

I know who you are.

And who am I?

You're Tom Bowen.

My husband.

Your husband?

My dear woman, perhaps if you'll tell me who you're looking for.

Oh, stop it. I saw the picture in the newspaper announcing your engagement.

I had to come to see if it was true.

It is.

I can't explain it. I only know it's happened. I've grown old, and you

haven't.

Now you're going to marry someone else.

And leave her the way you left me.

Oh, Lorette.

Lorette.

I can't let you marry her, Tommy.

You're mine. Lorette!

Tommy,

it's wrong.

You can't go on hurting people.

What is it? What's happened?

Walter? Hello, Sam.

I thought I heard... Are you all right?

I don't know.

It doesn't matter.

Either way, you... You'll be rid of me.

What do you mean?

I mean... I've... Come to my senses.

At last.

Tell Suzette that... No, stay away.

You're hurt.

I'll call a doctor.

No.

Your hand.

It's happening.

At last.

Walter, what is it?

What's happening?

Oh, my God.

Nothing lasts forever.

Thank God.

Go home, Susanna. That sound was a shot. Walter's hurt. Please, Susanna, go home.

Walter? He's gone.

Where?

I don't know, my dear.

What is that on the floor?

Dust.

Only dust.

Last stop on a long journey.

As yet another human being returns to the vast nothingness that is the

beginning.

And into the dust.

that is always the end.

Rod Serling, the creator of Twilight Zone, will tell you about next week's

story after this word from our alternate sponsor.

And now, Mr. Serling.

Next week, an excursion to Mars with Roddy McDowell and Paul Comey.

Two men trying to prove a point, a simple proposition that men are alike

all over.

And on Mars, they discover that this is just whistling in the dark.

People are not alike, and next week on The Twilight Zone, you'll see why.

I hope you'll be with us. Thank you, and good night.

Be sure to see the fun-filled family life of one of America's greatest

entertainers, The Danny Thomas Show, Monday nights over most of these

stations.