Original subtitles

Thank you.

Thank you.

Transcoast Airways Flight 60, nonstop skyliner, Los Angeles to Washington, D

.C., now loading at gate 14.

This is the third and final call.

Transcoast Airways Flight 60, all aboard, please.

Good day, sir. Good day.

Oh, I'm sorry. It's perfectly all right.

Dr. Carl Morris?

That's right.

Seat 10. Miss Nielsen will help you find it. Is Miss Paxton in 10A?

No, I'm sorry. We had to put Miss Paxton in 6A. The adjacent seats were already

assigned. Oh.

Well, we may be able to arrange something with the other passengers. No,

no, no. That won't be necessary.

May I take your hat?

May I help you, sir? Yes, I'm in seat 10.

Oh, yes, right here. May I take your coat?

May I help you, sir?

Hiya. Got a stall for me? Endicott.

Tom Endicott? Yes.

Yes, sir. May I see your ticket, please?

Six up forward and to your right next to the window.

Thank you. We hope you have a very enjoyable flight.

What time do we hit D.C.?

Our estimated time of arrival is 8.30 Eastern Standard Time. As late as that?

Just wait till we get our new jets. We'll cut flight time in half.

It can't be too soon.

May I help you, sir? My seat seems to be occupied.

What number do you have? Six.

I'll see if I can straighten it out. Excuse me.

Pardon me, miss, but I believe you're in the wrong seat.

Isn't this 6A?

6A is on the aisle.

I'm terribly sorry. Oh, I don't mind sitting in the aisle seat if it's all

right with you people.

Certainly, sir. May I take your coat? Thank you.

Thank you. It really wasn't necessary.

My pleasure.

Hiya, Joanie girl.

We all in?

Oh, all board and accounted for. Barb's just helping the last one. Okay, then.

Let's seal her up.

Hello, Captain.

Think those whirligigs out on the wings can get us off the ground?

Just don't knock those props. They're not obsolete yet by a long way.

Remember what they said to Henry Ford, they could never replace the horse?

Sure.

What are you doing, broad groom, checking the wedding invitations?

You're my best man. That's your responsibility.

Well, in case you're interested, the airplane's ready to go.

Oh, I am, mildly.

Nothing like flying jets, though.

Don't get a swell head yet. You've still got to make it through transition

school. You promised to help with my homework, so how can I miss?

Shall we have a go, chaps?

Number three, all clear.

Oh, pressure number two.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard your Transco Skyliner. This is your

stewardess, Joan Agnew, and your other stewardess is Barbara Nielsen.

Our pilot is Captain Henry Norton. Our first officer is Jack Peters.

Our flight engineer is Ray Hauser. We'll be flying at approximately 22,000 feet

nonstop to Washington, D.C. Our estimated time of arrival is 8.30 p.m.

Washington time.

If you have any further questions, either Ms. Nielsen or myself, we'll be

glad to answer them.

Hope you enjoy your flight.

We have a long trip ahead of us. We might as well be proper and introduce

ourselves. My name's Tom Endicott.

Endicott? What's the matter?

The name sounds familiar.

Are you in business, Mr. Endicott? Uh, public relations.

Oh. Well, that's what we like to call ourselves. Actually, I'm...

That old newspaper bogeyman, a lobbyist.

I see.

And on your way to Washington?

Make a little hay for my clients, I hope.

Now suppose we talk about you.

My name is Marsha Paxton.

Very nice beginning. Please go on.

Transco 60 over price at 5,722,000 IFR. Estimate Denver at 1343,

over.

Can I get you a pillow?

No, thanks.

Can I get you something?

Everything all right here?

Fine, honey.

How you doing, bride?

Not for three more days yet.

No, but the countdown's already started now.

You're committed. Nothing can save you. Who wants to be saved? And marrying a co

-pilot yet.

Oh, don't you get enough of airplane drivers during working hours?

Out of my boy Jack.

You sound like you love the guy.

What else?

Let me give you a little advice.

Brace yourself.

Once you're hooked... You're going to find out that taking care of a hundred

air-sick passengers is a lot easier than managing one husband.

How do you know? You've never been married. I read a lot.

Want me to serve the boys up front?

Over my dead body?

Good lover. Boy, here comes your bride.

Well, what have we got here?

Refreshments for the working men.

Working men?

My flight engineer's logging more sack time and my first officer's already

flying 10,000 feet higher than we are. Hey, none of that. Not on my ship.

For the sake of the passengers, you two are going to have to pretend you've

never seen each other before.

Impossible. How are things back after?

Perfect.

Look, honey.

You're a nice girl, so let me warn you about co-pilots. First, they don't make

enough to pay for gas to and from the airport.

After this trip, I'm moving into your seat, remember?

Supposing I flunked jet school?

Well, that's too bad.

After I park the back of my lap in that seat, it stays.

You see?

My man.

Hey, what time are you serving lunch?

I want about a half hour.

I'd like my steak medium rare.

Says you. You'll take the pot roast like everyone else and like it.

Oh, how's the weather?

It's good most of the way. It's a little stormy up ahead, but I think we can fly

her over the roughest spots.

How's our heading, Jack?

Right on. We shouldn't be hitting the storm area for another 400 or 500 miles.

Well, see you gentlemen at lunch.

Hey, that's smooth coffee, hon.

You make it yourself?

With my own little hands. Just add hot water and stir.

Mind if I smoke?

Mind if I smoke?

What? Oh, no, no, no. Thank you.

Say, didn't I see you a picture in the paper the other day?

I've been trying to replace the face.

I'm Carl Morris.

Hi, George, that's it.

Glad to meet you, Doc.

Thank you, Mr... Floyd Jameson. Mr. Jameson.

Boy, wait till I tell the missus I sat beside Dr.

Carl Morris all the way to Washington, D.C.

I wonder, will she be impressed or frightened?

Frightened? With you on our side, the father of the beta

-thermonuclear warhead?

It'll be the other guy that'll be shaking in his boots, if you know what I

mean. I'm not sure I do, Mr. Jameson.

Sometimes when I think of the forces we scientists have unleashed without first

understanding how to control them, I think we should all be frightened.

All humanity.

Oh, not me, Doc.

No, sir.

Not as long as we got fellas on our side like you keeping us one jump ahead.

Listen, the other fella knows that if he makes a move, the whole universe will

cave in and clobber him. Right?

Maybe you're right, Mr. Jameson.

At least that's what my associates and myself keep telling ourselves.

to justify what we do.

Wait till I tell the missus.

Helen, do you know who's sitting back there?

Dr. Carl Morris.

Maybe I should talk to him.

He looks just like his picture in the paper.

Do you think he'd believe me?

Walter, please don't start again. Please don't. But don't you see? He may be my

one last chance.

I've been writing to the newspapers every day for months now, calling the

radio stations, but they won't listen. They just won't listen. You promised to

try to forget all that.

The doctor said you were to rest.

If only I could get Dr.

Morris on my side.

That's why we're taking this trip, Walter, back to the farm where you were

born.

We'll find a good, simple life there.

We'll send for the children and settle down, close to the soil and to God.

No, I don't suppose he'd believe me.

He'd laugh like all the rest.

Yes, but when it happens, he won't laugh.

Pardon me, Mrs. Cooper.

Would you take tea or coffee?

Tea, please.

Surely. I'll have your tray in a moment, Mr. Cooper.

Here, dear.

Now, your meat is here.

Your rolls and your butter over there.

And over here is your salad.

You go ahead and eat, dear. Don't wait for me.

Only I could tell the people of the peril that we're in.

Make them listen.

They'll never see it until it's too late.

Hungry?

I'm a little curious about something.

What are you curious about?

Something personal?

Well, kind of.

Tell me, are you one of those married women who don't believe in wearing a

wedding ring?

I'm not married.

And now, if you don't mind, Mr. Endicott, shall we choose some other

subject? I'm surprised, Miss Paxton.

I thought that was the one subject most fascinating to every young female.

I'm afraid I have no interest in marriage.

And I have no intention of ever becoming interested in it.

That sounds pretty final.

I suppose you do have strong personal reasons.

I do.

They're not just personal, they're general.

If people would only stop to realize...

I'm sorry.

There's no reason why I should... Oh, that's all right.

Forget it.

Eat your lunch.

Tell you what. Later on, I'll buy you a drink in the lounge.

We're nearing the storm center. Better get clearance to climb to 30,000. Right.

Head for center.

Transco 60 requesting clearance to cruise at 30,000 feet.

Right, thank you. Over.

Ray, give us a check on fuel consumption.

Okay.

Set climb power.

Thank you.

Well, it's getting dark already.

Does that bother you?

No, what's bugging me is the prospect of another dull, lonely evening in our

nation's capital.

No one's meeting you.

Footloose and fancy-free.

I take it, then, that you're not married either.

No. I thought the way you talked.

Well, not that I have anything against it. It's just been lack of opportunity.

Lack of opportunity?

In Washington, a public relations man, young, on an expense account, and just

hundreds of government girls panting over every unattached male.

Well, that's right. What I meant was that... Or was any of that true?

You're not a public relations man, are you? And you don't work in Washington.

Well, look... Tom Endicott, alias Thomas R. Endicott, rocket designer and expert

on ballistic missiles.

Oh, and that lack of opportunity.

They would be working for months at a time on lonely ICBM bases and launching

pads. You've been reading my mail.

I'm a mathematician.

I work with Dr. Carl Morris, feeding data to the electronic brain. Oh, I see.

Well, not that I have any objections, quite the contrary, but why were you

seated next to me instead of not him?

Just a last-minute mix-up in reservations.

Would you like to change seats with him?

Never.

If it isn't classified, could you tell me why you're on your way to Washington

now?

Oh, some spur-of-the-moment meeting at the Pentagon.

I got a call, no explanation, nothing.

Just to be there.

I wonder if it could be the same meeting.

You and Dr. Morris?

Why would that bother you? Why?

Just feminine nervousness, I suppose.

Tell me, Tom.

Doesn't it ever worry you?

I mean, don't you sometimes have second thoughts?

About what?

About your work.

The significance of it.

You mean rocket propulsion, missiles?

Oh, I don't know.

Naturally, we hope the ICBMs will never be used in a shooting war.

But it's better to have them than not to have them.

Let's face it.

If I didn't design them, somebody else would.

Now you sound just like Dr. Morris.

Is that bad?

Shall we go back?

Jack, didn't you hear me? We're still gaining altitude.

Yeah, well, we shouldn't be.

Here, let me have it.

See how it is? No response at all.

I can't figure it unless we're caught in the granddaddy of all thermal updrafts.

We're still climbing.

The tacks still register normal RPM.

So the engines can't be revving up, can they, Ray?

If that were the case, fuel consumption would be high, but we're right on the

nose.

Better radio our position just in case. All right.

Transco 60, destination Washington, D.C., reporting.

Paul.

Mr. Manchin.

I'll take care of this myself.

Please have Mr. Garrett join me up here immediately.

Yes, sir. Mr. Garrett, this is Miss Ford in ATC.

Mr. Manson would like to see you immediately.

This is Manson speaking.

ATC reports trouble on our Flight 60, destination Washington.

Right.

Miss Ford, wire our maintenance department on the coast. I want a copy

of pre-flight check on Flight 60. Yes, sir.

Just got that message?

That's right, sir. Get them back. I want to talk to Captain Norton.

Yes, sir.

ATC St. Louis calling Transco 60.

Calling Transco 60.

Come in, please.

ATC St. Louis calling Transco 60. Come in, please.

Garrett, you ever hear of controls going dead in a climb and the plane still

continuing to gain altitude?

Never. I'd say it was impossible.

Well, apparently it's happened on our flight 60. At least that's what Captain

Norton reported.

Sir, I have them.

This is Manson, Hank.

Are you still gaining altitude?

I repeat, are you still gaining altitude?

We're still climbing.

Over 35,000. Out of control. I'm hoping she'll eventually level herself off.

Over.

Any idea what's causing the trouble?

None. If you'd asked me, I'd say this just couldn't happen, but it is

happening. It's weird.

Over. Do your best to correct it, Hank.

Meantime, air traffic control wants a 10-minute interval radio check.

Over.

Roger. Over and out.

What do you think?

Like Norton says, it's weird.

It's the most dependable ship in the air. It had a complete checkout before

takeoff. Well, I'm glad Hank's the pilot. He's the best we have.

If anybody can bring her out of it, he's the man.

You'd better let the girls in on the situation in case of serious trouble.

All right.

Attention, Stewardesses Agnew and Nielsen.

Will one of you report to the captain?

Uh, pardon me.

Dr. Morris, I wonder if I could speak to you.

For a moment, please. Of course.

In private?

In the lounge?

This is important.

Tremendously.

Very well.

Excuse me. Of course.

What gives?

Trouble.

Bad? Don't know yet.

You don't know.

Well, we can't slow our rate of climb, so we can't level off.

Well, there's no sweat so far. I'm hoping she'll eventually level herself

off at absolute ceiling. If so, no harm done.

Want me to brief the passengers? No, not yet. There's no sense worrying them

until we know what's going to happen. You better keep them in their seat

belts, though.

And you and Joan break out the oxygen bottles in case anyone faints.

All right, Captain.

We'll try and keep them happy.

Fasten your seatbelts, please.

Fasten your seatbelts.

Fasten your seatbelts, please.

Fasten your seatbelts. Fasten your seatbelts. Fasten your seatbelts,

please. Fasten your seatbelts.

Fasten your seatbelts, please.

Fasten your seatbelts. You see, our trouble is that we've grown soft,

spineless.

The situation is just too tough.

We haven't got the backbone to stand up and defend ourselves as we have in the

past.

We've just got one hope left.

You. Me?

I don't understand.

Well, I read the interview you gave the newspapers.

Oh, I couldn't put it down. I even dreamed about it afterward. Oh, you mean

my discussion concerning the possibility of... Building the big egg. The beta

bomb. Well, that was merely a scientific discussion.

No one has built such a bomb or even tried to.

But you said it could be built.

It is a possibility, yes.

Then you're the one to do it, Doctor.

The only one who can.

You've got to persuade them.

It's our one last chance.

And this is the idea that you wanted to discuss?

Well, only part of it.

And what is the other part?

What we do with the bomb after we've built it.

We can't give them the chance to build it first and then sneak over and drop it

on us. No, we have got to drop the A-bomb first on them.

Wipe them off the face of the earth. You're out of your mind. No!

Don't say that to me.

I've never let anyone say that to me.

Not even the doctors in the hospital.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean that.

It's just that if the bomb is built, it can only be used for defensive purposes.

Or to retaliate for an attack against us.

To consider even for one second unleashing such a horror under any other

circumstances, it's unthinkable.

You, doctor of all persons, should understand me.

It's the only sure way. No, no, no.

It's no way at all, believe me.

An eye of all men should know.

Pardon me, gentlemen.

Would you mind returning to your places and fasten your seat belt?

Is there anything wrong?

No, this is just a precaution.

We're flying above a storm and the captain doesn't like to take any

chances.

Very well.

Thank you.

Don't forget what I've said, Doctor.

You'll come around to my way of thinking.

Seat belt fastened? What is it, miss? Something wrong?

Just precautionary, dear. Isn't that right, miss? That's right.

Well, I hope this ride doesn't get bumpy.

Gives me indigestion after a meal.

Everything okay?

Yes, thanks.

May we smoke?

Certainly.

You know, we're up pretty high.

We've been climbing steadily for 30 minutes.

So that's it.

I was wondering why I had butterflies in my stomach.

That's funny. We should have leveled off by now.

You're not trying to frighten me, are you?

No, I'm just the suspicious type. The guys up front know what they're doing.

Hank, look at the altimeter.

Five minutes ago, we were at 35,000.

That's got to be wrong. We're way above ceiling for prop ships.

Even jets would be conking out at this altitude.

We'll have to go on oxygen now.

I'd better make radio contact again. Take over.

I repeat, we can't stop climbing.

Can you hear me?

Hank, am I reaching you?

Keep trying to reestablish contact.

Calling Transco 60.

Calling Transco 60. Will you come in, please?

I'm sorry, sir. I'm afraid we've lost them.

Check them on radar scope if you can. I want their exact position.

All we can do now is wait.

Helpless. Miss Ford, have them teletype the list of the passengers on Flight 60.

Shall I type up an emergency form?

I guess you'd better.

It just went dead all of a sudden. The funniest thing.

Jack.

Jack, snap out of it.

Come on, Jack. Careful.

Will Miss Agnew or Miss Nielsen bring some coffee?

I'll get it.

Coffee?

Thank you.

Thank you.

It's getting pretty serious, isn't it?

We don't know yet.

Well, let me give you some advice.

If there is an emergency, you'd better brief these people in advance.

Otherwise, you're likely to have a full-fledged panic on your hands.

I know, sir. But without the captain's orders... Miss!

Help me!

Miss? Help me!

It's Walter. He's not well.

Pulse is normal. Regular.

We're up pretty high. Could it be oxygen starvation?

It could.

Walter.

Walter.

It's going to be all right.

Just a little oxygen.

There, he's coming around.

It's going to be all right.

Here.

Better take a couple of whiffs yourself.

Better brief the passengers, I guess.

They'll all need supplementary oxygen.

Yes, Captain.

What's that?

Old starboard engines.

They just quit.

Can you blame them? There's no air up here.

Number one and number two just died.

This ship will drop like a stone now.

Uh-uh.

Look for yourself. We're still climbing.

With four dead engines, that's impossible. It'd take a miracle to... A

miracle?

Manson speaking.

Who?

Oh, no, please don't bother me with such trip.

What?

Will you repeat that?

I see.

Yes, I've got it.

Thanks for calling.

What is it?

I'm not sure myself.

An observatory east of here spotted something in their telescope. Something

they said looked like a plane.

Our flight 60. Then they're still okay.

Ten miles up and still rising?

With four dead engines?

You must be kidding.

But how could that be?

Their radio's been dead.

Missile tracking station picked them up by infrared from the hot engines. Then

all of a sudden they lost them.

What else could that mean at their altitude?

Well, it could be they lost the signal.

But how could a plane that big gain altitude without engines?

How could any engine except a rocket operate about 10 miles?

I'm calculating mentally.

They're due at 8.30 Washington time.

You think they'll make it on time?

Well, with four hours reserve fuel supply, that gives us till 12.30. If the

engines are functional.

Well, if they aren't, they'd have crashed or landed before now.

I don't know.

This whole business has a strange, abnormal ring.

Well, I'm not giving them up. Not as long as they're unreported and still

have fuel aboard.

I hope that you're right and I'm wrong.

Never wanted to be so wrong in all my life.

Tell Hank to turn up the oxygen.

I think we're running out.

We only carry enough supply for 15 minutes.

My cigarette won't burn.

We're up too high.

There's not enough oxygen for combustion.

All four engines have quit.

Just as well, anyway, the no smoking sign's on.

Sir, could you help me please? Oh, I can't seem to get the door open to the

pilots compartment Open

up in there

the door stuck.

Shall I if you can you'd better

At least they left the ship on autopilot.

They've done it.

They knew what I was trying to do.

They're afraid.

Over ten miles up.

What can we do?

I don't know.

And in all fairness, you better let the passengers know what's going on.

I'm sorry.

I think I'm going to...

Walter.

Walter.

Walter.

What's happened?

My husband.

Where is he?

Don't worry. I'll find him for you.

Well, that's it.

Not a word yet, but they've got to be down someplace.

What do we do?

Release the announcement.

Maybe somebody somewhere saw something.

I'll handle it.

You get back to your other traffic.

Yes, sir.

And here's a late news bulletin. A transcoast airways airliner bound for

Washington has been reported missing.

It is feared the plane may have crashed, having been unreported for several

hours. Among those aboard was a well-known nuclear physicist, Dr. Carl

Morris, known as the father of the beta bomb.

Thomas Endicott, a brilliant rocket engineer, was also a passenger.

Dr. Morris was reportedly on his way to Washington with plans for a

revolutionary new weapon.

Eight hours overdue, Washington time and not a word.

Now, how can a 30-ton plane just disappear without some trace?

It just isn't possible.

Well, they ran out of fuel last night at 12.30.

They're down somewhere.

I guess you're right.

If anybody wants me, I'll be on the next flight to Washington to help coordinate

the air search.

Yes. If you hear anything, radio me.

I will.

to be somewhere a big airplane like that doesn't just vanish into thin air that's

where they were though when we last heard thin air 10 miles up this morning

began the greatest air search in the history of commercial aviation hundreds

of planes of every description from tiny private kites to giant airliners

crisscrossed the country from every direction seeking some clue no matter

how small to the mystery of the vanished flight 60.

According to airlines officials, such a thing just couldn't happen. But it has.

Meantime, the country, the entire world wants to know, where is Flight 60?

Marcia, are you all right?

Marcia, wake up.

I must have fallen asleep.

Where are we?

I don't know.

I don't have any idea myself. I just woke up.

Everything is so quiet.

No vibration.

The plane isn't moving.

We've...

Have we landed let's find out

We seem to be the only ones who aren't... Dead?

I'm not sure they are dead.

Unconscious, asleep?

Well, it may be a state of torpor or suspended animation.

I've seen something like it in hibernating bears.

From what?

The high altitude, maybe.

Are we up high?

It doesn't seem to be moving at all.

Oh, Tom, I'm scared. I'm scared to death.

Could that be it?

What?

Maybe. We're dead.

I don't feel dead.

How do you feel?

Well, kind of peculiar, I admit.

I wonder how long we've... It's stopped.

It's supposed to be guaranteed. What time?

Six o'clock on the dot.

Mine stopped, too.

Six o'clock on the dot.

Coincidence?

Or what?

Our watches aren't the only things that have stopped.

Tom, feel your heart.

Why? Mine isn't beating.

Well, that's nonsense.

Yours has stopped, too.

Well, that must mean we're dead.

I don't know. I don't know what any of this means.

If we are dead, what about these people? Are they dead, too?

Why are we the only ones up and moving around?

Maybe we aren't the only ones.

If this plane got down in one piece, someone had to steer it.

Now look up front.

Tom, come here.

What's wrong?

Dr. Morris is gone.

And so is this woman's husband.

Well, he went out of his head and jumped.

I tried to stop him and almost went with him. Dr.

Morris, I don't know.

Do you suppose he could have gotten out too?

The lounge.

He broke open the emergency exit.

Dr. Morris.

Dr. Morris, are you all right?

Marsha, my dear.

So you are here too, huh?

Where?

Well, in whatever state we've reached.

Oh, doctor, I'm sorry. This is Tom Endicott.

Endicott, the missile expert.

Rocket propulsion, more specifically.

Just the three of us.

I wonder what significance.

But do you have any explanation, Doctor?

Our watches have stopped, hearts aren't beating.

What's happened?

Do you have any idea at all? I don't know. I'm only speculating.

Were you summoned to Washington?

Yes. Why?

I suppose it's all right to tell you. Your security clearances are certainly

as high as mine.

Somehow I have an idea that where we are now, security clearance is relatively

unimportant.

I've been developing a new single-stage rocket with twice the previous thrust.

And with a pinpoint guidance system that's foolproof.

Of course, of course.

Then you think that's why the three of us were summoned to a conference at the

same time?

The booster he describes is exactly what would be needed to deliver it.

It? Well, it doesn't exist yet, except here and here.

But it's possible, theoretically, and feasible, technically and practically.

Miss Paxton and I have computed the equation, assembled all the necessary

data. It's all in this notebook, all the essentials.

All the essentials for what? The ultimate weapon.

One multi-stage nuclear bomb, one giant warhead.

to generate a series of progressive nuclear explosions to utterly devastate

a predetermined area.

Why do you call this the ultimate weapon?

Because if delivered to the heart of any enemy country, this one bomb could wipe

it from the face of this earth.

The whole country, just one bomb?

If attached to the proper rocket.

And that you can provide.

Killing is getting more efficient every day.

And so are the killers.

All three of us.

Do you think we should be proud to tell that to our children?

If we have children.

Oh, now, really.

You don't think for one minute anyone, not even the most rabid warmonger, would

ever consider using such a weapon? Why would we call it to Washington?

If it were up to sick minds like Walter Cooper's, it would be used tomorrow.

If it were ever to be built.

You will find out presently.

Where are we?

You have arrived at a moment where time is suspended, does not exist, where the

future and the present can meet.

So that's why our watch has stopped and our hearts aren't beating.

Time is standing still.

That is quite right.

Has this ever happened before?

It has never been necessary until now.

Well, since we seem to be setting a precedent, would you tell us why we're

here?

To be judged.

Judged by whom?

By a jury of the future representing all the people who may never be born because

of you.

Children I will never have.

Because of the bomb.

That's why you don't want to marry.

These are the accused, brought here for trial before you for the highest of high

crimes. What crime?

We've committed no crimes.

You have conceived a crime, so vast, so far-reaching, that we have

been unable to suspend time, transcend space, to bring you here.

What is this place?

This is not a place, but a state. Time has no meaning here.

The past, the present, and the future can all meet on equal terms.

And you, the jury, we are the future.

We will exist someday, perhaps, if we are allowed to come to be,

if there is ever a future.

Of course there'll be a future.

But what are we to do with all of... Between you, you have conceived a device

so powerful as to determine the future.

Look!

Let me give you a glimpse of what may come.

There.

Look at our Earth after your bomb was exploded.

But my bomb only... And there.

Anywhere.

Anywhere at all on the surface of the planet, it is the same.

You will note...

that nothing moves.

No birds fly.

But why?

Why? Because the birds are gone.

Every one.

And even if they were not, they could never fly.

Because the atmosphere, too, is gone.

Nothing can breathe.

All life is gone.

The ultimate weapon.

Precisely. But Dr.

Morris' bomb can destroy only a specified area, not everything.

Suppose a small child were turned loose with a lighted match in a gunpowder

factory. Could you, could anyone, predict the extent of the resultant

explosion? Only the maximum.

The factory would be destroyed.

Exactly.

And you, my dear doctor, are that small boy. The lighted match is the notebook

in your pocket.

The equation in your head.

Now.

Now can you calculate the results?

The destruction of the planet or life.

And with it the future.

The future in which we, in the natural order of things, would be born and live

our lives.

Do you wonder now why we brought you before us for judgment?

Do we have the right to say anything in our own defense?

I cannot conceive of anything you might say that could possibly sway the jury's

decision.

But we grant you the right to speak in your own behalf.

Then isn't it the usual procedure to try a criminal and punish him after a crime

has been committed, not before?

You think you've committed no crime?

Dr. Morris has worked out a few equations in a notebook.

I've made a few sketches and designs for a new rocket. Miss Paxton has made a few

mathematical calculations.

We haven't built the bomb or the booster for it.

That's true.

But you have conceived them.

Yes.

But whether they ever will be built, that's not up to us. The committees.

The ones who will give it a green light or table it.

How can you place guilt on only three people?

There is the great misapprehension of your age, Mr. Endicott. The power for

good or for destruction is inherent in the idea of a genius who conceives it,

not with a minor official who approves or disapproves its practical

application.

Once conceived, an idea endures forever.

Eventually, inevitably, it comes to be.

So you see it matters not who may momentarily...

expedite or delay the building of this weapon. One day it will be built, and

the next day it will be used.

And at that moment, we, the future, are destroyed.

Perhaps the jury may wish to withdraw and consider the evidence.

If we're found guilty, what will happen to us?

Nothing.

Then why go through all this?

By nothing I do not mean that you will return to your former earthly existence.

Rather, the sentence will be that you remain here forever.

But here, in your own words, is nowhere.

Correct, Doctor.

Here you will be suspended forever in time between the past and the future.

neither living nor dying.

It is the only solution for us.

We cannot destroy you, for we have as yet no existence.

And we cannot allow you to return to your own time, for then we never would

exist.

I don't know about you two, but I can't take this thing lying down.

There's nothing we can do.

How can you fight against something that doesn't exist?

Maybe that works both ways.

If we made a break for it, how could they stop us? He just said they couldn't

destroy us. Where would we go to make a break for it?

Well, it's just a hunch.

But there's one thing they couldn't get rid of.

The one thing that is the link with our time existence.

What link, Tom?

The plane.

That's real.

The only real thing in this fourth-dimensional nightmare.

But if we can get aboard and keep them out...

Maybe somehow.

Dr. Morris, what do you think? As he says, the plane does exist.

I don't see that we have any chance except to hope that Tom is right.

If we're found guilty.

It is the unanimous opinion of the jury representing all the people of the

future that the accused, Dr.

Carl Morris,

Miss Marsha Paxton and Thomas Endicott, charged with the highest crime,

the destruction of the stream of life, are in truth guilty as charged.

As punishment, they shall be condemned to remain frozen, suspended in time

through eternity.

For the preservation of our own hopes, we were left with no choice.

The jury may retire.

Now.

Now's our chance. Head to the plane.

Come back!

You're being foolish.

There is no escape.

No escape.

He's wrong. There it is.

The plane.

Where is it?

Well, I could have sworn I saw it right here. Possibly a rock formation.

No, it was the plane. I saw the open door.

It's got to be right around here.

It is hopeless.

Butyl, you've been judged, condemned, and sentenced.

There remains only that you be frozen in time, and so you three shall remain.

Through all the eons of eternity.

No.

I do not understand the action that has taken place.

It cannot be.

It must be. It has not been given us the future to disturb the natural order. How

can the future presume to judge the present?

If we do not, there will be no future. That may be, but it is a determination

that must be made by those...

who do exist in the present, not ourselves.

The divine order of the cosmos must never be disturbed.

These three, dangerous as they are, must be returned to their own time.

And if in their time they destroy our chance of existence... We can

only pray that it will not happen.

I think he's beginning to come around.

Give him another whiff of ammonia.

Are you feeling better, Mr. Endicott?

How did I get back here?

You've been in the same seat all the time, Mr. Endicott.

You did have us a little worried, though.

We did make it after all, back to the plane.

How did we do it?

Do it?

What do you mean, Tom?

Are you feeling all right, Mr. Endicott?

Of course I'm all right.

Except for this pain in my head.

Well, that was quite a bump you took.

Bump? Yes.

The plane hit a downdraft. You were thrown forward and hit your head.

Will you tell me how he got here?

Got where?

Back to the plane.

What's the matter with any of you? Don't you remember?

Dr. Morris, you tell them.

I think you better sit down, Mr. Endicott.

Marsha, don't you remember anything?

Maybe you better sit back and relax.

I don't get it.

Don't any of you remember the plane rising out of control?

And Dr.

Morrison, Marsha, don't you remember what happened on the cloud bank?

Get the captain up here.

The guy who fell out of the plane. You remember that, don't you? No one's

fallen out of the plane, sir. Wait a minute. I can prove everything to you.

Come here.

Mrs. Cooper, your husband.

Do you remember what happened to him?

Walter, where's Walter? Do you remember what happened to him? Where is he?

Where's my husband?

All right, Mr. Endicott, that's enough. What? Would you sit down again, please?

Don't give us any trouble. I'm trying to prove something. This woman's husband...

What happened here?

Helen, are you all right? Walter, I was afraid somebody said something had

happened to you. Oh, I just left my seat for a minute. You were asleep, and I

didn't want to waken you.

So what is this?

Is this some sort of a joke?

I... I'm sorry. You can't go around making a disturbance like this.

I know you got a little bump a while back, but let's be reasonable. What do

you say? You want to sit down quietly?

Doesn't anybody remember anything?

Now, you just sit quiet. We should be arriving in D.C. in about 30 minutes.

But I... Are you going to stay there?

Looks like I have no choice.

Now, you keep an eye on him. If he acts up again, I'll radio ahead for a doctor.

Yes, sir.

Would you care to change your seat, Miss Paxton?

No.

No, I'm sure he'll be all right now.

Nerve that guy, anyway.

What's his game?

Some kind of a nut?

I don't think so.

It's amazing how often you run into pests like that in an airplane.

Pests? Yeah, you fellas that want to tuck your arm off. and all you want is

to be left alone. You know the type.

I certainly do.

You can't really blame them, can you? But I'm so real.

Everything.

Why am I the only one to remember?

I think we should talk privately, young man.

Please come back to the lounge.

I didn't think there was anyone on this plane who still wanted to talk to me.

You too, my dear.

All right, Doctor.

What was it?

Well, some guy back there banged his head and came up with some weird ideas.

It's time to get approach clearance from D.C.

How's the radio, Ray?

Check's out okay now.

We're agreed on the details then. Suspension of time, the judgment, even

what was supposedly said, and our own replies.

No, how could that happen? How could three people have exactly the same dream

at the same time?

It is strange, isn't it, Doctor? No more so than many other cases of extrasensory

perception on record. We don't know how these things happen or why, but they do.

And to just the three of us, why not any of the others?

Well, as I say, the study of ESB is still in its infancy.

Perhaps one day we'll be able to explain these phenomena as we do radio or

television. Then you won't admit that our dream had any significance.

Undoubtedly, it sprang from the same thoughts that...

concern men of conscience all over the world today.

I don't believe you.

I don't believe it was a dream at all. It happened, I tell you. I'm sure of it.

It was real.

You're an engineer, a man of science, Endicott.

How could such a fantastic thing possibly occur? What is your scientific

explanation? Well, naturally, I can't... Science is progressing, groping,

calculating, but we still can't compute the ultimate.

And even if such a thing did take place, the details of which we all pictured

simultaneously, wouldn't there be some evidence of it now?

Yes, you'd think so.

But there is no such evidence, is there?

Well, I can't find any.

Because it doesn't exist.

Now, I ask you honestly, Tom, which is the more logical explanation, yours or

mine?

Yours. I'll admit that this dream was extremely moving and vivid and

disturbing. Perhaps that's why it seemed so real to you.

Why we all picture the details so exactly.

But there's one thing we haven't considered, Doctor.

The problem.

Whether it was a dream or not, our problem is real enough. Your bomb and my

rocket.

Well, that's true.

And the consequences could be real and terrible.

All right. Supposing there were evidence.

Evidence to prove that what we experienced and saw in this dream did

happen, did actually happen.

What would we do about them then?

Your bomb and my rocket.

I don't know.

I just don't know.

Still not too late, buddy.

Too late?

The minister's rehearsing his lines. All those relatives are lining up for the

last mile. Come on, cut it out. I'm not kidding. Your only chance now is to go

out through the window, you know. Maybe we could dig you up an old parachute.

What's going on in here?

Your friend Hank's trying to tell me I should duck out of the wedding.

Oh, funny.

Your friend Joan has been telling me the same thing.

Transco 60, over Charleston at 17,000 IFR, request approach clearance, ETA

2030, over.

Yes? O'Connor, this is Control.

Just got a request to land.

What about it? From Transco's Flight 60.

Flight 60?

Radio back for more information. I'll call the operations manager.

Right.

This is Transco 60, L.A. to D.C., 17,000 IFR, over.

Request personal identification.

What is this?

Transco 60, Hank Norton, Captain, Jack Peters, first officer.

Coming in for the last time on a prop job. Next time I ride in on a jet and it

can't be too soon. What's the matter with you guys? Have you lost your flight

schedule?

Must have a new boy there.

Oh, miss.

What time will we be in Washington?

We're due to land in about ten minutes.

Yeah. Right on schedule.

Sorry to get you up, George. Nothing else I could do. You know Callie from

CAB? Right.

Anything new since you called? Got him spotted in the scope. Let's go take a

look.

Could it possibly be another plane?

No. Everything checks out all right. It's flight 60.

Everything jives with the data from L.A. Here it is.

Equipment, personnel, number of passengers.

Sure beats me.

What about landing instructions?

Where are they now?

Well, somewhere about here, I'd say.

Past our last checkpoint about five minutes ago, Tower told them to hold at

4,000.

What do you think?

We'll clear them from landing, and we can straighten this thing out.

All right.

Give them the go-ahead to clear this flight.

Cowley's orders.

Right away. And also alert the emergency ground crew. Stand by.

Transco 60 confirming landing clearance.

Now leaving holding pattern for approach.

Changing over to ILS.

Over.

She should be on the glide path now.

She's in.

Yeah, that is our plane.

Flight 60?

Unless my eyes are deceiving me.

Take over now, will you, Jack?

Taxi to the gate.

I want to get back there and check why they didn't know our flight schedule.

Join me later.

Okay.

Mr. Madsen, I didn't expect to see you in D.C. I didn't expect to be here.

How was the flight, Captain?

Well, strictly routine. We lost a few minutes, but we made them up again. We

touched down right on the dot.

On schedule for the last time in a prop-driven plane. Why?

Nothing unusual along the way?

Unusual, except for some radio trouble and a little extra altitude, no.

Oh, well, one of the passengers got a little out of hand. Well, that wasn't

anything. Wait a minute. What are you getting at? Is there something wrong?

I guess not.

It's just that we were all curious. The CAB, the country.

And the rest of the world, actually.

Curious about what?

About what you've been doing with Flight 60 for the last 24 hours.

24? Flight 60 was due in at 8.30 last night.

Last night? We couldn't even get radar to track it down. How could a 30-ton

plane just completely disappear?

There's our evidence, Dr. Morris. Our plane was missing for 24 hours.

Now, are you convinced?

Flight 60, Los Angeles to Washington, just arrived at passenger terminal.

Passengers may claim their luggage in a few minutes.