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You're traveling through another dimension
a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind
a journey into a wondrous land
whose boundaries are that of imagination.
That's the signpost up ahead.
Your next stop, the twilight zone.
Wordsworth. Romney. Obsolescence.
He's waiting, chancellor.
Order him in.
Wordsworth.
Romney.
Obsolescence.
You walk into this room at your own risk
because it leads to the future,
not a future that will be, but one that might be.
This is not a new world.
It is simply an extension of what began in the old one.
It has patterned itself after every dictator
who has ever planted the ripping imprint of a boot
on the pages of history since the beginning of time.
It has refinements, technological advances
and a more sophisticated approach
to the destruction of human freedom,
but like every one of the superstates that preceded it,
it has one iron rule:
Logic is an enemy, and truth is a menace.
This is mr. Romney wordsworth in his last 48 hours on earth.
He's a citizen of the state
but will soon have to be eliminated
because he's built out of flesh and because he has a mind.
Mr. Romney wordsworth, who will draw his last breaths
in the twilight zone.
Wordsworth, romney-
field investigation obsolescence.
Do you know why you're here, mr. Wordsworth?
Yes, sir.
I'd ask you to speak up a little, if you will.
Yes, sir, i know why i'm here.
You've been under investigation, mr. Wordsworth,
for the mandatory period of one year and 11 months.
You're found to be obsolete.
The purpose of this hearing is to make a finding
in the matter and make a sentence accordingly.
Do you understand that?
I understand that.
Your occupation, mr. Wordsworth?
A librarian, sir.
A what?
A librarian, sir.
Has this man had counsel? Yes, sir, he has.
Are you sure he knows his rights? He's been given
orientation, sir.
Mr. Wordsworth, i'm told that you've had coun...
stand back
in the light, mr. Wordsworth!
I'm told you've had counsel
and been given orientation, mr. Wordsworth,
but i'm still not sure in my own mind
that you understand the purpose of this hearing.
The field investigators in your sector
have classified you as obsolete.
This finding carries with it serious implications.
Do you understand that, mr. Wordsworth?
Now i'll ask you again your occupation.
Iama librarian, sir.
Thatismy occupation. That is my profession.
If you people choose to call that "obsolete"...
request clarification of the term...
yes, the term, mr. Wordsworth, "you people"-
you make reference to the state?
I make reference to the state.
And you persist in declaring
your occupation as being a librarian.
That is correct, sir.
A librarian-
having to do...
with books.
Yes, sir, books.
But since there are no more books, mr. Wordsworth,
there are no more libraries.
And, of course, it follows that there is very little call
for the services of a librarian.
Case in point:
A minister.
A minister would tell us
that his function
is that of preaching the word of god.
And, of course, it follows
that since the state has proven
that there is no god, that would make
the function of a minister
somewhat academic, as well.
There is a god.
You are in error, mr. Wordsworth.
There is no god!
The state
has proven that there is no god!
You cannot erase god with an edict!
You are obsolete, mr. Wordsworth.
A lie. No man is obsolete.
You have no function, mr. Wordsworth.
You're an anachronism, like a ghost from another time.
I am nothing more than a reminder to you
that you cannot destroy truth by burning pages.
You're a bug, mr. Wordsworth, a crawling insect;
an ugly, misformed little creature
who has no purpose here,
no meaning.
I am a human being.
You're a librarian, mr. Wordsworth.
You're a dealer in books
and two-cent fines and pamphlets and closed stacks
and the musty insides of a language factory
that spews out meaningless words
on an assembly line-
words, mr. Wordsworth,
that have no substance and no dimension.
Like air, like the wind,
like a vacuum that you make believe has an existence
by scribbling index numbers on little cards.
I don't care.
I tell you i don't care.
I'm a human being. I exist!
And if i speak one thought aloud,
that thought lives,
even after i'm shoveled into my grave!
Delusions, mr. Wordsworth,
delusions that you inject into your veins with printer's ink;
the narcotics that you call literature-
the bible, poetry, essays- all kind, all of it an opiate
to make you think you have a strength
when you have no strength at all.
You have nothing but spindly limbs and a dream
and the state has no use for your kind!
You waste our time, mr. Wordsworth,
and you're not worth the waste.
Instruct him.
Romney wordsworth, step back
to await the finding of this board.
Yes, sir.
How do you find, ladies and gentlemen?
Obsolete.
I concur.
Romney wordsworth, step forward.
The board finds you obsolete.
Your rights are as follows, mr. Wordsworth:
You are to be liquidated within a period of 48 hours,
but you have an option as to method and precise time.
There are several prescribed methods,
pills, gas, electrocution-
and it can be done immediately, or an hour from now
or any specific time
that you request.
I am a very rich man.
Louder.
I merely said that i was a very rich man.
I have such a luxury of choices
that i choose the following:
To be given an assassin
to whom i shall tell the method of my execution.
This is unheard-of.
Mr. Wordsworth, we don't understand
the nature of the request.
Simply that you are to assign me my assassin,
but only he and i will know the way that i'm to die.
That will be acceptable, mr. Wordsworth,
provided your liquidation is accomplished
within the 48-hour period.
Just one final request.
I should like to die with an audience.
Ah, mr. Wordsworth, that can be arranged, indeed.
It's not unusual that we televise executions.
It has an educative effect on the population.
I have no doubt.
Now, as to the time of the liquidation, mr. Wordsworth...
midnight, tomorrow.
And the place?
In my room.
Agreed, mr. Wordsworth.
We will choose your liquidator and send him over to you.
He will be duty bound, just as you prescribed,
not to divulge the method you've decided upon.
That will be all, mr. Wordsworth.
You may leave and return to your room.
An odd one, and with very bizarre requests.
Bizarre, yes, but to our advantage.
We'll show the people how this obsolete man,
this librarian, dies.
Come in, chancellor.
Thank you for coming.
Very irregular, mr. Wordsworth.
Do you know why i've come?
Do you?
Well, i invited you.
By all means, you invited me,
but why would i honor such an invitation?
A cryptic note from a condemned man
asking me to visit him
in the last hours of his life.
Hardly the norm, mr. Wordsworth,
hardly what i'm accustomed to...
and somewhat suspect, too.
How do i know i wasn't invited here
for that last pitiful gesture of vengeance
on the part of the condemned?
Vengeance?
Yes, i'm somewhat responsible
for the finding in your case.
Your demise in less than an hour
can be attributed at least in part to my decision.
I'll tell you why i came, mr. Wordsworth-
perhaps to prove something to you.
And that is?
To prove to you
that the state has no fears, none at all.
No, you will forgive me, chancellor.
That has all the elements of a joke.
I mean, you come to my room to prove that the state
isn't afraid of me?
Oh, what an incredible burden i must be,
to have to prove that the state isn't afraid
of an obsolete librarian like myself.
No, i'll tell you the reason you came.
I'll tell you the reason,
though you won't admit it to yourself.
What might that be?
I don't fit your formulae.
Somewhere along the line,
there's been a deviation from the norm.
Your state has everything categorized, indexed, tagged.
You are the strength.
People like me are the weakness.
You control and order and dictate,
and my kind merely follow and obey.
But something's gone wrong, hasn't it?
I don't fit, do i?
Oh, yes, you fit, mr. Wordsworth.
In a few moments, you'll be cringing and pleading
just like they all do.
Oh, yes, indeed, you fit.
You've got a worthless, miserable little life,
but you've got an instinct for survival,
and in a few minutes, when you feel life slipping away,
when you feel your survival is just a question of minutes,
we'll see then which is the stronger-
the state
or the librarian.
I take it you've had a talk
with whoever is assigned to your liquidation.
Yes, i have, indeed.
Midnight, isn't it?
Yes, in about 40 minutes.
See, they brought
this equipment here early this afternoon.
These two men put that up in less than 15 minutes.
It's remote control. Very efficient.
Well, we're being televised now.
It's not unusual that we televise executions.
Last year, in the mass executions,
we televised around the clock.
1,300 people were put to death in less than six hours.
You never learn, do you?
History teaches you nothing.
On the contrary,
history teaches us a great deal.
We had predecessors who had the right idea.
Yes, hitler.
Hitler, of course.
Stalin. Stalin, too-
but their error was not one of excess.
It was simply not going far enough.
Too many undesirables were left around,
and undesirables eventually form a core of resistance.
Old people clutch at the past and won't accept the new.
The sick, the maimed, the deformed,
they fasten onto the healthy body
and damage it, so we eliminate them.
And people like yourself-
they can perform
no useful function for the state
so we put an end to them.
What a charming room you have, mr. Wordsworth.
Have you lived here long?
Over 20 years.
I built that furniture myself.
Yes, so i understand, mr. Wordsworth.
That, incidentally, has kept you alive,
that particular talent.
Carpentry, you see, is a skill,
and the state provides considerable leeway
for people who possess certain skills.
Unfortunately, you went as far as you could go,
which was insufficient.
So in a few moments, it will be the end
of a rather fruitless life
and mr. Romney wordsworth,
librarian, goes to his own nirvana.
That's what they call it in your books,
isn't it, mr. Wordsworth?
You aren't facing the camera, mr. Wordsworth.
You're cheating your audience.
They want to see how you die.
Please, mr. Wordsworth,
turn around, face the camera.
That's right.
And don't stifle your emotions.
If you feel like crying, go ahead and cry.
Or if you want to plead, plead, by all means.
Some high state official might take pity on you.
Yes, that would please you, would it?
A little abject hand-wringing,
chest pounding, falling down on my hands and knees.
Suit yourself, mr. Wordsworth.
Unfortunately, i don't have time
to be entertained by them when they do come.
I have another appointment this evening.
Chancellor...
make it brief, mr. Wordsworth.
You have plenty of time. You're not going anywhere.
How's that?
I'm afraid i haven't been very fair with you.
I invited you here for a very special reason.
Would you like to know the method that i've chosen
for my liquidation?
Well, in a very few moments,
here in this room, a bomb is going off.
Very thoughtful, mr. Wordsworth:
Relatively quick and painless death.
Yes, isn't it?
However, knowing that you're going to be
blown to smithereens
in a few moments
isn't the happiest thought in the world, is it? Is it?
That depends on the individual, mr. Wordsworth.
Indeed it does.
What kind of idiocy is this, mr. Wordsworth?
You've locked the door.
Oh, yes, yes, i've locked the door.
Now, question:
How does a man react to the knowledge
that he's going to be blown to bits
within a half an hour?
That depends on the individual.
So for myself...
i'm going to sit down
and read my bible.
It's been hidden here for over 20 years.
It's a crime punishable by death,
so it's the only possession that i have
that has any value at all to me.
So i'm going to just sit down and read it
until the moment of my death.
How will you spend
your last moments, chancellor?
This is insane, wordsworth. Let me out of here.
Let me out of here, someone!
Guards, someone, anyone!
You're cheating the audience.
You're not facing the cameras.
Guards, somebody down there!
There is no sense in wasting your breath.
There's nobody there.
That's one of the rules you made up yourself:
Isolate the persons to be liquidated.
That's what you said.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
I think that there's no one there,
so why don't you face the camera?
It's very important. You said so yourself.
I'm beginning to understand, wordsworth.
Shoe on the other foot- that's the idea?
It's one thing for you
to do a little cringing, pleading,
but what a choice opportunity
to show a member of the state doing likewise.
But you're insane if you think
they'll let me stay here.
"They"? I ask clarification of the term "they."
Ah, you mean the state!
Oh, i think they'll sit on their hands for awhile.
They wouldn't want to miss this scene.
Besides, the act of rescue
would be very demeaning to them;
to have to break in here and rescue
a high-ranking member of the state,
to snatch him out of the soup, so to speak.
No, i think they won't help you.
I misjudged you, wordsworth.
You underestimated me.
You wanted the whole country
to see the way that a librarian dies.
Well, let the country see
the way an official of the state dies, too.
Face the cameras, step into the light.
Let the whole country see
the strength of the state,
the resilience of the state,
the courage of the state.
Let the whole country see the way
a valiant man of steel faces his death.
You have a nirvana coming up, too.
Why don't you sit down,
we'll have a little chat.
Just you and me... and the great equalizer,
'cause death is a great equalizer.
So here you have...
you have this strong, handsome, uniformed,
bemedaled symbol of giant authority,
and this insignificant librarian,
and suddenly, in the eyes of god,
there is precious little to distinguish us.
We shall see, wordsworth, we shall see.
"The lord is my shepherd, i shall not want.
"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures.
"He leadeth me beside the still waters.
"He restoreth my soul.
"He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness
"for his namesake.
"Yea, though i walk through the valley
"of the shadow of death, i will fear
"no evil, for thou art with me.
"Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
"Thou preparest a table before me
"in the presence of mine enemies.
"Thou anointest my head with oil.
"My cup runneth over.
"Surely goodness and mercy
shall follow me all the days of my life."
"Defend me from them that rise up against me.
"Deliver me from the workers of inequity
"and save me from the bloody men.
"For, lo, they lie in wait for my soul.
"The mighty are gathered against me,
"not for my transgression,
"not for my sins, o god.
"They run and prepare themselves
"without my fault.
"Awake to help me, and behold.
Then, therefore, o lord, god of hosts..."
"the fool hath said in his heart:
"'There is no god.'
"The lord looked down from heaven
"upon the children of men
"to see if there were any that did understand
and seek god."
"Out of the depths have i called unto thee, o, lord.
"Lord, hear my voice.
"Let thine ears be attentive
to the voice of my supplications..."
please, please, let me out.
In the name of god, let me out!
Let me out! Let me out!
Yes, chancellor, in the name of god,
i will let you out.
Stand where you are.
No further.
You have been removed from office.
The field investigators have declared you obsolete.
Obsolete?
You have disgraced the state.
You have proven yourself a coward.
You have therefore no function.
You are obsolete!
But i'm not. I'm not obsolete.
You are obsolete.
Obsolete, obsolete.
You are obsolete.
Obsolete...
you're making a terrible mistake, a tragic mistake.
I'm not obsolete.
I've worked for the state.
I've helped the state.
I helped give the state strength.
How can you call me obsolete?
How can you?!
Please, i'm not obsolete.
I...
please, i... please, i'm not obsolete.
L-i have a function, i have a purpose.
Please, i...
please.
I want to serve the state, please.
Please, no, i'm...
i'm not obsolete.
No, no, i... i... please, please.
I'm not obsolete, no!
I want to serve the state.
Please, please!
No!
I want to serve the state.
Please, i'm... i'm not obsolete.
The chancellor- the late chancellor-
was only partly correct.
He was obsolete,
but so is the state, the entity he worshipped.
Any state, any entity, any ideology that fails to recognize
the worth, the dignity, the rights of man-
that state is obsolete.
A case to be filed under "m" for mankind
in the twilight zone.
Rod serling, creator ofthe twilight zone,
will tell you about next week's story
after this word from our alternate sponsor.
And now, mr. Serling.
I'm about to show you a picture of something
that isn't what it looks like.
Pleasant little town, it isn't this at all-
it's a nightmare.
It's a chilling, frightening journey
of one man into a mystifying unknown.
You're invited to join that man in a most unique experience.
Next week, earl holliman asks, and you'll ask with him,
"where is everybody?"
Here's an item we forgot-
a moment for the people who pay the tab.
It's often said that a picture is worth a thousand words,
case in point.
Before we meet again,
try oasis- you'll know what i mean.
Be sure and watchgunsmoke, starring james arness,
saturday nights over most of these same stations.
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