Arthur C Clarke - City And The Stars Page 16

  Sixteen

  There were no formalities. The president declared the meeting open and then turned to alvin. "Alvin," he said, kindly enough, "we would like you to tell us what has happened to you since you disappeared ten days ago." the use of the word "disappeared," thought alvin, was highly significant. Even now, the council was reluctant to admit that he had really gone outside diaspar. He won­dered if they knew that there had been strangers in the city, and rather doubted it. In that event they would have shown considerably more alarm. He told his story clearly and without any dramatics. It was strange and unbelievable enough to their ears, and needed no embellishment. Only at one place did he depart from strict accuracy, for he said nothing about the manner of his escape from lys. It seemed more than likely that he might want to use the same method again. It was fascinating to watch the way in which the attitude of the council members altered during the course of his narrative. At first they were skeptical, refusing to accept the denial of ail they had believed, the violation of their deepest prejudices when alvin told them of his passionate desire to explore the world beyond the city, and his irra­tional conviction that such a world did exist, they stared at him as if he was some strange and incomprehensible animal. To their minds, indeed, he was but finally they were com­pelled to admit that he had been right, and that they had been mistaken. As alvin's story unfolded, any doubts they may have had slowly dissolved. They might not like what he had told them, but they could no longer deny its truth. If they felt tempted to do so, they had only to look at alvin's silent companion. There was only one aspect of his tale that roused their indignation-and then it was not directed toward him. A buzz of annoyance went around the chamber as alvin explained the anxiety of lys -to avoid contamination with diaspar, and the steps that seranis had taken to prevent such a catas­trophe. The city was proud of its culture, and with good reason. That anyone should regard them as inferiors was more than the council members could tolerate. Alvin was very careful not to give offense in anything he said; he wanted, as far as possible, to win the council to his side. Throughout, he tried to give the impression that he had seen nothing wrong in what he had done, and that he expected praise rather than censure for his discoveries. It was the best policy he could have adopted, for it disarmed most of his would-be critics in advance. It also had the effect -though he had not intended this-of transferring any blame to the vanished khedron. Alvin himself, it was clear to his listeners, was too young to see any danger in what he was doing. The jester, however, should certainly have known better and had acted in a thoroughly irresponsible fashion. They did not yet know how fully khedron himself had agreed with them. Jeserac, as alvin's tutor, was also deserving of some cen­sure, and from time to time several of the councilors gave him thoughtful glances. He did not seem to mind, though he was perfectly well aware of what they were thinking. There was a certain honor in having instructed the most original mind that had come into diaspar since the dawn ages, and nothing could rob jeserac of that. Not until alvin had finished the factual account of his adventures did be attempt a little persuasion. Somehow, he would have to convince these men of the truths that he had learned in lys, but now how could he make them really understand something that they had never seen and could hardly imagine? "It seems a great tragedy," he said, "that the two sur­viving branches of the human race should have become separated for such an enormous period of time. One day, perhaps, we may know how it happened, but it is more im­portant now to repair the break-to prevent it happening again. When i was in lys i protested against their view that they were superior to us; they may have much to teach us, but we also have much to teach them. If we both believe that we have nothing to learn from the other, is it not obvious that we will both be wrong?" he looked expectantly along the line of faces, and was encouraged to go on. "Our ancestors," he continued, "built an empire that reached to the stars. Men came and went at will among all those worlds-and now their descendants are afraid to stir beyond the walls of their city. Shall 1 tell you why?" he paused; there was no movement at all in the great, bare room. "It is because we are afraid-afraid of something that happened at the beginning of history. I was told the truth in lys, though i guessed it long ago. Must we always hide like cowards in diaspar, pretending that nothing else exists -because a billion years ago the invaders drove us back to earth?" he had put his finger on their secret fear-the fear that he had never shared and whose power he could therefore never fully understand. Now let them do what they pleased; he had spoken the truth as he saw it. The president looked at him gravely. "Have you anything more to say," he asked, "before we consider what is to be done?" only one thing. I would like to take this robot to the central computer." "but why? You know that the computer is already aware of everything that has happened in this room." ` i still wish to go," replied alvin politely but stubbornly. "I ask permission both of the council and the computer." before the president could reply, a clear, calm voice sounded through the chamber. Alvin had never heard it be­fore in his life, but he knew what it was that spoke. The information machines, which were no more than outlying fragments of this great intelligence, could speak to men ­but they did not possess this unmistakable accent of wisdom and authority. "Let him come to me," said the central computer. Alvin looked at the president. It was to his credit that he did not attempt to exploit his victory. He merely asked, "have i your permission to leave?" the president looked around the council chamber, saw no disagreement there, and replied a little helplessly: "very well. The proctors will accompany you, and will bring you back here when we have finished our discussion." alvin gave a slight bow of thanks, the great doors ex­panded before him, and he walked slowly out of the cham­ber. Jeserac had accompanied him, and when the doors had closed once more, he turned to face his tutor. "What do you think the council will do now?" he asked anxiously. Jeserac smiled. "Impatient as ever, aren't you?" he said. "I do not know what my guess is worth, but i imagine that they will decide to seal the tomb of yarlan zey so that no one can ever again make your journey. Then diaspar can continue as before." "that is what i am afraid of," said alvin bitterly. "And you still hope to prevent it?" alvin did not at once reply; he knew that jeserac had read his intentions, but at least his tutor could not foresee his plans, for he had none. He had come to the stage when he could only improvise and meet each new situation as it arose. "Do you blame me?" he said presently, and jeserac was surprised by the new note in his voice. It was a hint of humility, the barest suggestion that for the first time al­vin sought the approval of his fellow men. Jeserac was touched by it, but he was too wise to take it very seriously. Alvin was under a considerable strain, and it would be un­safe to assume that any improvement in his character was permanent. "That is a very hard question to answer," said jeserac slowly. "I am tempted to say that all knowledge is valuable, and it cannot be denied that you have added much to our knowledge. But you have also added to our dangers, and in the long run which will be more important? How often have you stopped to consider that?" for a moment master and pupil regarded each other pen­sively, each perhaps seeing the other's point of view more clearly than ever before in his life. Then, with one impulse, they turned together down the long passage from the coun­cil chamber, with their escort still following patiently in the rear. This world, alvin knew, had not been made for man. Un­der the glare of the fierce blue lights-so dazzling that they pained the eyes-the long, broad corridors seemed to stretch to infinity. Down these great passageways, the robots of diaspar must come and go throughout their endless lives, yet not once in centuries did they echo to the sound of hu­man feet. Here was the underground city, the city of machines without which diaspar could not exist. A few hundred yards ahead, the corridor would open into a circular chamber more than a mile across, its roof supported by great columns that must also bear the unimaginable weight of power center. Here, according to the maps, the central computer brooded eternally over the fate of diaspar. The chamber was there, and it was even vaster than alvin had dared imagine bu
t where was the computer? Somehow he had expected to meet a single huge machine, naive though he knew that this conception was. The tremendous but mean­ingless panorama beneath him made him pause in wonder and uncertainty. The corridor along which they had come ended high in the wall of the chamber-surely the largest cavity ever built by man-and on either side long ramps swept down to the distant floor. Covering the whole of that brilliantly lit ex­panse were hundreds of great white structures, so unex­pected that for a moment alvin thought he must be look­ing down upon a subterranean city. The impression was star­tlingly vivid, and it was one that he never wholly lost. No­where at all was the sight he had expected-the familiar gleam of metal which since the beginning of time man had learned to associate with his servants. Here was the end of an evolution almost as long as man's. Its beginnings were lost in the mists of the dawn ages, when humanity had first learned the use of power and sent its noisy engines clanking about the world. Steam, water, wind-all had been harnessed for a little while and then abandoned. For centuries the energy of matter had run the world until it too had been superseded, and with each change the old machines were forgotten and new ones took their place. Very slowly, over thousands of years, the ideal of the perfect machine was approached-that ideal which had once been a dream, then a distant prospect, and at last reality:

  No machine may contain any moving parts.

  Here was the ultimate expression of that ideal. Its achieve­ment had taken man perhaps a hundred million years, and in the moment of his triumph he had turned his back upon the machine forever. It had reached finality, and thenceforth could sustain itself eternally while serving him. Alvin no longer asked himself which of these silent white presences was the central computer. He knew that it com­prised them all-and that it extended far beyond this cham­ber, including within its being all the countless other ma­chines in diaspar, whether they were mobile or motionless. As his own brain was the sum of many billion separate cells, arrayed throughout a volume of space a few inches across, so the physical elements of the central computer were scat­tered throughout the length and breadth of diaspar. This chamber might hold no more than the switching system whereby all these dispersed units kept in touch with one an­other. Uncertain where to go next, alvin stared down the great sweeping ramps and across the silent arena. The central com­puter must know that he was here, as it knew everything that was happening in diaspar. He could only wait for its in­structions. The now-familiar yet still awe-inspiring voice was so quiet and so close to him that he did not believe that his escort could also hear it. "Go down the left-hand ramp," it said. "I will direct you from there." he walked slowly down the slope, the robot floating above him. Neither jeserac nor the proctors followed; he wondered if they had received orders to remain here, or whether they had decided that they could supervise him just as well from their vantage point without the bother of making this long descent. Or perhaps they had come as close to the central shrine of diaspar as they cared to approach. At the foot of the ramp, the quiet voice redirected alvin, and he walked between an avenue of sleeping titan shapes. Three times the voice spoke to him again, until presently he knew that he had reached his goal. The machine before which he was standing was smaller than most of its companions, but he felt dwarfed as he stood beneath it. The five tiers with their sweeping horizontal lines gave the impression of some crouching beast, and looking from it to his own robot alvin found it hard to believe that both were products of the same evolution, and both described by the same word. About three feet from the ground a wide transparent panel ran the whole length of the structure. Alvin pressed his fore­head agaipst the smooth, curiously warm material and peered into the machine. At first he saw nothing then, by shielding his eyes, he could distinguish thousands of faint points of light hanging in nothingness. They were ranged one beyond the other in a three-dimensional lattice, as strange and as meaningless to him as the stars must have been to ancient man. Though he watched for many minutes, forgetful of the passage of time, the colored lights never moved from their places and their brilliance never changed. If he could look into his own brain, alvin realized, it would mean as little to him. The machine seemed inert and mo­tionless because he could not see its thoughts. For the first time, he began to have some dim understand­ing of the powers and forces that sustained the city. All his life he had accepted without question the miracle of the synthesizers which age after age provided in an unending stream all the needs of diaspar. Thousands of times he had watched that act of creation, seldom remembering that some­where must exist the prototype of that which he had seen come into the world. As a human mind may dwell for a little while upon a single thought, so the infinitely greater brains which were but a portion of the central computer could grasp and hold for­ever the most intricate ideas. The patterns of all created things were frozen in these eternal minds, needing only the touch of a human will to make them reality. The world had indeed gone far since, hour upon hour, the first cavemen had patiently chipped their arrowheads and knives from the stubborn stone. Alvin waited, not caring to speak until he had received some further sign of recognition. He wondered how the cen­tral computer was aware of his presence, and could see him and hear his voice. Nowhere were there any signs of sense organs-none of the grilles or screens or emotionless crystal eyes through which robots normally had knowledge of the world around them. "State your problem," said the quiet voice in his ear. It seemed strange that this overwhelming expanse of machinery should sum up its thoughts so softly. Then allvin realized that he was flattering himself; perhaps not even a millionth part of the central computer's brain was dealing with him. He was just one of the innumerable incidents that came to its simultaneous attention as it watched over diaspar. It was hard to talk to a presence who filled the whole of the space around you. Alvin's words seemed to die in the empty air as soon as he had uttered them. "What am i?" he asked. If he had put that question to one of the information ma­chines in the city, he knew what the reply would have been. Indeed, he had often done so, and they had always answered, "you are a man." but now he was dealing with an intelligence of an altogether different order, and there was no need for painstaking semantic accuracy. The central computer would know what he meant, but that did not mean that it would answer him. Indeed, the reply was exactly what alvin had feared. "I cannot answer that question. To do so would be to re­veal the purpose of my builders, and hence to nullify it." "then my role was planned when the city was laid down?" "that can be said of all men." this reply made alvin pause it was true enough; the human inhabitants of diaspar had been designed as care- fully as its machines. The fact that he was a unique gave alvin rarity, but there was no necessary virtue in that. He knew that he could learn nothing further here regarding the mystery of his origin. It was useless to try to trick this vast intelligence, or to hope that it would disclose information it had been ordered to conceal. Alvin was not unduly dis­appointed; he felt that he had already begun to glimpse the truth, and in any case this was not the main purpose of his visit. He looked at the robot he had brought from lys, and wondered bow to make his next step. It might react violently if it knew what he was planning, so it was essential that it should not overhear what he intended to say to the central computer. "Can you arrange a zone of silence?" he asked. Instantly, be sensed the unmistakable "dead" feeling, the total blanketing of all sounds, which descended when one was inside such a zone. The voice of the computer, now curiously flat and sinister, spoke to him: "no one can hear us now. Say what you wish." alvin glanced at the robot; it bad not moved from its po­sition. Perhaps it suspected nothing, and he had been quite wrong in ever imagining that it had plans of its own. It might have followed him into diaspar like a faithful, trusting serv­ant, in which case what he was planning now seemed a partic­ularly churlish trick. "You have heard bow i met this robot," alvin began. "It must possess priceless knowledge about the past, going back to the days before the city as we know it existed. It may even be able to tell us about the other worlds than ear
th, since it fol­lowed the master on his travels. Unfortunately, its speech circuits are blocked. I do not know how effective that block is, but i am asking you to clear it." his voice sounded dead and hollow as the zone of silence absorbed every word before it could form an echo. He waited, within that invisible and unreverberant void, for his request to be obeyed or rejected. "Your order involves two problems," replied the com­puter. "One is moral, one technical. This robot was designed to obey the orders of a certain man. What right have i to override them, even if i can?" it was a question which alvin had anticipated and for which he had prepared several answers. "We do not know what exact form the master's prohi­bition took," be replied. "If you can talk to the robot, you may be able to persuade it that the circumstances in which the block was imposed have now changed." it was, of course, the obvious approach. Alvin had attempted it himself, without success, but he hoped that the central computer, with its infinitely greater mental resources, might accomplish what he had failed to do. "That depends entirely upon the nature of the block," came the reply. "It is possible to set up a block which, if tampered with, will cause the contents of the memory cells to be erased. However, i think it unlikely that the master possessed suf­ficient skill to do that; it requires somewhat specialized techniques. I will ask your machine if an erasing circuit has been set up in its memory units." "but suppose," said alvin in sudden alarm, "it causes erasure of memory merely to ask if an erasing circuit exists?" "there is a standard procedure for such cases, which i shall follow. I shall set up secondary instructions, telling the ma­chine to ignore my question if such a situation exists. It is then simple to insure that it will become involved in a logical paradox, so that whether it answers me or whether it says nothing it will be forced to disobey its' instructions. In such. An event all robots act in the same manner, for their own protection. They clear their input circuits and act as if no question has been asked." alvin felt rather sorry that he had raised the point, and after a moment's mental struggle decided that he too would adopt the same tactics and pretend that he had never been asked the question. At least he was reassured on one point­the central computer was fully prepared to deal with any booby traps that might exist in the robot's memory units. Alvin had no wish to see the machine reduced to a pile of junk; rather than that, he would willingly return it to shalmirane with its secrets still intact. He waited with what patience he could while the silent, impalpable meeting of two intellects took place. Here was an encounter between two minds, both of them created by hu­man genius in the long-lost golden age of its greatest achieve­ment. And now both were beyond the full understanding of any living man. Many minutes later, the hollow, anechoic voice of the central computer spoke again. "I have established partial contact," it said. "At least i know the nature of the block, and i think i know why it was imposed. There is only one way in which it can be broken. Not until the great ones come to earth will this robot speak again." "but that is nonsense!" protested alvin. "The master's other disciple believed in them, too, and tried to expain what they were like to us. Most of the time it was talking gibberish. The great ones never existed, and never will exist." it seemed a complete impasse, and alvin felt a sense of bitter, helpless disappointment. He was barred from the truth by the wishes of a man who had been insane, and who had died a billion years ago. "You may be correct," said the central computer, "in saying that the great ones never existed. But that does not mean that they never will exist." there was another long silence while alvin considered the meaning of this remark, and while the mind of the two robots made their delicate contact again. And then, with­out any warning, he was in shalmirane.