User:Nicole Sharp/The War of the Worlds (radio drama)

by Orson Welles

Partial transcript (please add to this page) for The Mercury Theatre on the Air: "The War of the Worlds" (1938), directed by Orson Welles.

transcript

Carl Phillips: Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. This is Carl Phillips, speaking to you from the observatory at Princeton. I'm standing in a large semi-circular room, pitch black except for an oblong split in the ceiling. Through this opening I can see a sprinkling of stars that cast a kind of frosty glow over the intricate mechanism of the huge telescope. The ticking sound you hear is the vibration of the clockwork. Professor Pierson stands directly above me on a small platform, peering through a giant lens. I ask you to be patient, ladies and gentlemen, during any delay that may arise during our interview. Besides his ceaseless watch of the heavens, Professor Pierson may be interrupted by telephone or other communications. During this period he is in constant touch with the astronomical centers of the world. Professor, may I begin our questions?

Professor Pierson: At any time, Mr. Phillips.

Phillips: Professor, would you please tell our radio audience exactly what you see as you observe the planet Mars through your telescope?

Professor Pierson: Nothing unusual at the moment, Mr. Phillips. A red disk swimming in a blue sea. Transverse stripes across the disk. Quite distinct now because Mars happens to be the point nearest the Earth, in opposition, as we call it.

Phillips: In your opinion, what do these transverse stripes signify, Professor Pierson?

Pierson: Not canals, I can assure you, Mr. Phillips, although that's the popular conjecture of those who imagine Mars to be inhabited. From a scientific viewpoint the stripes are merely the result of atmospheric conditions peculiar to the planet.

Phillips: Then you're quite convinced as a scientist that living intelligence as we know it does not exist on Mars?

Pierson: I'd say the chances against it are a thousand to one.

Phillips: And yet how do you account for those gas eruptions occurring on the surface of the planet at regular intervals?

Pierson: Mr. Phillips, I cannot account for it.

Phillips: By the way, Professor, for the benefit of our listeners, how far is Mars from the Earth?

Pierson: Approximately forty million miles.

Phillips: Well, that seems a safe enough distance.

Pierson: [off mike] Thank you.

Phillips: Just a moment, ladies and gentlemen; someone has just handed Professor Pierson a message. While he reads it, let me remind you that we are speaking to you from the observatory in Princeton, New Jersey, where we are interviewing the world's famous astronomer, Professor Pierson. One moment, please. Professor Pierson has passed me a message which he has just received. Professor, may I read the message to the listening audience?

Pierson: Certainly, Mr. Phillips.

Phillips: Ladies and gentlemen, I shall read you a wire addressed to Professor Pierson from Dr. Gray of the National History Museum, New York. "9:15 PM Eastern Standard Time. Seismograph registered shock of almost earthquake intensity occurring within a radius of 20 miles of Princeton. Please investigate. Signed, Lloyd Gray, Chief of Astronomical Division." Professor Pierson, could this occurrence possibly have something to do with the disturbances observed on the planet Mars?

Pierson: Hardly, Mr. Phillips. This is probably a meteorite of unusual size and its arrival at this particular time is merely a coincidence. However, we shall conduct a search, as soon as daylight permits.

Phillips: Thank you, Professor. Ladies and gentlemen, for the past ten minutes we've been speaking to you from the observatory at Princeton, bringing you a special interview with Professor Pierson, noted astronomer. This is Carl Phillips speaking. We are returning you now to our New York studio.

---

Officer: Range, 32 meters.

Gunner: 32 meters.

Officer: Projection, 39 degrees.

Gunner: 39 degrees.

Officer: Fire! [boom of heavy gun, pause]

Observer: 140 yards to the right, sir.

Officer: Shift range, 31 meters.

Gunner: 31 meters.

Officer: Projection, 37 degrees.

Gunner: 37 degrees.

Officer: Fire! [boom of heavy gun, pause]

Observer: A hit, sir! We got the tripod of one of them. They've stopped. The others are trying to repair it.

Officer: Quick, get the range! Shift to 30 meters.

Gunner: 30 meters.

Officer: Projection, 27 degrees.

Gunner: 27 degrees.

Officer: Fire! [boom of heavy gun, pause]

Observer: Can't see the shell land, sir. They're letting off a smoke.

Officer: What is it?

Observer: A black smoke, sir. Moving this way. Lying close to the ground. It's moving fast.

Officer: Put on gas masks. [pause, voices now muffled] Get ready to fire. Shift to 24 meters.

Gunner: 24 meters.

Officer: Projection, 24 degrees.

Gunner: 24 degrees.

Officer: Fire! [boom of heavy gun]

Observer: Still can't see, sir. The smoke's coming nearer.

Officer: Get the range. [coughs]

Observer: 23 meters. [coughs]

Officer: 23 meters. [coughs]

Gunner: 23 meters. [coughs]

Observer: Projection, 22 degrees. [coughs]

Officer: 22 degrees. [coughing]

---

Stranger: [off mike] Stop! [closer] Where do you come from?

Pierson: I come from...from many places. A long time ago from Princeton.

Stranger: Princeton, huh? That's near Grover's Mill!

Pierson: Yes.

Stranger: Grover's Mill... [laughs as a great joke] There's no food here. This is my country. All this end of town down the river. There's only food for one. Which way are you going?

Pierson: I don't know. I guess I'm looking...for people.

Stranger: [nervously] What was that? Did you hear something, just then?

Pierson: No. Only a bird. [amazed] A live bird!

Stranger: You get to know that birds have shadows these days. Say, we're in the open here. Let's crawl in this doorway here and talk.

Pierson: Have you seen any Martians?

Stranger: Nah. They've gone over to New York. At night the sky is alive with their lights. Just as if people were still living in it. By daylight you can't see them. Five days ago a couple of them carried something big across the flats from the airport. I think they're learning how to fly.

Pierson: Fly!

Stranger: Yeah. Fly.

Pierson: Then it's all over with humanity. Stranger, there's still you and I. The two of us left.

Stranger: Yeah. They got themselves in solid. They wrecked the greatest country in the world. Those green stars, they're probably falling somewhere every night. They've only lost one machine. There isn't anything to do. We're done. We're licked.

Pierson: Where were you? You're in a uniform.

Stranger: Yeah, what's left of it. I was in the militia – national guard. That's good. There wasn't any war, any more than there's war between men and ants!

Pierson: Yes, but we're eat-able ants. I found that out. What'll they do to us?

Stranger: I've thought it all out. Right now we're caught as we're wanted. The Martian only has to go a few miles to get a crowd on the run. But they won't keep on doing that. They'll begin catching us systematic-like – keeping the best and storing us in cages and things. They haven't begun on us yet!

Pierson: Not begun!

Stranger: Not begun! All that's happened so far is because we don't have sense enough to keep quiet...bothering them with guns and such stuff and losing our heads and rushing off in crowds. Now, instead of our rushing around blind we've got to fix ourselves up – fix ourselves up according to the way things are now. Cities, nations, civilization, progress.

Pierson: Yes, but if that's so, what is there to live for?

Stranger: Well, there won't be any more concerts for a million years or so, and no nice little dinners at restaurants. If it's amusement you're after, I guess the game's up.

Pierson: What is there left?

Stranger: Life, that's what! I want to live! Yeah, and so do you. We're not going to be exterminated. And I don't mean to be caught, either; tamed, and fattened, and bred, like an ox.

Pierson: What are you gonna do?

Stranger: I'm going on, right under their feet. I got a plan. We men as men, we're finished. We don't know enough. We gotta learn plenty before we got a chance. We gotta live and keep free while we learn, see? I've thought it all out, see?

Pierson: Tell me the rest.

Stranger: Well, it isn't all of us that are made for wild beasts, and that's what it's gotta be. That's why I watched you. All those little office workers that used to live in these houses – they'd be no good. They don't have any stuff in 'em. They used to run, run off to work. I've seen hundreds of 'em, running to catch their commuters train in the morning, afraid they'd get canned if they didn't; running back at night, afraid they wouldn't be in time for dinner. Lives insured and a little invested in case of accidents. And on Sundays, worried about the hereafter. The Martians, they'll be a godsend for those guys. Nice roomy cages, good food, careful breeding, no worries. And after a week or so of chasing around the fields on empty stomachs, they'll come and be glad to be caught.

Pierson: You've thought it all out, haven't you?

Stranger: Sure, you bet I have. And that isn't all. These Martians are gonna make pets of some of 'em, train 'em to do tricks. Who knows? Get sentimental over the pet boy who grew up and had to be killed. Yeah. And some, maybe, they'll train to hunt us.

Pierson: Oh, no, that's impossible. No human being...

Stranger: Yes, they will. There's men who'll do it gladly. If one of them ever comes after me, why...

Pierson: In the meantime, you and I and others like us...where are we to live when the Martians own the Earth?

Stranger: I've got it all figured out. We'll live underground. I've been thinking about the sewers. Under New York, there are miles and miles of 'em. The main ones are big enough for anybody. Then there's cellars, vaults, underground storerooms, railway tunnels, subways. You begin to see, huh? We'll get a bunch of strong men together. No weak ones. That rubbish – out.

Pierson: As you meant me to go?

Stranger: Well, I...gave you a chance, didn't I?

Pierson: We won't quarrel about that. Go on.

Stranger: Well, we gotta make safe places for us to stay in, see? Get all the books we can – science books. That's where men like you come in, see? We'll raid the museums; we'll even spy on the Martians. It may not be so much we have to learn before – listen. Just imagine this: four or five of their own fighting machines suddenly start off – heat rays right and left. Not a Martian in 'em. Not a Martian in 'em, see? But men! Men who've learned the way how. It may even be in our time. Gee! Imagine having one of them lovely things with its heat ray wide and free! We'd turn it on Martians; we'd turn it on men! We'd bring everybody down to their knees!

Pierson: That's your plan?

Stranger: Yeah! You, me, a few more of us. We'd own the world.

Pierson: I see.

Stranger: [fading out] Hey. Hey, what's the matter? Where are you going?

Pierson: Not to your world. Bye, stranger.