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 that 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 the 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 is a citizen of the state but will soon have to be eliminated, because he is built out of flesh, and because he has a mind. Mr. Romney Wordsworth, who will draw his last breaths, in the Twilight Zone.
“The Obsolete Man” · Season 2, Episode 29
In this episode: Chancellor (3), Narrator (1), Rod Serling (1)
I am a librarian, sir. That is my occupation. That is my profession. If you people choose to call that obsolete...
A librarian. Having to do with books?
Yes sir, books.
And since there are no more books, there are no more libraries. Therefore,it follows there would be little use for the services of a librarian. Case in point,a minister would say his profession is preaching the word of God. And,of course, 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 No man is obsolete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. 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 am a human being! And if I speak one thought aloud, that thought lives, even after I've been 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 of all kind 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!
I am a librarian, sir. That is my occupation, and my profession. If you people choose to call that obsolete.....
Request clarification of the term.
Yes, Mister Wordsworth, the term "You People," do you make reference to The State?
I make reference to The State.
And you persist in declaring your occupation as that of a librarian. Is that correct?
Yes, sir, that is correct.
(his voice sneering) A librarian! Having to do with books!
Yes sir, books.
And since there are no more books, there are no more libraries. Therefore, it follows there would be little use for the services of a librarian. Case in point: a minister would say his profession is preaching the word of God. And, 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!
(The Chancellor is starting to show annoyance at Wordsworth)
You are in error, Mr. Wordsworth. There is no God. [grabbing loudspeaker] 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. 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 am a human being! And if I speak one thought aloud, that thought lives, even after I've been 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 of all kind an opiate to make you think you have strength when you have no strength at all! You have nothing but spindly limbs and a spindly dream. The State has no use for your kind!
[The Chancellor has just escaped the bomb that destroyed Wordsworth's quarters; now he enters the hall of judgment where our story began]
[speaking as the new Chancellor] Stand where you are. No further. You have been removed from office; the field investigators have declared you Obsolete.
[The former Chancellor stares incredulously]
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! Obsolete! Obsolete! Obsolete! Obsolete! Obsolete!
You're making a terrible mistake. A tragic mistake! I'm not Obsolete! I work for the State, I help the State! I help give the State its strength! How can you call me Obsolete!? HOW CAN YOU?! [Silence fills the chamber] Please, I'm not Obsolete.
[The Subaltern snaps his fingers. A guard slowly walks up to the Chancellor, who tries to run, but he finds one side of the crowd rising against him, he goes in the opposite direction, and the same happens, he looks desperately around]
Please... please, I'm not obsolete. I have a function, I have a purpose. Please... I want to serve the State, please! Please, no! I'm not obsolete! No, no, I- I- please, please, I'm not- I'm not obsolete, no! I want to serve the State... Please! Please! NO! I want to serve the State! Please! [the growling jurors close in on the ex-Chancellor, who breaks away with a yell and is chased across the room to the new Subaltern's seat] PLEASE, I'M- I'M NOT OBSOLETE!!! [He is grabbed, pulled down the length of the table, and dragged off to be killed as he screams]
The chancellor, the late chancellor, was only partly correct. He was obsolete. But so was the State, the entity he worshiped. 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.
The Chancellor, the late Chancellor, was only partly correct. He was obsolete. But so is the State, the entity he worshipped. Any state, entity, or ideology becomes obsolete when it stockpiles the wrong weapons: when it captures territories, but not minds; when it enslaves millions, but convinces nobody. When it is naked, yet puts on armor and calls it faith, while in the Eyes of God it has no faith at all. 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.
These quotes come from Wikiquote's The Twilight Zone (1959) pages and are available under the Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike License.