Quiet Please - Quiet, Please

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Welcome back to the Tafri Presence, Planet Please.

written and directed by Wallace Cooper and which featured Ernest Chaffell.

Your quiet please story for tonight takes its name from the title of the series.

Quiet please.

There are books left.

Many books and I suppose I have read them all.

I remember things too.

I remember a long white road between the shoulders of the hills

and the distant clusters of the live oaks against the uplands beyond.

And the wide, light blue of the sky.

There was a wind that wandered the edges of the hills that brought the salt smell of the sea

so that it minkled with a loamy scent of the grass and made a perfume that I have not smelled in so many years.

There was a great plane where the hills fell away and tumbled rocky magnificence.

The plane all cutted the green and brown and yellowing squares

and a little stream with bridges of stone that strolled the way across the wide plain

and sparkled a blast into the distant western ocean.

There was life on the hills and on the plains.

The hill-based that moved serenely through the pleasant grasses and rested at noon

under the shadowed kindness of the green grails.

There were men and cheerful women in the white wall houses where the road curved.

And the children that played noisily and sweetly in the cottage door yards.

How long since dust?

Shall I tell you, as the graceful beaches for the sound of the surf was an measured majestic melody we thought would never cease?

Shall I speak of the great ships prone upon the breast of the ocean, the ships that are seen no more?

Would you hear of a wind-whip nights and a lightning in the pasts, from the gentle rain in the dawn time?

Would you remember?

Do not forget.

I remember.

I alone remember.

This was a temple.

This place dedicated to the arts.

And there were the waves that upon the beach that shattered walls of stone we may remain to muckers.

And there where the white road was, is the destination.

The winds died down, and the sun waned, and the moon was sickly.

Yet I remember the lights on the hillsides and the stars above them weeding their ancient way across the sky.

It was the day when I could name them all.

They seemed very far away tonight.

On towers and better views now, Deborah, activists in bacon, persian.

In these days, Orion, the mighty hunter, draws away from us, and the glory of Benemese's hair has been in heavens.

I would welcome the sound of a thunder again on my horizon, but all the manifestations of nature are ended.

And only the twilight of eternity remains above the bleakness.

I would welcome the voice of a hungry wolf even this night, or the hiss of the serpents that once we hated that once we trampled upon.

I would welcome even the voice of old trove and listen with delight, and laugh happily to hear and tell again the schemes he dreamed.

The promise today on it is to rule that men cannot live without wars amongst themselves.

Why should not we be the ones to win the war?

Every man cuts against every other, and men speak of honor and wars and fair fighting.

But if a war is to be won, then do away with fairness and honor, and let us win as neither master,

and day or sleep.

It is I could laugh to hear that voice, and to see those hard black eyes glitter again in the light of a little angst.

I could take old crow and lift him up and say, look upon your work, old crow, your work and mine and the work of all of those who could not live without wars.

The crow is dust, and may not speak.

And for a little time while I live, the dust shall speak its final words to those who would listen.

It was a fair word, our word.

And they would not have you believe at all who'd walk in it were like old crude plotting wars and seeking the countryside to a discontent.

We knew love to, and all the virtues, some of them reason practiced.

I am old now, and my speech is set in somber ways, where I looked on somber things from.

But there was a time when I was young in this very work, and my speech was the speech of the young of every world, careless, gay, happy.

And there was one of the speeches like mine, young and gay, and very dear to me.

And there was a night on the shores of a lake, when there was music left to invite somewhere in the distance.

And we sat alone together.

And I remembered, I would speak, but more than a hand on my lips and laugh, and stop me.

Why?

And for a long time it was only for music, and we watched the stars.

Come on, you love me.

Silly question.

Do you?

What do you think?

Know what I think?

What?

I don't think you love me very much.

You don't?

If you love me, you kiss me.

We're only going over this way.

Why, you can't eat a cream.

You hear the one point with the kiss?

Well, I don't anymore.

All right.

Just for that you're going to get kissed.

Come here.

Oh, look out.

You're nothing, mate.

Quiet, please.

Why do you love me?

It just aren't any words to tell you one of them.

Oh, my God.

And music began again.

And we sat silently.

And the stars moved above us.

The stars are so beautiful tonight.

They're not all stars.

What?

What are they, mate?

Some underpants.

Oh, my God.

Come on.

You suppose there are people in some of the other things?

Probably.

Er, that's the nearest one, isn't it?

You mean the dream show?

You suppose there are people in here.

I wouldn't know.

People that look like us and have you as they can.

I might like you.

Nobody at her.

You'd have a knife like this.

I hate you.

No, I need it, John.

You suppose they have houses and automobiles and wonderful stores like ours.

And they have babies like we do and everything.

And they're probably 80 feet tall.

They have six times and 16.

Oh, no, no.

Well, some day they'll come out of space at us and terrific make spaceships

and disintegrate our bounds and we'll decorate it.

And we'll save Buet.

And they'll all turn around and go right back when they came.

Maybe they will.

What would we do if they invaded us from Earth, John?

Why?

Why not? We're not alive when it happens.

Yes or no?

Oh, maybe they'd be not.

Don't kid yourself about that.

I wonder what they call our world.

Why?

Probably the same thing we do.

What?

I'm sure of why not.

After all that is worth, isn't it?

No, we were not 80 feet tall out there.

We did not have six arms or 16 eyes

and we didn't dream of conquering your world out there.

We were like you.

We were human beings too.

And we lived and loved and worked and died.

Very much as you do.

Look upon your own earth if you would see us as we were.

Stand at your window tonight and look out upon the lights of your fellow beings' homes.

Look upon the faces of your sleeping children.

Consider reflection of ours.

Let your minds eye-wonder across your oceans.

Beyond your mouth and see all the lights of the world

and its darknesses and the sun rising again beyond.

Let your thoughts dwell upon the people of your earth.

And you shall know us as we were.

Not a happy in the center.

Not a better news.

The whole crowd of the prophet of war

muttering away a disaster might be one of your own.

Marna with her golden hair and her laughing eyes

might be the girl you pass them seeing in the street this afternoon.

And the triumphal arcs to a long dead general

and brooding above a little park in the city where children race and shout.

Might be the one that stood in the city in another world.

A hundred yards from where I speak to you.

And here no stone remains upon another.

Whole crowd has said that wars are inevitable.

Have you found it so?

In years when I was reported for a great newspaper

I sat in his study and heard him speak to us.

And through us to all our world.

Is written from the standpoint of the winners of the war.

And thus wars are essential to the progress of the race.

And our enemies won in the last war.

Then their cause would have proved the just ones.

And we, by losing, would have been in the wrong.

For future events would then have shaped themselves upon the faces of their winning.

And the decision would have been irrelevant.

Future history would be changed.

Our nation's bid for leadership for God.

And thus it will always be.

Marna was silenced in my room for a little time.

In the last ice cook.

Dr. Krog has said.

Dr. Krog.

Well, son.

Dr. Krog.

Fifty years ago we fought a war.

Were we right?

We won.

And by winning we charted the course of history in the fifty years since.

But as anyone, the last fifty years might have been very different.

And which is right?

What is right, son?

And what is wrong?

And then another war came against another nation.

And the ones we have defeated before were allied with us.

And Krog made notes in a great black book that was one day to be published to all our world.

And no man's eyes of his have seen it.

But the sands are running out that we speak of the things that have perished.

Our cities where people worked at a hundred occupations.

And the muddy brown slums of the cities in the great green parks.

Go up tomorrow in your own city and set your feet upon the smooth concrete of the sidewalk.

Read a gleaming windows and marvel at the wonders within the met you men have created.

Touch the garment of a passerby and joy to know that this tomb, this humble thing man has created.

And know that I too have done these things.

And that I have seen man destroy them.

And that I helped.

You know the good, black smell of the mold of the earth in springtime.

But your heart leaped at the first green shoots of a boundary that lies in it.

Have you seen who will ease and grip the bells of your churches?

The bells rang in my heart once.

The flowers bloomed and then left and sang and hated.

We have run our course.

We chose back to the enough of the dust from which we sprang.

There was another time.

One month and I have been married for many years.

And I wanted it raised across our world and at last flickered out and died.

We sat long at table at night silently.

Each of us, dreaming of a world purged, my pyron sort, and full again of the promise of peace and perhaps happiness.

I'm glad you didn't have to go, Tom.

I suppose I shouldn't say so.

But I am too.

You're not a coward, Tom.

I don't take I am, Warner.

But now we can get started all over again.

We need so many things we haven't been able to get.

I can hardly wait to go shopping.

I bet.

Well, at least we can afford them.

Some of them.

It's just a shame that I hate those people.

The things they've done to it.

All those boys dead in our city's nation.

They lost the war.

And we killed plenty of them.

We should have killed them all.

Quiet, please, dear.

All right, you're only saying that though to shut me up.

But that helps, doesn't it?

Well, I can come.

If we could have only said it to them when the war started, quiet, please.

They had gone away.

We said it all right, only in a distant way.

Yes.

You'll be quiet for a long time.

Some of them.

And some of us.

Who's that?

I know a good way to find out.

Well, you go, I've got my email.

Well, hello, Tom.

Where are you?

Dale.

When did you get back?

Just now.

Who did it all?

It's a shh.

I am on her.

I am home.

Dale!

Oh, she's here.

Are you for what?

I'm sure she's here.

Hey, don't break my rib.

It's great to see you, boy.

I'm on this one.

Oh, excuse me.

But I wonder when you were going to pay attention.

I was so glad to see you.

I'm sorry.

I want you to meet my wife.

Why, you want some of us?

Yes, really.

Yes, really.

This is my sister, morning.

What have you done?

And her husband, my brother, and my daughter.

How are you doing?

I hope not.

Thank you.

Thank you.

It's so nice to know this.

Well, come in.

Come on.

Oh, I'm so glad to see you, Dale.

Andrew.

Andrew, thank you.

You know, we haven't heard from you for so long, Dale.

We were beginning to get worried.

All right.

I was all right.

Didn't get a scratch, huh?

Hey.

Grace looks not the same.

Where's all the shit?

Are you diagnosed somewhere, Dale?

Oh, I'm sorry about that.

He was the greatest dog in the world, right?

Well, sit down.

Sit down.

Have you had something?

You know her.

A window like some coffee room.

I would love it.

No, this will be fine.

I'm finding it hard to get used to coffee again.

Well, how was the war, Dale?

I got all the war I want.

Oh, the coffee, Dale.

Thank you for that.

Oh, God.

God.

All right.

She hasn't had much coffee in the last seven years.

What?

Why are you poor, Dale?

Why not, Dale?

Why hasn't she had coffee?

Well, I better tell them, Dale.

Tell us?

What?

Well, Rae was one of our enemies.

What do you mean by that, Dale?

But she...

Yes.

Should we go, Dale?

Thanks for the coffee, money.

Of course.

Where are you going, Dale?

More sitcoms, sister.

Do you think I'm from my brand new sister's house?

Come on.

Let's go make some fresh coffee.

Blossom.

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And in the early hours of the morning, I was awakened by morning's topping.

I prefer my armor underneath.

What are that?

That's more trash.

It asked me if they were going to spin around.

Oh, sure.

How can people think the dreadful thoughts of us?

And she's so sweet.

No, I have never solved the problem, baby.

Why people can love individually and hate collectively.

And the children of Ray and Dale were very dear to me.

No different from the other children who played with him and I

are going to school with him or in history with him.

I suppose it's only strangest we hate for.

Ray was a daughter of a nation we had fought betterly with.

Yet when our friends became acquainted with her, they too grew to love her.

And some of those who wept most bitterly at our funeral

were the ones who at first had pointed her out as the

enemy woman.

Well, Kroge said wars are inevitable.

Perhaps they are.

There has never been a year and all the thousand centuries of our

recorded history when there has not been a war in some part of our planet.

And always history told us men have been striving for a means to end it.

A war to end war this year.

A war to end war.

I achieved it.

I ended everything.

Wars had grown more and more destructive.

And at last men laid wicked fingers upon secrets that were not

commendable.

Men of all was pride at the locks that nature is set upon our deepest secrets,

seeking the power that was never intended for them.

And step by, tedious step, they came to the final awful knowledge to the very

card of creation and the destruction.

Wars was a fair world, I said.

There was beauty in everything.

Beauty in the mornings and in the red sunsets.

Beauty in the long low hills and the mountains that gore themselves

majestically aloof above us.

Beauty to an humble things of our world.

The simple unnoticed things that haunt my memory tonight.

Atturning who you.

The fight of a bird.

The sound of a train whistle in the night.

The russet of wind in the trees.

And unforgetably, the voices of people.

The voice of all clone.

Now we have this supreme weapon.

There is no defense.

And the weapon will bring us undisputed mastery of all the planets.

But why should we be masters of effort?

Why should any one people be the masters?

Is it not written how good and how pleasant it is for brethren's

and while together in unity?

And said that cannot be practiced.

And the voice of Moana.

There will never be any more war after this next one tour.

Every one of our enemies will be destroyed.

And we'll live happily ever after.

No Moana.

There never will be war again.

There never will be anything again.

For now Moana men have plotted against the green hillsides

and the towering mountains.

They have declared war upon the flowers and the grass and the forests.

They have made our planet an offer on which to sacrifice the soil.

And the voice of Dale.

I am not going to war again.

If they bring it to me, I'll fight.

But they'll have to bring it to me.

They brought it to you Dale.

They brought it to you very home to your doorstep

to the gay little blue and white curtains at your windows.

And you died before you knew it.

And the voice of Ray, the displaced person,

the alien in a strange land.

Who is my enemy now?

There was my enemy once and you went to Moana.

And now you are my own people as surely as if I had been born among you.

Who will be my enemy when this new world's time?

You will have no enemy Ray.

What I will be none left to hate.

What I love.

Forging it for you that you died before the war came,

your last sight was of the faces of those who loved you.

And my own voice, speaking to you at long last,

remembering the thoughts we had of you,

of cowering 80 foot giants,

swarming down upon us out of the cold black reaches of space,

seeking to prey upon us and conquer us in that last distress.

Did you have thoughts of us as demons too?

Did you think because we were another world

we must be monsters, ravening for your blood?

We were bad.

We were people like you.

The older perhaps, but with the same instincts you have, the very same.

We droid in the summertime in the white winters.

We loved individually and hated collectively assumed.

We lived.

We fought.

We died.

Here astronomers have watched us for so many years,

speculating on the possibility of life here.

Where there was life, great cities, wide, peaceful farms,

tall dams holding back the might of great rivers,

great deserts flowering in the spring,

with all of dazzling leathers that can be pumped into a brief span of life.

We had rivers and oceans and lakes,

forests and deep valleys,

great monuments to our dead giant buildings to house our living.

We had music and books in great schools and statesmen.

Here astronomers tell you of the canals that cover our planet.

I saw those canals created.

I saw the solid earth splash and oil beneath me.

I saw the mountains melt in the rivers of molten fiery stone.

I saw the great tawny mushrooms of cloud erupt from the cloud of the ocean.

And I smelled the structure near it hand.

Here there will be no more wars on our planet.

There's only silence and cold and dust that puts lots of people in the civilization.

Here's only one man by car, the last man of Mars,

to say the last words.

The two moons that circle our planet are rising now.

Phobos and Pemos, fear and madness,

and death himself marches back to the black grape cavern.

He pauses beside me to lay his icy fingers upon my arm.

This is the end of the world and the people

that you might have mistaken for your very selves.

Honourous at last with your silence at the end

and pray, friends of earth,

pray not for us,

but that is too late.

Pray for yourselves.

Client please.

Client please.

Client please.

Client please.

Client please.

You have listened to Quiet Please,

which is written and directed by Willis Cooper.

The man who spoke to you was Ernest Chappell,

who was in the cast, replied Buckley as Crogue,

they didn't aim worth his day,

and a lot of stuff his ski is ready.

Mono was played by Claudia Morgan.

Mrs. Ernest Chappell.

Music for Quiet Please is by Albert Berman.

This present series of Quiet Please comes to lend

with this broadcast after more than two years.

We have enjoyed bringing these stories to you.

Thanks for your comments.

My personal gratitude to my friend and associate Bill Cooper

for his writing, counsel, and cooperation.

Here he is, Bill Cooper.

Thank you for listening to Quiet Please.

Thank you, Chappell.

Thank you, Bill McClittick.

Thank you, Bert Berman.

Thank you, Bob Dockley.

And thank you, all you feel.

I hope we meet again sometime.

For those interested, the Quiet Please themes

placed on the second movement of the season

Friday, line of September.

So in the last time, this is Ernest Chappell saying,

Quietly Euras.

Thank you, Bill McClittick.

Thank you, Bill McClittick.

Thank you, Bill McClittick.

Thank you, Bill McClittick.

Thank you, Bill McClittick.

Thank you, Bill McClittick.

This is ABC, the American Broadcasting Company.

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