And then I read “City,” and realized it had all been a shuck. Gene was already protecting his place in history, although perhaps not as desperately as he would by 1988. Heaven forbid there should be immorality, and out and out dishonesty on the blessed Enterprise. Perish the thought that Spock and Kirk could fight, and yet still remain friends. In Gene’s universe, love is established by people standing around telling each other how much they love each other, and never doing a damn thing about it.

Please note I am discussing love here, not sex. In addition to the mantras of “Picard is the Captain, keep him strong,” and “My people are perfect,” we often received the directive to “LET THEM FUCK!”

Read “City” again. This is about love. Not fucking.

Like Harlan, I came into the insane world of Hollywood through the emotionally sustaining but economically unsatisfying world of books. There, a writer’s words are his coin, and his spirit, and no one touches them. Editors can suggest, but a writer can refuse to accept their guidance; in publishing we’re permitted to starve on our principles. Not so in Hollywood. You’re a high-paid typist, your words are worthless, your vision unimportant. You take the high ground, and they come through with a bulldozer and remove it. If they don’t like a script, they’ll “polish” (piss on) it, and make it their own.

Being invited to write this afterword meant a great deal to me. I, too, have a script in my closet which was destroyed. Unfortunately the filmed version of “Ensigns of Command” does not bear comparison with even the watered-down film version of “City.” I think that is a testament to the power and passion of Harlan Ellison’s work.

A final note. For those of you vid kids who bought this book because it was Trek, and TV, and so cool, and who have never read a word of Harlan Ellison’s prose—Go Buy Some and Read It!

Because ultimately books are better.

George Takei

George Takei

Before reading the manuscript of Harlan’s original “The City on the Edge of Forever,” I thought I would jump through the “time portal” of my own to refresh my memory of the version we had filmed back in 1966.

I threw the cassette into the VCR and snuggled down with a hot cup of tea. It opened with the familiar soaring music and the good old Enterprise dependably whooshing by—it was all so comfy. Then, the jolt. It wasn’t, however, the action of the first scene where the bridge was being violently shaken by a time disturbance. I had expected that. The shock was in how bloomingly young we all looked back then. Oh, so very young.