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NARRATOR
Incident on a July afternoon, 1881. A man named Driscoll who came and went and, in the process, learned a simple lesson, perhaps best said by a poet named Lathbury, who wrote, 'Children of yesterday, heirs of tomorrow, what are you wearing? Labor and sorrow? Look to your looms again, faster and faster fly the great shuttles prepared by the master. Life's in the loom, room for it--room!' Tonight's tale of clocks and calendars--in the Twilight Zone.
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NARRATOR
[Opening Narration] Exit one Paul Driscoll, a creature of the twentieth century. He puts to a test a complicated theorem of space-time continuum, but he goes a step further - or tries to. Shortly, he will seek out three moments of the past in a desperate attempt to alter the present - one of the odd and fanciful functions in a shadowland known as the Twilight Zone.
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DRISCOLL
I will now tell you as succinctly as possible how I classify the times. We live in a cesspool, a septic tank; a gigantic sewage complex in which runs the dregs, the filth, the misery-laden slop of the race of men. His hatreds, his prejudices, his passions and his violence. And the keeper of this sewer? Man. He is a scientifically advanced monkey who walks upright and with eyes wide open into an abyss of his own making. His bombs, his fallout, his poisons, his radioactivity. Everything he designs as an art for dying is his excuse for living.
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HANFORD
[at dinner] So what are your world views, Driscoll?
PAUL DRISCOLL
I don't have any, Mr. Hanford.
HANFORD
Of course you do, man. We ALL do! Like all this nonsense about giving the Indians land. What we need are twenty General Custers and a hundred thousand men! What we should have done is swept across the prairie, destroying every redskin that stood before us. After that, we should have planted the American flag deep, high and proud!
ABIGAIL SLOAN
I think the country is tired of fighting, Mr. Hanford. I think we were bled dry by the Indian Wars. I think anything we can accomplish peacefully, with treaties, we should accomplish that way.
HANFORD
Now, I trust this isn't the path you spoon-feed your students. Treaties, indeed! Peace, indeed! Why, the virility of a nation is in direct proportion to its military prowess. I LIVE for the day when this country SWEEPS AWAY...
HANFORD
You some kind of a pacifist, Driscoll?
PAUL DRISCOLL
No, just some sick idiot who's seen too many boys die because of too many men who fight their battles at dining room tables... and who probably wouldn't last forty-five seconds in a REAL skirmish if they WERE thrust into it.
HANFORD
I take offense at that remark, Mr. Driscoll!
PAUL DRISCOLL
And I take offense at "armchair warriors," who don't know what a shrapnel, or a bullet, or a saber wound feels like... who've never smelled death after three days on an empty battlefield... who've never seen the look on a man's face when he realizes he's lost a limb or two, and his blood is seeping out. Mr. Hanford, you have a great affinity for "planting the flag deep." But you don't have a nodding acquaintance of what it's like for families to bury their sons in the same soil!