Original subtitles

The Defiant searched the area for almost six hours.

We couldn't find any sign of survivors.

The Cortéz was a good ship.

You knew Captain Swofford a long time.

I introduced him to his wife.

Patrolling the Cardassian borders

is getting more and more dangerous.

You never know when you're going to run

into a squadron of Jem'Hadar fighters.

I guess we popped the champagne cork too soon, huh?

Everyone thought the war was over

when we retook the station

and pushed the Dominion back into Cardassian space.

I never believed that, and neither did you.

A lot of good that did the 400 people on the Cortéz.

Ah. Mr. Sisko.

How do you like our station so far?

Well, it certainly is...

big.

I heard about Quentin Swofford.

I'm sorry.

Look, Dad... I know I haven't been very good company

in the last few days.

I didn't come here to be entertained.

I came to see you and Jake.

Well...

you certainly picked an interesting time

to take your first trip away from Earth.

Well, I figured it was now or never.

Besides, I've been worried about you.

The last couple of times we've talked

it seemed like you were carrying the weight

of the entire Alpha Quadrant

on your shoulders.

Sometimes it certainly feels that way.

Dad...

Just say it, Son.

I don't know how much more I can take.

I don't know how many more friends I can lose.

Every time I achieve a real victory

something like this happens

and everything seems to turn to ashes.

So what do you want to do?

Maybe it's time for me to step down--

let someone else make the tough calls.

I see.

No one is indispensable, Son.

Not even you.

Whatever decision you make, I'll support.

Of course, if Quentin Swofford was here

I bet he'd have a few things

to say to you.

But he's not here, and that's the whole point.

I'd say you have some thinking to do

and I've got a dinner date with my grandson.

So you'd better get to it.

Who was that?

Where'd he go?

Who?

The man that just walked by my door.

I didn't see anyone.

I could have sworn...

I don't know what you're so worried about, Ben.

I'm not taking my ship

anywhere near the Cardassian border.

I realize that, but the Dominion

is getting bolder and bolder

and your freighter is no match

for a Jem'Hadar attack ship.

Ah, they've got to catch me first.

You're really not worried, are you?

No. I'm fearless, and you know that.

That's why you love me.

I think I follow that logic.

MAN: Hey, Benny!

Catch the game?

What?

Who was that?

Who was who?

Ben?

Where are you going?

( car horns honking )

( jackhammer drilling )

( horn honking )

( tires screeching )

( yelling )

( whistle blows )

WOMAN: Somebody needs to help him!

Call an ambulance! Oh!

BASHIR: He's awake now.

Ben, are you all right?

I think so.

Thank God.

Hey, Dad, you scared us there for a minute.

What happened?

BASHIR: I don't know.

I'm reading some unusual synaptic potentials.

Your neural patterns are similar

to those you experienced last year.

You mean... when I was having those visions about Bajor?

JOSEPH: Visions?

Does this have something to do with those Prophets

you're always telling me about?

He's not going to need surgery again, is he?

I'm not sure yet.

So I'd like you to remain overnight

for observation.

Is that absolutely necessary?

Take a look at these readings.

BOY: Hey, you going to buy that or not?

( on radio ): ♪ ...Shine little glow-worm, glimmer, glimmer... ♪

Now, personally, I don't see the attraction.

Spaceships, flying saucers, men from Mars.

What's wrong with men from Mars?

Nothing, except it's all make-believe.

Me? I like war stories.

Did you see From Here to Eternity?

Burt Lancaster standing there

in the middle of Pearl Harbor

machine gun blazing...

( makes machine gun sound )

shooting down those Zeroes.

If it had been flying saucers--

forget about it.

So you going to buy that or not?

Benny!

Hello, Albert.

I, uh...

I thought you might be going to the, uh...

the office.

We could walk there together.

Exactly. Uh, uh...

ah, there they are.

So, you're looking at the Galaxy I see.

Paper here! Paper!

Captioning sponsored by PARAMOUNT PICTURES

Voila. A pitcher of plain water

instantly becomes a pitcher of iced tea.

Incredible!

"White Rose Redi-Tea."

What an appalling concept.

Oh! H.G. Wells would've liked it.

I doubt it.

No self-respecting Englishman would.

Pabst!

Pabst, get out here.

What's wrong now, Herb?

I'll give you one guess.

Oh, the "Battle of the Doughnuts," Round 28.

That's it? That's what you

called me out here for-- to complain about the doughnuts?

They're stale again.

Delicious.

Delicious, my eye.

These are two days old, and you know it.

I have been eating doughnuts my whole life.

These weren't baked more than...

...six hours ago.

That's it. I quit.

I'm going over to Galaxy.

Ha!

Galaxy? That rag?

Who's winning? I bet that rag...

Draw, same as always.

You want to write Galaxy? Go ahead.

But they're not going to pay you

four cents a word for your stories.

You're paying him four cents a word?

Stay out of this, Julius.

Did you see where I put the uh...?

The matches? I gave them to you.

For that fantasy crap you write

you're lucky to be getting two.

JULIUS: I beg your pardon?

What's that? The latest Galaxy.

( gasps ): Benny has the new issue of Galaxy.

Let me see that.

Heinlein, Bradbury, Sturgeon.

Quite a lineup.

Add Herbert Rossoff to them, and it'd be complete.

What if I promise you fresh doughnuts tomorrow?

Why should I believe you?

I'll even throw in a couple of crullers.

Okay, I'll stay.

Don't do us any favors.

Good. Now that we've finished

with the old business, on to the new.

Time to hand out next month's story assignments.

Rittenhouse, we're waiting!

Okay, friends and neighbors.

Let's see what Uncle Roy has for you today.

All right, I've titled this one

"Please Take Me With You." Who wants it?

KAY: Hmm, what do you think, Jules?

I think we can do something with that.

Oh, I'll bet you can.

I can see it now--

the lonely little girl

befriended by empathetic aliens

who teach her how to smile.

It's enough to make you go out and buy a television set.

Next.

RITTENHOUSE: And this is Mr. Pabst's favorite.

PABST: "Honeymoon on Andoras."

Oh, you've got to be kidding.

What? So I had too much sauerkraut

on my franks that night.

What can I say?

Be that as it may, that is

the worst piece of garbage

I have ever seen. Thank you.

I'll take it.

Of course, you will.

You have an affinity for garbage, don't you?

The picture may be garbage

but the story-- the story will be art.

( others scoffing )

PABST: All right

I haven't got a title for this one yet.

Anybody got any ideas?

I'll think of something.

PABST: All right, next order of business.

Some of our readers have been writing in

wanting to know what you people look like.

KAY: Oh, write back and tell them

we look like writers--

poor, needy and incredibly attractive.

Well, our publisher has a better idea.

Mr. Stone has decided to run a picture of you

in next month's issue.

Is that absolutely...

Necessary?

I'm afraid it is.

Kay, you can sleep late that day.

Of course, I can.

God forbid the public ever finds out

that K.C. Hunter is a woman.

I suppose I'm sleeping late that day, too.

It's not personal, Benny,

but as far as our readers are concerned

Benny Russell is as white as they are.

Let's just keep it that way.

( sarcastically ): Oh, yes.

If the world's not ready for a woman writer

imagine what would happen if it learned

about a Negro with a typewriter.

Run for the hills.

It's the end of civilization.

What about W.E.B. Du Bois, Zora Neale Hurston,

Langston Hughes, Ralph Ellison, Richard Wright?

Did you ever hear of Native Son?

That's literature for liberals and intellectuals.

The average reader's not going to spend his hard-earned cash

on stories written by Negroes.

Would someone please shoot me and put me out of my misery?

Oh, how I long for a gun.

I'm sorry, Benny.

I wish things were different, but they're not.

Wishing never changed a damn thing.

Come on, Benny, it's just a photo.

I'll try to remember that.

You're a dog.

All right, enough standing around.

Get back to work.

( typewriter clattering )

Hey, hey, hey, hey.

What's the hurry?

That's my drawing.

Is that so?

Nice suit.

Where'd you get it?

I bought it.

Can I have my drawing back?

Hey, boy, I'd watch that tone of voice if I were you.

What are you doing around here?

I work here.

Yeah? Where?

In there.

What are you, the janitor?

Awfully well-dressed

for a janitor.

How do we know that picture's yours?

It's the drawing of a space station.

BOTH: Space station?

Hey, hey... hey, hey.

Well, get off it already.

Okay, okay.

See?

It's not worth anything except to me.

I say we run him in, check him for priors.

Nah... we got to be uptown in 15 minutes.

Take your drawing...

and get out of here.

Hey, hey. You're getting off with a warning this time.

Next time, not so lucky.

Now, get out of here.

You heard him-- move on.

I don't know, Kevin.

This whole city's going to hell in a handbasket, huh?

Damn shame.

Come on.

MAN: And he said to me...

"these words are trustworthy and true.

"And the Lord, God of the spirits of the Prophets,

"has sent an angel to show his servants

what must soon take place."

Praise the Lord.

Open their eyes.

Help them to see.

Are you talking to me?

"Oh, that my words were now written.

Oh, that they were printed in a book."

Write those words, Brother Benny.

Let them see the glory

of what lies ahead.

"B-Benny"?

How do you know my name?

Go now and write the truth that's in your heart--

the truth "that shall set them free."

Praise be the word of the Lord.

Praise to the word of the Prophets!

( keys clattering )

( soft jazz plays )

( sighs )

( resumes typing )

BENNY AND BOYS: ♪ Doo-wa, doo-wa ♪

♪ Doo-wa, doo-wa ♪

♪ Hey, doo-wa, doo-wa ♪

♪ Doo-wa, doo-wa ♪

♪ Hey, doo-wa, doo-wa ♪

♪ Doo-wa, doo-wa ♪

♪ Hey, bop ♪

♪ Bop, bop, bop, ba. ♪

( buzz of conversation )

WOMAN: Hey, baby.

Have a seat.

The usual?

How about scrambling those eggs today?

Oh, my.

Aren't we feeling adventurous.

I have just written the best story of my life.

Well, that's great, baby.

Um... I've got some good news, too.

I talked to Mrs. Jackson last night

and she's serious about retiring

in the next couple of years.

I asked her about selling this place to us

and she said that she would be willing.

Cassie, we have been over this.

I have a job; I am a writer.

And how much money have you earned doing that?

I've only been working at it for a few years.

A few years? More like 15,

if you count all those stories

you wrote in the Navy.

That was amateur stuff.

Oh, baby.

Neither one of us is getting any younger.

Can't you see? This is our chance.

We can make some money. We can get married.

You're always talking about writing for the future.

Well, look around you. This is our future.

( patrons applauding )

Cassie, hear the game last night?

Went two for four, robbed Snider of a tater.

Should've heard the crowd...

yelling and carrying on.

Sure, they were yelling.

They want to know why the Giants are in fifth place.

Would you please tell this fool

to take his business someplace else?

Well, I thought about it.

Trouble is, if he did leave, he'd take my heart with him.

Well, suit yourself.

But if you ask me

it's a waste of a very pretty heart.

I don't think so.

Strike three. You're out.

Oh, that's all right.

I'll get another turn at bat.

How about some steak and eggs?

Ah, coming right up.

Uh, but tell me something.

How come you still living uptown?

I mean, a famous ballplayer like you

you can live anywhere you want.

The hell I can.

They can hardly get used to the idea

of me playing alongside them.

Living next door to them?

That's a whole other story.

Besides, around here, when people look at me

it's 'cause they admire me.

There, I'm just another colored boy

that can hit a curveball.

Now, if you will excuse me, my public awaits.

Ladies?

Oh, hi, guys. Yeah.

I'll see about those eggs.

Hey, hey, Benny.

You want to buy a watch?

How did you get that?

I found it. Nice, huh?

Jimmy, you got to turn this around

or one day you're going to find yourself

in some serious trouble.

Anything I can get into, I can get out.

You keep thinking that way

and watch what happens.

Man, why you always trying to lecture me?

I'm not trying to lecture you, Jimmy.

I'm just trying to help.

You want to help me?

You can buy this watch.

I can use the cash.

Why don't you get a job?

As what? A delivery boy or a dishwasher?

( laughs )

No, thanks.

I like being my own boss, setting my own hours.

Sounds like a great life.

Yours ain't no better--

writing stories about a bunch of white people

living on the moon.

Man, who cares about that?

Hey, I'm not doing that anymore.

I'm writing about us.

( laughs )

What, colored people on the moon?

BENNY: Check out next month's issue.

Colored people on the moon.

( chuckling )

I just might do that.

But first, I'm going to need to raise me some cash.

Oh!

She's got a worm in her belly.

Oh, that's disgusting.

That's interesting, but that's disgusting.

And you

uh, um...

if you don't mind my asking, that is

you... you are...?

I'm Mr. Pabst's new secretary, Darlene Kursky.

Which one of yous wrote this?

I did.

You?

Surprised?

Well... it's just, it's the best thing I've read

since The Puppet Masters.

I read a lot of science fiction.

Bless you, my child.

The world needs more people like you.

This story is really...

It's... um... uh...

How should I put it?

It's... it's very...

Impressive?

Yes.

It's a damn fine piece of writing is what it is.

And "Deep Space Nine"

is a very intriguing title.

Very admirable.

The master of understatement.

What he really means is

he wishes he had half your talent.

KAY: You know what, Benny?

I like this Major of yours. She's a tough cookie.

Science fiction needs more strong women characters.

I'm always saying that, aren't I, Jules?

Ad nauseam, dear.

These Cardassians...

I like the way you described them

especially the neck ridges.

I'm going to do some sketches for you to take a look at.

Make a nice cover.

Don't waste your time.

You, get back to work.

Right away, Mr. Pabst.

You, too, Roy.

Douglas, you're not going to stand there

and tell us you don't like this story.

Oh, I like it, all right. It's good.

It's very good.

But you know I can't print it.

Why not?

Oh, come on, Benny.

Your hero's a Negro captain

the head of a space station, for Christ's sake.

What's wrong with that?

People won't accept it.

It's not believable.

And men from Mars are?

PABST: Stay out of this, Herb.

Look, Benny

I am a magazine editor.

I am not a crusader.

I'm not here to change the world.

I'm here to put out a magazine, that's my job.

That means I have to answer to the publisher

the national distributors, the wholesalers

and none of them are going to want

to put this story on the newsstand.

For all we know, it could cause a race riot.

Congratulations, Douglas.

That's the most imbecilic attempt

to rationalize personal cowardice that I've ever heard.

Oh. He's angry now.

Huh! Herb's been angry ever since Josef Stalin died.

What's that supposed to mean?

You know exactly what it means.

You calling me a Red?! Easy, easy!

Calm down, dear boy.

We're writers, not Vikings.

I'm not going to stand here and let some craven fascist

call me a pinko and get away with it.

Douglas, um...

what did you think of, uh... of my story?

I loved it.

You see, Albert's got the right idea.

He's not interested in Negroes or whites.

He writes about robots.

That's because he is a robot.

No offense, Albert.

Well, I...

like robots.

They're very...

uh-uh, efficient.

Here. Write me a novella based on this picture.

I'll print it in next month's issue.

You do a good job, you might even get the cover.

What about my story?

Look, the way I see it

you can either burn it or stick it

in a drawer for the next 50 years

or however long it takes the human race

to become color-blind.

I want people to read it now.

Fine. You want me to print it?

Make the captain white.

That's not what I wrote!

It's your call.

( office door closes )

I'm sorry they didn't buy your story, baby.

Really, I am.

I told you you were wasting your time.

A colored captain.

The only reason they'll ever let us in space

is if they need someone to shine they shoes.

Ain't that right, Cassie?

I don't know, and to be honest

I don't much care what happens a hundred years from now.

It's today that matters.

Well, I've got

news for you.

Today or 100 years from now--

it don't make a bit of difference.

As far as they're concerned, we'll always be niggers.

Things are going to change.

They have to.

Oh, you keep telling yourself that.

Maybe this is all happening for a reason.

You mean, maybe it's God's way of telling me

that I should quit writing

and go into the restaurant business?

Hey, it's possible.

Baby, I know we can make this work for us.

We could be happy.

Besides, you don't have to give up

writing altogether.

Maybe you could write something for the Amsterdam News

or... some other Negro newspaper.

I'm not a reporter.

I'm a writer.

I write fiction

and the Amsterdam News

is not going to publish stories

about a space station 400 years into the future.

Hear the game last night?

( yelling )

( gasping )

Oh, I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to frighten you.

You don't look so good.

You sick or something?

Oh, no, I'm fine.

You want to lie down in the back?

No, no, no, I... I just need some air.

Are, are we still on for tonight?

I'll pick you up about 10:00.

( door shuts )

Well, what are you doing till 10:00?

Whatever it is

I won't be doing it with you.

PREACHER: Hello, Brother Benny.

You again.

I don't understand what you want from me.

To follow the path of the Prophets.

Walk with the Prophets, Brother Benny.

Show us the way.

What way?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Write the words, Brother Benny--

the words that will lead us out of the darkness

onto the path

of righteousness!

Write the words, Brother Benny!

Write the words!

( playing slow jazz )

Hey, baby.

Hey, hey, hey.

You forgot all about our date.

Oh... our date.

I'm sorry.

I was working.

Ben Sisko?

Isn't that your colored captain?

Mm-hmm.

Why are you writing

another one of those stories?

You couldn't sell the last one.

What makes you think this one

will be any different?

It probably won't be, but it doesn't matter.

It's what I've got to do.

Right now, what you've got to do is eat.

I'm not hungry.

( yawning )

What time is it anyway?

It's after midnight.

I should be getting home to bed.

But before I go, what do you say

we take a spin on the dance floor?

Okay.

Mmm. Feels good, doesn't it?

I could stay like this forever.

Mmm, me, too.

It's times like these

that I wish we'd never heard of the Dominion.

The Dominion?!

What do you mean?

You said something about the Dominion.

What is it, Ben?

What's wrong?

I don't know.

I think I'm losing my mind.

What? Tell me, tell me what's wrong.

I'm starting to see things from my story.

It's as if I'm becoming this Captain Sisko.

Okay, baby, you just need to get some rest.

It's all right. It's all right.

I'm with you.

I'm with you, baby.

Just take it easy.

Shh.

Have you lost your mind?!

Lately, I've been asking myself the same question.

I give you a novella to write.

I even offer you a shot at the cover.

Three weeks later, instead of a novella

you come back with six stories--

six sequels to a story I refused to publish

in the first place.

So I guess the answer

to the question we've both been asking

is, yeah, you are certifiable.

I think you should print your own stories, you know.

Through a private publishing house.

A nice, elegant volume-- 50 to 100 copies.

That's a great idea.

Yeah, might as well write it in chalk on the sidewalk.

More people would read it that way.

I've got an idea.

Why not make them, you know, a, uh...

a d-dream?

What's that?

Just make the ending

of your first story of "Deep Space Nine" a...

dream.

Would that make a difference?

That depends.

On what?

On who's doing the dreaming.

Well, obviously someone, uh... someone without a lot of hope.

A-a shoeshine boy, a convict--

someone dreaming of a better future.

( sighs )

A Negro.

DARLENE: Yeah.

Well, I suppose it'd have to be

if he was dreaming about a Negro captain.

HERBERT: Hold on.

Making it a dream guts the story.

Shut up, Herb!

I think it makes it more poignant.

What about the other Sisko stories?

He can't make them all dreams.

Let him get this one published first

then he can worry about the others.

What do you think, Benny?

I think...

it's better than chalk on the sidewalk.

Six, seven...

Can I play?

Hey, Jimmy, I got great news.

We're headed for the stars.

Yeah, sure, whatever.

Oh, come on. I'll buy you lunch.

I'll tell you all about it.

Later. I got some business

to take care of.

Oh? What kind of business?

Big time. That's all I got to say.

Hey, hey, hey. Hold it, hold it.

What are you talking about?

Don't worry about it.

It's cool, man, I got it under control.

Huh?

I'll see you around.

Bottom of the seventh, I'm up again.

0-2 fastball-- bam!--

into the left field bleachers.

Had to be 400 feet.

I know all about it, Willie.

I read the newspaper.

Oh, but you got to admit--

they don't tell it like I tell it.

BENNY: Hey, Cassie!

( giggles )

Hey, man, did you hear the game last night?

I went two for four.

Yeah, Willie, that's great.

But I just hit a grand slam.

They are publishing one of my Sisko stories, sugar,

at three cents a word-- three cents a word!

Oh, good for you, baby!

That means tonight we are celebrating.

Dancing, the works.

I'll wear my red dress.

You're damn... right you will.

Three cents a word. Three cents a word.

Whoo!

( laughs )

Hey! There you are.

( humming )

Oh! Oh, my poor feet.

Baby, you better marry me soon.

I'm not getting any younger.

Yes, but you are getting more beautiful

day by day.

♪ I'd be happy just to spend my life ♪

♪ Waiting on your beck and call... ♪

MAN: Brother Benny.

I was hoping I'd see you again.

I did it. My story's getting published.

"And the light of the Lord is in his path."

But, Brother Benny

this is only the beginning of your journey

not the ending.

And the path of the Prophets

sometimes leads into darkness and pain.

Benny, what is he talking about?

Who are you?

I speak

with the voice of the Prophets.

And in their words, hope and despair

walk arm in arm.

Did you understand any of that?

( gunfire )

( people screaming )

Is that gunfire?

Hey! Hey! Whoa, whoa!

What happened?

What's it to you?

I know him.

Oh, yeah? Well, then maybe you can explain

what he was doing trying to break into this car here.

Is that why you shot him,

because he was breaking into a car?!

He had a weapon.

A crowbar!

Yeah, now, step back.

Let's go. Come on.

Hey!

CASSIE: Stop it! Stop it!

Let him go!

Stop it, please!

Get off of me!

Stop it! You're going to kill him!

( Cassie crying )

You're going to kill him! Stop it!

( crying ): Stop it!

( sobbing ): Stop!

I'm telling you, baby.

You've been cooped up in this apartment for weeks.

Going down to the office will do you good.

I suppose you're right.

I should be there when the first copies

of this month's issue are delivered.

Absolutely.

After all that work you did

you deserve to see your story in print.

Just no jumping up and down with excitement.

Wouldn't want you to hurt yourself.

I will restrict myself to a proud grin.

You're not having any more of those hallucinations, are you?

I'm fine.

( door shuts )

KAY: What about "It came from Outer Space?"

JULIUS: I think it's a smashing title.

I wish I'd thought of it.

Hey, Benny.

Long time no see.

Is it here?

Not yet.

Pabst is still at the printer.

KAY: We're waiting

for his return with bated breath.

We, uh, heard that...

that you were...

Heard they beat the hell out of you.

I'm okay.

Glad to see that you're...

you know, up... and about.

Tell him the good news, Albert.

Yeah.

Oh, it's-it's nothing.

Nothing?

He sells a novel to Gnome Press

and he says it's nothing?

Novel, Albert. Congratulations.

Oh, thank you.

Robots, huh?

What else?

( all laughing )

JULIUS: It's about time.

Douglas... magazine?

There isn't any magazine-- not this month anyway.

Mr. Stone had the entire run

pulped.

He can't do that.

Oh, he can... and he did.

He believes, quote, "This issue did not

live up to our usual high standards," unquote.

Well... what, what's that supposed to mean?

It means he didn't like it.

Which means the public will simply have to get along

without any "Incredible Tales" this month.

What exactly is it

that he did not like?

The-the-the artwork, the... the layout?

Uh, what "high standards" is he talking about?

Take it easy, Benny.

No, I...

It's about my story, isn't it?

That's what this is all about.

( sighs )

He didn't want to publish my story

and we all know why.

Because my hero is a colored man.

Hey! This magazine belongs to Mr. Stone.

If he doesn't want to publish this month

we don't publish this month-- end of story.

That doesn't make it right and you know it.

Don't tell me what I know.

Besides, it's not about what's right.

It's about what is.

( sighs )

And I'm afraid I've got some more bad news for you, Benny.

Mr. Stone has decided that your services

are no longer required here.

What?!

You're firing me?

I have no choice, Benny.

It's his decision.

Well, you can't fire me.

I quit.

To hell with you...

and to hell with Stone!

Try to stay calm, Benny.

No! I'm tired of being calm.

Calm never got me a damn thing.

I'm warning you, Benny.

If you don't stop this

I'm going to call the police.

You go ahead! Call them!

Call anybody you want.

They can't do anything to me.

Not anymore... and nor can any of you!

I... am a human being, damn it.

You can deny me all you want...

but you cannot deny Ben Sisko.

He exists.

That future, that space station, all those people--

they exist in here.

In my mind, I created it.

And every one of you know it.

You read it.

It's here!

You, you, you hear what I'm telling you?!

You can pulp a story, but you cannot destroy an idea.

Don't you understand?

That's ancient knowledge.

You cannot destroy an idea.

That future-- I created it, and it's real!

Don't you understand?

It is real!

I created it, and it's real!

It's real.

Oh, God!

( weeping )

Easy.

Two, three...

( doors close )

( ambulance pulls away )

Rest easy, Brother Benny.

You have walked in the path of the Prophets.

There is no greater glory.

Tell me, please.

Who am I?

Don't you know?

Tell me.

You are the dreamer...

and the dream.

KASIDY: Ben?

Ben?

How long was I out?

Only for a few minutes.

Seemed like forever to me.

That's odd.

Somehow your neural patterns have returned to normal.

That's good, isn't it?

Oh, it's very good.

I just don't understand how it happened.

How are you feeling, Son?

I'm okay.

I'm done packing.

Transport leaves at 8:00 in the morning.

I wish you could stay longer.

I've got to get back to the restaurant.

Ah, my customers have never gone this long without me.

The question is: What are you going to do?

The only thing I can do.

Stay here and finish the job I started

and if I fail...

"I have fought the good fight.

"I have finished the course.

I have kept the faith."

I've never known you to quote from the Bible.

I'm full of surprises, aren't I?

And so are you.

Sounds like that dream

you had... helped you sort things out.

I suppose it did.

But I have begun to wonder.

What if it wasn't a dream?

What if this life we're leading, all of this--

you and me, everything--

what if all of this is the illusion?

That's a scary thought.

I know. I know.

But maybe, just maybe...

Benny isn't the dream.

We are.

Maybe we're nothing more than figments

of his imagination.

For all we know...

at this very moment

somewhere far beyond all those distant stars...

Benny Russell...

is dreaming of us.

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Captioned by Media Access Group at WGBH access.wgbh.org