Professor Jameson reads a diary passage to his students and says it was written on Tuesday, Sept. 11, 1864. However, Sept. 11, 1864 was a Sunday.
Narrator: You're looking at Act One, Scene One, of a nightmare, one not restricted to witching hours or dark, rainswept nights. Professor Walter Jameson, popular beyond words, who talks of the past as if it were the present, who conjures up the dead as if they were alive. In the view of this man, Professor Samuel Kittridge, Walter Jameson has access to knowledge that couldn't come out of a volume of history, but rather from a book on black magic, which is to say that this nightmare begins at noon.
Walter Jameson: (on a leading advantage of mortality over immortality) We love a rose because we know it'll soon be gone. Whoever loved a stone?
Kittridge: Thank you.
Jameson: For what?
Kittridge: I thought if a man lived forever, he'd grow wiser. But that isn't true, is it?
Jameson: You just go on living, that's all.
Narrator: Last stop on a long journey, as yet another human being returns to the vast nothingness that is the beginning and into the dust that is always the end.