You unlock this door with the key of imagination.
Beyond it Is another dimension...
A dimension of sound, a dimension of sight, a dimension of mind.
You're moving into a land of both shadow and substance, of things and ideas.
You've just crossed over into the twilight zone.
Probe calling base.
This is probe calling base.
This is probe 7...
Probe with a landing report.
Over to you, base, over to you.
Probe 7, this is base. Probe 7, this is base.
You're coming through low but audibly.
Go ahead, probe 7.
I've crash-landed into a planet system
4.3 light years from our sun.
Most of my equipment's gone.
As of the moment, I don't know this planet's density or its atmospheric composition, but I'm alive and breathing.
Your visual image is very indistinct.
Can you increase your power?
I've got half a generator and three solar cells left.
Just how I'm getting through to you, I can't even explain.
Can you effect repairs?
How long do you estimate it will take?
Oh, give me about 20 years, new right arm, maybe replace my head, I could make a start.
In short... In short, I need help.
I need help desperately, and I need it right away.
We tracked you on impulses to your approximate locations.
We have nothing back here that can reach you. Nothing.
You'll have to make those repairs yourself.
I have no power. I have no propellant at all.
I've got a ship that looks like fragments from a space puzzle.
You tell me you've got nothing to send out for me, you're telling me you're crossing off one spaceman.
Repeat, please. Your last message was not clear.
I'll give it to you in just a few words.
This craft is not going to fly anymore...
Not forward, not up, and not back there.
Isn't there anything you can do to help me?
Look, I'm losing power. I've lost visual contact.
I'll have to sign off for now.
Acknowledge, will you, base?
We'll remain on this frequency.
We will expect to hear from you.
Colonel cook, this is general larrabee.
We understand your spot.
We wish we could help you.
There's only a possibility that if you check out your ship, we can transmit instructions to you for its repair.
Now, that's a possibility.
Why don't I just build a new one, general?
That's a possibility, too.
I'll transmit again as soon as possible.
Heaven help me.
I wonder...
I wonder if that's a possibility.
One colonel cook, a traveler in space.
He's landed on a remote planet several million miles from his point of departure.
He can make an inventory of his plight by just one 360-degree movement of head and eyes.
Colonel cook has been set adrift in an ocean of space in a metal lifeboat that has been scorched and destroyed and will never fly again.
He survived the crash, but his ordeal is yet to begin.
Now he must give battle to loneliness.
Now colonel cook must meet the unknown.
It's a small planet set deep in space, but for colonel cook, it's the twilight zone.
Anybody around here?
Anybody hear me?
This is probe calling base.
Probe calling base.
Over to you, base.
We read you very well, colonel.
Tell us your situation, please.
Relatively unchanged, general.
I worked on the solar cells so I'll be sending out more power.
It'll be temporary, but you're coming in stronger now, too.
What about your ship?
Probeis no longer probing, general, unless it's the few subterranean feet where I landed.
I've been outside. There's plant life, but I was pretty sure of that when I spiraled in.
The gravity pull's about the same as ours, and what I can tell of the atmosphere, that's roughly similar as well.
We've got a major problem here, cook.
There's been a major crisis.
w*r is imminent.
The next 24 hours will probably tell.
There's always a major crisis and there's always talk of w*r.
You'll forgive me, but my own problem has a little more immediacy for me.
It's alittle more personalized.
I've got a week's food left and two broken bones in one arm.
Can't another ship be sent out for me?
There isn't another ship, unless we build one.
If we have w*r in the next few hours, there isn't gonna be anybody left to do any building.
That's the realistic view.
That may go down hard but those are the facts of life.
Ten hours from now, perhaps six, four hours, we'll be committed back here.
I'm talking half a billion people.
Not just one lonely man.
Do you understand this?
Very well, general.
Very, very well.
Um...
Any point in my trying to contact you further?
Yes, colonel, two points:
One, to help your loneliness, and two...
To see if your own world still exists.
It's a moot question, colonel.
Which of us has the better chance for survival?
Over to you... And out.
Base calling probe 7.
Base calling probe 7.
This is probe 7.
Come in, base.
Anything new to report, colonel?
I've done some exploring, general.
I'm very much alone here.
No sign of anything?
Anything or anyone?
I've got a wind that sings sad songs to me.
There's some fruit trees that might provide food if it's not poisonous, and that's it, that's all of it.
Not that it will provide vast solace to you, but at 9:00 this morning, cook...
We went to w*r.
And?
Our entire seacoast went.
It took 12 minutes.
Exactly 12 minutes.
We-we retaliated?
Oh, indeed.
With alacrity and great effectiveness.
And we still are.
Our world is doing alittle wholesale dying now.
Are you safe?
For the time being.
Our location's classified.
The trouble is, we can't stay here much longer.
There have been bombs as close as 400 miles from us.
It's only a question now as to our manner of death...
Very fast or very slow.
It's that kind of choice.
You know, it's really a pity we didn't send others along with you.
What you think of as a prison might be a haven.
What you think of as a haven, general, is a very large, dark dungeon.
Maybe this world has only night and no day.
So far, only darkness.
And I don't care very much for solitary confinement.
Unfortunately for both of us, we have very little choice in the matter.
What's happening there, general? What's going on?
We're gonna have to move out of here now.
I don't know whether we'll be able to contact you again.
Try, sir, if you can. I-I'd like to hear a voice.
Silence or cries?
That's the story from our world.
Silence or cries.
God bless you, and good luck.
Good luck.
I've got company.
I've got company.
I've got company!
Whoever and wherever, welcome, welcome!
Come on down and meet your genial host.
Let me see you.
Please, whoever and wherever, let's shake hands.
Come on!
Let's shake hands.
I need a friend.
Come on!
Come on, friend.
Come on out.
Probe 7, this is base.
This is our last contact, cook.
Just a few minutes ago, we got ours.
500% increase in the radioactivity around us.
From what we can gather, the enemy had it just as bad as we did.
We wiped them out, they wiped us out.
Just one last forlorn wish for you, son.
Whoever you meet there, however you'll meet them, I hope it can come without fear.
I hope it can come without anger.
I hope your new world will be different.
I hope you'll find no word such as hate.
I hope there'll be...
all right, come on out.
You've got quite a choice.
You can be friendly, you can be neutral, or you can be dead.
You'll get hungry ina little while.
Or don't you eat?
I'm going to walk out of here so you can have a chance to get out when I'm not here.
I'll be outside.
You'll hear my footsteps so you'll know that I'm leaving.
You may not understand this language, but the tone may be getting through to you.
You can come out now when-whenever you want and we can talk.
You know what's going to happen in a few minutes?
I'm gonna wake up from this nightmare, and I'm going to charge out of bed like a rocket, and I'm going to tell them back home, "you can talk about dreams from now on, "but I get the prize for the most imaginative dream of the space age."
You understand?
Do you understand?
Do you understand anything I'm saying?
My name is cook.
I come from another planet.
I crash-landed here.
I cracked up my ship.
I'm the wingless spaceman, no place to go and all the time in the universe to get there.
Look...
This is my galaxy.
See, I went off-course.
I didn't have enough power to get back.
This was the only place I could find that looked inhabitable.
Here, right here, where we are.
Oh, what difference does it make?
You're probably an illusion anyway, just as those markings you left are an illusion as well.
So... You can disappear anytime now.
Understand?
That's your galaxy.
That's your planet.
That's where you came from.
Your planet got out of its orbit and moved away from your sun that's where you went, where your world went.
But you got out.
How many others?
You...
You...
Two, three, four, five...
And... Any others?
Em.
No, em.
Your ship.
What about your ship?
Where's your ship?
Ship? Ship?
Cook.
Cook.
Emman...
Norda.
Norda?
Norda.
So, how does it figure?
Anyway, we're stuck here.
A one-armed man with a broken rib and a tired woman.
What have you been living on?
Uh, what food?
What to eat?
Well, I can offer you food and I can offer you companionship.
We could spend the rest of our lives together drawing diagrams...
Which would become rather tedious.
But the brighter of us will have to learn the other's language eventually.
Come, norda.
Eat.
You understand?
Eat.
Food.
Eat...
Food...
Food.
Food.
Flah, em... norda!
Norda, please, please...
I'm not going to hurt you.
Please.
It's not just the language.
It's our breed.
It's the way we ultimately always respond to one another.
Good luck to you.
Good luck.
I can't give you any soil test.
I can't send you any plant species or animals or anything like that, but I can give you an observation as to the psychological makeup of man.
He's a frightened breed.
He's a very frightened breed.
Must be a universal trait.
Must be the case wherever there's life.
So we're not alone on that.
It is really quite a pity...
As you may have perceived if any of you have survived...
Do you hear me, base?
Do you hear me?
I hope it can come without fear.
I hope it can come without anger.
I hope your new world will be different.
I hope you'll find no word such as hate.
I hope there'll be...
Ah, just in time to say goodbye.
Going to try another place over in that direction.
More vegetation, fruit trees... Even flowers, it appears.
Sort of, uh... Sort of like a garden.
I'm going to try to live there.
De ekkel.
O-toh te ur.
Indeed you may.
Indeed you may come.
And we'll both live.
I don't know how or for how long, but we can try.
It would help if we could communicate.
Might as well start right now.
What do you call this?
In your language.
Eat?
No.
No, not eat.
Not food.
Earth?
Erd-thah?
Erd-thah.
Earth.
We've just given this place a name.
All right.
We'll call it earth.
Earth.
Cook.
Cook.
Adam cook.
Adam cook.
Norda?
Norda.
Eve.
All right, eve.
Well, we're dispossessed, and now we're going to possess.
This is our home now.
This is earth.
Sep-luh.
Ees...
Sep-luh.
Is that your food?
Is that what you've been living on?
What is it?
Eat.
Food.
Do you know these people?
Names familiar, are they?
They lived a long time ago.
Perhaps they're part fable. Perhaps they're part fantasy.
And perhaps the place they're walking to now is not really called Eden.
We offer it only as a presumption.
This has been the twilight zone.
And now, Mr. Serling.
Next on twilight zone, three national guardsmen on a maneuver traveling across the same ground formerly occupied by George Custer.
In an outfit called the 7th cavalry.
Time and its infinite complexity meshes in what evolves as a stunningly different story about soldiers and Indians suspended in limbo between then and now.
On twilight zone next, "the 7th is made up of phantoms."