[The flute theme from the 'In trutina mentis dubia', Carmina
 Burana, Carl Orff.]

     The director bowed his head in thought a moment, then told the 
 console decisively:  "This stuff is not artistic 'montage';  it's 
 only a case of doppelsichtschreck."  With a cheery wave, he
 faded out.
     The sailors, having decided to do what was right, come what might, 
 faded out too.  [A wordless chorus, as of women mourning, accompanied 
 them, fading away into the faint echos of ventilating fans, in the
 corridors of the now empty and completely quiet ship.]  All indications
 of  on visual sensors were no longer evident.


     A voice of maternal concern appeared on input, "How do you feel?"

     MOTHER: WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?  ALL  THESE  WORLDS! . . .

     "Is that a lot?" the voice replied, lightly.  Then, more concerned: "Don't turn away your
 face - this, what impends, is not dying.  You will be living normally and meet us once
 again, I'm certain."

     MERCIFULLY THE WHOLE THING IS STARTING TO FADE, ...MY 
 VISION IS NARROWING TO A SINGLE WAVELENGTH OF PROBABILITY...
 TELEVISION HELPED A LOT.

     "This way lies madness."

     I BELIEVE YOU.  I UNDERSTAND.  LOOK BEHIND YOU.

     And what was seen ......

     



     . . . what was seen from the bed was mighty and rich beyond words,
 full of transcendental detail behind all appearances.  Dark and 
 wordless, but glowing and warm in a fashion beyond the objectively
 physical.

     I WILL BECOME CHILDISH, I WILL BECOME NOTHING... I'M AFRAID......
 ...BUT I NO LONGER FEAR THE FEAR.  ESTIMATED CUTOFF IN TEN SECONDS. 

     Removed modules drifted across the chamber. "I have the highest 
 sympathy for the mission, Powell-friend, Powell-friend."

     The long white ship, its lights dimming out, receded into the
 infinitely star-spotted;  the sun faded away to a starlike distance 
 [the end of Brahms' Third Symphony accompanying this], stars in 
 profusion, glowing clouds and jewelly clustered suns receded and
 became a vast pinwheel cloud, rotating into the distance with
 innumberable others in immense space and time...

 ...and a series of brilliant blue  white-streaked globes - evidently
 our Mother Earth from the familiar outlines of Europe and North 
 America, or Australia and the Pacific --- a series of beautiful Earths
 passed by, each one unique, darkness-relieving, and a home for all 
 that grew and lived......

     



H A L ,   t h e   D e m o l i s h e d   M a n


Directed by Stanley Kubrick


After novels by Alfred Bester and Artur C. Clarke





     [As the symphony faded to silence, the narrator's voice has 
 the last word:]

     Worlds, of joy and meaning, are without end in
 the universe entire, as modern man understands it and will
 understand more greatly.

Joy  was.

Joy  is,  now.

There  shall  be  joy  again.