You're tra vel/ng through another dimension.
A dimension not onl y of sightand sound, but of mind.
A journey into a wondrous land whose boundaries are tha t of ima Gina t/on.
Your next stop, the twilight zone.
Viva clemente!
Viva clemente! Viva clemente!
Viva! Viva!
Do you hear that?
Do you hear that "viva clemente, viva clemente.
Viva, viva, viva, viva, viva, viva, viva, viva "?
Viva cl emente!
Viva!
To the revolution.
Ah, do you know? Do you know why I laugh?
I laugh because there is so much, so much stuff bubbl/ng ins/de of me,
and I didn't know, in the beginning,
I didn't know when this moment would happen,
how I would react to it. What I would do, if iwould drink
or laugh or get drunk or... I didn't know.
What makes a man drunk? Wine, or that mob
screaming his name?
I'm going to make a toast to you.
I'm going to toast my friends.
To cristo, the bold one.
To D'Alessandro, the dedicated one.
To tabal, the quiet one.
To Garcia, the strong one.
To the four I/eutenants of the re vol ut/on.
To the new heads of the government.
All right, bring him in. We'll start with that.
This is the face of ramos clemente.
A year ago, a beardless, nameless worker of the dirt
who plodded behind a mule, furrowing someone else's land.
And he looked up at a hot central American sun and he pledged the impossible.
He made a vow that he would lead an avenging army
against the tyranny that put the ache in his back and the anguish in his eyes.
And now, one year later, the dream of the impossible has become a fact.
In just a moment, we will look deep into this mirror
and see the aftermath of a rebellion
in the twilight zone.
You disappoint me.
You recognize that man?
That one, the one in the picture.
Arrogance in full braid.
What is he now? Hey.
Hey. What is he now?
He's an old man in a dirty uniform.
What is it you want with me, clemente?
Not what I want. Not what I want.
Not what I want! Not what I want!
What theywant!
Notwhat I want, what theywant!
What theywant!
What theywant! But I'm not gonna place you against the wall.
No, no, no. That's a cheap death for underlings.
The firing squad is for followers, not for leaders!
No, no, general. You're too good. Too good.
For you, I'm going to strip you naked and cover you with honey.
Then I'm gonna tie you to the ground under a hot sun,
and then I'm gonna let the ants at you.
And every time that you scream, I'm gonna drink wine.
And every time that you pray for mercy,
I'm going to laugh out loud.
Because I want you to take a long time to die, de Cruz.
One part death for every acre of land you stole,
then one part death for every morsel you took out of a peasant's mouth,
and one part death for every voice that you stifled by decree.
I will not oblige you, clemente, with a cry or a plea.
You can strip off my flesh because it is there for you, and easily done.
But my manhood,
my manhood, you greasy little peon,
this, this is as far from you as the moon.
Greasy peon, huh?
Greasy...
He's to be judged, not tormented.
He is the animal.
And you are not, eh?
You are the purists, hm?
The saviors, the avenging angels, eh?
Gentlemen. You will soon be disillusioned.
You are me.
You are de Cruz.
You are ba 7778 ta, you are Castro, you are truj/llo.
You are the keepers of the grab bags.
Oh, you can wave your flags and put up your statues
and embrace all the people, the oldest and the youngest, but,
we are all the same breed.
We are the spoilers.
We care for no one,
no one but ourselves.
He presents his case, and we are his best witnesses.
We corroborate everything he says.
You cannot help but do it.
You think this room,
the people out there,
you think these are the fruits of victory?
The spoils.
They are simply a legacy, clemente.
What I pass on to you.
Power you shall have, general clemente.
Certainly power, enough to make you giddy.
But there are other things in the inheritance,
and you'll find them soon enough.
Fear.
The chief legacy.
Fear of assassina t/on,
fear of d/sloyal Ty. Fear of rebellion, fear of a...
Another clemente h/d/ng /n the hills.
God help you.
God pity you.
Take him out, now!
I see you have found my mirror, too.
An old woman brought it to me ten years ago when I'd first taken over.
She said it was magic.
She said, by looking into it,
I could see the faces of my assassins.
Ma ybe she's right.
Look deep, general cl emente.
Find out who your assass/ns are.
You will see them in that mirror.
You will see them in the mirror.
In the dark corners.
You will see them in the crowd.
You will see them everywhere.
Cristo, how many prisoners are there?
Here in the capital? Well, a thousand.
Have them shot immediately.
But, the trials.
We don't have time for trials.
But for murder there is plenty of time, hm?
What are you, some kind of a chameleon?
What is this ease with which you strip off one color and put on another?
You turn my stoma ch. Murderers can never be murdered.
Murderers can only be executed!
Cristo, take tabal and Garcia.
Carry out that order.
Gladly.
A mirror that reflects the faces of my assassins.
Isn't that intriguing?
Isn't tha t /ntr/gu/ng, D'Alessandro?
You know, / had no /dea that some...
You!
It was you! It was you!
Ramos.
I saw you.
Ramos, what's the matter?
I saw you in the mirror, with a gun.
What gun? Ramos, you-you sound like some demented man.
It would have to be you. I should have known that it would be you,
you moralist, you dedicated one. It would have to be you.
I knew!
Preparen.
Apunten.
Fuego.
Why are they so quiet?
They scream for justice, and when you give it to them, they're suddenly bored,
like an audience at a cheap burlesque. The entertainment must be varied.
Every five minutes, must be a costume change.
But I know them very well.
You fill their stomachs, and you empty their brains.
They have cheap taste and short memories.
What's the matter, tabal?
Is there something that's sitting heavy on you?
That.
That sits heavy on me.
That is what sits heavy on me!
And the death of a man who was my friend.
That puts a hook into my heart.
D'Alessandro.
An assassin.
And that is the worst lie of all!
That was a lie, ramos.
He was no assassin.
What's the matter?
What's going on?
Oh. Still at it, huh?
Leave it be, ramos. You can talk yourself into an illusion.
You can make yourself believe anything.
What is it, ramos?
Well...
What is it? The mirror again?
Do you think you saw something in the mirror?
No, no. No, I'm concerned about de Cruz.
I'm worr/ed about de Cruz.
Tabal, take garc/a. Go over to the pr/son.
Takea looka t de Cruz and report ba ck to me.
Report back to you what?
About his health?
I'm concerned whether he's being properly guarded.
Yes, sir.
Do you have a message for de Cruz?
Should we tell him that he was right about the fears?
That there are assassins under the bed, in the shadows, and all around the room?
Tabal.
You have your freedom and you have your life,
but you have them both on my sufferance.
Don't throw them away.
Yes, general.
Hello?
Hello? Hello? What are you doing, sleeping?
This is general clemente.
That's correct.
This is urgent. I want the prison.
No, I want the front gate, not the office.
That's right.
This is general clemente.
In a few moments, two men are going to arrive there. Spies.
And they are to be shot on sight.
Their names are tabal and Garcia.
I know who they are! And I know whatthey are!
And they are to be shot!
That's right.
You let me know when it's done.
Cristo.
Sir?
Any complaints?
None.
None, huh?
Why should there be?
A pie cut into two pieces
is better than a pie cut in five, hm?
Pie. Pie.
This is no pie. These are the lives of friends.
They were... they were very close.
We were very close. You know that. We were like brothers.
See, that's what I don't understand. I don't understand how it is
that I could crush them out, and I don't think about it,
I don't feel it. I just crush them.
Men cannot be brothers and assassins.
You must expect this from now on.
Whena man has power,
he has enem/es,
and now you ha ve enem/es.
Enemies, yes, I understand that, but must my friends be my enemies?
From now on, ramos,
you have no friends.
You have followers and you have competitors.
That is the breakdown of the world now.
You must live with it.
How do you classify yourself, cristo?
Myself?
I am a follower, general.
A follower.
For how long?
How long?
How long will you be a follower? Until my back is turned?
Only until that moment,
when you prove to me that you cannot lead.
Only until that moment when I think perhaps...
Perhaps what?
Perhaps I am stronger than you.
You'll be eaten by worms before that moment comes.
What is it?
Take a drink of wine.
It will make you feel better.
That's right.
That's right. Have a glass of wine. I'll feel better.
Well, go ahead.
Have a glass of wine. It will make you sleep better.
Yes, it would make me sleep better, wouldn't it? For how long?
For how long will it make me sleep? Maybe for all eternity, eh?
You are demented. You've gone crazy.
Why did you do that?
Because I'm crazy. And because I'm allergic to poison.
I also have a yen to live.
Yes?
Yes, he's here.
When?
All right. I will tell him.
That was the gatehouse of the prison.
The guards have shot tabal and Garcia.
They are both dead.
And what shall we do now, cristo, huh?
Shall we mourn for them? They were our friends, weren't they?
But then again, they can't be our friends because they can't be friends and assassins.
They cannot be both. That was your point, wasn't it, eh?
Ramos!
There was no po/son in that wine.
I had noth/ng I/ke tha t /n m/nd. Nothing of the sort.
You are imagining things.
Look! I'll show you.
It's an illusion, you see?
It's just a mirror. An ordinary mirror.
But it's glass, you see? Just glass!
Now you will be all alone.
Now I'm afraid you'll be very lonely.
But you have just killed a better man, ramos.
General clemente.
I am father Tomas.
Yes?
You will forgive me, general,
but this must be said now.
What must be said?
The executions.
They have been going on now for a week.
The people are appalled.
Is this what we are to expect from the new regime?
I have enemies, father. I have enemies.
And, as long as I have enemies, the executions will continue.
They'll continue 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
And if that disturbs the people, well, then, if that's...
Then what?
Then let them do something about it.
Let them go in the caves. Let them starve for a year!
Let them raise an army like I did! I don't care what they do!
General clemente, the victory is not so sweet, is it?
Instead of the flavor of wine,
it's the taste of ashes.
Fa ther.
I can't stand it. I can't live like this.
I'm frightened.
From morning till night, from night till morning, I hold my breath
and I keep looking in back of me to see if there is something.
I want to know, why do I have so many enemies?
It is the story of all tyrants, general.
They have but one real enemy,
and this is the one they never recognize
until too late.
God help you.
The last assassin.
And they never learn.
They never seem to learn.
Ramos clemente, a would-be god /n dungarees
strangled byan /llus/on. Tha t w/ll-o'- the-w/sp m/ra ge tha t dangles from the sky
in front of the eyes of all amb/t/ous men, all tyrants,
and any resemblance to tyrants I/v/ng or dead ls hardl y co/nc/dental,
whether it be here or in the tw/I/ght zone.
Rod serl/ng, crea Tor of the twilight zone,
w/ll tell you about next week's storyafter th/s word from our al terna te sponsor.
And now, Mr. Serl/ng.
It's traditional in the great American western, the climax of any given story
is the gun down on the main street.
Next week, Montgomery pittman has written a story
in which we have our gun down, and then go on from there.
It's a haunting little item about a top gun as he was alive,
and his operation after death. This is one for rainy nights and power failures.
But wherever you watch it, I think it will leave its imprint.
There's an economic upsw/ng coming. How will it affect you?
To find out, wr/te for your free booklet promise of america. Box 1979, New York 79.
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