At his worst—well, he was a producer, the American version of a feudal lord. Despite whatever assertions for truth and justice a feudal lord might make, he’s still a lord. He might believe he’s acting justly, but the way the system is constituted encourages acts of abuse, if not by the lord himself, then certainly by those who act in his name. The lord doesn’t have to drive the steamroller; there are lots of peasants working in the fields who will happily do that job for him, without regard to whose home or livelihood they’re rumbling over.

The real issue here is not “The City on the Edge of Forever.” That’s just a side battle in a much larger war. The real issue is the challenge of Star Trek and the underlying commitment of the storyteller. It is clear from reading this script that Harlan Ellison wanted to do more than just another hour of forgettable television. He wanted to do something powerful and unique.

As science fiction, Star Trek ranges from pretty bland to pretty silly with occasional forays to pretty godawful. I do not say this as a blanket condemnation. Star Trek is a television show. It is a commercial enterprise (pun intended). When a camel flies, you don’t judge it by the same standards as an eagle. (The good news about Star Trek is that it has raised the standard of acceptable mediocrity. If this is the lowest common denominator, then maybe we’re not doing too badly. The bad news is that so many fans of the show never think to raise their sights any higher.)

To put it simply, Star Trek is the McDonald’s of science fiction; it’s fastfood storytelling. Every problem is like every other problem. They all get solved in an hour. Nobody ever gets hurt, and nobody needs to care. You give up an hour of your time and you don’t really have to get involved. It’s all plastic.

This is why “The City on the Edge of Forever” is such an extraordinary episode. It is the one story in which the problem is never solved; the pain goes on forever. Whether you are reading Harlan’s script or watching the produced version, the impact of Edith Keeler’s death is a devastating blow. Kirk will never be the same. Neither will the audience. Kirk will age a century in a single moment; he can never again have the same adventurous innocence. The last scenes of “The City on the Edge of Forever” are a promise. “Don’t ever relax. Nothing is certain. Not in this universe—and not on this TV show.”

Unfortunately, it’s a broken promise. Never again did Star Trek startle its audience so brilliantly. When we came back again next week, here was Kirk, no different than before. Edith Keeler was never mentioned. She might never have existed.