CHAPTER III

                                    "Change: Time - Space" --The Archetype of Transformation in Star Trek

                                           The world but feels the present spell,
                                           The poet feels the past as well.
                                           Whatever men have done, might do,
Whatever thought might think it too."
                                             --(Matthew Arnold, "Bacchanolia," 1867).

                                            It makes me mad to see what men shall do
And we in our graves! This world's no blot for us,
Nor blank; it means intensely, and means good.
--(Robert Browning, "Fra Lippo Lippi," 1855).

                                               Alas! it is delusion all;
The future cheats us from afar,
                                             Nor can we be what we recall,
Nor dare we think on what we are.
           --(Lord Byron, "They Say That Hope is Happiness,”
Stanzas for Music, 1816).  

                                             Before the making of years
                                                 There came the making of man
                                             Time, with a
gift of tears;
Grief, with a glass that ran ... "
--(A.C. Swinburne, "Atalanta in Calydon,” 1865).

     Change creates time and all change occurs in time. The study of modern man is the study of his adaptations to change. Percy

Shelley says, "Naught may endure but mutability," presenting industrial man with the seeming paradox that the only thing that

never changes is change itself. Change is the one indisputable law of the universe; it is absolute in its temporality; it has

been too long the whipping



post of metaphysicians, the fixation of theories of Einstein's Relativity and of quantum-mechanics. Every voice crying
in the wilderness lifts his voice -- sometimes in anguish, sometimes in euphoria--about time, in time. "0 Tempora, 0 Mores!"
to "A time for you, a time for me" (Cicero to T. S. Eliot). Time is one element man is given to utilize and dominate;
it is
the crown of freedom, the price of the fall from Eden. From Plato to Bergson and beyond, time has been,
and continues to be, man's obsession -- partly because
it is man's most precious commodity. From the early Greeks,
through Locke, Newton, Berkeley and others, time was often more theory than fact, more the toy of time-killing
theorists than the empty song of an empty singer of an empty day. Time was always a concern, but with the
advent of the Industrial Revolution in the eighteenth century, man's concern with and for time changed: the cause
was change itself. Mankind realized that time, the ancient object of idle metaphysicians, was killing man --
physically and spiritually. The vague and contradictory theories of effete intellectuals became an everyday experience
of brutal day-to-day Darwinism survival a personal as well as a universal experience, not an abstract absolute.
Time was no longer noumenal, as Kant suggested, not a mere subjectivism, but a phenomenal fact,
the sheer tyranny of temporality. Time was no longer a vertical question, but a temporal horizontality.
In the case of
man in an industrialized society, time became temps vecu--time lived. In a time where clocks
and watches heralded a world of mechanical gadgets, man reacted with both anticipation and fear. Materialism
wrought change, but the changes effected by the Industrial



Revolution were unprecedented in the history of western civilization. Too much happened, too fast to too
many people in too short a time. The changes were abrupt and cataclysmic, brilliant yet devastingly fast in occurring.
Prior to the early 1700's, Great Britain and,  for that matter,  all of western Europe, was an agrarian, rural, feudal
society. The machine age closed the book on centuries of medievalism. The "dark ages" were a time of little change
in the human condition. Although some mechanical discoveries occurred (navigational inventions, the water and
pendulum clocks, the art of ballistics), these discoveries were answers to immediate needs, especially in trade and
mercantilism. Western man's horizons were severely limited partly because changes were few and affected only
the few -- usually the upper classes of society.  Medieval Catholicism, western Europe's major religion before the
Reformation, was a closed world that stressed a vertical view of time and matter by stressing the eternal and the
other-world and by deemphasizing the physical world.
     Man was to live with a view towards eternity, and the earth was a brief interval between eternities of heaven and
hell. One looked up to God or went to hell -- a vertical perspective. The church neglected the here and now as a
temptation and the devil's playground. The anti­-flesh attitude of Catholicism was reinforced later by the Cambridge
Neo-Platonists and by the Calvinistic school of the Protestant Reformation. Medievalism and Catholicism also
stressed conformity to external authority, thereby stiffling the individual and one’s personal freedom in time.
Innovative behavior was not respected, but was held



suspect or as evil. Intellect reigned over corporeality, the group over personal creativity. Man lived in an atmosphere
of black and white morality. Medievalism assured man of an afterlife subsequent to the miseries of everyday dumdrudge,
so man sought reward in timelessness, not in the temporal sphere. European life changed little for almost a millennium
in a very closed but secure world symbolized by the very symbol of the passive life -- the castle with its moat as a symbol
of defensive posture against time and change. There was little to rock the boat of man's creative posture. This pentupness,
this feudal, passive posture was not to change slowly over a few centuries, but was to be utterly obliterated
in the Romantic movement in a matter of a few decades. With the fall of medievalism and Neo-Classicism,
western man experienced the violent revolution of two concomitant historical phenomena: the Industrial Revolution
and the rise of Romanticism. With these two movements, the modern age can said to have begun.
     Star Trek's theory of man and time is respectfully situated in the continuing tradition of Romanticism, firmly rooted
as early as Heraclitus, into Hegel and Kant, but intensely beginning with Blake and Wordsworth in nineteenth century,
with British Romanticism, into Bergson, Heidegger and Sartre in the twentieth century. Time in Roddenberry's works is
firmly rooted in the humanistic traditions from Romanticism through and beyond Existentialism and through the rise of
the empirical sciences from the discovery of the steam engine to the tragic voyage of the "Columbia" space shuttle.
Star Trek combines the best of the humanities and the sciences of the past two hundred years in analyzing the
problems involved in modern man's adaptation to change in time.


After the middle of the eighteenth century, time and change became an obsession, the freedom to progress and

the freedom to regress, the freedom to choose or not to choose, the freedom to grow and the freedom to go underground.

The very term, change, wrought both promise and terror into the hearts and heads of intellectual and common folks alike.

Change rode juggernaut on the wheels of science over the souls and bodies of western man. The effects were devastating.

While the few followed the young Tennyson's cry of "Forward, forward...let us prance/ Let the great world spin forever

down the ringing grooves of change," the many sheltered emotions ranging from skepticism to paralyzing doubt to utter horror

-- a deep sense that something was terribly wrong:

                                          So I triumphed ere my passion sweeping through me left/
me dry,
Left me with the palsied heart, and left me with the/
                                          jaundiced eye;

                                          Eye to which all order festers, all things here are out/
                                          of joint.
                                          Science moves, but slowly, slowly, creeping on from point/
                                           to point.
                                                 --(Alfred Lord Tennyson, "
Locksley Hall," 1837-38).

     The "Iron Age" became what Thomas Carlyle called the age of downtroding and disbelief. Change had heralded the

age of doubt, the age of dualism, dialectics, tensional opposites. Western man was split into two. Star Trek is visible

testament to man's struggle to survive and to grow in the face of adversity and change. Time was to become a Janus, a

Chronos and a Kronos:

                                                          It continues ever true ... that Saturn, or Chronos, or what
we call Time, devours all his children: only by
                                                                            incessant Running,
by incessant Working, may you
(for some three score-and-ten years) escape him; and
                              you too he devours at last, can any
Sovereign, or Holy alliance of Sovereigns, bid time
                                                         stand still; even in thought, shake themselves
free of Time?"
--(Thomas Carlyle, 'Sartor Resartus,' 1833).                                                      


     Man became acutely aware of time as both creator and destroyer, that life means war with the Time-Spirit (zeitgeist).
The battle lines were clearly drawn between Time as Creator and Time as Destroyer. For man to be dormant meant the
irreversible conquest of man engulfed in the vortex of the tyranny of Time. The rise of modern science drew distinctions and
differences where man had once seen oneness and endurance. The maniacal need to know was soon at war with man's need
to grow-- a distinction first made in the nineteenth century, which forms most of the tension in the human drama that is Star Trek.
Science helped man to look, to inquire into things and into himself. The age of inquiry is our inheritance; man must "analyze,”
must (ala Nomad) "investigate,” and it was this predilection for analysis that was to turn back upon the inquirer, making
analysis a self-destructive process. To analyze via the scientific method means to break down a whole into its constitutive
parts without any reintegration. The learning empirical method was mechanical, not creative or organic or wholistic. Anatomy
became a science and a way of life. Star Trek bodies forth these inquiries and studies the effects of science and self-
consciousness on man.
     Charles Lyell's Principles of Geology and Charles Darwin's Origin of Species (1859) and The Descent of Man (1881)
showed the rise of analytical science and the tyranny of empirical data clearly felt in every line of Spock, in every computer
from the M-5 to Landru.  The problem of over-inquiry is still the same. Man must, in Roddenberry's thinking, balance
knowledge with wisdom, inquiry with emotional health. These problems struck Britain first as man underwent (and still
undergoes) the concomitant needs for inquiry into the ME (Ich) and into the NOT-ME (nicht-Ich). The "analyze" motif
in Star Trek is a testament to man's continual need for knowledge, making modern man's life a treatise of metaphysics,
i.e., the need for mind to know mind and to transcend mind.



       Star Trek's inheritance from the rise of science was a two-edged sword. Traditional customs and beliefs were destroyed
as science's theory of evolution changed man's concept of the ME and of the NOT-ME, the self and the world. New Biblical
theories and treatises replaced faith with fact. Man's studies of the earth vied with traditional religious beliefs that man was barely
one-thousand years old. Darwin and others turned hundreds of years into millions of years. The common man could no longer trust
over a thousand years of inherited religious beliefs as archeology and paleontology became new and respected sciences. Darwin's
theory of evolution was second only to the Copernician solarcentric theory as the most devastating shock to the ego of
western man. Many a mind simply unraveled when the man-monkey theories were supported by anthropological discoveries
in South America and in Africa. It was upon Darwin's theory that man originated in Africa that the Drs. Leaky acted in the
recent decades of our twentieth century. The real job of man's past challenged and altered western man's concept of himself
and of Time forever. Man found the past almost terrifying as the descent of man from other, older and "lower" forms of life
grasped the very heads, hearts and viscera of the common man. The thoughts that one's multi-great uncle may have been a
baboon was not a cheerful and edifying thought for western man who, from Plato until Darwin, had prided himself on his
uniqueness, on his Godly creation, and on his own reason. To take man to the level of brute, primitive instinct left a bad taste
in the mouths of Victorian man; it still gives contemporary groups a sense of


loathing and repulsion. Star Trek's emphasis on man's primitive instincts, on his animosity, on his emotionality and sexuality,

show the continuing necessity of western man to deal with the fact that he is "still part savage" ("Arena"). Much of man's

inner and outer strength in Star Trek is in his primordial inheritance. Far from being an embarrassment or an evil, man can

acknowledge his violence and brutality and, as Captain Kirk says, we can say we are barbarians while saying I choose not to

kill today. Man, as a dualism of reason and body, can grow from these contraries. In the nineteenth century, man feared or

shunned his animality or ceased to grow out of fear of this new sense of himself and of his role in Time. The present left him

in doubt; the past terrified him or he found refuge in past pockets of a less traumatic nature ("All Our Yesterdays") and the

future filled the common man with uncertainty. The future afterlife became uncertain because of present scientific discoveries,

many of which pertained to man's past. This decimated man's ego and created a dialectic between reason and faith, between

reason and emotion, between past and future. The new accent in Star Trek tries to counteract the nineteenth and twentieth

centuries' accents on differentiation as a negative problem. In Star Trek, differences are a gift, a boon because the Trek

emphasis on IDIC (infinite diversity in its infinite combinations) is a fact that transcends adversity and that creates the beauty

of creation's heterogeneity.

     Star Trek's view of present and future Time is based on humanity's careful knowledge of his recent and primitive past. Change

is not a raging beast, but is a power whereby man may create Time and a better mankind in space and in Time. Science in the

nineteenth  century found the common man in a Tholian web of flux, in a crisis of




faith, in a scenario of questions without answers. The erosion of faith in Time and in timelessness created the infamous age of
doubt which, in the twentieth century, becomes a present of existential der angst, of fear and anxiety. It is the Romantic school's
emphasis on the creative interaction between contraries (Blake, Wordsworth, Shelley) that created a psychology of organicism,
of wholism that helped, that continues in Star Trek, to turn the "Journey to Babel" with its polyglot and poly-psychologies into
a common effort of the many to achieve what is a good for all infinite diversities.

     The age of doubt and metaphysics fragmented the Neo-Classical unities and securities of a closed world and created unknowns
and unknowables. This virtually fossilized man's life and created the psychology of dualism. The nineteenth and twentieth

centuries have been classified often by one word: schizophrenia. The key to the psychology of time and space in Star Trek is

the twoness versus the oneness in time. From hortas, to Spocks, to Kirks, to whole galaxies, all is two, and the purpose of the

time journey, of the “mission” of the Enterprise, is to seek out and find these twonesses in a universal quest that has as its god a

quest for unity and harmony in a cosmos of diversity and seeming chaos. The rise of science in the post-Industrial Revolution

created a dialectic between science and faith, a schism between the sciences and the humanities -- a schism that continues to

be a ghost haunting Hamlet.



      Thomas Carlyle wrote an entire book entitled Past and Present in which the split in time is the work's only topic.
He compares England in 1200 with nineteenth century England:
          Behold therefore, this England of the Year 1200
          was no chimerical vacuity or dreamland, peopled
          with mere vaporous Phantasms, Rymer's Foedera,
          and Doctrines of the Constitution; but a green
          solid place, that grew corn and several other
          things. The Sun shone on it; the vicissitude
          of seasons and human fortunes. Cloth was woven
          and worn; ditches were dug, furrow-fields
          ploughed, and houses built. Day by day all men
          and cattle rose to labour, and night by night
          returned home weary to their several liars. In
          wondrous Dualism, then as now, lived nations of
          breathing men; alternating, in all ways, between
          Light and Dark; between joy and sorrow, between
          rest and toil …dumb millions of toilers so
          entirely unbearable as it is even in the days
          now passing over us. It is not to die, or even
           to die of hunger, that makes a man wretched;
           many men have died; all men must die,--the last
           exit of us all is in a Fire-Chariot of Pain. But
           it is to live miserable we know not why; to
          work sore and yet gain nothing; to be heart-worn,
          weary, yet isolated, unrelated, girt-in with a
          cold universal Laissez-faire it is to die slowly
         all our life long, imprisoned in a deaf, dead.
         Infinite Injustice, as in the accursed iron belly
         of a Phalaris' Bull .
             (Thomas Carlyle, Past and Present, 1843).

For Carlyle, as with Tennyson, Arnold, Swinburne, the hell of the present finds some solace in the past. Modern man is a slave.
There is little hope and no prophecy. Man's liberty is, as Carlyle says, the liberty to starve to death in a Time when man's material
progress was unprecedented in its advancement. This inability to reconcile time past and time present is the subject of time in

Star Trek with its time warps and time travelers --a point to be analyzed in several Trek episodes in this chapter.



The entire Star Trek phenomenon continues. In man's moral, physical and psychological schizophrenia, man ceased to believe;

he stopped wanting to grow because science proved the existence of empirical bases for beliefs. Man's personality, his ego,

was shattered like the Biblical curtain, into two pieces. Charles Dickens, in his novel Dombey and Son (1849), pictured the

loss of faith in low church attendance in the mid-nineteenth century by using the symbol of dust everywhere in the church --

on the Bible, on the surplice, on the pews. Mice frolicked, throwing dust everywhere in the church. Even the ancient pew-opener

was dust-laden and aged, on the brink of death. The present in Time saw a unity of doubt in past and in future coalescing in

Time present. The past was dead and nothing in the present replaced the breach that broke western civilization into what

T.S. Eliot called the "dissociation of sensibility." Matthew Arnold, in lines well known to students of the Victorian age,

defines the problem of this split in Time:

Wandering between two worlds, one dead,
        The other powerless to be born,
        With nowhere yet to rest my head ....
        Our fathers watered with their tears
        This sea of time whereon we sail,
        Their voices were in all
men’s ears.
        Who passed within their puissant hail.
        Still the same ocean round us raves,
        But we stand mute, and watch the waves."
             --(Matthew Arnold, "Stanzas from the Grande Chartreuse”
1852) .

One of the most common themes in literature written after the Industrial Revolution is the dialectic between past and present.                 



     The Industrial Revolution also created a dialectic between matter and spirit, both in man and between man [ME], and matter
 [NOT-ME] The nineteenth century broke down into two schools, both based on the philosophies of matter and spirit. The
Utilitarians or Benthamites became the proponents of material progress, and they equated material evolution in time

(physical change) with spiritual change, i.e., man was a better man because he created new and better changes -- mostly in

the form of scientific inventions, such as the railroad, the thresher, electricity, etc. These materialists saw physical change as

progress in time, as a symbol of man's overall progress. Therefore, man was matter without spirit, without soul. This school

believed in the greatest happiness principle, a soma pill psychology of keeping the masses happy by making day-to-day life easier.
The phrase "all's well with the world" is the first and best-known slogan of Utilitarianism. What gives pleasure is good;
what gives pain is evil -- a simple morality based solely on matter and the flesh.
     This philosophy of matter without spirit is a form of change unacceptable to Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek because man is not
a body distinct from or living without a soul. As Carlyle says, 'Soul is not synonymous with stomach,' and Carlyle, as with
Roddenberry, agrees that the ethic of Mammonism, of only material changes as the root of man's progress in time, is unacceptable
because it is only, at best, half of the experience of man in time. The second school that developed in the nineteenth century

as a result of the Industrial Revolution and its rise of science was the


Coleridgean or Spiritualist School, named after its Romantic mentor, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who, with William Wordsworth,
published Lyrical Ballads in 1798, a work considered to be the official, written beginning of British Romanticism. Spiritualism
was a reaction to and rebellion against the increasing materialistic changes wrought by modern man and science. The Spiritualists
still exist today, and will continue to exist as long as man worships what Bacon called the idols of the market place: things,

inventions, places his stomach, the flesh without regard to man's spiritual evolution in time without regard to his immortal half --
his soul, his mind, his internal change as a man. This is the Spiritualist "school" whose founders began the Romantic movement in
Industrial England as an attempt to achieve a balance between spirit and matter by insisting on the creative relationship between
the two, by showing that these contraries are necessary for human progress in time.
These men extend from William Wordsworth, S.T. Coleridge, P.B. Shelley, John Keats, Thomas Carlyle, A.L. Tennyson,
Robert Browning well into the twentieth century: William Faulkner, Hermann Hesse, Thomas Mann, Saul Bellow, M. Heidegger,
Albert Camus, John Fowles into the present. To this list must he added the name of Gene Roddenberry. The above men,
and a hundred other well-known philosophers, such as Paul Tillich, Erich Fromm, Martin Buber, great poets like T. S. Eliot,
W.B. Yeats, James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, W. H. Auden, are all concerned with man’s spiritual change, as man, in Time.



They all seek to show that material change must be accompanied by spiritual change. Gene Roddenberry is one of these men for
all seasons who saw and see material growth (computers, television, and all technology) as a one-sided obsession with this world
of temporality. They seek to restore the balance by emphasizing man's spirit/soul, his moral well-being, his intangible being.
Roddenberry and his predecessors see earth and mechanical ("clock") time as Mammonistic opiates keeping man from his
past and his future: the soul and eternity. Science is necessary as a tool, but the danger is that technology becomes Landru
and the creator becomes the thing created. Thingization is the moralist's nightmare. Science is a juggernaut whose wheels
create a science-faith schism, developing knowledge without wisdom.

           Shall your Science… proceed in the
           small chunk-lighted, or even oil­-
          lighted underground workshop of Logic
          alone; and man’s mind become
          an Arithmetical Mill? ... Thought without
          Reverence is barren, perhaps poisonous.

 (T. Carlyle, Sartor Resartus, 1833).

The same cry of the soul echoes like an angelic anthem as great men examine the spirit within:

          To drift with every passion till my soul
          Is a stringed lute on which all winds can play…
          Methinks my life is a twice-written scroll
          Scrawled over on some boyish holiday
         With idle songs for pipe and virelay,
         Which do but mar the secret of the whole…
         And must I lose a soul's inheritance?
                     (Oscar Wilde, "Helas," 1881).

Arthur Symons in 1891 in "Emmy" says "Soul for soul: and think the soul of a man/ Shall answer ... in hell."  To those thinkers who
precede Roddenberry, the matter of soul must be considered in man's changes



in time and space. Matter is a context, even a catalyst for man's inner growth. He must grow and change as the world presents man with
Tholian webs, arenas, bread and circuses, requiems, and, as
will be analyzed, with all things past, present and future--our yesterdays,
our todays and our tomorrows are words that form the titles of many Star Trek episodes. Man cannot call change a progress in a
world full of poverty, illiteracy, drugs and deviates. What is man if he gains the world and loses his immortal soul? As the reader
may see, Gene Roddenberry stands at the current end in time present who realize that rapid change can cause time distortions
(example, wormholes) in the space which man occupies and which occupies him.

     The insistence, from Jean-Jacques Rousseau (the philosophical father of Romanticism and the French Revolution) to Heidegger,
to Faulkner, to Roddenberry, is that time not be considered in terms of an abstract absolute, a theoretical reality, but that time be
seen as anthropocentric time. It is one of the tenets of the Romantic and past Romantic eras (including existentialism) that life is
an intensely personal and individual experience, that time be measured not in terms of the Newtonian clock, but in terms of the
 lived experiences of the individual. Prior to the modern age (1750 and beyond), man was always viewed qua genus, as a classification,
a group called homo sapiens. The characters of Squire Western and Tom Jones in Henry Fielding's novel, Tom Jones, are
types, two-dimensional figures with no three dimensional “realistic” complexities. Daniel Defoe's Moll Flanders and Robinson Crusoe
are representative of human typologies. Moll is a harlot, a thief, a wife, etc., but little more. However,


with the growth of the Romantic movement, man's view of man became man’s view of men in a distinct spatio-

temporal dimension, i.e., a material environment. George Eliot's Maggie Tulliver in The Mill On the Floss and Thomas

Hardy's heroine, Tess in Tess of the d'Urbervilles are tragic heroines whose struggles are external (man versus man), internal

(man versus self) and metaphysical (man versus the zeitgeist, society and nature). Modern man and the science of psychology

evolved from the Romantic movement's new focus on the individual, not on man as genus. The novels of the nineteenth

and twentieth centuries focus on the deeply-lived intensity, the strife, the sweat, the agonies and ecstasies of the individual

in nature and in society. Man is no longer interesting for what thesis he metaphorically represented or how well-mannered

he was (externals), but in who he was, in what he did and in the struggle of human existence. Man was not the

mere victim of time, but he emerges as the arbiter of time who determines the nature and the form of time. Time was and is an

anthropocentric deed in Star Trek. Man must act. To be means to do. Doing is being. Time is no longer some abstract,

speculative theory where one counts the number of angels on the head of a pin (Aquinas) or where scientists

attempt to extract sunbeams from cucumbers or to turn human excrement back into its original food

(Swift, Gulliver's Travels, Book III). Time becomes time experienced, time lived (temps vecu) -- not time

thought. In Star Trek, time is a psychology of changes to be effected by the individual by freely-willed acts

performed in a temporal horizon



with an aim of overcoming obstacles in order to grow, to expand the frontiers of time by effecting changes that create time
and new time.Rousseau held, as one of his basic concepts of the individual, that the self had within him infinite possibilities.
William Blake iterated this philosophy of time and man: "No bird soars too high, if he soars with his own wings"
(The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 1780). Star Trek demonstrates a recognition of and a determination to overcome the
problem that arises when a belief in man's infinite possibilities joins the rise of science with its traumatic expansion of
human knowledge. A dialectic between reason and emotion developed and the individual become static from the terror
incited by the possibilities and by the achievements of man in time. The desire became separated from the deed
and modern man's greatest crisis developed. Man withdrew. Star Trek is in the tradition of philosophy and literature which
exhorts man to action. Only one evil exists for modern man: stasis. Man must dominate and control time. Inertia prevents
the forward movement and therefore keeps modern man from changing and initiating change with his environment.
The disease of modern man is symbolized by his withdrawal from the confrontational ethic, from the need to know
and to act and to grow.

                                 He who desires but acts not, breeds pestilence…

                                 The cistern contains: the fountain overflows…

                                  For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things thru narrow/ chinks of his cavern.

                                                     -- (William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 1780 ).

Doubt created stasis; man ran from the changes brought about by the




Industrial Revolution.  The disease of self-consciousness runs the gamut of great literature from Blake through Roddenberry:

              ... Free will… has abdicated and withdrawn into the
             dark, and a spectral nightmare of  Necessity usurps
             its throne ... of Volition, except as the symptom of
             Desire, we hear nothing; of 'motives,' without any
             Mover, more than enough.
                     -- (Thomas Carlyle, “Characteristics," 1831).

What man thought became divorced from what man could do. Opinion and action no longer worked as one. If man had a thought
or a desire, neither found its way into action. The picture of Commodore Stocker in "The Deadly Years” taking command
of the Enterprise after the competency hearing is an example of Roddenberry's abhorrence of inertia and indecision in a time of
crisis. The ship is quickly encircled by Romulan vessels and Stocker does not act. Using his experience, Captain Kirk
(now cured of old age) puts thought into action and saves the ship. Kirk epitomizes the chronic need for modern man to act,
to change and to alter time, to dominate time by altering it through will, but only if the will is externalized vis-a-vis physical action
in time. Commodore Stocker epitomizes the "underground man" created by change. In ST: TMP, the viewer visualizes Kirk
bully Admiral Nogura and Starfleet Command into giving Kirk command of the Enterprise once more. After years at head of
Star fleet operations, Kirk knows he cannot become a chair-bound paper-pusher like the Stockers of the world because
his will and the need to exert it through action overcome all obstacles. Kirk's will and his ability to act earn him Scotty's high
admiration, so much so that twenty-four hours soon become the twelve Kirk permits for embarkation. The great man, the



overcomes all obstacles, even age (ironically a factor in "The Deadly Years" and in "Star Trek: The Motion Picture").

Kirk bodies forth Roddenberry's inherited abhorrence of physical and moral inertia. Roddenberry would agree with Carlyle:

           Not in watching, not in knowing which, but
           in working outwardly to the fulfillment of its
          aim, does the well-being of Society
          consist....The mere existence and necessity
          of a Philosophy is an evil. Man is sent hither
           not to question, but to work; 'the evil of man ...
is an Action, not a Thought. '
               -- (Thomas Carlyle, "Characteristics," 1831).

In his theory of man and time, Roddenberry writes in a strong tradition of writers and philosophers

who see man withdrawing from space and time. The cure for the disease of man internalization, his withdrawal

into the shell of the ME is the therapy of acting, regardless of the nature of the act. Old-fashioned psychic

externalization was discovered by religious and literatures long before Freud invented the subconscious.

Man must be the changer, not the
changé.  To the thinkers in the nineteenth century doubt existed, not in

the background, but in the foreground. Roddenberry's solution is based on a perceptive knowledge of man

The problem is not to deny, but "to ascertain and perform." This is the mission of the Enterprise;

to explore space, to confront and to create time by creating change by the deed! Roddenberry's episodes and

movies scream to a deaf and fearful twentieth century--don't just sit there--do something! In 1833,

an almost unknown Scotsman was saying



the same thing. Change, as Darwin had pointed out, was an evolutionary fact of time. We are in progress and cannot deny it. Carlyle
and Roddenberry link two centuries of an obsession to make change more creative:

          In change ... there is nothing terrible, nothing
         supernatural: on the contrary, it lies in the
         very essence of our lot and life in this world.
         Today is not yesterday: we ourselves change ...
         change, indeed, is painful.
                    --(Thomas Carlyle, “Characteristics,” 1831).

Change is painful, but change and mystery are part of life and man must live to create time. Weltschmerz is the norm, not the exception:

          A region of Doubt ... hovers forever in the
          background: in Action alone can we have
          certainty ... Doubt is the indispensable
          inexhaustible material whereon Action works,
          which Action has to fashion into Certainty
          and Reality; only on a canvas of Darkness,
          such is man's way of being, could the many- ­
           coloured picture of our Life paint itself
           and shine.
                    -- (Thomas Carlyle, "Characteristics," 1831).

It is the mission of the Enterprise to do exactly what man is created to do: act and create in time. Change is at the very
essence of time; hence it is Star Trek that uses the term "creator" dozens of times. Nomad seeks its "creator" (Leroy Jackson Kirk);
V'ger is the ultimate statement of a machine's obsession to meet its "creator."   “The creator does not answer," the Ilia-probe says.
Always, it is the "creator," and the creator is man who ceases to be what Erich Fromm calls "fully human" when he ceases to create.
Man as changer and creator of time is Gene Roddenberry's thesis that has not changed from 1966 through the movie in 1979,
to the present. Even



amid doubt, man has what the poet, John Keats, called "Negative Capability, that is when man is capable of being in uncertainties,
Mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact & reason”  (“Letter to George and Thomas Keats,
December 21-27, 1817”). Man ceases to exist as man when he ceases to change, to effect change and, therefore, to create time;
in creating time, man creates and re-creates matter (NOT-ME) and self (ME). This is the challenge of 200 years of literature:
the deed, the use of temporality-- past, present, and future -- is man's key to eternity. This philosophy mentioned by the Greek
philosopher, Heraclitus, is the basis of much of Western man's thinking. The only thing that cannot and must not change is
change, and it is the Kirk's, the McCoy’s, the Sulu’s, the Chekov’s, the Scott's and, of course, the Spock’s, who turn Heraclitus'
theory of flux and chaos into order and creativity for man through a quest for reintegration, for marriage of opposites, amid
fragmentation and divisiveness. The nineteenth and twentieth centuries lead up to and culminate in Roddenberry's Star Trek
because all bespeak 200 years in search of the creative act. In an essay entitled, "Ideas of Time in the History of Philosophy,"
Cornelius Benjamin strikes the familiar chord:

            Creativity is obviously present in the universe.
             Life is more than bare matter, yet emerged from
             it in the temporal process; mind is more than life, yet appeared in the evolutionary scale.
             Time must therefore be concerned of not merely
             a change, but as "creative change .... Hence
             something comes from nothing.
--(The Voices of Time. Ed. J. T. Fraser. (London: Allen Lane The Penguin Press, 1968, p. 7).




     Without change, there could be no meaning to permanency. Man is still man; space is still space, but man

changes and the universe changes. Changes share space and time with changelessness. Spock may change in a

specific quality, but he is still Spock. Therefore, Star Trek is ensconced in a two hundred year old tradition that

never dies, a continual attempt to bridge the dialectic between thought and deed:

              Our whole terrestrial being is based on Time,
           and built of Time; it is wholly a Movement,
           a Time impulse; Time is the author of
the material of it. Hence also our [man’s]
whole Duty, which is to move, to work, in
            the right direction.
              -- (Thomas Carlyle, Sartor Resartus, 1833).

A famous man once said that a thinking and acting man is the worst enemy the prince of darkness can have.

The quest for that thought, that deed, can mean suffering and even death, but Spock faced his human half

in "The Naked Time," crying that he could never tell his mother that he loved her. Kirk overcame

his fear of losing the "Enterprise" in “The Naked Time" and in "And the Children Shall Lead." Commodore Decker

in "The Doomsday Machine" knew his duty lay in a deed that would give life to others and death to himself.

That Decker's son, Will Decker in "Star Trek: The Motion Picture" resembled his father in seeking

union with V’ger via the Ilia probe. "It’s what I want, " he says. In his act of self-sacrifice, his merger (marriage)

with V’ger created a new life form. Decker changed, thereby creating time and transcending

it at the same time.



     Star Trek stresses the real and the ideal of change and man's adaptation to change to avoid the disease of

turning inward. Matthew Arnold's Empedocles embodies the dilemma of modern man as Callicles talks to himself:

          There is some root of suffering in himself,
          Some secret and unfollowed vein of woe....
          Pester him not in this his somber mood
          With questioning about an idle tale…
          Keep his mind from preying on itself....

Empedocles, alone, states the problem and the solution:

          We do not what we ought,
          What we ought not, we do,
            And lean upon the thought
          That chance will bring us through;
          But our own acts for good, or ill, are mightier
powers ….
          What were the wise man's plan?
            Through this sharp toil-set life,
          To work as best he can,
          And win that's won by strife.
                 -- (Matthew Arnold, "Empedoc1es On Etna," 1852).

Empedocles is the diseased modern man who is reduced to a "devouring flame of thought," an "eternally restless mind" who

jumps into the volcano because he cannot act, but is a "slave of thought" who cheats the gods of their mockery by

suicide which is, tragically, man's act of freedom from the march of mind, the hell of self-consciousness,

thought without creative action.

     Star Trek is a monumental statement against the Prufrockian syndrome: desire without action. It is in his

first published poem, "The Love Song of
J. Alfred Prufrock" (1917) that T. S. Eliot introduces the man who desires

but acts not--a testament to the fact that from 1780 to 1917, western civilization's greatest minds saw

no change in



the nature of the problem: doubt and self-consciousness were eating man from the inside out.
Prufrock is modern man whose consciousness of time is nightmarish:

              And indeed there will be time
             For the yellow smoke that slides along the street
             Rubbing its back upon the windowpanes;
             There will be time, there will be time
             To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;
             There will be time to murder and create…
             Time for you and time for me,
             And time yet for a hundred indecisions,
             Before the taking of a toast and tea.
                      -- (T. S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J.A1fred Prufrock," 1917).

"Prufrock" is a tragic figure, the plight of a hesitant, inhibited man, a dreamer in decaying middle-class
surroundings. His flaw is inaction through fear. Prufrock is in hell, the hell of the unchanging self in a world
where, by doing nothing, Prufrock ages more and more. The theme of man's ability to "murder" time
is important because, in doing nothing, man has "time to kill." As Prufrock says, "I have measured out my life
with coffee spoons." The nightmare of no creation in time comes down to a simple line:
"Do I dare to eat a peach?" Taken literally, this line shows the terrifying realism of what man has
regressed into--a creative drowning in his own fantasies, who contributes nothing, who creates nothing,
who is nothing, who is really no one.
     What Star Trek presents is the opposite of Prufrockianism -- the philosophy first iterated by William
Blake almost two-hundred years ago, i.e., dynamism, vitalism --terms used Henri Bergson in his
Introduction to
Metaphysics, 1912, when he describes the self acting. When living in the memory
of the past (durée), hesitation destroys creative action. It was Goethe who altered the first verse of the


Gospel according to St. John when he changed "In the beginning was the word" to  "In the beginning was the DEED."
As a creator, aware of science and humanity, Gene Roddenberry believes that Newton's Third law of physics --
For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction--can be applied to psychology in time. From evil comes good;
from death comes rebirth; death creates life, and change is the catalyst in this process of succession in time-space.
Roddenberry implies a belief that man is redeemed in and through time, a doctrine that Carlyle termed "Palingenesis," the
fact of many beginnings, many rebirths even in the course of one biological lifespan. A man can be dead, yet breathing,
"As though to breathe was Life!" (Alfred, Lord Tennyson, "Ulysses," 1833).  Man, through change and adapting to
change, can experience the Phoenix doctrine, the story of the bird that arose from its own ashes every 500 years. The
Phoenix is an archetype for the life of the creative man who lives, truly lives, not as what Hermann Hesse called a
walking biped, but as a thinking, acting, creative, dynamic personality -- a creator.

     Amid centuries of progress, the humanities have concentrated on Time, but since the Industrial Revolution, the
humanities (especially literature) have become witness to an industrialized civilization desperate for heroic action as
machines ask man to do less and less. The desperate quest remains for significant and creative action that moves at a
geometric rate. This not-doing in time has created a civilization with a heightened time consciousness, aware that there



is "Time to murder and create." Star Trek's observations about the three time zones -- past, present, and future --

will be seen more closely as this chapter examines specific episodes; but in man's day-to-day twentieth century existence

we see an age without heroes, men clinging to the past to escape the present; men ignoring the present by going

underground or in escaping on time machines or on fantasy; utopian dreamers with refuge in daydreams about future

maybes to escape the past and/or the present. On the other hand, suffice it to say that Star Trek

envisions time as a very physical and palpable reality tenanted by a sense of urgency, pain and impotence. We study a

crew of 430 men and women, a microcosm of all mankind, on the "Enterprise" trying to do what that ship's name entails--

man creating, enterprising, seeking out new life forms amid change and constancy. Star Trek is much like the voice of the

devil who prefaces "The Proverbs of Hell" with this invitation to all mankind -- the invitation to experience time:

          How do you know but ev'ry Bud that cuts the airy way,

          Is an immense world of delight, clos'd by your senses five?

                --(William Blake, The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 1790).

Star Trek's appeal is subtle and is still revolutionary because the ideas about man and time still go misunderstood or

unheeded. Gene Roddenberry challenges our minds, tries to get us to think because, as a famous philosopher says,

"The man who never alters his opinion is like standing water, and breeds reptiles of the mind."

Star Trek's theory of how change is effected by man is a complex, but traditional one first proposed by the German

Romantics, especially
Fichte, Schlegel, Schelling, and Goethe. This concept of the creational


interaction between and among opposites was first proposed in the English by Blake, followed shortly by
Wordsworth and Shelley. The basis of modern man's view of change and of man's ability to change,
to create time was and is based on the dichotomy between mind and matter, which was best analyzed by
Emanuel Kant in his Critique of Pure Reason. Kant is important as the philosophical father of Romanticism.
Kant first postulated the mind and matter dichotomy, but his philosophy emphasized the thinking mind
as the source of an object's meaning. The philosophy of Kantian noumenalism (the subject) also postulated
the problem of phenomenalism (the object), but Kant, even in his insistence of Kant’s intuition,
fell short of giving existence outside man's mind its own identity and ontology. The contemporary twentieth-
century philosopher Heidegger wrote a well-known book, Kant and the Problem of Metaphysics (1962),
in which Heidegger seeks to reinstate the need for mind and matter to exist separately, yet to interrelate--
thereby asserting the view of such authors as Goethe, Fichte and Schelling in Germany, and the Romantic poets,
Wordsworth, Blake, Byron, and Keats -- that pure subjectivism was one-sided, and that matter has its own ontology.
Kant's thinking about man's intuition, his pure understanding, his imagination, however, is part of Gene Roddenberry's
view of man, change and time. But if man had to struggle only with his mind, Star Trek would be dealing only with
half-truths. Roddenberry belongs in the tradition of Wordsworth, Blake, Byron, Keats through the philosophy of
nineteenth-century logical positivism into twentieth-century existentialism in asserting the harmony for man means a
struggle against meaninglessness and nihilism by an assertion that time and human creativity depend on the



assertion of the ontology of that-which-is outside the mind of man. Without this, there would be no change

and no time. In order to understand Roddenberry's time and man ethic, the strengths and short-

comings of Kant's view of mind and matter is crucial. For Heidegger, Camus, Sartre, and Roddenberry,

the thing must have being outside our perception of
it. For Kant, the thing that-is is "something in

general (etwas uberhaupt)"a general kind of thing, not a specific thing nor a specific perceived object. Kant

called it a "transcendental object." One evaluator (H. J. Paton)of Kant notes:

          The something (is) an abstraction....it cannot
           be known by means of intuition, it cannot be
           known at all, it can only be conceived as thought;
           and the concept of something infernal (i.e.,
 of its "thingness" or "objectivity"), since it
contains no element derived from empirical
           intuition, must be a pure concept.
                (H.J. Paton. Kant's Metaphysics of Experience:
                 A Commentary on the First Half of the "Kritik
                 der reinen Vernunft.” London: George Allen and Unwin;
                 New York: Macmillan, 1961. Vol. I, p.4l8).

Roddenberry, like Heidegger and his predecessors, seeks to restore the balance between man and his world

through the use of the human imagination. It is Roddenberry's belief that, as Heidegger asserts:

          The objects which I perceive are not created by me....
          If the object is to be met in experience,
it must, as
          precondition for such an encounter
by me with it, be
          recognized as a thing that is at hand, as a thing that
          already is here for me to encounter. The factuality


             of its being-present, that the object is
             and the ways in which
it is, the structure
             of its be-ing its to-be, must be recognized
             as an element within my experience of
(Charles M. Sherover, Heidegger, Kant and Time.
                        Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1971, 79-80).

Therefore the objects we experience affect our world through change into a unified space-time which can be

affected by man's imaginative powers.
If objects did not exist a priori, man's capacity for change

would be very limited, and Star Trek is a phenomena where change in Time is common and universal. Kant was

one-sided in limiting man to the noumenal (mental) versus the phenomenal (objective) realities by

stressing that understanding and intuition presuppose a subject's pre-knowledge of the object in order

to "see" the object. Man is therefore limited, in Kant's view, to an aspect or limited aspects of the

thing. Knowledge becomes a projection of the ME’s self and it limits cognition by only absorbing so

much of the object's representations. Things must be limited to assimilatives and perceptual abilities

of the ME. In essence, for Kant, things were "non-things." If Kirk were to see only a representation of himself,

to see the world as a subjective projection of his ME, Star Trek would lack its balanced view of man

in time and space. For Kant, "Time is the formal a priori condition of all appearances whatsoever...

nothing but the form of inner sense...of the intuition of ourselves and of our inner state."  Roddenberry,

following a more objective view, insists on the concepts of outer-time and of outer-space as outer.

For Roddenberry, time is a thing, not as for Kant, a not-a-thing. Time for Star Trek is a

function by which man changes and creates change through experience




with things outside himself. Time becomes a path or mode of relating experiences. Kant's influence in

the nineteenth and twentieth centuries is enormous because his followers in the

humanities fostered a dichotomy between art and science, between subjectivity and objectivity, between

mind and matter. This dichotomy stunned western man because it fostered an interiorization,

an internalization of all reality as an extension of man's ego. The objectivity of the natural sciences

in the nineteenth century enhanced man's sense of alienation and isolation as he withdrew into the ME

out of fear and doubt regarding the NOT-ME which was more than man could comprehend intellectually or

absorb emotionally. Heidegger states the limitations of Kant's view of time as purely subjective as:

          ...an extension of the domain within which time
          can function as an anticipatory mode of intuition
           ...Time is immediately limited to the data if
          internal sense is, at the same time, ontologically
          more universal than space only if the subjectivity
          of the subject consists in being open to the
                --(Martin Heidegger, Kant and the Problem of Metaphysics.
                   Trans. and Intro. by James S. Churchill. (Bloomington:
                   Indiana University Press, 1962), 51-52).

For Roddenberry, Heidegger and contemporary humanists, Time has two critical functions: it makes mind

an interpreter of experience and time; it is also the dynamic mode of human experience. Both exist

only because time is a matter of horizontal horizon of objectivity and is a key to the unification of

mind and matter (thought and sense, the ME and the NOT-ME) in temporality. Kant was correct in

indicating that speculative concepts must be about something, i.e., experience, but Kant was to create

200 years of human obsession with the ME by neutralizing the Newtonian view of a priori outer space (versus

Kant's inner space) and a priori outer time (versus Kant's inner time). 
Kant rejects what
Roddenberry seeks to re-establish, i.e., that space and time are real beings, real functions. But Newton
neglected the



mind, while Kant neglected the matter. The humanism of Heidegger and Roddenberry is to balance and

combine the opposites inherent in the above views of mind and time. Time is brought into being

by the change effected by the encounter between man and things. It is here that Roddenberry goes

back into the past and draws upon certain aspects of Romanticism to “fill out" and to balance

the Kantian world view. But Roddenberry assimilates and then transcends both the Newtonian and the

Kantian world views by creating a principle of symbiotic creativity in the cooperative

relationship between man and his world. If man is open and receptive to things, can things be open

and receptive to man? Can mind and matter marry via synthesis into a new and larger

rebirth? The 'it' already exists for man (the Kirk’s, the Spock’s, the McCoy’s) to encounter. Man is

the creator by being and acting creatively in time:

            ... we [man] construct not as minds, or intellects,
            not by being mind, but by being in time .... Man
            does not confront the given manifold, then proceed
            to mold it, but rather that he is in it, in thorough-
           ­going relation already ...• For not only is time a
           human form of experience, but
it is that in which man
           finds himself as human, and the world as 'world.'
                  --(Eva Schaper, "Kant's Schematism Reconsidered." Review of Metaphysics, XVIII,
      1964, pp. 267-90). Reprinted in Charles M. Sherover, Heidegger, Kant
                       and Time. Bloomington: Indiana University Press,
1971, p. 141).

Man is and acts creatively through the process of imaginative synthesis inherent to the Romantic

art of the German transcendentalists (Goethe, Fichte, Schelling), and to the poetry of

William Wordsworth, William Blake and John Keats. No knowledge of objects and of ourselves can be

clear and total without the transcendental synthesis of the Romantic imagination.



          It is this correlation of the transcendental
          grounds of our cognition with the structural
          field in terms of which we recognize the to
          be of the things that are for us that enables
          us to speak meaningfully of the objectivity
          of the entities that appear as objects of our
             --(Sherover, 91. This writer acknowledges a debt to Sherover's work on Kant's theory.)

The best early literary examples of the unity of subject and object are found in the

men who really introduced the imagination western civilization--Blake and Wordsworth. "Without contraries is

no progression" has been discussed in an earlier context, but to Blake goes the credit of the

literary theory that mind and matter, when functioning under the unifying power of the imagination,

create new forces that are necessary for human existence. Thus evil requires

good, and good requires evil. Both co-relate and create because they are contraries and are, therefore,

"necessary'' to human existence.
All life, according to Blake, exists on sustained principles of

opposites. Love and hate are contraries that breed progression and change in time. Hate, once

experienced, can actually enhance love. A tensional confrontation, a key element in all Trek,

is a priori for knowledge and wisdom. As Blake's devil notes in the "Proverbs," “The Tigers of

wrath are wiser than the horses of instruction." Wordsworth, less the social activist than Blake,

is best known for his so-called nature poetry -- beautiful scenes with beautiful things enjoyed

by the seeing and by understanding mind of man. Wordsworth says, "I have at all times endeavored to

look steadily at my subject." Also: "I have wished to keep my reader in the company of flesh and blood."

(“Preface to Lyrical Ballads,” 1800). Wordsworth's poetry, while using Kant's intuition, insists on

the reciprocal relationship between man and nature -- a theory that is at the matrix of Star Trek's



concept of man and time. Wordsworth notes, "What then does the poet? He considers man and the objects

that surround him as acting and reacting upon each other….” (“Preface to Lyrical Ballads,” 1800).

This is the key to William Wordsworth's theory of man and nature whereby the imagination creates a

synthesis between the ME and the NOT-ME. Roddenberry's works reflect and maintain the quest for

harmonia between man's mind and the physical world--an identity, yet a reality needed

by modern man if he is to live and work in the temporal horizon. William Wordsworth reflects Blake

in the choice of the symbol of marriage as the effect of the imagination:

          For the discerning intellect of Man,
          When wedded to this goodly universe
          In love and holy passion, shall find these
          A simple produce of the common day.
               --(William Wordsworth, "Prospectus to The Recluse, 1814).

Love is based on simple understanding of and open receptivity to the world of matter. When Wordsworth

speaks of humanity, it is in the context of "fields and groves," in the created world, and this world is

good. Star Trek retains the need for the visionary in man who possesses both intellect and feeling:

          The fullness of your bliss, I feel -- I feel it all.
                Oh, evil day~ if I were sullen
                While Earth herself is adoring .. "
                   --(William Wordsworth, "Ode: Intimations of Immortality," 1802-04).

Nature is man's solace, his solace in times of melancholy and isolation because man can externalize his

feelings and thoughts by a healthful receptivity towards the NOT-ME. The natural world

of space-time in Star Trek can give man a sense of new life, a kind of shore leave from the chaos and

self-centeredness of industrialized discord:


          Though nothing can bring back the hour
          Of splendor in the grass, of glory in the flower;
          We will grieve not, rather find
          Strength in what remains behind;
          In the primal sympathy ...
          In the soothing thoughts that spring
          Out of human suffering.
             (William Wordsworth, "Ode: Intimations of Immorality," 1802-04).

For Wordsworth and for Roddenberry's characters, nature is also a teacher of good and evil:

          One impulse from a vernal wood
          May teach you more of man,
          Of moral evil and of good
          Than all the sages can.
              --(Wm. Wordsworth, “The Tables Turned,” 1798).

As man walked the green grass amid the doubts wrought by industrialism, so he now trods

others worlds, different yet not so different from our earth. The heart of Wordsworth's theory

of man in time lies in a creative mutuality, a symbiotic relationship between man and

the terrestrial and between man and the extraterrestrial of galactic worlds and times.

The world of things in Star Trek changes little, if at all. The physical universe is still the

physical universe whether in England in 1798 or on Melkotia or on Space Station K-7. Roddenberry

incorporates the Newtonian, Kantian, existential views of time by adding the principle of redemption,

birth and rebirth by man's creative action in time:  

                                                     Therefore am I still
          A lover of the meadows and the woods,
           And mountains; and of all that we behold
           From this green earth; of all the mighty world
          Of eye, and ear--both what they half create,
          And what perceive; well pleased to recognize
          In nature and the language of the sense
          The anchor of my purest thoughts, the nurse,
          The guide, the guardian of my heart, and soul
          Of all my moral being.
                         --(William Wordsworth, "Tintern Abbey," 1798).



These thoughts could well have been written by Gene Roddenberry, but better they have become the

heart of a visionary man's ideal
of man and nature working in time. Note the words "half create"

and (half) "perceive" because man as creator needs the created, and the created needs its creator.

Man does half; the world of things does the other half with both mind and matter acting from the

benefit of both. Roddenberry also insists, demands, that man recognize his need to perform his half

of the creative powers by a reciprocal co-creativity; the “marriage” of Blake's "heaven and hell" is

still the goal of all mankind. By the unity of V’ger and its "creator" (man) a birth occurs. The

archetype of the created thing in search of synthesis with its human creator is the apogee of

Gene Roddenberry's theory of time. This marriage between the ME and the NOT-ME, in Wordsworth and in

Star Trek, shows Roddenberry's brilliant familiarity with the real and the ideal. The following diagram

shows this theory of a co-creational reciprocity that brings change that creates time and that shows the

thesis that began this chapter, i.e., that time is defined as man's adapt ion to change and through the

temporal horizon:

                                              SPACE -TIME CONTINUUM

                     Man            ME                  Energy                      NOT-ME          matter
The Kirk ...   mind            subject              Dynamism                Object               outer space
the creator"  subject                                 Time                                                  nature
            Inner space         “creator”                                            “created”
                     Will              half-perceives                                    half-perceived > One>CHANGE
                                         half-creates    <Temporal horizon>     half-created
                         Imagination <---------------------------------> civilizations
                                                         seed field


                                             SPACE - TIME CONTINUUM


In Roddenberry's world of Star Trek, the mutual attraction between the creator and the created sustains

both forms by a mutual life-giving process. This co-creational marriage creates human growth

in time because the "Enterprise" crew draws energy, strength, air, food, courage, from the objects

it meets. The result is what Goethe and Carlyle called bildung, the process of growth in time. The

writers and philosophers of bildung create the kingdom of What-I-Do:

          But the hardest problem were even this first:
          To find by study of yourself, and of the
          ground you stand on, what your combined
          inward and outward Capability specially is.
               --(Thomas Carlyle, Sartor Resartus, 1833).

The philosophy of bildung is, as the diagram indicates, a universal phenomenon which, if discarded

or neglected, means the twilight and
fall of western civilization.  Bildung in Time is what the literary

critic, Charles F. Harrold, defines as the "harmonious self-development by cultivating the special,

not the vague and general, capabilities which are innate in us, and
by properly utilizing our immediate

surroundings." This is the key to the doctrine of growth through work in time made famous by Thomas

Carlyle and incorporated with Roddenberry's theory of man, action, change in time. Man uses his

environment (NOT-ME) as food for expanding his physical, psychical, and moral well-being. Roddenberry's

picture of the human struggle in time continues the tradition of hard work and adaptations in time.

As Carlyle notes, "Not what I Have...but what I Do is my kingdom."




Man must lean his capabilities by interacting with “The Universe...a mighty Sphinx-riddle.”

Again, Carlyle foretells the nineteenth and twentieth centuries' need for time:

          Our whole terrestrial being is based on time
          and built of Time; it is wholly a Movement,
          a Time-impulse; Time is the author of
the material of it. Hence also our Whole Duty,
          which is to move, to work--in the right
          direction....Whatso we have done, is done, and
          for us annihilated, and ever must we go and
do anew.
--(Thomas Carlyle, Sartor Resartus, 1833).

The alternative is dreadful passivity,  “To eat unto itself for lack/ Of Something else to hew and hack."

Man's attitude toward his world is today too defensive. The attitude is one of meeting

the NOT-ME, head on if necessary. Star Trek is a testament to the infinite possibilities of man.


                                Carl Jung's Archetype of Transformation in Star Trek


     In 1940, with revisions in 1950, Carl Gustav Jung published his theory of the rebirth archetype.

(C.G. Jung, The Archetypes and The Collective Unconscious. Trans. by R.F.C. Hull. Princeton: Princeton

University Press, 1959, Vol. 9, Part I) underlying the archetype of transformations is the notion that

one can experience many changes or rebirths during his given life-span in Time. For the most part, man's

traditional temporal horizon--past, present, and future--form the time context for these changes;

therefore, Jung's types of rebirth are an inextricable part of man's change in past, present, and future.

The purpose of this section of the chapter on Time is to show the relationship of the goals of typologies

of human change as they pertain to Star Trek--rebirth--and the temporal or eternal horizons wherein

and whereby rebirth occurs (all quotes from Jung are from the Princeton Bol1igen Series XX, The Collected

Works of C. G.. Jung
, Vol. 9, Part 1).

The forms of rebirth germane to Star Trek include:

          I. Metempsychosis--transmigration of souls; life prolonged in time by passing through different
              bodily existences.

         II. Participation in the process of transmutation-­indirect rebirth; one has to witness, or take part in,
              some rite of transformation.

        III. Resurrection--re-estab1ishiment of the human existence after death; change in one's being;
              essential - being is different one; non­essential - only general conditions of existence change;
              in different place; in different body.

         IV. Rebirth (renovatio)--rebirth within the span of individual life; non-essential - functions, parts;
               essential - total rebirth of the individual.


          V. Participation in the process of transformation-­indirect rebirth; one has to witness, or take part in,
             some rite of transformation.
                   --(Jung, Vol. 9, 113-15).



Subjective Transformation (Jung, Vol. 9., 119-34): Bildung and the Individual:

A. Diminution of personality--loss of soul; paralysis of will; loss of unity of consciousness.

B. Enlargement of personality--inner amplitude; mental receptivity to objects; growth (psychic)

C. Change of internal structure—possession/obsession; inferior function; identity with persona.

D. Identification with a group--mass intoxication; past animus/anima; participation mystique;
     mass suggestion.

E. Identification with a cult hero--totemism: god.

F. Magical procedures--change coming from rites.

G. Technical transformation--mechanism.

H. Natural transformation (individuation)--i.e., birth into another being who is equal to the other
     person in ourselves (inner friend/enemy) someone who is self, yet which we cannot completely alter
     I-Thou inner dialogue; aliguem alium internum defined as certain other one, within; conflict can lead
     to higher growth if the ego is strong; supremacy of the ego consciousness versus self-­dissolution.
     Rebirth is equal to rebirth within one’s lifetime (timespan)--past, present, future, atemporality.

All subjective transformations are of two types:

                                             a.  non-essential--no changing in being, in essential personality, but only
        in functions of parts of personality: a strengthening, improvement.

                                             b. essential transformation--total rebirth of the individual = transmutation.
      examples: mortal into immortal; bodily into incorporeal; human into
      divine (Christ). 

     In essence, time past, present, and future are never truly mutually exclusive, but represent

cubbyholes in an artificial, linear view of successions in time moving from what was before to what is now,

to what can be when. Paul Fraisse, in The Psychology of Time, has addressed the subject of time:



          Our temporal perspectives are not fully
          developed until, through symbolical ex-­
          periences, we become capable of conceiving
          a future which is a creation in relation
          to our history. This creation itself is
          only possible for those who are carried
          beyond the present situation by the dynamism
          of their activity. Generally speaking, the
          future only unfolds in so far as we imagine
          a future which seems to us to be realizable

But the importance that Gene Roddenberry places on human change (via Jung's rebirth archetype),

and on time as the cause/effect of such change, requires a look at specific Star Trek episodes

whose very titles denote time zones and change in and through these time zones. The temporal

horizon is defined as the sane and creative awareness and utilization of the functional

interrelationships, the synthesis among the traditional time zones in which one
changes and is

reborn. Time becomes conspicuous to man because it often surfaces as an obstacle; time

is either too long or too short. As a result, man becomes bored or impatient or frustrated.

Hell, for such a writer as Roddenberry, is time that disrupts action, or intervals where

acts do not fill the self; they must stress his effort of continuity; if not, boredom results, growth

ceases, and rebirth is an unforeseen possibility or an unfulfilled desire. When man does not use

the temporal horizon (Nicht-Ich), he is an ambulatory byped (Hesse), a vegetable, a troglyte, or an

asthenic--mental defectives who are unaware of boredom or of the slow passage of time.

"These people have lost their feelings; They love nothing, they hate nothing; objects are

indifferent to them; in fact, they even call them unreal." (Pierre Janet, L'évolution de la

mémoire et de la notion de temps. Paris: Chahine, 1928, p. 50).



(Reprinted in Paul Fraisse, The Psychology of Time. Trans. by Jennifer Leith. New York: Harper and Row,
1963, p. 208; this writer is indebted to Mr. Fraisse's discussion of time zone direction and refuge).

     Asthenics have "feelings of emptiness"; they desire nothing and have no feeling of direction, and

therefore, have no frustration. Thus, to times past, present, and future, one must add the zones

of the void and of atemporality. As in the treatment of the imagination, Roddenberry's time-space

episodes deal specifically with time stress, creative rebirth in terms of the synthesis of past to future,

and of future to the present. The psychical emphasis of one zone or of two zones to the exclusion of others

can have destructive or psychotic results. Roddenberry's approach to man's rebirths in time is wholistic

in conception and in execution, and, as a few illustrations will show, rebirth and time in Star Trek are

not only quantitative, but also qualitative in nature.





     The specific Star Trek episodes dealing with change and time begin with "Metamorphosis," an episode

whose limited special effects bring about an intensely human drama on the limited threshold of

the planetoid Epsilon
Canaris Three.  Gene Coon's story of the hijacked and marooned Zefram Cochrane

(played by Glen Corbett) presents the story of one man who, isolated from mankind, has

ironically achieved what classical man has always sought--immortality,

In one-hundred and fifty years, Cochrane has not changed because the Companion rejuvenated him

and caused a hiatus in the usually human aging process. But Cochrane's rebirth cannot fully depend upon

a time vacuum, i.e., no change. The Companion, a purely


spiritual entity, has the power to alter time and matter and has given Cochrane the body
of a man of about thirty-five years, but with
no personality or memory alterations. Cochrane
remembers who is was when, one hundred and fifty years ago, at the then-age of eighty-seven,
he landed a spaceship and simply left mankind (Alpha Centauri) to seek dignity in death or to
escape into the non­temporal. In terms of time, Cochrane had been dominated by his past. He is the
discoverer of Space Warp Drive, a much heralded scientist, whose later years never reached such
heights. The aging Cochrane was a victim of his own fame. In seeking escape from the fact of age
and the dominance of his past, Cochrane seeks refuge in the nontemporal because he is no longer able
to locate himself in change. He has lost his sense of vitalism, ignoring the outside world, incapable
of achieving a synchronism of the changes inside the self with the changes occurring outside the self.
Ironically, the Companion, in saving Cochrane from dying on his own terms, has given Cochrane what
Gene Coon considers a fate worse than death -- immortality, i.e., no change in a eternal present,
thereby depriving Cochrane of the choice inherent to his own mortality. Cochrane's rebirth via the
Companion is a prolonged ennui in a world without change and human companionship. Cochrane,
the discover of the galaxy's greatest breakthrough in time (Warp Drive) is given the purgatory of the
fountain of youth, but Cochrane has done nothing as a man for 150 years. Morally, Cochrane has ceased
to be fully human. His eternity (not of his choosing) is killing him. In the most famous line of the episode,


Cochrane responds to Kirk's question, "Do you want to leave here?" with the sardonic remark, "Believe me...
Immortality consists largely of boredom." Eternity is not for man, is not in the interests of man, is not
human simply because man is eternity's opposite--mutability. For Cochrane, eternity is an unchanging past
and an unchanging present with no sense of a future. For Cochrane, the eternal is warping his human essence
and the need for every man to choose his own future by choosing his own present.
     The episode's other time traveler is Assistant Federation Commissioner, Nancy Hedford. Like Cochrane,
Commissioner Hedford (a title that denotes her asexuality) has sought refuge in the non-temporal. She too has
ceased to be fully human, fully female, because in living for others, Hedford has never lived for herself.
She is a sexless, unloved and unloving female whose humanity has been replaced by duty. Her asexuality is
emphasized by her wearing apparel aboard the shuttlecraft at the episode’s beginning-- hair and ears covered
by a scarf and pants as articles of conceal­ment and self-entrapment. Her sarcasms and brusque manners are further
defense mechanisms against humanity and human involve­ment. Quips such as "Just how long am I supposed
to stay inside [the shuttlecraft]?” are brusk. One hears  her griping about the inefficiency of Starfleets' medical
branch in not innoculating her against a million to one disease (Sakuro's Disease). Hedford will die without
immediate medical treatment, but the high-jacking of the Galileo by this Hedford/Companion spells doom
for Hedford. As she becomes feverish, McCoy


reminds everyone, “We're running out of time,” and little time re­mains for medical treatment. McCoy's comment
about time pertains to the entire marooning situation on Epsilon Canaris Three. When Kirk says, "We were forced
off our course and taken here by some force we couldn't identify," the remark transcends one man's or woman's plight,
but becomes an archetype of isolated man caught in timelessness--the non-temporality of immortality. When Spock
agrees to try to start the shuttlecraft, Cochrane quips, "You got plenty of time"--an understatement in light
of the situation. When Cochrane offers Commissioner Redford a hot bath, she nosily quips, "How perceptive of you
to notice that I needed one." When McCoy asks Hedford how she feels, the litany of sarcasms continues.
"I feel infuriated, deeply put upon, and absolutely outraged." Nancy Hedford, like Cochrane, has sought refuge in the
non-temporal. For Cochrane, it was aging; for Hedford it is an autism and psychic disintegration, an aging woman who
has sought escape from human love in and through the work ethic. She has filled all her time with projects lest she
waste one second in thinking about her old maid status. She kills time, leaving herself a dead past, a psychically
and humanly dead present, and no sense of future at all. For her, time has been reduced to mathematical formulae,
a continual shuttle aboard shuttlecrafts from one external crisis to another. It is ironic that Hedford's job as
Commissioner is to mediate between warring factions and planets, an emissary


(like Robert Fox in "A Taste of Armageddon") for peace. Yet in being sent to Epsilon Canaris Three, Hedford
is just reiterating an endless litany of duties that preclude her humanity. She has so much to give to others,
but where has she gotten after years of ending other people's wars? Nowhere and nothing for the woman,
Nancy Hedford. Her contraction of a rare disease is symbolic of a greater internal and psychological sickness--
the disintegration of her own ego structure and the refuge from herself sought in the problems of others.
The woman who ends wars has no peace inside. She who changes others does not change. She goes
around in circles and merely bumps into time. Her disease and probable death force Nancy Hedford to
confront her submerged humanity for the first time in a lifetime of empty time. For Roddenberry and Coon,
a balance must exist between a man’s subjectivism and his objectivism. While most of humanity is selfish,
Nancy Hedford is selfless. Cochrane, in leaving Alpha Centauri, did not consider others; Nancy Hedford,
in going to another war, did not consider herself. Both "the man" and the woman are opposites on the field
of love and time. Through long isolations in the non-temporal, Cochrane and Hedford
are the less human. Both are lonely; both are bored; both go unfulfilled as human beings even though both have
extremely distinguished pasts that have come to dominate their present and to eclipse their future. In both cases,
no internal change has occurred; both need love and (as
it turns out) each other as man and woman, in time,
in the flesh, to live together, to grow old together and to die. The scenario is reminiscent of  D. H. Lawrence's
male-female attraction in "The Horse Dealer's Daughter."


These changes are at the essense of man's humanity; he must change and time must change him
and with him.
     Commissioner Hedford, in overhearing Cochrane's rejection of the Companion's love for him
as indecent, cries and breaks down, sobbing,  "I've heard. He was loved and he resents it ...
I don't want to die. I've been good at my job, but I've never been loved. Ever. What kind of
life is that ... not to be loved ... never to have shown love, and he runs away from love?"
Before her death as Nancy Hedford, she undergoes a rebirth in her recognition about love and
life. Her rebirth via the Companion is symbolic of her psychical rebirth as a woman, her
reintegration in time with a synchronized sense of the temporal horizon. She is whole after
many years of disintegration. Both Cochrane and Nancy, by their "joining" as man and woman,
experience total psychical rebirth, in Jung's sense of a rebirth archetype, in and through the
temporal horizon.
     A discussion of "Metamorphosis" is not complete without the central and most enigmatic character
the Companion. The Companion has been Zefram Cochrane's companion, his only sense of NOT-ME for
over a century and Cochrane has no idea as to the nature and love value of this life-giving entity.
The Companion has the power to change matter and to alter time. The Companion is immortality,
a being purely immaterial. In a real sense, the relationship between Cochrane and the Companion
shows the harmonic fusion between matter and antimatter, between the ME and the NOT-ME, between
pure mind and man as matter and mind. Zefram Cochrane is


the past living in the present; he is living history. The Com­panion, as pure spirit, has no
temporal horizon because it is eternal. It has no past, no present, no future in
any distinctive or synthesized sense. The Companion is eternity in time, and
“she” represents an unusual opportunity to study the symbiotic relationship between
energy and matter, between timelessness and time. Much emphasis can be placed on what
the Companion is and possesses, but something must be said for what "he" has not and
therefore is not. In the true sense of the Romantic theory of opposites, the Companion is
understandable in opposition to Cochrane, the man.  The Companion is an excellent
example of William Blake's proverb, "Eternity is in love with the Productions of Time."
She can freeze time and change; she can alter the past to suit the present without altering
duration or personality. Yet with all her power, the Companion, like Cochrane and Hedford,
is involved and lonely. Immortality, as Cochrane says, consists mostly of boredom. But think of
what it must be like to see time from eternity's point of view. Eternity is jealous of time
because eternity cannot, of its very nature, change itself in any way. Immortality is
non-change. Therefore man has an advantage, an edge, over eternity because man can and does
change. It is eternity that is bored and would love to do "what man does, would love to be loved
as man does--in time. When Cochrane first sees Commissioner Herford, he says, "Are you real?"
"A woman...a beautiful one at that...food to a starving man.” The fusion between Cochrane
and the


Companion has never been viewed objectively by either party because matter and antimatter are not
both in the temporal horizon. During the first fusion, the landing party members are bewildered
and ecstatic:

          McCoy: Almost a symbiosis of some kind.
                        Sort of a joining.
          Kirk: Not exactly like a pet owner speaking to a beloved animal.
          McCoy: No, it is more than that.
          Spock: Agreed.
          Kirk: More like ... love.  

The Companion needs “the man" as it consciously and belligerently does everything to guard
and to retain “the man." His "continuance" in time is necessary for her continuance
in timelessness. Eternity is indeed in love with time, and the Companion's jealousy has an
almost human temperament. In possessively guarding the continuance of “the man,"
the Companion shows her need for giving and for receiving love, but the catalyst to
fuse time and timelessness is lacking and she goes unfulfilled because of her superiority as
pure energy.

     An essential paradox exists in Gene Coon's depiction of the feminine creature. Zefram Cochrane
says, “The Companion can't do anything to help Miss Hedford." Kirk says, "Then she'll die."
Blandly, Cochrane iterates, "We can expect nothing from the Companion."  Jealousy raises its Medusan
head because a feminine entity that can change time and matter can certainly save a life, but in
the person of Nancy Hedford, the Companion has a female rival in its love for Cochrane.


The question arises as to whether the Companion actively permits Hedford to die. The Companion,

says Cochrane:

          It...saved my life. It's taken care of me
          all these years. Very close in a way that's
          hard to explain. I suppose I have even a
          sort of affection  for it....I don't want
          it killed.

Cochrane's selflessness is an interesting contrast to the Companion's selfishness.

Until Hedford's death, an eternal triangle looms. In his own way, Cochrane loves without knowing

that he is loved; the Companion both loves and is loved, but is unwilling to share with

others by remaining eternal and immortally aloof in her too human jealousy. Kirk's imagination

and knowledge of women and use of the universal translator as communication between matter and anti-

matter, between time and timelessness, bridges not only a gap in time, but a gap between the universal

concepts of male and female, thereby opening the door to the possibility of male and female joining

in time:

          Kirk: How do you fight a thing like that?
          McCoy: Why not try a carrot instead of a stick?

McCoy is a catalyst in effecting the episode's resolution. Kirk must play on the Companion's

femininity and the universal qualities of womanhood in love. A man must be free to love and to

be loved. By loving "the man," the Companion has committed Cochrane to unchanging servitude.

          Kirk: It is the nature of our species to be free...
                  We will cease to exist in captivity.

          Companion: Your bodies have stopped their peculiar
                            degeneration. There will be nothing to harm
                             you. You will continue and the man will continue."



The Companion has mistaken mere existence in time as living in time. Ironically, even as an immortal, the

Companion, like Cochrane and Hedford, merely exists. Love makes the difference between mere "continuation"

and living. Living in freedom requires degeneration. The price of loving is dying, but it is worth the

price. Cochrane’s "parochial" attitude in seeing the Companion as female as obscene and indecent, is not

fully human: “I’m not going to be fodder for some inhuman monster.
 Spock: "Fascinating! A totally

parochial attitude." Cochrane must overcome his missed past of 150 years and raise himself, just as the

Companion must lower (in a sense) herself to see life from a human point of view. Cochrane rejects the love

he has experienced for 150 years because that love is not temporal.

     It is during the fourth fusion that Kirk reveals a fundamental keystone in Roddenberry's concept of man in time--

 the old-fashioned work ethic. Eternity is detrimental to, and wrong for, man because he/she cannot change

changelessness --outside the temporal horizon. It is man's job in time to work, to overcome negativities

and obstacles. Without constant challenge from within and from without, man atrophies and

disintegrates as man. The challenge is necessary for the constant rebirth of the human spirit in time:

          Companion: He does not age; he remains forever.
          Kirk: You speak of his body. I speak of his spirit....
                   Our species can only survive if we have obstacles
                   to overcome. You take away all obstacles. With-
                   ­out them to strengthen us we will weaken and
                  die…you amuse yourself with him.... "
          Companion: I care for him.  

          Kirk: But you can't really love him. You haven't the
                   slightest knowledge of love -- the total union of
                   two people. You are the Companion. He is the man.
                   You are two different things. You can’t love...
                   You will always be separate, apart from him.  
         Companion: If I were human, there can be love?



One key to love is "self-sacrifice." Kirk gambles that the Companion's love for Cochrane

will create self-abnegation and freedom for "the man" through ego dissolution. When Nancy

Hedford appears , and utters "Zefram Cochrane...we understand," a Jungian reincarnation by the

Companion has taken place. Eternity has become one of and with time -- a marriage of

opposites in a temporal place. The Companion becomes part human, and there is love. The

Nancy/Companion synthesis is another Roddenberry victory for humanity and its ability

to shift timelessness into love for man the creator. Like Kollos, who first experiences

Spock's body and man's loneliness, the Companion shows that one must physically experience

humanity to understand the agonies and the ecstasies, the terrifying and brilliant creature

that is man:

          Nancy/Companion:  We are one ... Zefram, we
                                         frightened you. We never frightened
                                         you before. This is loneliness. What
                                         a bitter ... O, Zefram, how do you bear
it, this loneliness? .... (to Kirk) You
                                         said we would not know love because we
                                         were not human. Now we are human. We
                                         will know the change of the days. We
                                         will know death. But to touch the hand
                                         of man ... nothing is as important.

"Eternity is in love with the productions of time" and becomes human via reincarnation and
sacrificial love. The Companion's reincarnation through Nancy Redford's dying body is
a rebirth both for Nancy and for the Companion. In saving part of Nancy, the Companion
has permitted Nancy the love she never gave nor received, ironically through an


unselfish act.

     Gene Coon's charming story is a eulogy to what it means to be fully human. To love is to change,

to live is to die, to be human is to accept the violent contraries of humanity. The Black-American poet,

Georgia Johnson, says it splendidly:

             How much loving have you done?
             How full and free you giving?
             For living is but loving
             And loving only giving.
               --("The Poet Speaks")

It is the desire of the creator/preserver to be like the created objects. Eternity

cannot feel and feeling is man's perigee and his apogee:

          Nancy/Companion: Let me walk ... feel the earth
                                        beneath my feet. Let me feel the warmth
                                        of the sun upon my face. You beside
                                        me. Let me feel these things.

The Companion and Cochrane are co-creators of their own rebirths and new lives. Cochrane cannot leave

the planetoid and the Companion because, to love her, Cochrane must sacrifice the glories and kudos that

would be his if he were to return to Alpha Centauri. To love her, Cochrane must sacrifice part of himself

just as the Companion sacrificed part of herself. Both halves form one synthesis.

          Zefram Cochrane: You mean you gave up everything
                                       to be human?
          Nancy/Companion: The joy of this hour. I am

          Zefram Cochrane: You loved me. I never understood. I
          do now.

So the new Adam and Eve cannot leave each other because, as Spock quips, "You are after all a human

being...essentially irrational..."


          Spock: But you will age, both of you. There will
                      be no immortality. You'll both grow old
                      here and finally die here.
Zefram Cochrane:   That’s been happening to men and women for a
long time. I’ve got the feeling it’s one of the
                                         pleasanter things about being human.
                                        As long as you grow old together.

In being able to see and to touch Nancy Companion, Cochrane can affirm, “I love her.”
In conclusion, Nancy Hedford, the Companion, and Zefram Cochrane experience rebirth
by mutual life-giving love, the synthesis of mind and matter that is at the heart of
Romantic art and human love. For man, living is loving, and loving is giving. Living is dying,
but life redeemed through love is worth the greatest price to be one with
humanity, to be fully human. Nancy Hedford has stopped a war and two human beings
have gained a world.

                                                                         (End of “Metamorphosis”)



                                                                          “The Deadly Years”


          Old age hath yet his honor and his toil.
                  --(A.L. Tennyson, "Ulysses," 1842).

          I grow old ... I grow old...
          I shall wear the bottoms of my
          trousers rolled.
                  --(T. S. Eliot, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock," 1917).

     Modern technology and advances in medicine have made gerontology a new and separate
science. Aging and its relationship to time and change has become the object of man's
microscope. In short, people live longer today than their forbears of even a few
centuries ago. It was not unusual to be old at forty-five in the mid-eighteenth


century. J. S. Bach was a rather old sixty-five at the time of the composer's death
in 1750. Three-score and ten was more average in the nineteenth century. The average
life span has increased notice­ably, thereby expanding human productivity way beyond
so-called mandatory retirement. At age sixty-five, many people are beginning new and
productive lives and are contributive members of modern society as septo and octogenarians.
Society's willingness to accept and to utilize the vast repository of age's wisdom is less
optimistic. A vital human resource often goes unaccepted or ignored. The potential of age
to regenerate and to teach youth about time lived and experienced is a key to a solid
temporal horizon. The fact that age splits the temporal horizon as well as the individual
personality is one concern of the episode, "The Deadly Years."  But age is both a
physiological and a psychological phenomenon. Some people are old at 35, while 55 year
old children are a frequent sight. Age does not necessarily produce maturity.
"The Deadly Years”
posits the necessity to use time well and wisely because time is man's most
previous commodity, and his most wasted resource. Old age has peculiar forms, and
senility is its most abused label. Just what does it mean to grow old? The uniqueness
of Star Trek’s look into age is that modern technology plus natural phenomena permit
the landing party on Gamma Hydra IV (except Chekov) to experience old age without
experiencing its natural result--death. Kirk, Scotty and McCoy grow old and yet
live to tell of their old age -- an experience to remember in our old age, as Kirk
puts it at the end of the episode. They live to tell the tale of the heretofore
untold and untellable. They experience


the future in time, yet they return to the past, all while experiencing succession in
time present. This time machine/warp effect enables Star Trek viewers to experience
man's full temporal horizon. The landing crew to Gamma Hydra IV change. Some die
(ex., Lt. Galway); others live. The survivors who are cured through the re­discovery
of adrenaline (the cure to the present future is a hormone forgotten in the past, i.e.,
past cures present) are changed in personality and are the better and the wiser because
they can use the knowledge of the future and can apply it to the present and to the new
future yet to be experienced. Past, present, and future collide yet coalesce as man's mind
and glands atrophy. It is important to note in this brilliantly staged drama of one
of life's most inescapable and unusual experiences, that the cure for age lies within the
individual himself. The hormone, adrenaline, is manufactured within man. The cure is man;
the problem is man. Roddenberry insists time and time again that man's redemption is wrought
by changes from within the individual. A closer look at the nature of changes wrought by old
age is called for. Growing old is not simply a hardening of man's physical arteries,
thereby slowing down his autonomic system, his reflexes, and his willed processes. Growing
old is also a psychological phenomenon involving hardening of the heart, hardening of the
will, a closing off of oneself from the NOT-ME with a concomitant intolerance of change
or unwillingness to effect change even when physical abilities are not impaired. A famous
poet poses the crucial question and provides a stinging answer



          What is it to grow old?
          Is it to lose the glory of the form,
          The luster of the eye?...
          Is it to feel each limb
Grow stiffer, every function less exact?...

          It is to spend long days
          And not once feel that we were ever young ...
          It is to suffer this,
          And feel but half, and feebly, what we feel.
          Deep in our hidden heart
          Festers the dull remembrance of a change,
           But no emotion--none.

         It is--last stage of all--
         When we are frozen up within, and quite
          The phantom of ourselves,
         To hear the world applaud the hollow ghost
         Which blamed the living man.
               --(Matthew Arnold, "Growing Old," 1867).

Old age can become a living death, a self-imposed prison wherein the ME loses its

ability to feel, to have memory but no emotion. Moral calcification and moral

fossilization wherein one loses the essence of what he is becomes true oldness.

To shun change, to become a mere phantom of what one once was, is to die long before

one's physical death. This moral hardening of the arteries must be considered as

the "deadly" aspect of "The Deadly Years." Old age is deadly in a literal sense,

yes. But the loss of feeling and the loss of the sense of change can kill time

because the man has ceased to be a "living man"
by  becoming a "hollow ghost" of his

former self. As Tennyson says, there is yet honor in old age; there is yet the

newness of experience to be confronted. One must live and live intensely or one is not

truly living.

     In "The Deadly Years," the members of the landing crew age geometrically in a

format resembling rapid photography movement. The aging, although caused by the tail

of the rogue comet that passed


Gamma Hydra IV, is symbolic as well as literal. The crew members die due partly to an aspect of their
past selves. The use of an artificial antidote (hyronalyn) for radiation poisoning has superseded the use
of man's inherent hormone, adrenaline. In a sense, man's own immunity apparatus has made him vulnerable
in a technological age. It is the re-emergence of past knowledge via McCoy's old country doctor's memory
of adrenaline, that provides the antidote to a future experience (aging) being experienced now in time present.
Man, while exploring the future, must remember and must utilize his past experiences to effect change or survival.
The past cures the present future -- an unusual use of the temporal horizon where Roddenberry insists that
psychical stability depends on the working interrelationship among all three time zones.

     Aging, with its psychological effect, forces a one-sidedness, a shrinking within the temporal horizon.
Aging precludes a concern for a future (immanent death), a detachment from the vitality of the past
(except as doting memories) and a preoccupation with and refuge in time present. The psychologist, Visher,
sees age in the adult bringing about interest in the to-be, and an increase in the importance of what
has been: "Old people shut themselves up more and more in a present which they live only by reference to the
past." (A.L. Visher, "Psychological Problems of the Aging Personality." Bull schweiz. Akad. Wiss., 1947, 2, 280-286.
Reprinted in Fraisse, The Psychology of Time, p. 181). The blurring of the coherence of the mind blurs the temporal
horizon. The result, in Star Trek, is a strength of will (such as Kirk's defiance of the aging process) at
odds with physical and


intellectual vision. The psychologist, Minkowski, says serenity comes with this blurring of past
and future, but Roddenberry's main characters range from Scotty's subdued acquiescence (a paradox
in light of his love for life) to Spock's reluctant acceptance of a fact that he understands,
to Kirk's "No ... No!”

          This impotence of anticipation and imperfection of
          retrospection condition an unconcern which is not
          indifference but serenity....The possibility of
          such complete detachment from the past and the
          future, from people and things, is perhaps only the
          natural end of the human mentality when the  
          organism is spared by illness and succumbs to the exhaustion
          of old age.
               --(E. Minkowski, Le Temps Vecu, pp. 340-41. Reprinted in Fraisse,
                  The Psychology of Time, p. 185).

Senility is a form of time displacement, misplacement, and replacement fostered by uncontrollable time
succession and the inability to place duration in its proper temporal horizons. Some sense
of succession in the present is maintained. The dearth of wholism disrupts the orientation
of the human personality because the past, present, and future continuity has been destroyed.
The deadly years make Galway, McCoy, Scotty, Spock, and Kirk prisoners of time present. They face the changing
present anchored to a scenario of past memories. Each individual ironically regresses into what he has already
experienced into what he has already been while still very much in the summer of their lives! It is the factor of will
that produces a variation in the aging process itself. Kirk ages less dramatically because of his stubbornness in the
face of the unknown -- a trait that distinguishes commander from commanded. It is the awareness of the



aging future/ past in the present that lends perspective to the final antidote to the aging phenomenon in "The Deadly Years."
It is because age is supposed to be a yet-to-be; it is because this future yet-to-be is the present; it is because this yet-to-be has
past precedent, that Roddenberry's characters maintain an awareness of the present. The human problem that is most essential is
that aging brings about a reduction in the human capacity to coalesce the opposing temporal perspectives and to act based on dwindling
mental faculties. The need to fight the unknown, the will to fight the unknown, the compulsion to fight the unknown can and will
restore the integrated personality and the harmonic temporal horizon originally distorted by the aging process.
In "The Deadly Years,” old age is a loss of perception of succession with limitation of the apprehension of time as series with the
concomitant loss of rebirth potential in the present becau
seof excessive concern with memory, i.e., with what has been experienced,
and with zero futurity. Age is a psychological hazard because it represents little or no change, and no change means no rebirth,
creativity. The years are “deadly” because they mean non-productivity in the present and a loss of temporal horizon perspective
necessary for change. To not change is to die prematurely. Stagnation in the present is a psychological and a moral death that is an
abhorrence in all of Roddenberry's Star Trek. The characters who are least likely to be reborn under normal temporal circumstances,
such as Lt. Galway, die literally because they are least likely to create a


future. The life-loving Scotty becomes overwhelmed by the incomprehensibility of the present; he simply needs a "wee-bit of sleep,"
thereby submerged by the life he has not always fought to control. Scotty, who has probably experienced more of life's Epicurean vein,
who has quaffed the wine of life deeply, has little but repetition and little dregs in a lived future. As a result, his silence has some basis in
logging in that his already-having-achieved has been great and satisfying. McCoy regresses into the past and age causes
the unconscious to surface in the clothes of the old country doctor with a sardonic Georgian dialect complete with lip-moistening and
countrified humor. Spock's logic enables him to comprehend the situation, to face the fact of unnaturally premature change with the
knowledge of its empirical causality. An edgy security exists in complete, rational comprehension of oneself and one's situation. Kirk has
the highest resistance because he is the greatest combatant in Star Trek. His incredible will refuses to accept anything that is
unnaturally out of time as inevitable. His enlightened vitalism is the focal point of this episode. His psychosomatics simply refuse change
when that change means death, not rebirth; this is the "stuff" of which heroes are made. A true creator will not die until time itself
exhausts all chances for change. He remains "the Kirk...the creator" (cf., "The Changing").
In the opening lines of "The Deadly Years," Dr. McCoy examines the aged, deceased man whose appearance saved Chekov from
experiencing the deadly years, and notes: "Death by natural causes ... old age." Alvin's death is "natural." The deaths of Robert Johnson
(aged 29) and


his wife Elaine (aged 27) are from extreme old age, not natural cause. The presence and the omission of the one
word presents the paradox of modern man's paradoxical approach to dying: death is both natural and unnatural.
By nature, man must die; however, modern science, with all its breakthroughs in extending life, has no "cure" for man's ultimate
destiny and enigma: he is born to die. In this episode, known for its brilliant make-up effects, biological time goes into a type of time
warp and is accelerated unnaturally. The future is the living present. The laws of nature are being violated. Old age is a question of
nowness. One must confront what he will be
by confronting the to be in time present. This is a metabolic variation on the
"metamorphosis" motif.  What is ironic throughout this metamorphosis is that old age is treated as a disease, not as something natural.
Although the rogue comet is the logical cause, the effect is not treated
by science personnel as a natural phenomenon. In this episode,
man must confront what existentialist philosophers, such as Kierkegaard and Sartre, placed as first priority, i.e., before man could live,
he must first accept the inevitable fact of death. The metaphysical acceptance of death is an important aspect of Roddenberry's concept
of the living, dynamic individual. Star Trek’s main characters confront death, in varying masks, in every episode. The Cumean
Sybil was given immortality, but it was not the immortality of youth; it was immortal old age. Her response
was "I want to die."
(cf., Petronius, Satyrion). Not even modern science has invented the perfect Venus pill (cf., "Mudd's Women") to halt the process
of aging. In this Star Trek episode, to not age would be as unnatural as to age unnaturally because not to age means not to change,
and it is crucial to Star Trek's concept of man that one change and create change. This critical argument must be understood before
one can see why Roddenberry deals


with age at all. We know that age is partly a question of personality; indeed, one could say that one changes physically in
accordance with the way that one changes time. Too much psychical change can short circuit the emotions and cause premature
"burnout.” Insufficient life experience via change can produce no mental growth and walking bipeds who live a long life because
they have never truly lived in the sense of confronting relentless change. One can age mentally, like Lord Byron, who, at are thirty,
noted his graying hair and wondered what he would look like at forty. Byron died at age thirty-six.
     In Robert Johnson, one sees how old age is a preoccupation with time past because it constitutes the bulk of his experienced life.
The result is a rhapsody of memories: "Elaine was so beautiful" compensates for what Robert Johnson cannot experience in the present
and in the future. In Robert Johnson's noble face, one also studies the dignity of death. When Elaine died, Robert too died a little more
because love had lent him perspective in time. He could accept age because all around him, especially his wife, also aged.
There is no fear in Johnson's dying eyes. There is a beauty in death when one fares well in life by being creative. Old age is a lived and a
living experience unfolding before one's eyes, but some of the dying live to tell the tale in their old age. Western man has always had an
obsession with the future, but the progress of science's palsied feet has created fears of and neglect of the future. This is coupled with
an anxiety about the passing present that drives a Robert Johnson into fantasies of the good(or better) old days when one was not old.
In Star Trek's


treatment of gerontology, time becomes a delayed reaction. Temporal perspectives become more fully developed when one can
experience a future, a future that is not a fearful fantasy, but a future experienced in the present with revitalism of the past, forming
a unification of the temporal horizon. In
“The Deadly Years,” it is not old age that is deadly. The unknown comes closer to experienced
reality. McCoy says to Kirk (who is talking to the aging Robert Johnson):
“He can hear you, Jim, but he doesn't understand."   
Doesn't he? Who is it who "doesn't understand?" Age produces the disjointed thoughts and associative psychology that John Locke
called madness. Inaction becomes the succession of ideas in the mind, an illogical babbling that forms its own pattern, thereby
making full communication an impossibility. Senility is not ipso facto old age. In Star Trek, age merely forces to the surface
the universal problem of non-communication, and the difference between hearing and understanding. Many listen, but without
actual physical experience of the thought communicated; the auditor hears, but does not understand. The nature of the interpretative
process above and beyond mere sensory experience is one theme in "The Deadly Years." The inability or unwillingness to
understand is a form of death. Death is often painful and wretched; it "sucks," but "No one here gets out alive" ("The Doors").
     "The Deadly Years" has, as another important Star Trek theme, glands. Yes, glands. Thinking and understanding are
also glandularly based. One does think with his glands, especially McCoy who is the one chided by Kirk for overly-emotional
thinking without some Vulcan logic.


Glands confront logic in this complex episode. A glandular hormone, adrenaline, is the cure for the "disease." Glands are

also at the very heart of time and the process of change. Glands effect and are affected by change. The best example is the

chemistry that exists between Kirk and Dr. Janet Wallace, who is, ironically, an endochronologist. Being a female doctor makes

her glandularity all the more interesting. As every Star Trek viewer knows, Dr. Wallace was once in love with Kirk, and now as a

widow, her glands are stirred once again by her old flame, Kirk. The gland theme unites the themes of time and change by presenting

us with a play within the play between Kirk and Wallace. Kirk to Wallace: "Neither one of us will change." This means that Kirk's

devotion to his job will never change and that Dr. Wallace's love for Kirk has not and will not change. The result

is an impasse: no change. Here, in a normal time present, Kirk's aging process cannot be aided by an emotional endochronologist;

however, Janet Wallace serves to keep Kirk's mind and glands on resisting the uncontrollable force. Dr. Wallace is middle aged

(the bun in her hair helps) who married a scientist who was twenty-six years her senior. Age is her favorite subject, but she displays

little emotion: (in the corridor outside sickbay):

          Kirk: You sound like my first officer.
          Dr. Wallace: No problem is insoluble, not
                             even ours...Our situation doesn't
                             have its roots in logic....the heart
                             is not a logical organ....

          Kirk: How much older was your husband?’
          Dr. Wallace: 26 years ....
          Kirk: Look at me. What do you see? .. old
                 and rapidly growing older. What are
                 you offering me, Jan? Love or a going-
                 away present?


The relationship between Kirk and Dr. Wallace forces, on a one-to-­one personal basis, the overall problem of age in time and change.
 It becomes clear that illogic's glands often come from so-called logical sources. Wallace loved Kirk, could not have him,
and so thwarted her emotions by marrying old age via her husband; therefore, Dr. Wallace forces age upon herself prematurely, the
very crisis affecting the man she now loves again. But her unwillingness to see Kirk's aging and the futility of any present or
future rebirth through love makes Dr. Wallace a tragic figure because the age factor that she now confronts in the man she loves,
and Kirk at computer's age estimation of 64, makes him nearly the age of Wallace's husband. Dr. Wallace is a failure both as a woman
and as an endocrinologist: she cannot use her glands for creation through love, and she cannot cure the crew's glandularly-based aging
process because she chooses to hear, but not to understand. Although only middle-aged, Dr. Wallace shows all the psychological
and intellectual signs of Robert Johnson as he lay dying of extreme old age.
     The inability to interpret sensory perceptions is a symptom of old age, but in "The Deadly Years," it becomes an ageless, universal
problem/challenge inherent to human nature. Old age merely exaggerates propensities already in existence. Any slight aberration
from the conventional, normative behavior is noticed and analyzed. Kirk says to Sulu: “Maintain standard orbit...." Kirk's first memory
lapse begins as a reiteration. Lt. Galway's first appearance in sickbay is caused by her poor hearing. Ironically, Dr. McCoy fails
to make any diagnosis based on visible changes in Galway's face. While involved in a given



time/change experience, a trained doctor fails to see the aging process so obvious on Galway's face. In his solipsism McCoy does

not notice the aging of others even though the symptoms are obvious. Man often sees without perceiving, just as man often hears

without understanding. Man's glands can shut down his intellect. Kirk sees the aging process in McCoy, but fails to see it in himself,

and dismisses it as a muscle twinge.

           Kirk: Bones, I believe you're getting gray.
           McCoy: (upon exam)...advanced arthritis.

Scotty's entrance into sickbay devastates McCoy and Kirk and effects the first universal recognition of change in Scotty's ancient

and haggard face. Often in Star Trek, disease is an externalization of an internal, unstable condition. Scotty's internal structure

total fatigue, and he seeks only a "'wee bit  ‘a rest,”  while Spock is "healthy for any Vulcan on the high side of a hundred."

While McCoy makes humorous cracks about Spock's need for heat in his quarters ("no house calls"), Galway enunciates the

absolute terror which is at the heart of technological man--the total terror of change itself. Change calcifies; change kills, but does


          Galway: I don't want to sleep ... if I sleep,
     what will I find when I wake up?

Unlike Scotty, who wants sleep, Galway fears sleep. As if nothing had changed, Kirk ironically overlooks Galway's immanent

death and says, "Assume your duties." Part of the death in “The Deadly Years”   is man's unwillingness and inability to see in himself

what he cannot see in others, or to act as if drastic change were



somehow normal by refusing to accept change. All this trauma about dying prematurely is sharpened by the dialogue between

Sulu and Chekov on the bridge. Chekov, victimized by a multitude of physical exams, hurts all over, but the humor is grim:

          Sulu: You’ll live.
          Chekov: I'll  live, but I won't enjoy it.

This verbal irony is brilliant; it provides comic relief while, by contrasting youth and age, providing thematic reinforcement.

     The last basic theme of “The Deadly Years" is memory. Loss of memory is interpreted as an early sign of senility. Kirk forgets

his 20,000 perigee order; he forgets that he signed the fuel consumption report; he forgets that Gamma Hydra II is not Gamma

Hydra IV. Captain Kirk's inherent predilection for detailed perfection takes the form of repeated orders and forgotten deeds.

His loss of memory is an external symbol of his inherent love of order and precision. A good, once exaggerated, becomes an

evil. Perfectionism suddenly becomes senility just because others interpret reality through Kirk’s gray hairs. Technological man,

as envisioned in this brilliant episode, is so constantly confronted with changes wrought by technology, that his inner stress mechanisms

(including his glands) are rebelling against his controlling intellect. The body literally breaks down prematurely under the severe pressure

of contemporary living. Roddenberry's approach to modern man is a balanced, psychosomatic one,


seeing man's emotions and reason simultaneously and interrelatedly. Man's body and mind grow old as change takes its toll and
it is indeed a fact that stress can age a man prematurely, can literally kill him from the inside out. To say, as McCoy does,
that "People age normally at different speeds" is an understatement, and it does not consider the abnormal, created by rapid change,
that cannot be absorbed by a polysaturated psyche and by a body whose evolution lags behind that of its mind/controller. As a result,
Code 3 is forgotten in favor of Code 2 and memory, which is man's change/link to the past via the present, becomes disjointed. Kirk
tells Uhura to send the message “immediately" while a stunned Uhura obeys orders that are no longer relevant to a present situation.
In the now, there is an urgency in time present to solve the future maturing in time present. This episode is a scientific study concerning
the extent to which acceleration of duration in time alters the human personality; it studies the certain normalcy present in the midst
of abnormality. Memory means taking refuge in time past in seeking escape from the pressures of contemporary civilization; however,
this episode shows that memory of time past is the key, the cure to a future (old age) experienced in time present. Therefore, the past
is reasoning for the future and visa versa--both as they converge and emerge in time present. When man's temporal threshold--
the balance among past, present, and future--is restored, the psychosomatic aberration of old age is itself changed and normal age is
restored as normal time is restored through man's ability to create new change in the


midst of change, i.e., to change change itself. Adrenaline, that glandular hormone, is a symbol of man's inner responses to solve his
external problems from within. Symbolically, old age is conquered by man's own glands and his memory, as McCoy fidgetly
remembers, the late twentieth century cure for radiation sickness. The past holds the cure for the present. The disease comes from
within; the cure also must come from within. This  is  the  nature of  "The Deadly Years.
 In order to see now, one must note
when; in order to achieve the to-be and the yet-to-be, one must remember what was because what was is and both will create
what is yet-to be.
     What is most essential for man in terms of time is that he work creatively and productively. The idea of "time to kill”
is an abhorrence
in Star Trek. This raises the question of the greatest anomaly in
“The Deadly Years"--the extraordinary competency hearing called for
by Commodore Stocker via Mr. Spock, all in keeping with “regulations." Stocker is well-intentioned in his desire to reach Starbase 10
in order to
"save” the lives of the aging crewmembers of the Enterprise,  but his logic is misdirected due in part to the fact that
he is not one of the affected. In his obsession with the future (his new command), Stocker violates logic and thwarts creative change
by obstructing time. He lives by the book, but the phenomena of aging in this episode does not go by the book. He thinks too much
with his glands, and not enough with his head. Stocker does not change to adapt himself to the existing reality; he too sees, but
does not understand; he too hears, but does not listen. It is ironic that the



afflicted personnel struggle actively toward a cure, while the so-called normal people in time react emotionally to the point of

destructivity. The very drama of the hearing repeats what every viewer has already seen; it repeats what each participant already

knows. Nothing new or constructive results from the competency hearing. The function of the hearing is to show how time is wasted,

misused, thereby contributing to the aging process. Every wasted question wastes time, and time is the episode’s most precious


          Kirk:  ...nonsense about a competency hearing.
                   Trying to relieve a captain of his
                   command ... that is      Spock, I wouldn't have be-
                   lieved it of you. There's a lot more about
                   running a starship than answering a lot of fool

This quote is to be taken literally. Senility does not denote incompetency, and an experienced captain is superior to a

"chair-bound paper- pusher" because Kirk is still able to act. His memory is not impaired, nor is his will. The hearing causes a

temporary friction between Kirk and Spock, thereby thwarting constructive change. The will can and does overcome physical

shortcomings because Kirk is not afraid to act:

          Kirk: I am not old, Jan. I'm not….You don’t run
                  a starship with your arms.
                  You run it with your head.                              
The hearing has only served to heighten Kirk's awareness, to harden his will and determination. Commodore Stocker symbolizes

the walking biped, the technologized individual who is incapable of action because of fear. In the clutch, he freezes and his inability

to effect change



makes Stocker, a man in good health, a deadly force. Bracketed by the Romulans while crossing the neutral zone,

the Enterprise is in the hands of the worst of modern civilization's mental incompetents: "He who desires, but acts not breeds

pestilence.”  Stocker cannot act:

          Commodore Stocker:  Opinion, Mr. Sulu ... We have no alternative but to surrender. Stocker is a man in full possession

of his mental and physical capabilities, but he cannot act. The deadliest evil in Star Trek is not the Romulans, but the technologized

man who cannot act in time, who cannot change. Stocker is an excellent foil for the aging Kirk. In Star Trek, there is always that

other alternative (cf., "Operation Annihilate").  Commodore Stocker: What am I going to do? I've got to do something.

The inability of modern man to react intelligently and creatively to a change in time is the real disease in “The Deadly Years." Stocker

is dead inside, and is deadly to others. A starship, as Kirk asserts, is a self-sufficient society which must be capable of solving its own

problems from within by utilizing its inner resources. Stocker is Roddenberry's answer to T. S. Eliot's Prufrock. Stocker is destroyed

by change; Kirk, compliments of adrenaline, appears on the bridge, and, in seconds, by brilliant imagination, he chooses and

acts based on his assessment of the problem. The old corbomite ruse ("polka") works. Kirk is the epitome of what Roddenberry

says modern man should and must be if he is to develop, to change, to grow:

          Commodore Stocker (to Kirk): "I did what I thought
                                            best to save you and the men.   I am now quite
                                            aware of what a starship can do with the right
                                  man at the helm"



It is the man, the right man who overcomes and absorbs the right situation by imaginative change who will build a

greater world because he is not afraid to make a decision, because he is not caught in what Matthew Arnold called

"the dialogue of the mind with itself,"
 because he sees, he evaluates, he chooses, and he acts based on what his senses tell him.

Kirk effects change by using his past experiences, his present imagination with a sense of salvaging a future from the seemingly hopeless

Stockers of the world. Without the basic human processes of will and change, technology is a blinded servant and a useless tool.

Good health and harmony are restored. Because Spock is a Vulcan, McCoy has prepared a very large shot:

          McCoy: I've prepared an extraordinarily potent
                       shot and removed all breakables from
          Kirk: ... an experience we'll remember in our
                   old age which won't be for some while I hope.

Old age has brought about rebirth for Kirk, for McCoy, for Scotty, and for Spock. Unlike other aging figures who rarely have the desire

or facilities to say "This is what dying is like," the Enterprise crew has lived through extreme old age and, unlike no others in history,

have lived to tell the tale, have changed and reversed time in order to live in the present with the knowledge of what the inevitable

future brings. This fact makes them better men for the experience of the temporal horizon. "The Deadly Years”  is an extraordinary state-

ment on man's need to accept and to utilize change, not to fear it because to fear it means living death and spiritual extinction. What

is most interesting is to compare the "made-up" Scotty, McCoy and Kirk to the REAL, aged Scotty, McCoy and Kirk;  two are

gone now, but they lived into old age. Jimmy died at age 85, DeForest at age 79. Bill is 77 at the time of this writing and is more

active than ever! The makeup did not do them justice.



                       “City On The Edge Of Forever”


Eight other Star Trek episodes deal explicitly with the temporal horizon via the harmonic relationship among past, present,
and future. Often, time is an explicit matrix of an episode and time issues from an episode's very title. A first such episode is
Harlan Ellison's well­-conceived work "The City on The Edge of Forever." The major theme of this impressive tale is the
resentment of historical perspective via restoration of the temporal threshold’s harmony. It is one of two "time portal" episodes
which assert the motif of time as history, and man as the focal point, as the creator of time itself through actions aimed at restoring
and creating history. In “
The City on The Edge of Forever," history must be re-changed and restored because of human distinction
of history. Thomas Carlyle once defined history as the essence of innumerable biographies, i.e., that man and the human personality
constitute history, and that history ceases to be of interest if it is not the story of its kinetic human personalities whose interaction
with time create the past as living present for all mankind to read and to relive. History must convey that sense of being there in
the midst of change itself.
     On this unusual journey, the Enterprise encounters “ripples in time" from a source that "can effect changes in time." The tone
for this time-machine episode is set by a triggering incident that takes place on the bridge of the Enterprise just before the ship
undergoes the last large time displacement wave. The problem is electrical shock incurred by Mr. Sulu that causes heart irregularity
or temporary cessation of heart movement. Dr. McCoy suddenly introduces the cordrazine



injection and Sulu is awake and normal, even though Captain Kirk was wary of cordrazine as a rather drastic over-reactive
solution. Cordrazine does, in a sense, cause the episode’s plot; confrontation with the Guardian of Forever becomes
unavoidable if the accidental self-injection by McCoy, his subsequent paranoia and beam-down, are to be rectified.
McCoy must be found. Therefore, the time ripples and the cordrazine interact to form a cohesive plot and a close cause-
effect relationship. The root of cordrazine comes from the Latin, cordis--meaning heart. It also can arise from the French cordi,
implying tied up or tied together. To be brief, the heart is the key to the theme of time in “City” Two drops can
cure and McCoy took one-hundred times that amount, thus causing ripples, distortions that drive the individual into a metabolic
time warp, propelling him forward, yet backward, via the Guardian of Forever. Acceleration and its concomitant time distortion
become a theme even before McCoy leaps into the time portal. The heart, as the traditional seat of the
love-related emotions, becomes a factor when heart interacts with or against historical or mechanical time. For example, Kirk's
love for Edith Keiler jeopardizes the restoration of history because emotion, when distorted, warps reason and the sense of
duty. Kirk, for a moment, forgets or refuses to admit that Edith Keiler must die. Time and the human heart are all too frequently
contradictory because time has no heart, no room for extraneous emotions. Time becomes what Thomas Hardy calls
"Crass Casualty"; it takes its toll by destruction. Kirk must, as Spock insists, put aside his feelings for Miss Keiler and




must instead consider the larger historical consequences, the wholistic ramifications of a selfish act just as McCoy's unselfish

act of originally saving Miss Keiler's life was ironically selfish in that saving the life of one woman meant a German victory in

World War II, more millions of deaths, the German development of and possession of atomic energy, and, above all, no future as

Starfleet knows it--no Enterprise:

          Spock: I saw her (Edith Keiler's) obituary. Some sort of traffic accident.
          Kirk: She has two possible futures, then. And depending on whether she lives
                 or dies....all of history will be changed.
                 And McCoy...
is the random element.
           Kirk: "In his condition, does he kill her?"
           Spock: "Or perhaps prevents her from being killed…. "

 Both Kirk and McCoy act out of heart, but heart is at odds with time and empirical history. Also, the heart presents a clear

and distinct picture for history because the emotional actions of only one individual can alter and have changed the course

of history. One man (McCoy) can and does change history, but not for the better. This episode makes it clear that one human

being and his deed are history, that the present deed creates the as-yet future, that one man's heart can cause the death of countless

millions of mankind:

         Spock: While peace negotiations passed on, Germany had time to complete its
                     heavy water experiments.
          Kirk:  (Germany) ... won the second World War…
          Spock: ... because all this lets them develop the
                     A-bomb first. There’s no mistake, Captain."
          Kirk: She was right.  Peace was the way...
          Spock: She was right, but at the wrong time.
                     All this because McCoy came back and somehow
                     kept her from dying in a street accident as she               
                     was meant to. We must stop him, Jim.



                    Kirk:  Spock, I believe ... I’m in love with Edith Keiler.

                   Spock: "Jim, Edith Keiler must die."

No man has the right to alter history for personal, emotional gain if, as the novelist George Eliot notes, the act brings sorrow in any

form into the lives of others. The individual and crass casuality conflict and history, even though it may work counter to the heart

of a man, works ultimately in the best interests of that man and, more importantly, of all mankind. As is the case in Greek tragedy,

one individual can and does change time, but he is morally responsible for any and all ramifications of his deed, whether conscious

or unconscious. Oedipus Rex kills his father, Laertes, not knowing it was his father. Oedipus marries his mother, not knowing at

the time that she was indeed his mother. Ignorance of the future effects of present acts does not exonerate the creator from the evils

reeked on all mankind because of one act by one individual who acted out of the passion and of the heart, instead of out of a sense

of history and of the head. Every man is responsible for his own acts because every deed now serves to create one's future, past as

every deed then (past) served to create one's present. To save the future of an entire galaxy and a way of life, Spock and Kirk

must restore historicity's normalcy by undoing McCoy's random act in the past that destroyed the future which is the Enterprise’s  

present. This entire scenario is based on the symbolic ramifications of the drug, cordrazine, and "City” tells us of history and the

affairs of the heart.



     One of Roddenberry's major concerns in all the episodes dealing explicitly with time and change is the loss

of temporal horizontality by refuge in, or absorption by, one temporal zone and the exclusion

of the other two. Frequently, mankind seeks escapes from the present by seeking refuge in the past or in the present. Before

Dr. McCoy takes his leap into the time portal, all three major characters are strongly dominated by the past--almost to the

point of empathic infatuation. This hyper-concern with the past is symbolized in the setting which houses the Guardian of Forever.

The men of the future confront the ruins of the past. Kirk notes: "These ruins extend to the horizon." The city is dead as the landing

crew views the past of a once-vital civilization in time present. The immediate theme becomes history. Kirk directs Uhura to "begin

recording,” as if he senses the need for an historical record of what is about to take place. The dialogue stresses the age of the ruins

as Spock reacts: " ...on the order of ten-thousand centuries old...of considerable age.” The theme of the ruin’s age is equated with

the power it brings forth. The Guardian of Forever is in itself a contradiction: it  emits power, yet it  should not be doing so; it

exists alive--a living symbol of eternity amid past and present mutability:

          Spock:     For this to do what it does is impossible
                          by any science I understand ... it can't be
                          a machine as we understand mechanics.

The Guardian of Forever projects scenes (ala DeMille) that move from the beginning to the near present. Science from ancient

Rome to the


early twentieth-century America unfolds as Kirk and Spock gape infatuated with the supposedly


       Kirk: What is it ?
Guardian: Since before your sun burned hot
                      in space, and before your race was born,
                      I have awaited a question

What are you?
Guardian: I am the Guardian of Forever.
       Kirk: Are you machine or being?
       Guardian: I am both, and neither. I am

my own beginning, my own ending.

The Guardian claims to be its own alpha and omega (eternity and god), thus destroying the temporal threshold;

however, the Guardian really is limited in its forever, to the same projections of time past. Both Kirk and Spock

stare transfixed by the images of the dead past as they are recreated in the present. While McCoy screams,

"murderers ... killers" at the other members of the landing party, Kirk remarks: "...strangely compelling to lose oneself

in another world." Kirk seeks refuge in the past from the anxieties of the present--a theme that recurs in Star Trek.

Spock too is absorbed, however momentarily, like Kirk by the tease of time unfolding before the eyes

of the present. As a result, Spock loses his scientific objectivity and forgets: am a fool...l've  missed taping centuries

of living history which no man before has ever .…”  At that second, McCoy jumps into the time portal. He overhears

Kirk's and Spock's eulogizing of the
miracle of living history, and he too is absorbed literally by the

past.  The Guardian notes:  "He has passed into what was” --an interesting double entendre. After McCoy's absorption

in and by the



past, the present ceases to exist due to an altered past. The Guardian of Forever states the terrifying dilemma of

NOT ME: "Your vessel, your beginning, all that you knew is gone." The present as lived is now dead. Kirk notes

the obvious induction: "McCoy has somehow changed history," and in doing so has changed the present and destroyed

the future of the landing crew and of the known world of space and time. McCoy did something not-yet done

(future) while in the past (the-already-done). As a result, Kirk and Spock must do something not yet done in the past.

For all three men, the past is an ironic refuge from the doubts of the present, a possible cure to restore the present as

experienced in the future of their current lives. McCoy's great leap backward destroys the infatuation with the past into

a dreaded necessity to travel in a time machine in order to restore and to recreate history. The time voyage is

by a domination by the non-temporal, i.e., by no time.

          Scotty: Stranded down here...
          Spock: With no past, no future.
          Kirk: Earth's not there .... We're totally
                   alone….For us time does not exist.

A change effected by McCoy in the past has caused a change in the time-line, but it is not not eternity. All history has

been changed. The future is now relative to dynamic human activity to create a future via a present action of entering

into the past of the time portal. Past, present, and future converge for the first time in and through the Guardian

of Forever. Kirk and Spock must recreate time because McCoy has



destroyed time as the Enterprise knows time in relationship to its own present sense of time. History has now become

the matter of human deeds that link and ultimately restore the temporal threshold.

     The life for Star Trek's men of the future in the past is bitter-sweet, full of anxiety and terror, but also replete with

incredible levity and jolly-good spirits. The experience of total horizontality is a total, human experience full of old cars,

old clothes (all circa 1930). Kirk breaks the tension:

          Kirk: I think I'm going to like this century.
                  Simple. Easier to manage...  

Both men are caught by a N.Y. cop in his "traditional accoutrements" in the act of theft. Ironically, Kirk tries to

explain away the future and the present (Spock's ears and the rice picker) while the cop concentrates on the theft.

Kirk and Spock are out-of-time as they have experienced it in the now distant future. Time has created what

literatures call situational irony, and the chatty dialogue serves as comic relief to the almost hopeless nature of their task

in the America of the 1930's depression era. The poverty and hunger of this period in history is a poignant setting

(somewhat akin to the ruins around the Guardian in the future) because hard times make creativity and change all the

more difficult. The scenes of men on soup-lines, the irony of Spock and Kirk sweeping floors, the feeding of

human beings, and the pouring of coffee serve to show many similarities between the past and the future. To men of the

future, the 21st century may someday also be a "zinc-plated, vacuum-tube culture." Even the terminology of the past

helps men of the future remember their roots and their common history



 (ex. , , a "flop"). Spock's job is to adapt 2lst century electronics to vacuum tube technology,

 but he does adapt:

                 Spock: You are asking me to deal with
equipment that is hardly very
                              ahead of stone knives and bear
                               skins....I am endeavoring, maam (Edith Keiler)
                               to construct a mnemonic memory circuit using
                               stone knives and bear skins.

The trip into the past is nostalgic, especially to Kirk whose cultural flexibility enables him to cope best with

changes in time. “Goodnight, Sweetheart" played in an old radio-repair shop (vestiges of the embryonic beginnings

of modern technology), the name of Clark Gable--all contribute to counteract the poverty of the Great Depression.

     The last major character with a time obsession and a time consciousness is Edith Keiler, whose knowledge

of time is second only to that of the Guardian of Forever. She strikes chords of time-truth that are visionary. Her talk

about space ships, about trips to the moon, and about harnessing the atom are treated
by Spock as "speculation" or

as gifted insight, yet, her time sensibil
ity is acute:

          Edith Keiler: ... how out of place you two
      are around here.
Spock: Where would you estimate we belong,
                                   Miss Keiler?

                       Edith Keiler: You? At his (Kirk's) side
                                           as if you've always been there
                                           and always will ... and you(Kirk) ...
                                           you belong in another place ....
                                           Captain! Even when he does not
it, he does.

Edith Keiler, the "keel" or focal point in time, gives the episode



its sense of direction, as her name connotes: "A lie is a very poor way to say hello" comes from a lady whom Kirk

finds "most uncommon."
 Love is love in any time, but certain loves are, for Kirk, certain duties. He must choose

between the keel of 1930 and the helm of the Enterprise. Unlike Kirk and Spock who are infatuated with and absorbed

by the past, Edith Keiler is dominated by the future, partly as an example from the depression of the 1930's and from

the arduous task as Keeper of the 21st Street Mission where Rodent calls her
“Miss Goodytwoshoes" for

her moral preachings as retribution for a bum's free meal. Her obsession with the future enables Edith Keiler to

preach survival and human dignity to bums and alcoholics in the present. Her sense of her own worth, her dignity of

presence, and her altruism make Edith Keiler one of Star Trek's strongest heroines. Her philosophy of time is to exist

now in order to live in the future. Her gifted, visionary futurism contrasts with Kirk and Spock's less universal

concerns. Also in a sense, Edith Keiler is a symbol of the future (Kirk's past and present) in time past:

          Edith Keiler: I do insist that you do survive
                              because the days and the years ahead are worth living for...
                              a way to give each man hope and
                              a common future. And those are
                              the days worth living for.

Edith Keiler continues head and heart--so much so that McCoy's saving of her life puts Edith at the head of a peace

movement that permits Germany to win World War II. She has the right idea, but the wrong time.



          Kirk: It's not yet time.  McCoy isn't there ;
          Spock: We're not that sure of our facts.
                       Who's to say when the exact time will
                       come? Save her, do as your heart tells
                       you to do, and millions will die who
                      did not die before."

McCoy says to Edith, "You may have saved my life," yet ironically he saves her to change history for the worse;

also ironically, he cannot save her (prevented by Kirk) as she saved him--thwarting McCoy's incipient love for

Edith Keiler and thwarting his Hippocratic obligation to save lives.

          McCoy (to Kirk): Do you know what you just did?
 He knows, doctor. He knows.

When all three major characters return to the future (their now- present) after permitting Edith Keiler to die, after making

her die lest millions die, it is clear in the grim facial features of Kirk, of Spock, of McCoy, that "We were successful"

in what Scotty's present sensibility calls "only ... a moment ago," is a bitter-sweet success. History is restored;

temporal horizontality is restored, but as is often true of redemptive action in time, a toll is taken. One must die that

others might live, but that one is still very dead--a fact no man can change without destroying all of that-which-is:

          Guardian: Time has resumed its slope. All is
                         as it was before. Many such journeys
                         are possible. Let me be your gateway.
           Uhura: Captain, the Enterprise is up there.
                      They're asking if we want to beam

In a breach of Star Trek's fairly level vocabulary, Kirk, who rarely breaches verbal decorum, shows that change

by man the


creator/recreator is not always enjoyable, even if such change of the past, of the present, and of the future are
successful, the heart of man does not have to like it: "Let's get the hell out of here
! " Kirk is more the Ulysses,
less the T.S. Eliot  Prufrock man of fear and inaction who says, "There will be time to murder and create,"
thus punctuating the dual nature of man's power over time. Because in order to create, modern man may also have
to destroy--all in due time. To be reborn is to die once again.  Renovatio is NEW time or restoration of THE
time of history by altering the alteration one makes in the timeline of what is. Yet all is changed in the process.

                                                (end of "The City On The Edge of Forever")



                                                              “All Our Yesterdays”


     "All Our Yesterdays" is the next to the last Trek episode of
the series' last year. Although many Trek fans hold the
opinion that the 1968/69 year was weak in content and in conception, the exceptional episodes that appeared that
third year far outweigh the few ho-hum episodes that frequently mar a network series that has been marked for
cancellation. "All Our Yesterdays”
is one such exceptional episode because it tends to reiterate and to synthesize
Gene Roddenberry's obsession with man in time. Even the repetitious elements, such as the time portal concept, take
on new, ironic twists and an energy of one creator's final statement on the concept of time and on man's role as creator
in and of time. In this episode, man is clearly time's prisoner as the theme "can't get back
" becomes time's theme.
More than any other work,
“back" is repeated again and again--“can’t get back"; yet, ironically, the people of
Sarpeidon have all gone back and can never "get back."  In taking refuge into their planet's past, they have gone back;
however, because of the immanent nova of Beta Niobe and because they have been "prepared" to live only in the past,
they can never "get back" to time present. The theme of "All Our Yes
terdays," as the title denotes, is man's domination
by, and refuge in, time past. "All Our Yesterdays" are all that is left for man to experience, are a dead end in terms of
man's creativity. In reliving what was already lived as a then-vital present in search of a to-be vital future, the Sarpeidons
have to "live out our lives here in the past" as the Prosecutor sorrowfu
lly admits to Kirk. The past that is not really
past is a moral impasse, a last refuge which is rationalized as preferable to death in time present. The episode is a
statement on the moral aridity


of existing (versus living) in an alien time era. Being “prepared" by the atavacron prepares man's cell structure for existing
where he really does not belong and where he really does not want to be. It simply gives the Sarpeidons a brief reprieve from
time's inevitable lot--death without human creativity. The lives they live are not their own. They have lost their temporal
threshold because the past of the ancestors has become their present where life is a mirage created
by a time portal, and
they "cant get back." The atavacron has become their Guardian of Forever, and, like the Guardian, the only forever is the
forever in the past. Like the Guardian of Forever in “The City on the Edge of Forever," the atavacron guards only the past.
     There is no true time present anymore. The atavacron is technology creating a wasteland of hollow men who have no time
to create, only time to destroy because Sarpeidon's past no longer exists; therefore, the Prosecutor and Zarabeth are dead.
Technology has negative impact on man's creative potential because it distorts man's temporal horizon by placing him where
he no longer exists, no longer lives. "All Our Yesterdays" is a study of death in time. While Beta Niobe ends with a nova,
Sarpeidon's populations end with barely a whimper because in choosing refuge in the past, they no longer choose the path
of forward, prospective action. Regression is death; only progression breeds life. The looks on the Prosecutor's face and the
lyrical sorrow in his voice create a Roddenberry ring in Star Trek's version of Dante's Purgatorio and Inferno. Sarpeidon's
inhabitants, especially the thoughtful ones like the Prosecutor and Zarabeth, know that they are in hell, that



hell is isolation in time, that hell is action without direction, that hell is the wrong place in time, that hell is a void, and a state of mind
devoid of hope and of the consciousness of being truly human.
     The unifying symbol, the locus, and the focal point for time is the library, which is the alpha and the omega of all the time travelers in
"All Our Yesterdays." It is the technological cause and effect of the time travellers: Kirk, Spock, and McCoy. The library is a massive
symbol and an example of double entendre. Etymologically speaking, the word "library" comes from the Latin term 1ibrarius, meaning
copier or transcriber of books--the role of Mr. Atoz (a cute term denoting a librarian's "A" to
“Z" function). Also, Mr. Atoz is a
copier of sorts because he can copy, i.e., reproduce, replicas of himself. The term "library,” also has its root in the Latin "liber,"
meaning freedom. In this sense, the inhabitants of Sarpeidon have been freed from the nova in and through the library. But libris,
as in the constellation Libra, refers to the astrological concept of scales, i.e., of balance, and, therefore, the term stresses the theme
of the need for physical and psychical balance between time periods in this episode.
     A lack of balance between past and present is embodied in the hormonal, cellular, and psychical imbalance experienced
by the landing party when they arrive in time zones for which they have not been "prepared" and in which they do not belong because
they are creatures of another time, of another place, of another society and of another history. Lastly, the library is a complete
compilation of history, of the past--both near and remote. The library is a summarial history, a living history of words and pictures
of a people's entire past. The library is the past living in the present because man's present is the sum of his past and because man's



creativity in the present should, according to Roddenberry, be based upon a firm and vital knowledge of the past. Because the
Sarpeidons have no present, creativity in a dead past has been nullified. The past is of value only to he who sees the balanced
temporal relationship between present and past and who can act in the present based on kinetic knowledge of the past in order
to create a future. The library of Sarpeidon, devoid of users, of researchers who want to know their ME, is a dead place because
a library ceases to function, to be a library, without vital minds to use its contents. Sarpeidon's library is as void as its one-time
inhabitants. Sarpeidon is its library and only its library for a few, brief moments in time present as the impending nova waits to
destroy all of Sarpeidon; however, there is nothing left to destroy in the nova of Beta Niobe but nothingness itself.
     Even the Enterprise
sensors detect that "No intelligent life remains on the planet." This would include, of course, Mr. Atoz. Kirk's
seemingly innocuous remark, "...could be mass suicide" is devastating in its irony because the comment has a certain validity by the end
of the episode. Such comments made on the bridge before the beamdown set the tone and the terrifying truth that the nova may not be
the greatest danger to the men and women of Sarpeidon who cannot "get back." A few dialogues between Kirk and Atoz illustrate the
importance of the library as the key to time and to change. Comments such as the following


form a dialectic between past and present, between death and life:

          Kirk (to Prosecutor): Then help me!  Help me
                   return to the library. I've lost my way.
                   I must get back there.

          Prosecutor: We can never go back. We must live
                            out our lives here in the past.
          Mr. Atoz: ...history of the planet is available
                         in every detail, just choose what
                         interests you the most....
                         The library is your key.
                         (my italics--note the tenses).

Yes, the library is the key and the key is a time-key and a turnkey whereby the Sarpeidons escaped destruction in the present by choos-

ing a dead past. Is this really a freely-willed choice? Is this living? The theme of history becomes a theme of time, and history

is based on two principles: necessity and volition. When asked by Kirk where all the planet's inhabitants had gone, Atoz notes:

“lt depended on the individual of course," i.e., on individual volition; however, "a wide range of alternatives is a mixed blessing" and
“we have so little on recent history.  There is so little demand for it.” :

          Kirk: Where did they go?
          Mr. Atoz: Wherever they wanted to go, of course.

This line is worth repeating because Roddenberry insists on man having a free will to choose, but Mr. Roddenberry also admits man's

ineptitude in choosing both where there are too many choices and where many choices can be a ruse for no real choice at all,

i.e., necessity as a creator of history. In this case, necessity creates the atavacron, thereby terminating history. Folks such as


Moll Cutpurse, the Prosecutor, and Zarabeth, are fated to a chosen dead end. As Zarabeth says, "I can't go through the portal again.
If I do, I will die." There is no growth potential to create a to-be by acting in the what-is. Their characters are thwarted just as their
cell structures are altered into a stunted moral inferno. The result is an illusion of refuge in the past that is in reality a psychical neurosis
effected by a domination of the past and by a rationalized, technologized refuge in the past with a subsequent loss of temporal horizon.
The result is an imbalance symbolized by the nova of Beta Niobe.
     "All Our Yesterdays" is replete with an apolyptical urgency, a sense of the death of time itself, an aura of the twilight of mankind.
"Hurry up please. It's time," is spoken by the pub keeper T.S. Eliot's "The Wasteland" with the same apocolyptical ring that Lil, Albert
and all the bipeds who constitute the wasteland are killing time either by libidinous activity or by no activity at all. The third (the real)
Mr. Atoz begins (like the mad hatter) the warning refrain: "You're very late! Where have you been?" While Atoz counts down his
hour to escape the nova as his
"Z" hour approaches, Kirk's moral myopia effects a contrast in the concern for and the nature
of the emergency of being late. Each has a differing perspective as to what being "very late" means. Atoz quips, "Make your
escape before it's too late," while Kirk is concerned only with the physical viability and the safety of the planet's inhabitants.
Atoz assures
Kirk, "all are safe."


      Kirk defines safety in terms of the immanent destruction of the planet in time present with the implied concern for its future.

Atoz knows there is and can be no future for Sarpeidon's population. Mr. Atoz sees only escape in terms of time past. The

result is a dialectic between two opposing time perspectives and an incommunicative atmosphere that eventually causes physical

hostility between Kirk's misguided altruism and Atoz's pre-planned egoism. The result is an altercation and a physical struggle as

Atoz fights, ironically, to ensure Kirk's safety by trying to push Kirk back through the time portal. Atoz yields to Kirk's superior

force, noting "You're a most determined man," but the determination is misplaced as Kirk himself is obsessed with only one aspect

of the temporal horizon. Kirk asks Scotty several times about how much time there is:

          Kirk: "Scotty, how much time is there?"
          Both Scott and McCoy say, "Now!"
          Kirk: (to McCoy and Spock at the portal)Hurry through. Time is running out.

One of the distinct themes of "All Our Yesterdays" is the lack of time mankind in general has to avoid cataclysm and to act in order

to avoid physical death. Roddenberry focuses intensely on man's necessity to utilize time wisely or else time will use man--unwisely

and detrimentally. Time is man's greatest enemy, other than himself. Andrew Marvell sounds the theme, howbeit in a loose context:



           Had we world enough and time,
           This coyness, mistress, t'were no crime ....
           But at my back I hear
           Time's winged chariot drawing near.
                    --(A. Marvell, "To His Coy Mistress.")

The winged chariot is impending death, a fact that enhances man's need to act now before time is no more. Once out of time,

 man cannot create. A nineteenth century British historian and philosopher sounds the same apocalyptical note:

          Produce, Produce. Were it but the pitifullest
          infinitesimal fraction of a Product, produce it,
          in God's name! 'Tis the utmost thou hast in thee,
          out with it, then. Up, up: Whatsoever thy hand
          findeth to do, do it with thy whole might. Work
          while it is called Today; for the Night cometh,
          wherein no man can work.
               --(Thomas Carlyle, Sartor Resartus, II, 9, 1833)

Life and moral continuance depend on the philosophy that there is no such thing as "Time to Kill," but man continues to murder

time and the
chances for change and rebirth in time. "Hurry up please! It's Time!" while "London Bridge is falling down"

(T.S. Eliot, "The Wasteland," 1922). For every time, there must be that man for that time.
 In "All Our Yesterdays," there is no

time, no place for a "man for all seasons" because each individual has been born in and reared
for his season and for the season

he alone must create as his time present creates his to-be time. Man develops in accordance with a pattern which he inherits and

which he molds and recreates during his
lifetime. A Neanderthal is just as out of time in the twentieth


century as is a twentieth-third century Vulcan in an Ice Age 5,000 years in the past in an environment which is not his place (locus)
in time. In this episode, Roddenberry deals with what it means to be out of place and out of one's time spectrum. Time is both a
chronological and an environmental phenomenon. Space and time blend as creators and destroyers of man who is also a creator
and a destroyer of time.
     This "time-portal" episode symbolizes the theme of dualism perhaps technological man's greatest disease. The time portal
phenomenon, while interesting scientifically, is also fascinating psychologically and morally because modern man is split both between
time zones and between place zones. The result is the ripping apart of what the great twentieth century psychologist, Jung, calls wholism
--a concept akin to the nineteenth century Romantic writers’ concept of organicism. One must seek wholism within the individual
psyche, and thus between the ME and the NOT-ME in the space/time continuum. The atavacron is the product as well as the
cause of modern man's psychical fragmentation amid an urgent quest for organic wholism. The nova is the tertium quid, or the
random element of nature. Modern man is caught, as Matthew Arnold says, "between two worlds" neither of wh
ich is wholistically
viable. The very dramatic format of "All Our Yesterdays" symbolizes this dualism in the form of a dialectic between time zones,
between centuries, between cultures, and between individuals caught up in the schism of modernity. A death of who and what one is,
aggravated by anxiety and physio/psychical regression (in time past), becomes a plague that


eventually turns the individual psyche into an internal schizophrena, a dialogue of the mind with itself. To live in a world

and in a time, Roddenberry insists that a Spock, a McCoy, or a Kirk be "prepared.” Too much change coming too soon withers the

individual. Our environment and our own natural instinctual tendencies permit a natural evolution of the ME in time. In this episode, the

format is that of a dialectic in and between time--as in Daniel’s DeFoe’s harlot:

          Moll (to Kirk): "You’re not one of us, are ya?"
          Kirk: Come back with me to
Moll: Where is library?

While Kirk enters a time of superstitious witchcraft resembling a Cromwellian England blended with a Puritan America (Moll is an

English cockney; whereas the Prosecutor speaks American English, as does Zarabeth), Spock and McCoy enter the distant past--a

dualism spanning almost 5,000 years in Sarpeidon history. A dialogue between the near past and the remote past ensues, both

with the library as time locus. McCoy and Spock yell out 5,000 years ago to Kirk in the seventeenth century some 600 years ago.

     All speak in and through the time portal/library as intermediary junction for all time zones where no man may cross without dying.

The result is an identity crisis for each individual as time past jars with time present. In almost Darwinian fashion, the

individual's physical chemistry, psychical chemistry, and memory begin to be affected by natural selection as the biological urge to

survive supersedes all directives of the Enterprise, which has suddenly become time future, a sensibility that fades as time



past erodes time present and time future

     One result is the loss of identity, the Camuean existential motif of l'etranger,  the stranger. When one undergoes change

too quickly, the ego structure fragments and the libido becomes dominant as the dominance of the past makes man its slave.

Human free will becomes secondary to mere biological urge as regression supersedes progression:

          Zarabeth: What are you called? I've
                          never seen anyone who looks
                          like you. (Spock) Why are
                          you here? Are you prisoners
Spock: We were sent here by mistake...I
am firmly convinced that I do
                        exist. I am substantial.
                        You are not imagining this.

Kirk is experiencing the stranger/identity crisis as the episode shifts from near past to far past. The fast camera shifts between

the split landing party and it intensifies the lack of connection, symbolizing disjunctive and imbalance in a sort of psychical “worm effect”

in time. The effect is that of cinematic staccato that dramatizes two disconnected worlds:

          Kirk: I'm a stranger.
          Prosecutor: Where are you from?
          Kirk: An island.
          Prosecutor: Where is this island
          Kirk: It's called earth.

Prosecutor: I know no island earth.... 

          Zarabeth: I am Zarabeth
          Spock: If I remain here, no one of our party
                      will be able to aid Captain Kirk...If
                      I leave him, there is a chance he may
                      never regain the ship. We'll be marooned
                      in this time period. But he's no longer
                      in danger of death (McCoy). So my primary
                     duty to him has been dispatched.
           Zarabeth: You make
it sound like an equation.
            Spock: It should be like an equation. I should
                        be able to resolve this problem logically
                        .....We must return to Mr. Atoz and the
            atavron ...



                 Zarabeth:  I can't go through the portal
                                again. If I do, I will die...
                                None of us can go back...
                                You can't go back. If you go
                                through the portal again, you will
                                die before you reach the other side.

The very dialogue between Spock and Zarabeth is disjointed. Spock is having an existential identity crisis, an Arnoldian dialogue

of the mind with itself. Both are discussing issues foreign to the other. The result is non-communication. Spock's immediate concern

is for others. Zarabeth's concern is for herself: (lust).  "My crime was in choosing my kinsmen unwisely” as she discusses Zorcon

the Great. This discussion parallels that of Kirk and Atos: two divergent interests with no common connection. While Spock is

fighting with equations, slowly losing his Vulcan logic, Zarabeth is able to assert clearly "I am Zarabeth." One fracturing psyche confronts

a restructured psyche that has adjusted and has been "prepared" for her existence in the Sarpeidon Ice Age. Upon awakening from

his frostbitten condition, McCoy's first remark, unlike Zarabeth's positive assertion, is another question: "Where are we?" And

another: "Why aren't you looking for Jim?" Spock readily ceases to act in accordance with his own time present as he unconsciously

succumbs to a time in which he does not belong, in a place that makes him the stranger who came into the snow and ice. The

flame-lighted world of a Puritan seventeenth century warmth contrasts with the ice and snow of an frozen age; however, Kirk's

dungeon cell has an uncanny physical and psychological parallel to Zarabeth's, Spock's, and McCoy's cave where the

subterranean warm springs give a sense of deceptive calm. Both are prisons, death-rows in time past. A dialectic becomes

evident between those who have been



changed by the atavacron and those who have not been changed. If man is not adapted by faith, by heredity, and by natural evolution

to a given time, only a machine can prepare him physically to exist in another time period. In either case, the individual must master

time by his free will or living becomes mere existence. The atavacron has a minimal effect on adjusting, on "preparing" the human psyche

for change. They very word "library" brings terror into the face of the Prosecutor because he knows that psychic isolation is one

penalty for his escape into the past. Zarabeth too suffers negative psychical effects:

          Zarabeth: There are many luxuries around here.
                          Zarcon only left me what was necessary
                         to survive ... everything I needed except
                         companionship. To send me here alone.
                         If that is not death, what is?
           Spock:    Insensitive to send such a beautiful
                          woman into exile...the cold must have
                          affected me more than I realized...
                          I'm not myself.

Zarabeth, while wooing Spock, has also stated a key theme of the story--that alienation, being a stranger, is death. Division,

fragmentation, dialectics constitute hell because the health of the wholism found in the human solidarity of one's natural time period

has been lost. Zarabeth has stated very clearly a unifying theme of this time portal episode, i.e., that exclusive domination of the

human psyche purely by the past is death because Zarabeth has been reduced to a mere libidinal level of biological survival

and impulse. All the marooned inhabitants of Sarpeidon are dead because they no longer engage in a creative human sense.

They have ceased to be fully human, and that is the death that precludes any physical death.


     Kirk and McCoy never lose the fighter instinct to "get back,”while Spock reverts to his barbarous Vulcan past.

As in "This Side of Paradise," Spock becomes human as his ego structure splits and an internal dialectic ensues:

          Spock: I've behaved disgracefully.
                     I've eaten animal flesh and I've enjoyed
                     it. What's wrong with me? I tell
                     you (Zarabeth) you're beautiful. But
                     you are beautiful. Is it so wrong to
                     tell you so?

It is McCoy, in a brilliantly acted scene, who must return Spock's sense of his proper time by admonishing Spock for "dishonesty" and

for loss of creative motivation:

          Spock: I've given you the facts, doctor.
          McCoy: The facts as you knew them or did
                       you just accept Zarabeth's word because  
                       it was what you wanted to believe? ..
                       Zarabeth is a woman condemned to a
                       terrible life of loneliness. She
                       would do anything to anybody to change
                       that ... you said we can't get back.
                       The truth is you (Zarabeth) can't get
                       back....she would do anything to prevent
                       that life of loneliness. She would lie.
                       She would cheat. She would even murder
                       me, the Captain, the entire crew of the
                       Enterprise to keep you here with her
                       ...go ahead, Zarabeth, tell the truth...."

Spock's emotions flare and he chokes McCoy with murder in his eyes.

          McCoy: Are you trying to kill me, Spock? Is that
                        what you really want? Think!
What are you
                        feeling? Rage? Jealousy? Have you ever
                        had those feelings before?
          Spock: This is impossible ... impossible. I 'm a Vulcan.
          McCoy: The Vulcan you knew won’t exist for another
                        5000 years. Think man! What’s happening on
                        your planet now, at this very moment?
          Spock: My ancestors are barbarous...Warlike barbarians.
          McCoy: Who nearly killed themselves off with their
                        own passions. So, you're reverting to your
                        ancestors 5,000 years before you were born.
          Spock: I've lost myself. I do not know who I am.



The above lines are a dialectic between two time consciousnesses: a then and a now that McCoy vehemently retains:

                 McCoy: I know I'm gonna try, Spock, because
                              my life is back there, and I want that

As McCoy goes out into the cold, he would rather die than quit his identity and the sphere of time for which he was

and is naturally prepared. Spock embodies the theme of the evil of past dominance to the exclusion of the present

and of the future. McCoy revives Spock, almost pugilistically (again a scene from "This Side of Paradise" where

Kirk literally knocks the spores out of  Spock's psyche) to his proper time sphere for which he too is naturally

prepared. For Roddenberry, time is not simply a matter of chronology, but it is also a state of mind needed for

psychic wholism. “Can't get back" is a taboo in Roddenberry's sense of the human will in its steady war with time.

Spock tells McCoy what can't get back means:

          Spock: Then I'll repeat it for you. Get
                      this through your head. We can't get back.
                      That means we are trapped as
                      we are, and we'll stay here for the
                     rest of our lives.
           McCoy: I don't believe it, Spock. It's just
                        not like you to give up trying.

“Can’t” is simply not in the Roddenberry vocabulary.  “Try” is a minimal must. "Do" is the driving ideal. Getting back,

for McCoy and Spock, is a study in human solidarity and in human wholism.  Because they both passed through

the time portal together into the past, they must go as one, together, back through the portal in order to restore

the balance of time present in its proper relationship to time past


and to time future. One of the tragic notes of this time portal episode is that nothing is really accomplished in time present

and that time as future does not exist for man. A lesson is learned from 600 and 5,000 years in the past, i.e., that human

solidarity is restored, both between individuals (ex. McCoy and Spock) and within each psyche (Spock is one again). Man

becomes one with his fellow man via the Enterprise--the restoration of the temporal threshold. But there is no future for

man in “All Our Yesterdays” :

          Spock: There’s no further need to observe
                       me, doctor. As you can see, I‘ve
                       returned to the present in every
                 McCoy: But it did happen, Spock.
                 Spock: Yes, it happened. But that was 5,000
                             years ago and she (Zarabeth) is dead now,
                             dead and buried long ago.

“Hurry up please. It's time!"


                                                                               “Tomorrow Is Yesterday”                                                                  


     The Star Trek episodes where time is explicitly denoted in the episodes' titles form a rhapsody or variation on a theme of time.
Each episode presents a different variation in contrapunctal fashion with a consistent line or figure holding together the toccatas
or variations. Time is a wholistic entity whose parts or fragmentations can only be understood in terms of an integrated, wholistic time.
Time must exist through an open interaction between past and future. In the episodes "The City on The Edge of Forever"
and "All Our
Yesterdays," one experiences a disintegration of time where time past, present, and future have lost their vital equilibrium. When
man finds himself in an imbalanced situation where time is in extremis, he faces moral calcification, fragmentation, and an unproductive
dialectic one of whose parts (ex.,the past) dominates and/or excludes the organic wholism of integral time. As seen so far, the
above episodes preclude the future almost entirely. Such a negation of the future for man results in a slavery and a self-imprisonment
whereby man is unable to do what is necessary for wholism, i.e., to act in order to create a future for himself. The man who stands in
stasis has ceased to affirm and to recreate his very humanity; he has stopped growing and is, in essence, inert and dead. As the
philosopher F. Kümmel notes, "No act of man is possible with reference solely to the past or solely to the future, but is always
dependent on their interaction.
" (Friedrich Kümmel, "Time as Succession and the Problem of Duration,"  Voice of Time, Ed. J.T. Fraser
 (London: Penguin, 1968), p. 50). Man must always act with a future in mind or else no progression, normally produced by the
 interaction of past and future, is produced. Stasis based on inability or unwillingness to act is the primarily cultural disease of man in an
industrial society.


It is the Prufrockian syndrome of inaction based on der angst. Regression, seeing the past as a rationalized refuge or as an
antagonist, eclipses the present. This is one form of the tyranny of time and, when self-imposed, man becomes his own slave.
as has been seen, as neurosis and a diseased sensibility.
      However, in "Tomorrow is Yesterday," Gene Roddenberry endeavors to restore man's domination of time, in an episode brightly be-
spangled with errant good humor and witty comedy. The title of the episode posits an equation-identification; however, the human
situations propose the need for an autonomous past and an autonomous future--­both linked to a kinetic present. The dark veil of time's
tyranny is briefly lifted and man helps to create a more healthy human condition for himself. Our yesterday is a formative and residual
part of our tomorrow. In this episode, the earth of the late 1960's meets and becomes one with the earth of the twentieth century.
Hence, while Captain Christopher is aboard the Enterprise--the past is in the future; while the plot stresses the similarities in character
between Captain Kirk and Captain Christopher; Captain Christopher is, in a sense, Captain Kirk's yesterday, and Captain Kirk is,
in the same sense, Captain Christopher's tomorrow--hence the wording of the episode's title. However, at the end of the episode,
when the Enterprise is restored from its earth of yesterday to its Starfleet of tomorrow, Blue Jay 4 is restored from its earth of
tomorrow to its proper yesterday, and the future once again becomes the future and the past once again becomes the past;
therefore, the autonomy of both past (yesterday) and future (tomorrow) is



restored. This reaction of autonomy is essential to avoid the tyranny of time through undue dominance of one part of time to
the exclusion or diminution of the other. The equilibrium or balance is restored after the temporary unity of the two opposites.
The result is progression based on a tensional meeting of dialectical elements--all with one space/time locus, the earth itself.
Although, for Captain Christopher, nothing ever would have happened, for Captain Kirk the future is better and stronger based on
an educational confrontation with its own past. In a sense, by having to live past events, by having to see itself as the past would have
seen it (example, as a UFO), the Enterprise and all she represents become more solidified and self-integrated. Without a tomorrow,
there is no yesterday; without a yesterday, there is no tomorrow. Sean Jeffrey Christopher will be born and will lead the first
Earth-Saturn probe, thereby making space exploration, and eventually the Enterprise, a true reality. Captain Christopher and
Captain Kirk--both captains, both leaders, both the same age--are identical in terms of their functions, yet are both different
and separated: one yesterday, one tomorrow. We understand ourselves better and more fully when we have an experiential knowledge
of our history. Hence, history is restored to its proper perspective as living knowledge to be acted upon with an eye toward the
future, thus ensuring a more wise and more sapient man of tomorrow. The episode insists on the natural evolution of man in time
which is reinforced, not thwarted, by the advanced in technology such as the time-warp.


Technology in "Tomorrow is Yesterday" is man's servant, not his master; in “Tomorrow is Yesterday,”  time is man’s servant and natural

context, not his master and mechanized context. Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Sulu will be better and will evolve because of tomorrow's

confrontation with yesterday. We know ourselves better by knowing what we were or could have been in another time. The future is

restored, but the past is not forgotten nor is it dead. There is something to be gained both by going where no man has gone before

and by going where men have gone before. Such is the nature of living history in Star Trek, and so it should be in all man's

tomorrows, because “Without Contraries is No Progression."

     Stardate 3113.2 and the presence of Captain Christopher aboard the "Enterprise" presents a definite problem for time and

for history. Captain Christopher, as he learns more about the future, presents an innocently-appearing destructivity. In this episode,

Spock (unlike Kirk who is ineptly unaware of the historical repercussions) grasps the problem immediately:

          Spock: We cannot return him to earth, Captain.
                      He already knows too much about us and
                      is learning more .... Suppose an unscrupulous
                      man were to gain certain knowledge of
                      man's future. Such a man could manipulate
                      key industries, stocks, and even nations,
                      and in so doing, change what must be. And
                      if it is changed...you and I and all that
                      we know might not even exist.
Your logic can be most...annoying .



What is and what must be can be destroyed by what was which now is aboard the Enterprise. Roddenberry, in this episode,

stresses that man must be concerned with and disturbed by the destructive potential of time disruption and time imbalance

created by unwarranted human intervention in the natural, evolutionary process of time's succession and duration. Thus,

the thesis of "Tomorrow is Yesterday" takes the form of a warning about the potential misuse of technology in intervening

in the process of time.

                 Kirk: (to Captain Christopher) " ... it's not
                          the transporter. It is you. You know
                          what the future looks like. If anybody
                          else finds out, they could change the
                          course of it, destroy it.
                  Captain Christopher: Well then my disappearance
                                                   would change something too ... It's my
                                                   duty to repeat what I've seen. Well, what
                                                   would you do?
                    Kirk: I'd ... report if I could. We can't take
                             the risk.

In doing what he must do, Captain Christopher can change what must be. The strategic repetition of the word "must" throughout

the episode gives a verbal backing to the urgency and danger involved in the meeting of past and future.

     Besides the Captain Christopher problem, the "Enterprise" has its own problem to solve. It is no longer truly Stardate

3113.2, but date circa 1967. The Enterprise, because of the black star pull near Starbase 9, has been pulled out of time:

"...snapping like a rubber band, the breakaway sent us plunging through space, out of control to stop here, wherever we are.” 

The news from Uhura about the manned moonshot startles Kirk and McCoy into the knowledge of the



accidental intrusion into the past of earth's late 1960's:

          Kirk: Manned moonshot? But that was in the late 1960's."
          Spock: Apparently, Captain, so are
           Spock: Whiplash propelled us into a timewarp,

Commander Scott sounds the verbal red alert about the "Enterprise's "time dilemma: “… the engines are being repaired, but we've no

place to go in this time ... if ya see what I mean." A structural and verbal dialectic now ensues between the alternatives of “can”

and “can’t.”  Once Gene Roddenberry establishes a good line, he keeps it.   This episode presents the motif of "can't get back" used

in "All Our Yesterdays," but "can't get back" assumes a creational position against "can get back  with a clear emphasis on man's need

to dominate time by creating a solution to the problem, and that solution is visible in the presence in the dialogue of the terms

“cant,” “do,” "must," "will,” and "get out"-- a clearly positive note that contrasts with the exclusive “can't get back  of "All

Our Yesterdays." Roddenberry makes it strikingly clear that, as William Hazlitt put it: "Where there's a will, there's a way." The

entire tone of this story insists that that a solution is always possible and feasible through the constructive application

of technological savoir-faire, even in the very early scenes when “can’t get out" is a major theme. Kirk asserts to Christopher

that we “cant take the risk.” Scotty notes that there is  "no place" in the past for the Enterprise. The negative theme of


time imprisonment applies both to Christopher and to the Enter­prise as Christopher (the patron saint of travelers) notes:
“You're as much a prisoner in time as I am." In sickbay, after Christopher's first escape attempt, McCoy compounds the
 theme: "Jim, what if we can't get back?... we certainly
can’t go back to earth" because every crewmember is one chance of
"altering the future." Kirk further compounds the negative can't
by noting that,  “If  we do get back where we belong, then he
(Christopher) won't belong."
     Roddenberry again asserts that every man has a place and a time in the space/time continuum which he calls "home," and there/then
 where he belongs--in his own present creating his own future. Christopher answers Kirk's suggestion to McCoy about retraining
Christopher to forget his family with a firm "No!”  To the future fact that he will have a son, Christopher uses the negative, “I don’t
have a son," to which McCoy smilingly adds, "You mean...yet!”    The positive or "can” side of the can't/can dialectic begins when
Kirk sees that Christopher must be returned to earth to engage in a simple biological effort to propagate and, therefore, to make
the Enterprise a must
by having the as-yet born son, Sean Jeffrey Christopher. No Earth/Saturn probe means no "Enterprise," no
future that “must” be. The must-do becomes a necessary can-do, and Kirk begins the can do and reverses the can't-get-back
by a simple assertion of willed intent: "Well that's it, isn't it? We'll have to find some way." The time/deed factor is now clearly
focused on a solution to the problem, not on the negativity of an insolvable problem. Kirk immediately confronts



Spock with "Any ideas on how to get us back to our own time?" The don'ts and can'ts are forgotten in the intense preoccupation

with do's and can-do's. The plan, as Spock notes, is "a reverse application" of what happened in the first place. The "game"

of dialectics becomes one of push/pull (discussed earlier). To solve the problem of push, pull, to solve the problem of pull

(Black star), push!  This is a basic application of one of Einstein's theories of time, that speed toward and away from the

sun will change time, moving it backward and/or forward. Before the actual time warp theory is applied, one must "get back" the

audio and visual tapes of the "UFO" from the Omaha Air force Base. This requires "getting into" the base and "getting" the incriminating

evidence of the "UFO" in an effort to save the future from destruction by the past. The incidents of "stealth" into the

Statistical Services Division and into the photo lab of the 498th Airbase Group supports the affirmative “get”  and “do" behavioral

patterns of the "little green man from Alpha Centauri" who just "popped in out of thin air": McCoy to Spock in transporter room

awaiting word from landing party:

          McCoy: Shouldn't you be working on your
                       time-ways calculations, Mr. Spock?"
          Spock: "I am." (humorously!)

After the sergeant/guard is accidently beamed up to the Enterprise,

Kirk relays to the Enterprise:

          Kirk: "As you can see ... we have another problem."
          Spock: (as sargeant is frozen with shock on
                      transporter platform) "Our guest seems
                      quite satisfied to remain where he is.
                      (more humor)



The fight for time becomes a serious/comical "game." The  melée in the photo lab is comic relief, and the interrogation by the

Air Force colonel has interesting, positive wording:

          Kirk: ... just me. Besides, could anyone get
                   out of here without you seeing them (Sulu) ?
          Colonel: Nobody should have been able to..

Again the interrogation continues in the CO's office:

          CO: Now look, Mr. You and I had better start
I want to know how you got
                 in here ....You seem to think this is some
                 kind of a game……and how did you get in-
                 ­side a top security installation, James T. Kirk?
           Kirk: I told you. You wouldn't believe me ...
                                The truth is I'm a little green man from
                               Alpha Centauri. Beautiful place: You
                               ought to see it. (humor)
          CO: I'm going to lock you up for 200 years.
          Kirk: That ought to be just about right. (humor)

A dialectical, contrapunctal cinematic movement ensues between quick jump shots (without transitions) between the airbase and the

Enterprise, an effect of the opposites of past and future is enhanced. Both opposites confront each other aboard the Enterprise,

but both times are united in a common effort to go home--In Kirk's words, "You'll go home, Christopher, but you'll do it our way.”

     "Our Way" is based on the physical theory of opposites, of contraries that breed progression. The Newtonian law of physics that for

every action, there is an opposite and equal reaction comes into play. In terms of basic human psychology, especially theories

based on Hegel vis-a-vis Blake, there must be a polarity of tensional opposites that recreate energy and entropy. In this

instance, movement forward in space/time is the solution to the


problem created by extreme movement backward in space/time. The slingshot effect is a basic tenet in the workings of the human

mind and of human behavior. A reversal motif begins as the solution to "get back" home in time.  The cure to the disease

is an antitoxin, a reverse approach of the initial process that utilizes that process to restore wholism and balance. On Star-

date 3113.2, Kirk notes in his log the problem and the action taken to counteract the problem:

          Kirk: on route to Starbase 9 for resupply ...
                   a black star of high gravitational
                   attraction began to drag us toward it.
                   It required all warp power in reverse
                   to pull us away…. "  

The result is a concept of history as, in part, accidental phenomena. Spock postulates a theory: a reverse application

of what happened ....  In order to "get out," the Enterprise  must "get back" into the original slingshot effect in order to

counterbalance it:

          Kirk: We must make an attempt to break free
                  of this time or we and our reluctant
                  passenger will remain its prisoners.
                 All we have is a theory and a few facts .. "
          Spock: Mr. Sulu and I agree that the only
                      possible solution is a slingshot effect like
                      the one that put us here.

Thus, when man is psychically integrated or whole within himself, domination of time and restoration of continuous future and of

autonomous past is possible by the application of facts and theories through strong will and positive action. A graph may show



          pull/push toward sun > whiplash = Time warp >
reverse (backward) Time
          push/pull from sun > whiplash
= Time warp >
reverse (forward) Time

As Spock explains:

            As we move faster and faster toward the sun,
            we'll move forward in time. We'll actually
            go back beyond yesterday, beyond the point
            when we first appeared in the sky. Then
            breaking free will shoot us forward in time
            and we'll transport you (Christopher) back
            before any of this happened.

All human progression through thoughtful action involves risk: this is a prime element in Roddenberry's theory of man in time. Risk,

risk is what it is all about. The name choice, Enterprise, denotes risk. Scotty notes the risks:

            If  I  can’t  stop it soon enough, we may overshoot
           our time. And if I stop the engines too early,
           the strain may tear us apart. Anyway we do it,
           it means a mighty rough ride.  

Key terms denote ego-control
by man over his energies and over his technology. The chronometer runs backward

as the ship moves toward the sun…then, reversal and "chronometers moving forward again, Captain." As the careful, sequential

transporter energizations take place at exact seconds, the time warp enables time to move from "beyond" yesterday to each present

second; all men of the past are transported back into the precise moments in time whence they came. Captain Christopher

is transported back into Blue Jay 4; the sergeant, who likes chicken soup, is restored to his security rounds. In short,

the past is restored to


its present. We witness the restoration of what was to what is. The remaining pattern is restoring the future to its autonomy

in time, is placing the Enterprise into balance with its past and differentiated counterpart in time. The scene is dramatic and


          Spock: ...approaching our century. Breaking
                      should begin ... now.
          Kirk: Begin full breaking power.

In order to move forward in time to the precise future, breaking backward is the cure:

          Sulu: The engines!
          Scott: Engines are on full reverse and they are

Uhura monitors and receives the news of man's triumph in and over time as Starfleet Control messages the Enterprise and Kirk, in

hyperdrive and in relief, says: "Starfleet Control, this is the Enterprise ... Starfleet Control ... the Enterprise  is home.

And so the "can's," the "must’s," the "will's" the “am's," and the "get backs have achieved the great victory of getting back "home!”

     "Tomorrow is Yesterday" is a testament to the will, the physical and psychical abilities of man which, when coupled with the

constructive utilization of technology and Einstein's law of relativity, can change time and restore what "must be." The archetypes of

push/pull, of forward/reverse, of Newtonian polarity, of Einsteinian space/time move man forward to new challenges. This episode is

another example of the Hegelian and Blakian principle of tensional dialectics achieving human progression in a world of adversities.

Tomorrow is tomorrow; yesterday is yesterday; history remains to be created again as man encounters the final frontier, creating his

future by conscious and controlled applications of facts, will, and shere guts to the present that lies before him.




     The logical thematic sequel to "Tomorrow is Yesterday” (episode {#2l) is "Assignment--Earth" (episode #55), the last episode
of Star Trek's second season. The episode has, as the essence of its plot, the question as to whether or not a sub­orbital nuclear device
will or will not be detonated above 100 miles of the earth's surface. However, this suspenseful element is just about the only element
holding the episode together. Whereas, D.C. Fontana's "Tomorrow is Yesterday" is an outstanding dramatic success, Roddenberry's
and Coon's "Assignment--Earth" has mediocre dialogue and almost no character depth. Only the few and occasional scenes involving
Roberta Lincoln and Gary Lansing provide excellent comic drama, but the comedy has no organic relation to a main and serious
tensional human crisis. Not one character in this episode has any metaphysical character dimension. Spock and Kirk stand by helplessly
as events pass before them with no transformational impact on the men whatsoever. Although the presence of the Enterprise
in time past is scientific in intent, the main characters lack depth, and the cause and effect relationships between characters and
between characters and history are fuzzy in terms of thematic and plot outcome. Robert Lansing's acting abilities are rarely tested
because seventy-five percent of the episode consists of NASA film footage (which Gene Roddenberry loved and coveted)
used as scenic filler that simply wastes time and space at the expense of Star Trek's strong point: close and integral character analysis.
Even Mr. Seven's bump on the head is crudely handled and is very unconvincing. Gary Seven and Roberta Lincoln are reminiscent
of some bad George Burns and Gracie Allen skits.  "New York's finest" come off as Keystone


cops. It is comedy, pure slapstick which has no foil. There is hardly one incisive character line uttered for human drama

is great; but this potentially dangerous intervention of Gary Seven and of the "Enterprise" into the year 1968 is

washed away by spurious NASA film footage. Even potential time- related symbols go unexplored and became feeble images

of ambiguous thematic intent. For example, Roberta Lincoln's last name denotes her patriotism in a time when scatter-brained

hippyism seems a threat to patriotism:

          Roberta: I know this world needs help...
                        that's why some of my generation
                        are kinda crazy and rebels, you
                        know. We wonder if we're going
                        to be alive when we’re thirty.   

She attacks Mr. Seven with a cigarette container, yet, seconds later, she defends Mr. Seven's intervention: "Please! He's telling

the truth." The dialogue (script) attributed to each character distracts the reader from nothing, making strong characters weak

in a potentially lethal moment in earth's history:

          Kirk: Spock, if you can't handle it, I'm
                   going to have to trust him."(Mr. Seven)
          Spock: It is difficult to know which is best,

This feeble dialogue takes place with forty seconds to nuclear impact! One could give the episode the "willful suspension of

disbelief" that the poet Coleridge called for when a viewer first approaches a work of art by saying that Gene Roddenberry

and Gene Coon are out to show man's overwhelming impotency in the face of a vastly superior set of historical circumstances

that make man more the pawn
and less the bishop in the game of history. If this is the case,


"Assignment--Earth" is an overwhelrning success. The Beta-five computer, with its female personality,

has more effective dialogue and more historical impact than does man, who should be the creator, the

controller of the historical circumstances. One problem with the time theme lies in the fixed preconception

imposed on history before the story really unfolds, i.e., that the ending is a foregone conclusion, that Gary

Seven and the Enterprise are causes that were already supposed to be. Kirk's final decision to trust Gary

Seven and the Beta-five is a fearful "Go!" that is already "Gone!” After the detonation of the nuclear

warhead exactly one-hundred and four miles above the earth, Gary Seven dictates to the fingerless typewriter

(telepathically controlled, of course):

           Gary Seven: And in spite of the accidental interferences
                              with history by the earth ship from the future,
                              the mission was completed.

Spock: Correction, Mr. Seven. It appears we
                         did not interfere. Rather, the Enterprise
                         was simply part of what was supposed to
                         happen on this day in 1968.

Kirk: Yes, our record tapes show, although
                        never generally recorded, that on this date
                        a malfunctioning suborbital warhead was
                        exploded exactly 104 miles above the earth.
          Gary Seven: Everything happened exactly the
                              way it was supposed to.

The characters and their roles are inadvertent and ancillary to a history. Gary Seven's character is as ambiguous

as his history. He, in fact, accomplishes what he must do--explode the bomb--but as many questions remain

unanswered as are answered...is he an earth man of circa 1968? Is his function evil or altruistic? The story's


plot is based on the theories of the popular Erick van Donnegan, whose Chariots of the Gods has presented

fascinating semi-scientific speculation that much of modern civilization and its technology may have

been the product of extraterrestial, alien interference into earth's history. Indeed, Gary Seven may have saved

earth from its own destruction on more than one occasion. Where did Einstein get those wild, but substantiated,

theories about space and time?

     The episode, unlike the earlier time stories, is not an accident, but is a natural extention of the time-warp

theory first used in "The Naked Time.”  The intrusion of the Enterprise into the past is a controller experiment

whose purpose is noted by Kirk:
“Our mission: historical research," moreover to discover how earth "survived

desperate problems in the year 1968." The real theme of the episode is saving history from being altered because

history was altered to begin with. The time warp had already been established and controlled, but in

"Assignment--Earth" the writers seem at odds at just what to do with an already-established motif. The

theme of the earlier D.C. Fontana episode could have spanned an infinity of sub-plots based on the time

warp motif; instead, Gary Seven restates a crisis which has lost its spontaneity and novelty:

          Gary Seven: I am of this time period; you
                              are not. If you interfere with
                              me, with what I hope to do down
                              there, and you'll change history.
                              You'll destroy the earth, and
                               possibly yourselves too.
           Spock: If wha
t he says is true, Captain, every
                       second we delay him could be dangerous.
           Kirk: …
and if he's lying…?


     Little new is added to time/change themes in "Assignment--Earth ."  Even Isis the cat is a leftover from "Catspaw," but its symbolic
Egyptology is left unexplored. In this episode, one witnesses no character transformation and, for that matter, little historical change.
The story is an effect in search of a cause, an episode in search of its human characters. Too much of a good thing means unfulfilled
potential, and Star Trek and time are none the better for this cute, but vacuous tour-de-force.


                                                                 "A Piece Of The Action"


     "A Piece of the Action" is a time story that occurs literally in time future, in Enterprise time. The piece is unique

because it is not a time portal story whereby man is transported via time warp technology into the past. The journey

into the past of the earth of the 1920's is done while never leaving the future. The past and the future exist and occur

simultaneously in two different space continuums that come together to form a unity of two futures--the world of Starfleet

and the world of Iotia. However, because the Iotian culture is based on Starfleet's past--the gangs of Chicago's 1920's--

the Enterprise experiences its earthly past in extraterrestrial space in its own existing present (earth's

future). Therefore time past and time future coalesce in time future. The meeting is of two distinctly different humanoid life

forms of two different cultures. The Iotians are the living embodiment of earth's 1920's past existing as a parallel culture

in time future. No time portal journey is necessary because the past is in the future. “A Piece of the Action" embodies Henri Berg-  

son's definition of time as temps vécu--time experienced. The landing crew does not merely view time past, but experiences

time past in its entirety. This unique episode is
vécu because the landing party (at least Kirk and Spock) become the past

in language, in thought, in dress, and in action. The viewer observes a complete mergence of Kirk and Spock into and with the

Iotian culture. In effect, Kirk lives the criminal culture of Iotia right down to the last idiomatic expression: "Scotty, this is Koik...."

It is this completely experiential at-oneness with the Iotian culture that permits Kirk to solve the


Horizon's contamination by experiencing the contamination itself,  therefore, creating a solution which does

not go
by the computer book, but by "The Book!" In order to resolve a problem, man must live that problem, must

have corpuscular knowledge of that problem. Such experiental knowledge of the past by the future

ensures a solution that is both objective and subjective: the objectivity of Starfleet's science and the subjectivity of wearing

beaver hats, pin stripe double-breasted suits, of carrying "heaters."  The process followed resembles an inverted historical

acculturation whereby Starfleet acculturates Iotia and Iotia acculturates Starfleet. Both cultures partake of the other; however,

it is Starfleet that must make the most dramatic acculturation by becoming Iotians while still maintaining the prime directive.

 The word "coordinates" can't be used, so Bela Oxmyx
("The Boss") makes beamdown possible by substituting "near a

yellow fire plug" for "coordinates" ;  phasers become "heaters.”  Kirk mentions:

          Kirk: The Iotians are extremely intelligent
                    and somewhat imitative.
          McCoy: So we're going down to recontaminate them.

Great lines and contagious wit! However, it is Kirk who is also extremely intelligent and who becomes very imitative in order to

effect an alteration of the contamination left by the Horizon. The best imitation is in language, a fact Kirk eventually sees as the key

to a solution. When in 1920 Chicago, do as the 1920 Chicagoans do (did) :

          Kalo: Don't give me those baby-blue eyes!...
                   don't go for that innocent routine.
          McCoy: That man is dead.


          Kalo:  We ain’t playing for peanuts.
                       Ain't you ever seen a hit be-

Kirk notes that the Horizon’s  crew we r e not "cold-blooded killers." Slowly, Kirk sees "What happened":

          McCoy: One book on the gangs of Chicago
                       did all this. It's amazing.
          Spock: They evidently zeroed upon that
                      one book as the blueprint of an
                      entire society, as the Bible.
           Kirk: Old Chicago's conventional govern-
                     ment almost broke down. The gangs
                     nearly took over.

The first acculturation is the card game of "fizbin,"  which is a stupendous feat of illogic to test the Iotian's imitative

capacities. With its shralk, its royal fizbins: "Another Jack! How lucky you are! How wonderful for you!”  Kirk beats the card

sharks at their own game. Kirk's mimetic powers win the Iotian’s admiration while simultaneously fooling them on their own turf

with their own vocabulary. The solution becomes the need to "make a deal":

          Krako: Well I guess you want to know why I
                       brought you here.
          Kirk: You wan
t to make a deal.
          Krako: Hey, I like
that ! That's sharp ! ...
that's right.
          Kirk: A deal.

Krako suggests that the "Feds" be "cut in" for "a third." The "Feds" eventually cut themselves in for 40%. Technology and the

Enterprise computer provide no solutions, as Spock notes: “Logic and practical information do not seem to apply here." The episode

is hilarious because farcical illogic and Kirk’s "hunch" make "A Piece of the Action" Star Trek's most comical episode. The


Comedy, by David Harmon and Gene Coon, is in the tradition of eighteenth century satire (ala Dryden

and Swift) whose function is to laugh man out of his follies and vices by hyperbole -- exaggeration of the foible for comic

effect. The key to this satire is classical mimesis. Kirk lives the contamination by satirizing it:

          McCoy: What are we going to do now, Jim?
          Kirk: Well, now that
we have Bela, I'm
                    gonna put the bag on Krako ... nobody's
                    gonna put the bag on me anymore.

The satire continues into Star Trek's answer to extraterrestrial rent-a-car. Spock and Kirk leave the viewer in hopeless tears

of hilarity when Kirk, the efficient Starfleet commander cannot handle gears. Here, Henry Ford meets Albert Einstein. The

contrast is shattering:

          Kirk: Wheels, Mr. Spock.
          Spock: A flivver, Captain.
          Kirk: Where's the starter?
          Spock: Interesting .
          Kirk: Gears.
          Spock: Clutch, perhaps one of those pedals on the floor.
          Kirk: I kinda like this. I may get one myseIf."  
          Spock: Captain, you are an excellent starship
                      commander, but as a taxi-driver, you leave
                      much to be desired.
          Kirk: It was that bad?

Yes, it was that bad--never getting out of first gear. The kid is called a "Babe";  Spock is "Spocko;  "right? check";   Kirk is

"Koik." Kirk makes communication with the Iotians easier by using their vernacular and mannerisms. To Krako, Kirk says,

"We don't have time to show you how to build toys. Getting a cut of Krako's "deal" is "peanuts to an outfit like the Federation."

The selfishness of the Iotians is appealed to in a theory of "deals" that recall laissez faire economics of earlier centuries where

"enlightened self-interest


prevailed," as Pope states, the public good and the private good were the same, but everyone got a piece of the action which

benefitted everyone and all in common.

          Kid: What's in it for me?
          Kirk: What do you
Kid:  A piece of the action.
Spock: What will we do?
Kid: You'll know what to do.

In order to cure the social degeneration of lotia, the cure is based on the disease, on the contamination itself. The confronta-

tion between the two cultures in the same time zone must eliminate the Horizon's contamination. McCoy's quip about curing them by

"recontaminating" them is exactly what takes place. The cure to the criminal code lies within the criminal code itself. The antitoxin

is always formed from the toxin itself. The Iotians understand their own lingo, and they accept quick wit and hits that overwhelm their

peanut heaters. The contamination is chaotic and fragmentary among the many bosses. In "hitting" each other in disparate in-fighting, the

Iotians have ceased to grow as a culture. The cure must give everyone a piece of the action, but the society as a whole must be the

priority; the good of the many cannot be sacrificed for the good of the few. In this confrontation between the ME and the NOT-ME,

both groups benefit from the interaction between opposites. The disease is chaos; therefore, the sought-after solution is one

agreed upon by both parties. Spock sounds the theme of unity between


opposite or heterogeneous elements, which is the function of the Romantic, human imagination:

          Spock: We may quarrel with Mr. Oxmyx' methods,
                      but his goal is essentially the correct
                      one. This society must become united or
                      it will degenerate into total anarchy.

Later on, Kirk sounds the same theme as Krako wants to give the "Feds" 30% of the action:

          Kirk: This planet has to become united ...
                   You know that. Bela knows that.
                   Let's sit down: you, me, Bela ...
                   discuss this whole matter, contact
                   the other bosses, and talk about it
                   like reasonable men ... (to Krako) I
                   don't think you're stupid. I just
                   think your behavior is arrested!

A great pun since Krako hardly wants to be arrested. The criminally-based culture has become arrested by arresting itself into a

condition that precludes any creative growth for that society. By being purely imitative, the Iotians' natural evolution has ceased

and its deeds are no longer indigenous and original. The famous billiard-table lecture:

          Kirk: The planet is being taken over by the
                   Federation, but we don't wanna come in
                   here and ... use our muscle. You know
                   what I mean? That ain't, uh, subtle!
                   What we do, we have one guy take over
                   the planet; he pulls the strings and
we  pull his - - ha!  ha!  ha!
Krako: Alright. It's a deal.

To show the one element the Iotians respect--power--Kirk acts the role of boss with untouchable strength by a few Enterprise

phaser stuns and by a removal show of total acculturation:


          Kirk: Knock it off, Sawbones.
                I want to talk to this creep (Bela) ...
                I'm getting tired of playing
                patty-cake with your petty-anty
                operations alright, Spocko,
                cover him. Listen, sweetheart,
                the Federation's movin' in.
                We're takin' over. You play
                ball and we'll cut you in for a
                piece of the pie. You don't
                you're out ... all the way out.
                You know what I mean?"
          Oxmyx: Sure ... why didn't you say so in
                 the first place? All you have to
                 do was explain it to me.

A few phone calls and a few beamings lead to a noisy gathering of irate bosses, but also to a consensus that Iotians are not

doing anything and moral stasis is a Federation and economic taboo. Oxymx states the problem and the solution using the vocabulary of

"The Book."  The result is a unity among feuding factions and the potential for rebirth of a culture:

          Oxmyx:  O.K., Kirk, so we get the message.
                        What was that syndicate deal you were talkin'
                         about? .. The syndicate makes sense to me;
                         I'm a peaceful man at heart, but I'm sick
                         and tired of all these hits ... there's too
                         many bosses. We can't get anything done ...
                         then we could get things done.

In  “A Piece of the Action," Harmon and Coon have created a masterpiece of dramatic comedy which is the key to

solving a cultural contamination. The Horizon's  contamination occurred before the prime directive and was apparently a major

factor in instituting the prime directive of non-interference in the cultural affairs of others. But when a culture is "arrested"

and atrophied, another breaking of the prime directive is the only cure to the original breaking of the tenor of that directive. Two


evils, as in math, cancel each other out, thereby creating a positive. Good comes from evil. This episode's comedy stems
from a broken prime directive which creates a reconstruction and an order in things by a counterbalanced interference, which is,
in itself, a total breaking of the prime directive--all based, not on logic, but on the creative human imagination of the Kirk, the creator,
whose human creativity reaches an apogee by creating a new sense of the deed and of history recreated and reconstructed by the
imagination as applied to a problem via human action. Kirk, Spock, and McCoy resemble the "Untouchables" at one moment and
The Marx Brothers in other moments in an overwhelmingly successful burlesque of the later godfather mania. One also remembers
the Cosby/Poitier film of the same title as the episode.
     "A Piece of the Action" is where gears and warp drive meet in common creation. Henry Ford lives in the future, as does Al Capone.
Al Einstein and Al Capone become one. The result fits Jung's archetype of rebirth (renovatio) which is a rebirth within the span of one's
or of a culture's lifetime. This weidergeburt is a transformation from an Aristotelian mimetic society to a Romantic, Wordsworthian
creative society. The rebirth is in a consciousness within the group of its solidarity, where the receptive subject affects and changes
the receptive object. Kirk and Spock are participants in the transformational rebirth which the effect, and they therefore experience
an in parte change whereby parts of the personality are strengthened or improved without a change


in being. Kirk and Spock also experience what Jung calls a "transcendence of life based on immediate experiences" whereby they,
as spectators, become involved in (get a piece of) the action, becoming involved without any necessary changes in inherent caricature.
They share the experience of the Iotian rebirth while still being basically themselves, by returning to the Enterprise, by assuming their
official clothing, by adopting their Starfleet duties, speech, and mannerisms. Kirk and Spock also participate in a subjective
transformation that Jung calls "identification with a group," involving a change that does not last whereby the individual identifies
with the Iotian culture who, as a group, have had a collective experience of transformation that resembles what Jung calls the hypnotic
focus of fascination that does increase Kirk and Spock's possible feeling of human solidarity which spurs the individual to noble deeds
or to a courage, a "dignity which may easily get lost in isolation" (C.G. Jung, Four Archetypes, Princeton: Princeton Univ. Press,
Bolligen Series, 1969, p. 61.).
     Time has functioned to bring on the best from both centuries. The Iotians can evolve from the Chicago mobs of earth's 1920's into
and through their industrialized society. The term, Iotian, is a key to understanding both the comedy and the psychic seriousness of this
brilliant, satiric episode.
The term Iotian comes from iota, the ninth letter of the Greek alphabet--our letter "I."


The definition means small quantity, a jot, i.e., the denotative definition means trivia--one ironic aspect that unifies the
episode via comedy. The letter "I" is the ME, the ego which has been divided and "arrested" by the Grecian mimesis that
has ossified the Iotian culture into a no-growth pattern. They have ceased to be a distinct ego because they have destroyed
that individuality and personal human creativity which identify the "I" as the "ME"--whoever called them “Iotians" knew his
Greek and was familiar with Grecian comedy and with Aristotle’s theory of mimesis in Grecian comedy and tragedy. Indeed,
as Bones says: "This is like coming home ... I've seen pictures of the old days that looked like this." By its journey
"where no man has gone before," the Enterprise runs into a culture parallel to one aspect of earth's past culture--all in the
future shared mutually by the Enterprise and by the Iotians. It is important for man to go beyond his “horizon,” not to stop
at that "horizon,” but to create, to change a time that transcends all Jungian horizons into a changing eternity of ever changing
horizons. To be more fully human, man must be enterprising by calling upon the almost infinite creative potential found within
the faculty that the Romantic poets--Shelley, Blake, Coleridge, and Wordsworth-­called the imagination whose function is
to reconcile and to unite opposite or heterogeneous elements into a Jungian wholism, into an organic synthesis. In this sense,
"A Piece of the Action" is


a triumph of the human artistic imagination and is in the solid tradition both of Neo-Classical mimesis and of Romantic creativeness
--a brilliant tribute to Star Trek as a victory based in the most solid and most traditional sources in the Western humanistic tradition.
As William Blake notes, "What is now proved was once only imagin'd." (The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 1790).


                                                                                  "WINK OF AN EYE"


     The stardate is 5710.5 and the Enterprise has answered a distress call emanating from the planet of Scalos. This begins
the plot of a story whose surface theme is "acceleration," whereby the Scalosians have altered time by changing the nature of
time's succession. The result of apparent radiation has turned the waters of Scalos into a prescription for an altered, parallel present--
life on a higher level of succession, creating a twilight zone, a hell of not belonging to any established time period because speed has
altered time, a motif used in the time warp episodes.
     One key to the episode, "Wink of An Eye,” is the planet’
s name Scalos. The word is replete with double entendre well traversed
by Gene Coon. Scalos has three applicable definitions, all of which point to the central problems of the story. The first term-derivative
is scalar, the opposite of vector, which refers to the designating of a quantity that has magnitude, but no direction in space. The
Scalosians are scalar quantities in that they occupy space, but have no designation in space, and are static. Scalar describes the
cause of the sterility of the Scalosians whose lack of aggression and action has left them sterile and docile.
     The second derivative is scale in the sense of a ladder, or a means of ascent. This refers to the theme of "levels" repeated throughout
the episode. The Scalosians, due to their acceleration, exist on a higher level; therefore, other life forms live on lower levels. It is time
as speed in space-time. The inability of the Scalosians to move "down”  to the Enterprise’s
 level is the


core of the people's problem. Their scale is an upward one. The infinitive "to scale" means to climb, to go up.
     The third derivative is the noun "scale" meaning husk, fish scale, or oyster shell. The Scalosians, by generations of living
off others for procreation, have become parasitical; generations of passivity have made them mere husks, men without substance,
men in name only. Also, scale and Scalas find a common denomination in scale as a symbol of balance. Through time imbalance
and spatial distortion, the Scalosians are in extremis, lacking wholism and psychical balance as a race. It is typical of Star Trek's better
writers, such as Gene Coon, to use double entendre and verbal puns (example, Mr. Atoz) to serve as keys to the inner themes and
concerns of a given episode.
     Rael, as pronounced, resembles real. His name raises the question of his reality in time, due to the acceleration. Deela is a pun
when pronounced "dealer" because it is she who calls the shots as "queen" of Scalos. She is definitely a queen of hearts
(ala Alice in Wonderland) and like T. S. Eliot's Madame Sosostris, a reader of cards, she too is a "lady of situations" with a
cked pack of cards."
     The above game of "roots" shows the need of readers and dramatis personae to comprehend and to exist on different "levels."
The term "Scalos" helps to clarify the major themes of "Wink of An Eye" whose title denotes speed or duration in time. Acceleration
has made the Scalosians scalar in that speed has altered time and


time has altered the very nature of their identity in space. Four words are repeated most in “Wink of An Eye": "Something";

"nothing"; "change"; "malfunction.”  The theme most prominent is based on the endless dialectic of the two contraries: some-

thing and nothing. The episode is a playful ditty on a Shakespearian rhapsody called much ado about nothing, but in

"Wink of An Eye,”  much ado about nothing is something. In the spirit of "Without Contraries is No Progression," without

nothing there is no something, and nothing is something, and something comes from nothing. The two phenomena coexist in

time present and each is necessary for the existence of the other.

     Nothing is something, is existence as a rationalized malfunction of uncertainty of space (whereness) and of definition

of being (ontology) in time. From the point of view of their opposites (the Enterprise), the Scalosians do not exist based

on normal, spatial points of reference. They cannot be seen because they do move in a wink of an eye. Their existence cannot

be confirmed without their opposite-something, i.e., the perceptible objective, empirical palpability of the Enterprise reality

in time and in space. To the contrary, the existence of something, whether it be an unknown quantity without direction

in space (the Scalosians) or whether it be the Enterprise as existing object, is only confirmed by the existence of its

opposite--nothing. The existence of something without traditional time/space reference points is nothing in terms of the

relative perception indigenous to a group/subject/perceiver. The viewer of "Wink of


An Eye" is bombarded by a deliberate point/counterpoint counterpunctual movement between the terms--something

and nothing--because the thrust of the story is an obsession of being with non-being and with apparent non-being with being.

The contraries begin early as Commander Scott says of his sensors: "They register something, but blessed if I can figure out

what it is." The obsession with defining existence through nomenclature posits the episode's theme of the nature of ontology,

i.e., what is
it and what do we call it? Kirk, with the landing party, tells Uhura to "check coordinates" because apart  from the

landing party, there's noone here. There are no Scalosians. The immediate and unanimous cause shows man's

over-dependence on traditional sensing modes and devices:

          Kirk: Check for malfunction.
          McCoy: It must be a malfunction. This
                       is a barren world…

The entire episode studies how man defines “to be."

          Distress call:  We have no explanation of what has been happening to us.
          Kirk: The fact remains
we beamed down there.
                   We couldn't find those people. They were
                   there, now they're not. Nor is Crewman

What modern man with technological gadgets must do to define existence without precedent, is to transcend the machine

and its definition of incomprehensive--the famous Star Trek malfunction. Kirk points out the "series of malfunctions

since beaming up from Scalos. Something that cannot be ontologically explained has its


source in man--the subject and the perceiver. The perceiver/ subject must widen the horizons of his awareness in order to

make room for the somethings that must have a name. The use of the neuter "thing" adds a mechanical air of

impersonalization which acts as a barrier for synthesis between two opposite things within the same space, but on different time

levels--here based on movement, on change. Moving
up too fast via acceleration has rendered the Scalosians prisoners,

somewhat self-imprisoned. Nurse Chapel continues the quest for ontological definition:

          Nurse Chapel: Something's going on. Somebody
                                opened the medical supply cabinets....
         Kirk (the Captain during his physical exam): Bones,
                  could something be making me hallucinate?"

          McCoy: What do you mean?
          Kirk: I mean that twice before something touched
                   me and there was nothing there ... could I be
                   imagining it ?
          McCoy: I say no.
          Kirk: Then we did beam something aboard.
                   Something has invaded the ship.

The quest for that something continues as man's insatiable curiosity, need to know, and predilection for labeling becomes

frenetic. No specific place in space and in time means no locations and means non-existence:

          Spock: Getting readings ... an alien presence similar
                      to those obtained on the planet's surface.
                      They seem to have no exact location.

Space and time require exact whereness and exact whenness--a self imposed myopia of which both parallel parties--the

Scalosians and the Enterprise--are guilty of limited perceptions. When Kirk and Spock first enter Environmental Engineering,

Kirk shouts, “Disconnect it; destroy it."


     When shoved by what he cannot see in his own space/time dimension, Kirk notes assuredly: "That was no forcefield.

shoved me back. They're in here. You: What are you doing to my ship? Show yourselves;"  For the first time,

"Something" has become "They," then more personalized into "You."  One will notice the significance of the pronoun shift.

When the "you" first appears, it is after Kirk drinks the spiked coffee,
"it" is something; but Deela defines herself in terms

of non-existence--a significant choice of words because the Scalosians have ceased to change, to act, to procreate, and,

therefore, to exist fully:

          Kirk: (after the kiss) "Who are you?"
          Deela: Dee
la , the enemy.
          Kirk: What have you done w
ith my men ?
Nothing ...
Kirk: This is nothing?
          Deela: There's really nothing wrong with them.
                     They are just as they've always been ....
                     Really, there is nothing wrong with them.

     In a key line, change is the culprit, but acceleration (hyper-change) is destructive. The Scalosians are convinced that they

cannot change. They can't "go down" so they "bring others up"   Kirk to Deela: “What have you done." Deela: "Changed you!"

The king and queen have met. The Scalosians have ceased to accept even the possibility of change "back" (getting back) to

where and who they were in time:

          Deela:  You're accelerated far beyond their {crew’s)
                       power to see...so they'll go on without you.
                      Don't be so stubborn. You cannot go back to
                      them ever. Is it so dreadful a prospect ...
                      please ... accept what has happened. There is
                      nothing you can do to change it."

The key words underlined are all united into one sentence, and they show the themes of nothing is something;

of doing; of acting; of changing


by acting--all in time. Change creates time; since the Scalosians have forsaken change, they are intemporal. They exist,

but they do not live. Without creative action, the Scalosians are sterile, hollow men, mere shells without balance, mere

quantities without direction in space--as their names denote. They have accepted passivity. In convincing themselves that

deceleration is impossible, in admitting defeat, they have become the plague that William Blake scorns: "He who desires but

acts not breeds pestilence." Even the desire to change has atrophied as the Scalosians come to symbolize

the majority of people who are not really people, but walking bipeds, as Hermann Hesse says. They are the living dead,

alive as though "to breathe were to live," as Tennyson's Ulysses says.

          Deela (to Kirk): You'll feel better about it
                    (acceleratior)...in a little while. It
                     always happens this way. They are very
                     upset at first; then it wears off; then
                     they learn to like it. You will too.

     As Kirk disappears from the captain's chair, Sulu reinforces the problem of being in relationship to time and space.

“He was there. Then all of a sudden, he wasn't there. What happens to crewman Compton is anathema in the Roddenberry

book or man as creator of time: total lassitude, total inertia, total acceptance without questioning, total stasis without action.

          Compton (to Kirk): At first I refused. Then,
                   after a while, 1 found that 1 could not
                   help myself .... 1 didn't understand at
                   first, but I do now.

However, in deference to Compton, extreme anger at the mistreatment of his captain shakes his lassitude and "I’m sorry, sir...

you are


(commander) no longer"  changes to fighting for Kirk, and "You hurt him....He was my captain" and Compton

suffers and dies of cell damage defending what and who he once was. A man who has lost

his will is not a kinetic person in the Roddenberry definition of ontological man. Man exists; man acts; man

creates; man creates his future in the present or he simply has lost the right to be called a human being. Time is

time experienced or there is no time to act, no time at all.

     The Scalosians are obsessed with the need to extend time. Although they see themselves as superior

(their level) because of acceleration, they also have a need for a sense of greater duration in time because in

accelerating their lifespans, accelerations "up" also create its "down," i.e., the feasibility of a shortened lifespan

and death due to rapid aging. Cellular damage is the negative to longer duration's positive. A greater lifespan

effects a greater consciousness of death and transitoriness.

          Deela: They all go so soon. I want to keep
                     this one a long time. He is pretty....

           Rael: Those newly-accelerated to our level
                    are sensitive to cell damage. They age
                     very rapidly and die.

In referring to the young Compton dead, with gray hair and wrinkled skin (all used in "The Deadly Years"), of old

age, one sees that the price of acceleration, faster change in time than time naturally permits, is too much change in

too short a time-span; hence, death, burnout at an early chronological age. In this scene of the dead Compton,

see that, as in “The Deadly Years,” one’s age is not merely a question of chronology, but of intensity of time



within a given duration. Compton dies in his twenties of old age because change, when distorted in time, kills.

The same force for rebirth can be the same force for death. The price of geometrically accelerating change is a

society of men "burnt
out" with gray hairs while barely thirty years of age:

          Kirk: He (Compton) was so young.
          Rael: Was.
          Kirk: Is this what you have planned for us?
          Rael: We all die, even on Scalos....  
          Deela: He’s not one of us; he's temporary.

The Scalosians represent what the western humanistic tradition, especially its literature, calls self-consciousness,

a listening to itself that defines the human will and has, as one of its symptoms, “docility," a herd mentality of acceptors,

 not of executors. They have lost that killer instinct necessary to overcome passivity by confronting the impediment

and by overcoming that docility. William Blake uses the images of the fountain and the cistern as metaphors

for outward spontaneity and for inward collective passivity: “The cistern contains; the fountain overflows."

Scalosians are cisterns. Deela is attracted to Captain Kirk because he is daring, pesky, devious, imaginative,

and a risk-taker. In essence, she is attracted to the Rael who used to embody the Romantic passions

now visible only in Deela's opposite--the crew of the Enterprise. Deela's policy of "accept it. We had to accept it

all our lives" is a philosophy that is a unifying motif in Star Trek's theme of change and time, i.e., that passivity, the

acceptance of a changeable condition as permanent, is imprisonment:



          Kirk: Hyperacceleration is the key...
                   They are able to speed others up
                   to their level ... presumably this
                   is enslavement. Those so treated
                   exist at this accelerated level
                   becoming docile eventually..."

The cost of acceleration is a susceptibility to cell damage and to aging "as though accelerated living burns them out." The

Scalosians have ceased, in Joseph Conrad's words, to be “one of us" in the temporal horizon of healthy human living. Do-

nothingness, as has been noted before, is a quality existing in the majority of the human race, who, as Philistines, are 

anathema and an abhorrence in Gene Roddenberry's concept of man as creator in time.

     In a sense, both cultures, the Scalosians and the Trekkers, are prisoners of and in time. The Trekkers are the

prisoners of Scalosian acceleration, but they (Kirk and Spock) are eventually able to accelerate up to the Scalosian level

and, most importantly, to decelerate down to their normal time level--an ability to be ambidextrous in change and time.

Spock's cure to the Scalosian waters is a feat that the Scalosians are no longer even willing to attempt because their misuse

of will has stopped to even consider the possibility presented
by alternatives in time. However, the Scalosians are

prisoners less of temporality than of what Freud calls intemporality, a new wrinkle in Roddenberry's treatment of man

and of time that makes "Wink of An Eye" unique. The Scalosians exist on the unconscious level which is intemporal.

A refusal to apply conscious


alternatives and change potentials has them existing on the libido level only. They exist for only two primitive/libido
functions: surviving and reproducing. Their lives are no longer mastered by perception-consciousness. Therefore,
they are imprisoned by present intemporality. The time theme area of "Wink of An Eye" is what Augustine in his
calls the "present of things present.
The Trekkers live in a normal and a normative present with full
conscious, perceptual, and actional control over change in time present. Their enslavement is temporary and is overcome.
The Scalosians are self-enslaved, living in the twilight
of mere desire enchained in their
own  “mind-forged manacles” (William Blake, "London," 1794). While the Trekkers can and do "get
back,” the Scalosians
will not "get back" and thus they remain unredeemed as a dying culture. They lose the desire to restore their temporal horizon,
thus assuring the inevitable end of a dying process. The Trekkers presented them with a potential to change, but they refuse to
transition themselves to a supralibido level of applied mundane energy. The crew of the Enterprise temporarily made their
nothing into a something, even into a "they" and a “thou, "but nothing begets nothing; nothing comes of nothing, as
Shakespeare notes.
     The Scalosian's psychic condition is best symbolized by the device they insert into the Enterprise's life support system
as Kirk notes, “It is my belief that they are turning the Enterprise into a gigantic deep-freeze." The freezing is a literal state of


frozen suspended animation to be imposed on the crew, thereby freezing them in an eternal present. The freezing unit is

also a symbol, an extension of the Scalosian collective unconscious, of their own frozen condition as atrophied, stunted, unproductive

humanoids. It is they who are frozen in their self-imposed and self-perpetuating intemporality. They are no-time and dead unto

life, dwellers in Dante's Inferno and inhabitants of T.S. Eliot's death's "Twilight Kingdom." Their circumstances are blamed by

Deela for their condition, but as Kirk points out: "The trouble ...is in you." Deela lies in the cataract of incomprehension

of alternatives:

                  Deela:  We did not ask for it. We are not
                               to blame. We are handling it in
                               the only way we know how, as our
                               parents did and their parents before
                  Kirk: Did this solve anything? Have you
tried any other way?

The quote states the dialectic of two points of view that go unreconciled. Deela and her kind find the word "change" fearful

and incomprehensible. She states the tragedy of her own intemporal condition: “I'm sorry for what's going to happen to you, but I

cannot change it. You cannot change me." In a sense, this culture is a "malfunction" in terms change and time, and the source of

the problem is "in you not outside the ME. Gene Roddenberry presents intemporality as the death of man's coping mechanism and of

his will to confront a dualism, and thus to grow as a culture. In Shakespeare's tragedy, Othello, the Faustian Iago equates

flies with lust. The fly as lust symbol is common in western literature, and it is ironic that the Scalosians are first identifiable as "some-

thing” or "thing" or “it.”  In this case, they are ontologically


suggested by the "whining" or "bzzzz" sound. Kirk uses the apt term "insect," an ironic symbol of the

sub-human lust and sterility of the Scalosian way of death (not life). The mock-love scene in "Wink of An Eye" is a

key scene highly remembered by Star Trek viewers. The reader already knows that the Scalosians use other life forms

in order to propagate their species.

     The love/sex scene with Deela in Kirk's cabin (between Kirk and Deela) serves as a climax and as a symbolic

conclusion to the theme of nothingness that functions on a simple, biological/libido level, thus having no energy to apply

to human creative and cultural gains. "Love" for Deela is an empty "duty" which she rationalizes as love. She quips to the

violent and jealous Rael: "What I do is necessary and you have no right to question it. Allow me the dignity of liking the man

I select." Her motives are bestial with  an eye toward a Darwinian continuation and survival of the species. Her use of the terms

"it" and "like" show no love, just a mechanical process equivalent to her mechanical brushing of her hair before and after an empty

ritual devoid of love. Kirk's motivations are to deceive Deela into thinking he has "accepted" his situation and has become docile.

He also borrows time to delay the freezer activation by sabotaging the transporter. However, Deela knows its all a charade. The

shot of Kirk putting his boots post-factum adds to the irony of the mating that has become mechanized and devoid of emotion.

Each party knows it is a game:

          Kirk: I hope I behaved correctly.
          Deela: And ... nothing bothers you now?
          Kirk: Why are we here?
          Deela: Our leaving was delayed. Don't you remember? You damaged the transporter.
          Kirk: Yes. That was wrong of me....  
          Deela: You've completely accepted the situation, haven't you?"
          Kirk:  Am I behaving incorrectly?


Both parties are feigning, but all such games live out the realities of "something" and of "nothing .”  Kirk's motivation

is an example of Mr. Spock's sense of the only solution, which is an extension of the chess situations of point/counterpoint,

of agent/counteragent:

                                   Spock: Mr. Scott, we cannot cope with them on our level.
                                   Scott: Can we find some way of coping with them on theirs?
                                   Spock: That is a very logical suggestion.

The countermove to the acceleration is a counter acceleration to confront the opponent on his own time level. Water begets

water, but the water is not redemptive for the inhabitants of nothing, of nowhere. John Crowe Ransom, critic and poet, once

defined love as "the aesthetic of sex; lust is the science.” This description applies to an analogous situation of lust in

T.S. Eliot's poem, "The Wasteland," where the female typist comes home and copulates with the "young man carbuncular":

          The meal is ended, she is bored and tired
          Endeavours to engage her in caresses
          Which still are unreproved, if undesired…
          His vanity requires no response,
          And makes a welcome of indifference.

The scene in "Wink of An Eye" is analogous in that both scenes are a ghastly parody of a fertility ritual. Like Deela, the lady

typist does what she has to do, and boredom returns. Her hand is "automatic" as she "puts a record on the gramophone" and--



           She turns and looks a moment in the glass,
           Hardly aware of her departed lover;
           Her brain allows half-formed thoughts to pass:
          'Well now that's done: and I'm glad it's over.’
                 (T. S. Eliot, “The Wasteland," 1922).

The deed, the "marriage" of opposites that rarely breeds progression, breeds and feeds on lust. The ebbed fire of lust is second only

to the complete indifference toward love and its ritual, and toward the indifference toward productive and love-based union of

opposites based on wholism and on integrity. The result is sex without love and T. S. Eliot's and Gene Roddenberry's depiction

of what J.C. Ransom calls our wasteland of scientific secularization. Lust defeats its own ends as pure libido without creativity. The

interaction between the ME and the NOT-ME is a reminder of what Carl Jung calls a meeting with “other," but which does not

"give rise to truth and meaning." A "real colloquy becomes possible," according to Jung, "only when the ego acknowledges the existence

of a partner to the discussion.”  The other, instead of being Kirk's inner friend is Kirk's enemy because, as Jung states, "For he who

is near to him is near to the fire'" (Jung, Four Archetypes, p. 67). In terms of transformations, the intercourse between Deela and Kirk

yields no rebirth or character transformations of a positive nature. There is no redemptive feeling of what Joseph Conrad

(Lord Jim, 1901) and Carl Jung later call an equally positive of "human solidarity." There is no nobility, no courage, no dignity,

just a sense of being lost in isolation. If anything, Kirk's animus or "inferior function" shows what it is--the dark side of his human

personality. Kirk becomes a persona or “that which in reality one is not," but which



oneself as well as others think one is. It is a mask, a game with higher realities, however, at stake--including the

resumption of and normal return to time present for the crew of the "Enterprise." Both parties return to the "present of

things present": the Scalosians to intemporality and the Trekkers to a potentially recreative time present. Neither

 party under-goes any internal change:

                 Deela: You've won. We will die and will solve
                            your problem.
                  Spock: If you'll devote yourself exclusively
                             to the concerns of Scalos, Madame, we
                             shall be pleased to remain and take care
                             of the 'Enterprise.

Spock is curt and correct (as usual). Deela thinks the Trekkers "cannot get back" to their own level; but McCoy and Spock have the

antitoxin to the toxic Scalosian waters. They can and do “get back" home. Kirk sardonically answers Mr. Scott's question of "Where

in blazes did you come from" with a quip of some depth: "Out of the nowhere into the here," and so, as Kirk notes towards the end

of the episode, "The ship will resume normal operations almost immediately," as Spock effects repairs at accelerated speed--a

humorous piece of comic relief that affords much restoration to the viewer as well. While Spock "found it an accelerating experience,”

Kirk glares at the main viewing screen at Deela via the original S.O.S. call-tape:

          Uhura: I.m sorry, Sir. I touched the tape
                     button accidently.
          Kirk: That's no malfunction?
Uhura:  No, Sir!  
          Kirk: Goodbye, Deela.


The ending is wistful, but of the serious note of being alive or not being, nothing remains. As Kirk noted earlier (to Deela): "No,

I can't think of anything I'd rather do than stay with you ... except staying alive. Energize." Deela: "Goodbye, Captain."

Yes, both know that "something" happened, even if nothing is that something(good sex?). As the sarcastic and frustrated husband

and wife of an empty marriage say in their wasteland:

          I think we are in rats' alley
          Where the dead men lost their bones.

          'What is that noise?'
                             The wind under the door.

          'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?'
                             Nothing again nothing.
                                 (T.S. Eliot, "The Wasteland," 1922)

                                                                           (end of "Wink Of An Eye")



                                                                            "The Tholian Web"

     "The Tholian Web" is another rhapsody of the theme of time/ change. It is the combination of complex laws of physics
 with the fairy tale of the spider and the fly. The episode's two key terms are “interphase” and “interspace,” which are frequently
used loosely and interchangeably. Interphase and interspace deal with theoretical existence and time between (from Latin, inter)
time and between space. The question of esse est percipi (Bishop Berkeley) of being as being only when perceived raises the
problem of whether Kirk actually exists at all in interphase because interphase literally means between appearances, between one
point in time or
in space.
          As soon as Kirk is no longer "one of us," i.e., no
longer existing in terms of his fellow man, he exists only as memory which
serves to keep the Kirk of the past artificially and subjectively alive in the present by a process that aestheticians and psychologists
call subjectification, where the object (Nicht-Ich)--Kirk --has no autonomous and independent existence outside the mind of the
subject's projection of its image upon the absent object. Kirk, therefore, exists only as ego projection, hence the many allusions in this
episode to crewmen who
“think" they see Kirk (example, Uhura) because they want him to exist. Kirk's image is scoffed at by McCoy
and by Spock as mere wish fulfillment by Uhura and by Scotty.
     It is only after all the major crew members see Kirk collectively on the bridge that the possibility of his objective, empirical existence
within interphase is postulated. Majority perceptivity alone overcomes scientific skepticism over the


reality of one man's “real” existence. Kirk's imagistic appearance in Uhura's mirror, in Scotty's engine room,
on the bridge is, however, still not absolute in its reality because Kirk still does not exist in his proper temporal sphere
and in his proper spatial dimension. Hence, from the point of view of ego affirmation and of subjective perception,
Kirk does not exist. The confusion and dissociation that infiltrate crew members in Kirk's absence is the key plot element
in this episode.
     "The Tholian Web" is a fascinating study of a society’s  reaction on a temporal horizon, to absence ultimately
defined as the captain’s “death” based on his non-existence derived from standard methods used traditionally
to arrive at the distinction between life and death. Interphase is not a conventionally understood phenomenon; hence
Kirk's apparent absence serves as a definition of death. Technically, interphase is a world between two or more
opposite temporal horizons, and such an inter-temporal imprisonment isolates Kirk from the Enterprise which is his
source of temporal and spatial identity. The logical result is a form of death, a death perhaps more terrible and more
profound than ceasing to exist in the sense of the cessation of biological functions on one's proper temporal horizon.
The thesis of the episode has symbolic implications in that, under certain temporal/spatial conditions, man ceases to exist
even though he continues to live and to breathe, but he does not live when he is "inter" (between) under ("unter")
circumstances. To be "between" is not to be; it is a form of non-existence. One can exist in A or in its antithesis B,
but he does not exist as man in a no-man's land, spatially and temporally trapped between A and B.  If he is not A



 or is not B, he is not. Roddenberry is demonstrating that absolute alienation and separation from one's own dimension means
death in terms of that dimension and of its opposite. In order for a man to be an integrated, i.e., whole, he must exist as a part
of a whole as well as a whole unto himself. When a man is not wholistic, symbolically he is alienated to the role of a part that
functions outside the whole. Thus, no man should or can exist as an island (John Donne). Without his Ich-Nicht-Ich reconcilation
and integration, he is what Thomas Carlyle calls "stunted" psychologically because of the loss of solidarity with his fellow men
who define his existence.
     Without Kirk, the Enterprise is also in an "interphase" because the crew exists only in terms of its captain. Kirk's "existence"
in "interphase" is the corollary because Kirk cannot exist without the Enterprise. Only an integration of the opposites can
restore organic wholism and a normal temporal horizon. Thus any man or any group so isolated from its complement or from
its opposite undergoes a death-in-life. Kirk's dilemma is symbolic of a universal phenomenon of a death that supersedes any
merely physical cessation of being. Outside his solidarity, the individual is "Between ,” and thus he has no “Belonging.” This is true
death, just as if Kirk were to be transported and materialized (cf.,
a fear in "Day of the Dove") within a bulkhead separating two
rooms or compartments. Man (ME) is not fully himself without a NOT-ME context which gives him purpose and the potential
for creative action, hence his existential


identity. It is Kirk (not McCoy, as a recent writer notes) who is the cohesive force that unites the disparate elements aboard
the "Enterprise," including opposite elements symbolized by McCoy and Spock.
     Space in Star Trek is both a void and a sustaining environment for man on the "final frontier" of his existence. Without such
an arena for purposeful work, man has no direction and no function. No environment and no function mean no purpose for any
living entity dependent upon his context for absolute and for moral sense of wholistic being. Space is symbolically an environment
(a NOT-ME) against which man must struggle and within which he must achieve and build his humanity.  "In
terspace" is both a
scientific fact and a symbol of a "between" or an inter-existence that is, as "inter," a form of non-existence. Spock notes, shortly after
materialization aboard The Defiant, that there is “no sign of life aboard this vessel." The madness that caused mass murder by members
The Defiant crew against fellow members of that same social entity shows distortion of reality (dizziness, inebriety, insanity) based
on a fragmented environment. Without conventional loci in time, human disorientation creates hyper anxiety and ravaging doubt that
cause a healthy and functional society to literally turn inward upon itself in massive self-destruction. The picture of the crew man's hands
on the neck of The Defiant's captain is both real and symbolic. Death can be and is caused by a loss of space called "interspace."
Because both the "Enterprise" and The De
fiant; are in an in-between state, non-


 existence becomes a physical and social reality. Not knowing one's whereness, hereness, or thereness, can drive healthy
minds into insanity because one's creative energies become opposite des
tructive energies in interspace.  Sulu notes, "I can’t
get an accurate fix on The Defiant,  Mr. Scott, and I know it's getting away ;" As Bones' hand passes through a man, a table,
and a deck, McCoy notes: "Jim, this ship is dissolving..”  Dissolution is both
a real terror, a psychological problem, and a
projection of a nihilism within the subjects themselves.

           Spock: Captain, The Defiant's sensors
                       correspond ... with those of the
           Kirk: You mean what happened to
Defiant might be happening to the
Spock: Affirmative.

     The transformation malfunction symbolizes the contextual and the psychic dissociation bred by ego disorientation. Scott, in
fear notes: "That ship you're in is fading out. Well...it's ripping the innards out of this one..."  Kirk's comment, after
Chekov, McCoy, and Spock beam aboard the Enterprise, is one of tragic irony: "Get back with the information. I'll be right
  As noted in earlier time episodes, the problem once again is to “Get back" to one's home, to his physical and psychologi-
cal sources of life and energy. The outburst of Ensign Chekov in attacking Mr. Spock is one such example. Scotty notes that
Chekov “had no cause to be angry.”  The remark is not quite true, and it is well-timed irony because much quiet, dialogue-free
camera time is spent watching Chekov's inspection (horrified) of The Defiant's dead


crew and noting his shock at the mass murders, all creating a dizziness and disorientation. The shock alone could only
have had a negative nerve-racking impact on the young ensign who sees the likelihood of Starfleet's first mutiny. Chekov's
condition dramatizes the psychosomatic impact effect by a sense of loss and an arena of death which, by a young ensign's
logic and training, should not have happened at all. Chekov is devastated and speechless by the nihilistic destruction that has
no apparent cause. Something has happened, but there is nothing to explain
it. The working relationship between cause and
effect, necessary for psychic equilibrium, has been severed, and it is likely that Chekov associates
The Defiant's crew with that
of the Enterprise and the contrast shatters his own confidence and his feelings of solidarity with his role as a Starfleet officer
and navigator.
     The function of Chekov as navigator enhances the disintegration of wholism with its symptoms of misdirection and spatial
disorientation. A sense of nothingness begins to begins to displace the sense of somethingness, and nihilism emerges as a major
theme. People, functions, values, and contexts are all beginning to disappear and to disintegrate. The emerging motif becomes the
dialectic between integration and disintegration, between something and nothing, symbolized by the tensional dialectic between
temporality and interphase (intemporality). Chekov and Scotty state psychical and psychological realities:


            Chekov: It's gone. The Defiant just
                          vanished ....  
Scotty: There's nothing out there to grab a
                       hold of and bring in. When that ship
                       went it must have taken the Captain with  it.

Uhura is correct when she politely corrects Dr. McCoy's question about Chekov's hysteria by noting: "Doctor, he seemed more angry

than frightened." A cause for anger did indeed exist:

             Spock: Lt. Uhura was correct. There was murderous
                         fury in Chekov--the same fury that was
                         evident in The Defiant.
McCoy: ...whatever it was that drove the crew of
                       The Defiant to murder each other could be

At the risk of seeming obvious, the carefully-written script of  “The Tholian Web" makes both the cause and the effect clear to the

viewer of Star Trek:

          Spock: Is there anything you need to isolate
                     the cause.

McCoy: TIME! (My italics)

McCoy states the theme and the problem of this frightening scene of time and spatial disintegration. All human realities are

fragmenting. The whole is breaking down into inchoate parts during the phenomenon of interphase--the disease. Using

the theory of immunology envisioned in "The Immunity Syndrome" where antimatter is the cure for matter, the disease of

inter-time can only be cured
by time itself, by restoring the harmonic relationship between time and timelessness, and by

restoring the harmony and the integrity within the temporal horizon itself. The term used by Spock to describe the disintegration

of time and matter is “phased out," denoting non-materialization, nihilism. When someone or something is phased out,

it is no longer used or of use;  it ceases to exist by  becoming part


of the past. In Star Trek, time is most frequently envisioned in terms of contextual function. When Kirk is declared dead by

Spock at the chapel ceremony, he too has been phased out, not merely by a time phenomenon, but by his fellow man. He is left

to exist only in terms of memory as a waning, residual effect.

     Joseph Heller, in his Catch-22, first used the verb "to disappear" in a transitive, existential sense. The characters in the novel

"disappeared" Doc Daneeka even though the man continued to exist among them. Because Doc Daneeka was on the manifest as a

passenger on McWatt's plane when it exploded into the mountainside, killing all aboard, Doc Daneeka was officially declared dead,

even though Doc Daneeka was not in fact aboard the plane. Thus, he was "disappeared" by his fellow man and, though alive, was dead

in the eyes of all except Yossarian who alone talks with Daneeka. A man who is alive is also declared dead in Heller's novel, and Kirk

is declared dead, disappeared, by his crew. This is the astonishing theme of death by mutual consent of a man by his fellow man.

the two situations are not identical, the "phased out" concept is crudely analogous.

     Disintegration is also caused by any disruption in the past, present, future process. Any phenomenon that disrupts man's sensory

predictability enhances time distortion and imbalance. The incursion of the Tholian ship further disrupts an already-disoriented

time process:

          McCoy: I thought you had the thing timed out.
          Spock: I did, doctor. The space was disturbed
                     by the Tholians .. I shall have to re-
                     calculate to determine when the next inter-
                     phase will occur. They do not take place
                     at regular intervals....




          McCoy: The disease is not transmitted by men
                        ....The cause is the area of space we're
                        in....The molecular structure of the brain
                        tissue and the central nervous system are
                       distorting, and the madness that affected
                       The Defiant’s crew will soon happen to
                       the Enterprise...We've got to get (this
                       ship) out of here.

Mankind has a tendency to label any phenomenon that it does not understand and that it cannot control as a "disease" that has to

be “gotten out" of. The cure lies in staying within the disease and using knowledge of the disease, indeed the disease itself, to

cure that disease by making the unknown knowable and controllable. As Spock notes, "Search for an antidote to the effects of this

space. That is your (McCoy’s) primary task, for we must remain here." The battle between the Tholian ship and the Enterprise merely

further distorts man's efforts to restore temporal harmony.

     The Chapel service for Captain Kirk brings "The Tholian Web" to what is perhaps the most blatant example of disintegration--

the battle between Spock and McCoy. The often-heated dialogue over Spock's handling of the Tholian situation becomes a dialectic

between McCoy's emotionalism and Spock's rationalism. It is a tensional dialectic which ensues in most of Star Trek's episodes,

but this particular dialectic is a clash between opposites without reconciliation or progression. The absence of Kirk as mediator

between his two friends defers any resolution. McCoy fears Spock's usurpation of captaincy; he also fears his own inadequacy because

his function as the captain’s advisor no longer exists. McCoy insists on the “duty to be performed in the captain's quarters."

While Spock dodges the issue: "It can wait, doctor. My duties require my immediate presence on the bridge." Spock never sought



command, he too fears the unknown  because he is now de facto captain of the Enterprise.  Spock also fears McCoy's intuitive

alacrity and swift tongue. Without Kirk as mediator between the two opposites, both men would be doomed, in Danteesque

fashion, to an eternity of cyclic bickering. Referring to the captain's death tape, Spock notes, "It will wait for a more suitable

moment, doctor....:

          McCoy: Why are you afraid it'll change
                        your present status?
           Spock: The mental and physical state of this
                       crew are your responsibility, doctor.
                      At the moment, they are your top priority.
           McCoy: The captain's last order's top priority.
                        You will honor that order before you take

With memory as triggering mechanism, the past and the present come into open conflict as Kirk's absence is deeply felt, but never com-

pensated for. McCoy badgers Spock: "I really came here to find out why you stayed and fought." Whereas a similar action against the

Tholians by Kirk would have been acceptable, the same action by Spock against the Tholians (both for the safety of the Enterprise) is

unacceptable to the mercurial McCoy. The doctor's harassment of Spock is ironic because, as McCoy notes, Spock could have

"assured" himself of the captaincy "by leaving the area." McCoy is slow to realize that Spock stayed in interphase not to ascertain

the captain's death, as McCoy charges, but to test every option to ensure Kirk's existence. McCoy blames Spock for the interphase

predicament because Spock fired on the Tholians, thus further disrupting the captain's chances for survival. But Spock knows that

Kirk may have been held by the tractor-beam and that there is still hope and time:

      McCoy: I must admit I don’t know you, Mr.
                   Spock, but I just can't believe that
                   you would want Jim's command. But you
                   must know that if you get us out of
                   this situation, they'll pin a medal on
                   your chest and give you command of the Enterprise.



          Spock: Doctor, I am in command of the

Kirk's last tape shows his critical role as a stabilizing factor in keeping harmony because Kirk knows "both of you are locked

in mortal combat.” Spock must seek balance: “temper your judgment with intuitive insight."  For McCoy: "Bones, ... help

him if you can, but remember he is the captain. His decisions must be followed without question."  McCoy realizes that the "hurt"

is mutual; both men are in grief while "respective tasks" remain before the Tholian Web is completed. The image of Kirk seen first

by Uhura, later by Scotty, and finally by the entire bridge crew, begins the process of restoring harmony by restoring the balanced

relationship between past and present, and  by saving the present from its dominance by the past. At first, Kirk is called "it" by

Uhura;  later "it"  is changed to "him."  Spock shows regrets and some humanity in responding to McCoy's "I  am sorry" by "I'm sure

the captain would simply have said, "Forget it, Bones."  The Spock-McCoy feud is a form of interphase because the term, "inter-

phase," means between appearances, between changes, or a stage in a cycle of changes. The captain's presence in interphase is

paralleled by McCoy and Spock in an inter-human interphase because both men are between what they were and what they will be.

They are in an interior void, confused and distorted. Each feels the sense of disintegration and each eventually recognizes the social

destructiveness of interphasal dissociation. McCoy must find the antidote, and



Spock must solve the problem of the Tholian Web while simultaneously trying to deliver Kirk from the nothingness of interphasal

imprisonment. Almost humorously, the cure is a “diluted Therigan derivative." McCoy took a deadly Klingon nerve gas and turned an

evil into a good. The weapon meant to create death, diluted in alcohol and controlled, creates life:

          McCoy:  In this derivative, mixed with alcohol,
merely deadens certain nerve inputs
                         to the brain.
           Scotty: Oh, well! Any decent brand of Scotch
                       will do that….
           McCoy: Well, drink it down, Spock. It's the
                         human thing to do. That's a medical
                         order, Captain.

The cure to the interspace lies in a subsiding of the individual's panic button. Interphase is clearly an unnatural condition. Only when

Kirk comes from interphase into the ship's time sphere is a return to normal time achieved. The ship's

power throws the ship out of the Tholian Web; Spock's logic and the transporter beam provided a spatial fix on Kirk, and one hero is

returned to harmony; his return restores McCoy, Spock and the crew to functional harmony. The "inter"  or the being between time is

eliminated by a clear restoration in time. Solidarity and integrity are restored. Kirk's reaction indicates that being one with the

universe is no nirvana:

          Kirk: (with a smile) I had a whole universe to
                   myself after "The Defiant" was thrown out.
                   There was absolutely noone else in
I must say I prefer a crowded universe much



Kirk smiles, but the terror of being alienated from his own time and space was hell.
     Gene Roddenberry's study of in-betweenness is a study on non­existence, on the void between opposites. Hell is being
out of one's place and time, and a reader interprets interphase as a symbol of a living and as a real human condition that is
universal. Men create in-between times as a way of imprisoning themselves and others. This episode is a study of existence and
of non-existence between changes, between a time cycle. The term, phase, embodies the human dilemma in this story because
the term means only one aspect, one side, or one part of a larger whole.
     It is a stage definable only in terms of a standard position. Interphase is an in-between stage within a developing cycle of changes.
Interspace is an area between or within things whose function is to divide into parts (disintegration) into or by space. The story deals
with physical and psychical dissociation of objects making them invisible and non-existent at unpredictable times. Disease is
inter-dimensionalism and inter-temporalism. The original title of “The Tholian Web" was “In Essence Nothing," and it is the latter title
that points to the episode's time preoccupation: nothingness, nonexistence. Nothing can be defined in terms of vector and scalar.
As analyzed earlier, scalar is a quantity with magnitude, but with no direction in space. Interphase is a scalar quantity and a scalar
situation is nothingness. A vector is a physical quantity with both magnitude and particular direction. Vector, in human terms,
is a course which a man dictates. It is a course followed or to be followed. What is important is that the individual, in vector


time, follows and creates the course he wishes to follow in creating time and his destiny. Vector existence has human coordinates
in that man exists in solidarity, as “one of us."  The scalar man is one of indirected absence; the vector man is one of directional
presence. A man in phase has ego perspective and a sense of openness to change. The group in phase has its ego figure and leader;
it insists on man's unconscious need for a sense of place and time, and therefore, of identity. The scalar man or the scalar jump is
structured in a metaphysical, psychological cage of bitter isolation. Nothingness is hell, and in-betweenness is nothingness.
     Lastly, as good humor is restored on the Enterprise (Spock: "Orders, Captain?") the meaning of the final title, "The Tholian Web"
takes shape. Kirk is caught in the web of interphase. Spock and McCoy are ensnared in the WEB of altercation. A WEB is,
on the surface, a snare, a
carefully-woven trap. The Enterprise and its crew are trapped in interphase. A web is also a symbol of
a complicated work of the mind, of the imagination. A web is also a symbol of joining--the joinings of parts in a working relationship
to the whole. The web is, therefore, an appropriate symbol of the story's problem and of its solution. The term "Tholian" has its
root in the Old English term, tholian and in the Indo-European tel. The term means to bear. It is an archaic British term meaning
to bear in the sense of to tolerate, to sustain. The


"renowned Tholian punctuality" noted by Spock is a timely pun, but
the Tholian Web is a symbol which reminds man of the necessity of

allowing, of permitting, of not interfering, of recognizing, of respecting others' beliefs without necessarily sharing them--

Tholian embodies the key or cure to in-betweenness, to intertime by insisting that man bear or put up with someone or something

not especially liked. "The Tholian Web" is the joining together of the many into the one whole with mutual respect and non-interference.

It is the prime directive, a directive applied not just to others, but to ourselves by respecting the rights of others. The Tholian

Web is IDIC (Infinite Diversity in its Infinite Combinations).  Spock and McCoy, extraterrestrials and terrestrials, are opposites that

create a tensional energy which in turn creates a reconciliation of opposites, thereby breeding progression and growth for all mankind.

To be whole is to be tolerant; to be human is to bear:

          McCoy: Oh, those orders! Well, there wasn’t
time. We never had a chance to listen
                        to them.
         Spock:  No, you see the crisis
was upon us and
then passed so quickly, Captain, that
we …
Kirk: Good. Good. I hope we won't have similar
                  opportunities to test those orders which
                   ...you never heard…?


                                                                                          (end "The Tholian Web")


                                                                  "Requiem For Methuselah"


     Time is as old as creation itself, as ancient as Yahweh and the fiat lux--let there be light. In "Requiem for

Methuselah," Star Trek takes us back to the very creation of the world, to the creation and fall of Adam and

Eve, to the children of Adam.

           This is the book of the generations of Adam.
           In the day that God created man, in the like-
           ­ness of God made he him.
           Male and female created he them; and
           blessed them, and called their name
           Adam, in the day when they were created.
                   ("Genesis" 5: 1-2).

The above quotation comes from a known best seller, specifically from its first book--Genesis 5: 1-2--the

authorized King James' Version. Chapter 5 is the “who begat whom” chapter that names and acknowledges the

immediate sons of Adam, the sons of the Creator. This Star Trek episode, like so many great works of literature and

art, is based on The Holy Bible, specifically on the post-lapsarian era which is still upon us and which man still

struggles to overcome time and work the seedfield, and in which he, as Blake's "just man," must roam, planting

roses amid the thorns, and "on the barren heath/ Sing the honey bees." Blake envisions post-lapsarian man as a

just man who kept his course along/ The vale of death."  The human situation is put adroitly:

          Now the sneaking serpent walks
          In mild humility,
          and the just man rages in the wilds
          Where lions roam.
             --(William Blake, "The Argument" to The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, 1790).



Methuselah is one such man and Mr. Flint is one such Methuselah:

          24. And Enoch walked with God: and he was not; for God took him.
          25. And Methuselah lived an hundred eighty and seven years, and
                begat Lamech.
          26. And Methuselah lived after he begat Lamech
                seven hundred eighty and two years, and begat
                sons and daughters.
          27. And all the days of Methuselah were nine
                hundred sixty and nine years: and he died.
                    --(“Genesis” 5: 24-27).

The very term, "Methuselah," denotes longevity. This episode's title betokens a sacramental elegy upon the death

of immortality as embodied in Mr. Flint. Like all sons of Adam, Methuselah is a product of the so-called fall of man.

What really happened in Eden was less a fall from divinity and more a rise into humanity, into mutable time. Man's

fall is in some ways his felix culpa. This episode studies one such son of Adam who sees little throughout his

six-thousand years but the fall of man and the sons of Cain. Possessing the physical immortality of virile manhood,

not the immortality of old age, Flint has created history and has been created by history. Time and change

have turned
Flint “off” humanity where his Wordsworthian voyeurism has become a Byronic misanthropy. Flint is

eternity existing in time. Based on Starfleet's computers, Flint and Reena have no past, no history, but in reality Flint

is history living as an eternal man in the
changing present of others .  In a sense, Flint who has "no past, " is the past

itself. But the man who was born in Mesopotamia 6,000 years ago (a place many believe to have been Eden), who

has lived through six millenia, has become dominated by the past and his present is
a refuge, a  "retreat”  from the

unpleasantness of life on earth and the company of  people.”  The man who was da Vinci, who was Johannes Brahms,



has atrophied mentally because he flees the ravages of time. His planet is a tranquil island, a retreat from "the maddening
crowd's ignoble strife." He is no longer a man among men, but an interiorized, isolated intellect that has lost its creative
instinct. The man dressed like a Roman centurian reminds the viewer that Flint has
been many people, but was and is primarily
a "bulIy" and a “fool”
by his own words.
     His immortality, his eternity, is becoming stagnant and non­creative. Immortality itself is noncreative because creation takes
place only in time, because only in time can change occur. Eternity unravels as non-time or timelessness. Flint, however, is unique.
He undergoes no rebirth (renovatio), until the end of the episode when he begins to age normally.  Because he is immortal,
his temporal contexts (6,000 years of history) did change all around him. He has lived, has experienced, 6,000 years of man's history,

yet he remains essentially
the”  bully," the   “fool." Flint has under­gone many accidental changes, but why has not history given him
wisdom as well as knowledge? The more Flint has known, the less receptive he becomes to change and to newness. Flint has
atrophied. His creative and imaginative facilities are warped by too much change, by too much living. He has caused so many
changes and has been altered by so many changes, that change has become abhorrent to him. Too much change has blurred his
vision until he sees all history as a changeless blur of human iniquity. He is a bored libido of no talent except the mechanical.
     Flint's immortality is biochemical, what McCoy calls
"instant tissue regeneration coupled with some kind of biological renewal."
As Flint says, "I fell in battle, pierced through the heart and did


not die." His body is immortal, but it is not the curse of immortal old age because Flint is physically virile and is in his middle
years. However, a disparity exists between a lack of physical change and the man's mind which, subjected to 6,000 years
of human experience, could have evolved into an intellectually superior man only as long as the ego is open and receptive to
change. Flint appears almost phlegmatic regarding his Da Vinci paintings and his Brahms' waltz. He has lost contact with his
own past beauty in an obsession with sordidness and with scientific, selfish, myopic Reena robots. The artistic talent to create
imaginative perfection has atrophied
by a conscious, autistic, scientific quest for perfect empiricism. Leonardo da Vinci is now
a mechanic, an internalized, and self-absorbed entity. His world on Holberg 917-G shows only a potential for change, a deliberate
attempt to effect changeless­ness in Flint’s environment. The arrival of the Enterprise brings the plague of human ugliness and of
death that Flint originally left earth to flee what had become a domination by the past on his psyche. The effect is one of a changing
NOT-ME on an unchanging ME. Flint is turned off on mankind because history has created a form of creative senility that has
warped him into intense misanthropy. Flint is very much a dark Romantic misanthrope who walks out of the poems of Lord Byron.
He is both attracted to and abhorred by death. Flint is a narcophiliac and a narcophobic whose love of life is second only to his
fear of living another day in what he sees as an unchanging mankind. The man who is eternal, who has lived



6,000 years, sees only death. The presence of the Enterprise re-enkindles this obsession with death coupled with a

Byronic defiance of death:

          Few mortals know what end they would be at,
             But whether glory, power, or love, or treasure,
          The path is through perplexing ways, and when
             The goal is gained, we die, you know--and then--
                     --(Lord Byron, Don Juan, Canto I, St. 133)

Flint's hatred of mankind accounts for his morbid fascination with the android, Reena, as he

communicates all his love into an android:

          I have not loved the world, nor the world me;
          I have not flattered its rank breath, nor bowed
          To its idolatries a patient knee-- ... I stood
          Among them, but not of them; in a shroud
          Of thoughts which were not their thoughts...
               --(Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto III, Stanza 113).

The above is Byron's description of Childe Harold, but it also describes the Byronic hero's ambivalent, but tempestuous

love-hate relationship with the NOT-ME. Flint's capacity for hatred is equal to his capacity for love. At one moment, such

a Romantic can say:

                                                        I can see
Nothing to loathe in nature save to be
                 A link reluctant in a fleshly chain,
                 Classed among creatures, when the soul can flee,
                  And with the sky, the peak, the heaving plain
ocean, or the stars, mingle, and not in vain.
                    --(Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto III, Stanza 72).

And in the next moment, he can be overcome by human love and beauty:

          She walks in beauty, like the night
              Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
          And all that is best of dark and bright
              Meet in her aspect and her eyes.
                  --(Lord Byron, "She Walks in Beauty," 1814).



     What happens to Byron's Childe Harold happens to Flint, a hardening of the heart and of the imagination from

 too much peripheral change, too much living:

          He of the breast which fain no more would feel,
          Wrung with the wounds which kill not but ne'er heal;
          Yet Time, who changes all, had altered him
          In soul and aspect as in age: years steal
          Fire from the mind as vigor from the limb,
          And life's enchanted cup but sparkles near the brim.
            --(Lord Byron, Childe Harold's Pilgrimage, Canto III,
St. 8).

Like Byron, Flint quaffed too long and too quickly, but "he found the dregs were wormwood .   Flint' s immortality has

fostered his
resistance to change. His every living minute is absorbed by the ironies of life and death. His very first words

uttered in this episode are
“Do not kill,” –an important opening scene for this Roman Hamlet, because it is Flint who later

orders the same M-4 robot (that is a Nomad) to kill Kirk. Flint's love, first so evident in da Vinci and in Brahms, has become

hatred. Flint has become petty as he condescends to tests of power--hardly the forte of a great artist and a philosopher.

Life has brought pain to Flint, but one does not shun pain like the plague by running away from what is an

inherent part of living. Flint's memory of the past, coupled with James Daley's consummate acting, makes the past,

seen as death, alive and absolutely terrifying:

          McCoy: Have you ever seen a victim of Rigeilian
                       fever? They die in one day. The effects
                       are like the bubonic plague.

          Flint: Constantinople...1334. It marched through
                   the streets, sewers. It left the city by
                   ox cart, by sea, to kill half of Europe.
                   The rats rustling and squealing in the night
                   as they too died. The rats...


     When M-4 attacks Kirk, Reena says: "I'm glad you did not die." Flint notes, sardonically, "Of course, death, when unnecessary,

is a tragic thing." Timelessness has become the architect and the ruin of time:

           Flint:  Galileo , Socrates, Moses. I have married a
hundred times ... selected, loved, cherished,
                     caressed a smoothness, inhaled a brief fra-
                     grance. The age, death, the taste of dust.
                     Do  you understand?

The obsession of immortality with death takes the ironic form of mercy as Flint reduces the "Enterprise" to a model on a table, its
rew  suspended (cf., "Catspaw").  Immortality has become death's archbishop, the wheeler of its mighty scythe:

          Flint: I have seen a hundred billion fall. I know
                  death better than any man. I have tossed
                  enemies into his grip, and I know mercy.
                  Your crew is not dead, but suspended.(Cf., "Wink of An Eye").
Kirk: Worse than dead! Restore them; restore my

Flint: In time, a thousand, two thousand years. You
will know the future, Captain Kirk.

Immortality has become death. Even his love causes death. Flint has joined Star Trek's long list of alienated, high-powered, lonely
god/men whose time and power have calcified their abilities to feel, to be fully human--Apollo, Henock, Thalassa, Richard Daystrom,
even Nomad. Perhaps Zefram Cochrane, made immortal and unchanging
by the Companion, best summarizes Flint's dilemma: 
"Immortality consists largely of boredom,” in the sense that one is creative when there is that sense of mortality, that sense that
"time's winged chariot is drawing
near."  Mankind's best art is based on a tensionally productive reciprocity between eternity
and time, with


the keen sense of inevitable death as impetus to creativity.

     Flint is a modern Methuselah, a living historian and anachronism whose Renaissance talents vie with his contemporary
canvas and paints. His past has not served him to build a future because Flint is static in his present. Dominated by the past,
he rejects it all as death. Concerned with love for an android in the present has precluded futurity. Flint has been everywhere,
has been an everyman, has been every great man, but in the present, Flint is just that: flint. Leonardo da Vinci is now just flint.
His despair is tragic because he has turned art into science while retaining the artist's goal of creating perfection in an imperfect world.
Six-thousand years have created boredom and creative myopia. In time present, Flint is not doing anything to better himself and
the human condition, and he is not going anywhere because his obsession with making a woman out of a machine, with imbuing
years with emotions, has left him a recluse. In terms of time, Flint has taken refuge in non-temporality.

     "Requiem for Methuselah"  is a unique study in non-temporality, unchanging time as death. The individual loses temporal perspective
with no locus in change. The succession of events lay siege to Flint, but their energies go unfelt and unintegrated. He no longer lives in
the past because memory brings pain; he no longer sees a future because it brings anxiety and doubt; he no longer lives in the present,
preferring stasis. Part of Flint's immortality is ironically connected to his ignoring what was, what can be, and what is. Hence,
non-temporality. This rather Romantic condition is a retreat into solipsistic contempla­tion and inactive self-consciousness.
A rich man suffers the rags of



disintegration. One psychologist describes this state as a disorder, a neurosis, where a patient says of himself:

          I have a tendency for rest and immobility.
          I also tend to immobilize the life around
          me (cf., Reena)….The past is a precipice,
          the future is a mountain…to go around in
          a circle so as not to draw away from the
          foundation, so as not to be uprooted, that
          is what I want.
              --(Minkowski, Le
Temps Vecu, 1933, 26-62).

Flint, like the above patient, cannot seem to grasp "the fact that time passes." Minkowski quotes the patient further:

           Sometimes, outside in the garden when they
           run quickly up and down and round about, or
           the leaves whirl in the wind, I wish I could
           live again as before and be able to run with
           them within me, so that time would pass again.
           But there I stop and I do not care… I just
           bump into time." (Le Temps Vécu, 268).

Flint is just such a one who just bumps into time, suffering a severe disruption in the experience of direction. Such non-tempo-

rality disrupts integration of events inside and outside his life, (cf., Fraisse, 197) and movement is dominated by a limitation of the

surrounding spatial dimension, lending a mathematical precision concentrated into a small and shrinking geometric progression.

One way of avoiding changing reality is Flint's precise, scientific obsession with filling time in a mechanical, myopic project that

helps him to believe that time will simply go away. The mechanical displaces the creative instinct, and Flint himself seems

programmed. Thomas Carlyle says, "Manufacture is intelligible, but trivial; Creation is great, and cannot be understood."

Flint has lost his free will. His redemption is to begin dying as his clone world is shattered by the Enterprise crew. His

selfishness over the ritalin, cure for the plague, peaks the moribund moral crisis of Flint with no steel.


                                                                          CONCLUSION (to Chapter 3)

     In this chapter, time has been a matter of mankind’s assertion of his will through action in a spatial context called the

NOT-ME. The dialectical relationship between the ME and the NOT-ME is both adversarial (Blake, Hegel) and complementary

at different times. The aesthetic of reciprocity (cf., earlier graph) is a living, kinetic relationship as old as the "fall" of man, where,

as Blake envisions
it,  man is placed in the post-lapsarian "barren climes" to plant roses amid the thorns. In order to exist, man

must come to grips with the conversion of eternity into time, into change, into human mortality. The marriage of man to the

universe around him is the ideal aim and function of the human imagination as defined by the major poets of German and of

British Romanticism. This ideal of overcoming obstacles by making them work for the self, by making them part of the self,

is still the goal of man and time in Star Trek. This aesthetic of reciprocity is also of benefit to the external world because the

ME--NOT-ME relationship is a symbolic one of mutual life-giving sustenance. Man needs the world and the world needs man.

Both elements must co-exist while acknowledging both differences and similarities. The metaphor of marriage symbolizes this give

and take unity which still respects the autonomy and identity of the partners in this marriage:

          For the discerning intellect of Man,
          When wedded to this goodly universe
          In love and holy passion, shall find these
          A simple produce of the common day.
               --(William Wordsworth, "Prospectus," to The Recluse, 1814).


     Gene Roddenberry, like Wordsworth, seeks a restoration of the balance between subject and object lest one be dominated
by or destroyed by the other. Throughout time, man has had a peculiar tendency in disturbing the natural balance of nature.
This co-creational reciprocity is both biological and psychological because, in Romantic art, the world and the mind are closely
interrelated in that they create and recreate each other during every second of every minute of every hour of the great process
called living. Any distortion causing an in extremis imbalance between subject and object presents a diseased situation. The works
of the philosopher Kant shows a marked preference for the noumenal over the phenomenal world. Nature was largely a subjective
projection of mind, and her autonomy remained a matter of lesser concerns. The submergence of the NOT-ME, the domination
of matter by mind, destroys the necessary distinction and divisive­ness necessary for mutual co-operation and for healthful change.
The mind needs matter and matter needs mind. Hence any modern theory of time must concede the practical value of tensional
correctivity of interacting balances. Mind and matter coalesce in the deed, and the deed recreates time. Without matter in time, there is
no necessity for motion in time; therefore, without motion, time loses its temporality, its temporal horizon which demands an even
and functional relationship among past, present, and future.
     The literatures of almost two centuries are replete with what Carlyle, in 1831, called the disease of metaphysics, i.e.,


the attempt of mind to rise above the mind, "to envision and shut in...comprehend the mind." Carlyle's analysis of the human problem
extends into the very heart and will of man. In his absorption with his own mind and thoughts, man becomes self-conscious. The
absorption by doubt creates physical and moral inertia. Man is scared of his own shadow, of the technologies around him, and he
simply withdraws from what he does not comprehend. The theme that envelopes Victorian and modern literatures is the man
without action. The thought consumes the energies of the self and "The thought conducts not to the Deed; but in boundless chaos,
self-devouring, engenders monstrosities, phantasms, fire-breathing chimeras" (T. Carlyle, "Characteristics," 1831). Man's being is
made up of light and darkness, the light resting on the darkness and balancing it. "Everywhere there is Dualism, a perpetual
Contradiction dwells in us: 'Where shall I place myself to escape my own shadow?'" ("Characteristics," 1831).
     Doubt can only be overcome by action because action is the only certainty. We stand a species endangered by its own mind.
Gene Roddenberry's works stress the necessity of movement, of action, of change physical in nature and in effect. Space is the final
frontier, the cosmos where time and eternity meet, where nature provides man with the need to act by presenting the eternal void, the
vacuum for created and creating correspondences. Space is the context for temporal change; it is the setting, the material ground
whereon man walks and acts. Time is created and


recreated when a Kirk acts; space is perpetuated and filled where man acts, even though both entities exist a priori and

objectivity. The philosopher, Samuel Alexander (1859-1938), designated Einstein’s hyphenated space-time continuum into

a single whole to be analyzed and conceptualized by man's intuition. Alexander's intuition is analagous to the Romantics' defini-

tion of the human imagination. Intuition grasps space and time as infinite and continuous parts of larger wholes. Space is

temporal and time is spatial. If space existed independently of man, it would lose its continuity. Alexander makes it clear that

"there is no instant of time without a correlated point of space, and no point of space without a correlated instant of

time" (Cornelius Benjamin, "Ideas of Time in the History of Philosophy," in The Voices of Time, Ed. J.T. Fraser, London:

Penguin, 1968, 25-27). The Romantic artists made man the architect of this integrated continuum by use of imagination

and by use of the deed to synthesize opposites into an organic wholeness.

     The dialectic which bred the human doubt of modern man is largely brought about by the relationship between mind and matter

as it evolved with the rise of science, especially in the nineteenth century in Britain where two dialectically opposed schools--one

favoring mind (noumenology), the other favoring matter (phenomenology)--emerged to exacerbate


man's already dreadful self-consciousness. The one school was that of the transcendentalists or the Coleridgean, spiritualistic

viewpoint that fostered the priority of mind, of what Kant called the noumena in The Critique of Pure Reason. This posited

a world of potentiality rampant subjectivism, of mind over matter. The "it" was submerged in the sea of the mind, of the ME.

Literature witnesses the withdrawal of the NOT-ME in fact and in significance.

     Blake notes that "Mental Things alone are Real." Samuel Taylor Coleridge questions the reality of the "it" outside the human mind:

          0, Lady! we receive but what we give,
          And in our life alone does Nature live:
          Ours is her wedding garment, ours her shroud.
             --(S.T. Coleridge, "Dejection: An Ode," 1802)

For Coleridge, nature's life was wholly dependent on the human mind's perception and acknowledgment. Nature did not exist

autonomously outside the mind of man. This point of view is not that of Wordsworth who sought restoration of the autonomy and

of the mutual coexistence of both mind and matter:

          How exquisitely the individual Mind...
               to the external World
          Is fitted...
          The external World is fitted to the Mind;
          And the creation….which they with blessed might
          Accomplish--this is our high argument.
               --(W. Wordsworth, "Prospectus" to The Recluse, 1814).

This is also the high argument of Gene Roddenberry's Star Trek. Just as mind must not destroy matter, matter must not destroy or

dominate mind. This brings us to the other edge of the dialectic--


the school of nineteenth century empiricism and the rise of science. Here the stress is on clinical, empirical objectivity,
on keeping subjectivism out of objectivism in an attempt to define reality separate from human mentality. With the use of
Darwinism, man began to see the largeness of the world and the smallness of himself. The damage afforded the human ego
by the theory of natural selection and evolution should never be under­stated or underestimated. A civilization that prided itself
on reason now had to be content with rocks and bear skins. Not since the acknowledgment of the Copernican theory
(over the Ptolemaic theory) of the solar-centric universe has man's ego been so completely shattered by the vastness of the
NOT-ME and by the concomitant diminution of man's own sense of ego identity. Nature, man's loyal friend, guardian, guide,
and mistress in Wordsworth becomes at least in many a man's perspective, man's enemy and foe.
(In Memoriam, A.H.H.), refers to "Nature, red in tooth and claw" --
a metaphor that stalked the annals of man's literature for over a century. Nature, as NOT-ME was now against me, out to get
ME in a whirlwind of human paranoia. This syndrome of science marching on from point to point created the tyranny of the
NOT-ME, the dominance of matter at the expense of mind. Both theories of the mind/matter dialectic destroyed the equanimity
and reciprocity needed to create in time. Kant called the "it" world the world of phenomena, and man soon saw himself as
nature's plaything, like Hardy's Tess of the d'Urbervi1le's, of chance and of "Fate," a


submerged in and a rejection of beingness of objects as things became vague forces for man's intervention. The tyranny
of matter led to a furthur human internalization as the 'I' now contemplated the "ME" as it withdrew from Nature's awesome
hostility and the reciprocal positivity necessary for the health of both world's became once again Blake's barren heath and
"climes" where "lions roam." Star Trek is a Romantic attempt to once again restore the aesthetic of reciprocity, the
mutual tension that creates man in matter and matter in man, that gives mind to things and things to mind. For love to exist
and be creative, the opposites must unite, howbeit momentarily, for the reaction and growth of the tensional opposites.
     The need is to restore the itness of the 'IT' in balance with the meness of the 'ME.' Modern philosophers, especially
existentialists like Martin Heidegger, reassert the itness of the it, thereby balancing the noumenal and phenomenal worlds to
a creative and a tensional correctivity by stressing the kinetic role of the human imagination as the integrating force in the cosmos.
In essence, man is the "creator" of time and the recreation of himself. Man changes time; time changes man. Both grow;
both are reborn in an eternity founded upon mutability and change.
     Star Trek adds perspective and balance to the endless subject-­object, noumena-phenomena dialectic. Kant, in his
Critique of Pure Reason,
is one of Romanticism's philosophical fathers. Although Kant did not intend to do so, he is largely
responsible for the dichotomy between mind (ME) and matter (NOT-ME). This dichotomy did not begin with Kant
(it is as old as Plato), but Kant gave


philosophical credence to the apparent irreconcilable nature of the two extremes, thereby making the dichotomy a focus for
almost universal doubt and conjecture. Thomas Carlyle's famous portrait of S.T. Coleridge in The Life of John Sterling symbolizes
the immobilizing effects of this dichotomy as Coleridge is pictured criss­crossing the paths in Dr. Gillman's garden mumbling
"summ-ject" "omm-ject" to himself while lost in the Kantian haze world of transcendental doubt and indecision. The entire
nature of reality and the sources of reality, whether noumenal or phenomenal, are creating a catatonic doubt that lives even
into the contemporary twentieth century. Coleridge's favoritism for the summ-ject eventually dominated his view of reality
as essentially spiritual.
     The rise of science in the nineteenth century made the spiritualists even more transcendental in opposition to the evolving
tyranny of matter. A few voices, such as those of Wordsworth, of Carlyle, and of Tennyson, sought in some way a balanced,
working relationship between mind and matter in order to overcome the disease of metaphysics. The tradition of balance
continued into the twentieth century with the rise of Existentialism with its emphasis on Action as the criterion for being.
Sartre expressed the absurdity that often resulted from human actions, but from Kierkegaard to Heidegger, a distinct definition
of existence as action emerges. Roddenberry's Star Trek proposes change and human action as criteria for determining the
existence and the growth of the human personality by seeking a middle ground where thought and action, mind and matter,
meet in a common goal of moving forward by action in time. A balance exists, in the terms of Carlyle, between
transcendentalism and descendentalism. Kant did provide man with


the tool of intuition, and the Romantic poets made intuition into imagination; however, it was Kant who suggested the concept of

etwas uberhaupt where reality is only something in general, "a general kind of thing, but not any specific object or any specifi-

cally perceivable object (cf., Charles M. Sherover, Heidegger, Kant, and Time, Bloomington: Indiana Univ. Press, 1971, 84).

This something in general was called the "transcendental object" since:

            …it cannot be known at all, it can only be con-
            ceived or thought; and the concept of something
            in general (i.e., of its…'objectivity') since
            it contains no elements derived from empirical
            intuition, must be a pure concept.
                --(H.J. Paton, Kant's Metaphysics of Experience:
                   A Commentary on the First Half of the "Kritik der reinen Vernunft,"
                   Two Volumes. London: George Allen and Unwin; New York: Macmillan,
                  1961, Vol. 1, p. 418).

Kantian transcendentalism is best countermanded by an existentialist like Martin Heidegger who asserts that a thing must

have being outside our perception of it. Heidegger picks up where Wordsworth and Carlyle left off in the nineteenth century

by adamantly stating that synthesis of imagination is necessary to give man knowledge of objects, that concepts are linked to

imagination's synthetic power to unify opposites. Heidegger asserts that an object must be recognized as a “thing at hand, as a

thing that already is here for me to encounter," that the "structure of its be-ing, its to-be, must be recognized as an element within

my experience of it" (Sherover, p. 80). Objects are not created by the ME, but, through the synthesis of imagination,

they can be recreated by the ME. The world of object cannot be limited by a projection of the ME as it limits cognition by

only absorbing


so much of the object's representations, its itness things cannot be called "non-things" (Kant). Kant was correct, however,
in asserting that concepts (speculative) must be about something, about experience. Heidegger and Roddenberry see time
as a form of "inner sense" and of experience, and that knowledge of the NOT-­ME prescribes a temporal horizon of objectivity;
that the human imagination, as defined by Wordsworth, effects a unification of mind and matter, which synthesis involves both
atemporalization and, eventually, a temporal transcendence.
by imagination and by action, finds himself as a being-in-time, finds himself human and the world as world. Roddenberry's
episodes of time and space emphasize man's discovery of what it is to be a being-in-the-­world. He accomplishes this through the
Wordsworthian transcendental power of imagination which unites ME and NOT-ME, mind and matter, thought and sense, thereby
establishing man as "creator" in time. Carlyle notes the importance of the visible world because it means and means intensely:
"All visible things are emblems...Matter exists...spiritually, and to represent some Idea and body it forth."
     Matter always exists as symbol, a point as true in Star Trek as in Carlyle's thought. Carlyle also notes the importance of the
world of objects for the growth of man: "Rightly viewed no meanest object is insignificant; all objects are as windows, through
which the philosophic eye looks into Infinitude itself" (T. Carlyle, 'Sartor Resartus,' Book I, 1933). As in Carlyle, so in Roddenberry,
time has four basic senses. First, time is the symbol of evil and destruction; second, time is the emblem that reveals eternity; third



time is what Goethe calls man’s “seedfield” wherein he grows; fourth, time is a prison that can shut man out from the truth

of eternity (cf., C.F. Harrold's notes to Carlyle's 'Sartor Resartus,' Book 11, Ch. IV, 1937, 128). Time, if used and acted

upon, is a seedfield for growth; time, if not used and not acted upon, places man within the prison of time. The choice is man's:

to act or not to act , that is the question. Time is essential for what Goethe calls bildung, a self-development using the

innate and the acquired capabilities and using the NOT-ME, the world of objects around us (the environment). For time

and change in Star Trek, "Not what I have…but what I do is my Kingdom." As Carlyle also notes, "...the hardest problem

were...to find by study of yourself, and of the ground you stand on, what your combined inward and outward capability

specially is":

           Always too the new man is in a new time, under
           new conditions; his course can be the facsimile
           of no prior one, but is by its nature original...
           Thus in a whole imbroglio of Capabilities, we
           go stupidly gropping about, to grope which is
           ours….till the purblind Youth, by practice,
           acquire notions of distance, and become a seeing
                   --(Carlyle, 'Sartor Resartus,' 119).

     Star Trek insists on this bildung by confronting the self and the not-self in a search for meaning and for being through

action and experience. Thus, time involves Jung’s temporal horizon, a balanced past, present, and future, a confrontational

ethic whereby man creates eternity
by his "productions of Time." To confront, to create, to alter, is to effect change and is,

therefore, to dominate time through the imaginative unification between mind (will and reason)



 and matter (science, space), all in the context of time, all with bildung as goal. Man is historian and historicity itself--its

past, its present, and its future. Life is a journey, an archetypal quest with endless curiosity. In the garden of Eden, in the

beginning, man was created curious and was then was damned for exercising his curiosity. The result was a "fall" that is really

a felix culpa giving man a freedom to lust for knowledge through inner and outer space. The eternal quest for the marriage

between man and his world goes on, the quest between man and matter without the destruction of mutual identities, with a

preservation of individual distinctions in an imaginative synthesis, for to integrate fully is to destroy the sources of time.

To meet is growth: weitamschaung and
wanderlahre. Carlyle calls this the "Gospel of Freedom, the Gospel of Man's Force,

commanding, and one day to be all-commanding" because separation breeds only isolation:

           I say there is no such separation: nothing
hitherto was ever stranded, cast aside; but all,
were it only a withered leaf, works together with all;
           is borne forward on the bottomless, shoreless flood

   of action, and lives through perpetual metamorphoses.
(T.Carlyle, 'Sartor Resartus,' 72).

     This doctrine that Carlyle calls Palingenesia is the key to Roddenberry's theory of time and change. Carlyle notes: "…man lives in Time,

has his whole earthly being, endeavor and destiny shaped for him by Time: only in the transitory Time-Symbol is the ever-motionless

Eternity we stand on made manifest." The relationship among past, present, and future is a wholism, just as truth in the words of Schiller,

immer wird, nie ist
: never is, always is a-being. Roddenberry's theory of time is old, yet timeless, yet new--as old as the


garden, as new as the web:

           The true Past departs not, nothing that was worthy
           in the Past, departs; no Truth or Goodness realised
           by man ever dies, or can die; but is all still here,
           and recognised or not, lives and works through endless
           changes. If all things ... are discerned by us, and
           exist for us, in an element of Time, and therefore
           of Mortality and Mutability; yet Time itself reposes on
           Eternity: the truth Great and Transcendental has its
           basis and substance in Eternity; stands revealed to
           us as Eternity in a vesture of Time ... the Present is
           the living sum-total of the whole Past. In Change,
           therefore, there is nothing terrible, nothing super­-
           natural; on the contrary, it lies in the very
           essence of our lot and life in this world. Today is
not yesterday: we ourselves change.
               --(T. Carlyle, "Characteristics," 1831).

In Gene Roddenberry's "last frontier," man must work to be man. As though Roddenberry through Star Trek

chose his ship's title with due deliberation, its name is who man is and should be: " ...many so spend their whole

term, and in ever-new expectation, ever-new disappointment, shift from enterprise to enterprise, and from side to side:

 till at length, as exasperated striplings of threescore-and-ten, they shift into their last enterprise, that of being buried"

(T. Carlyle, 'Sartor
Resartus,' 119-20).

finis--end of Chapter 3)