“Why, of course there are. We no longer see them, but Man still exists. When you begin to study theology, you will learn more of Man.”
“When will I begin school, father?”
Judith spoke for the first time. “Soon, David. Very soon now.” She seemed to have difficulty in speaking. “Oh, Daniel, he’s so young. His babyhood has passed almost before we knew it.”
“I know, dear,” Daniel said, “but you know that when he is old enough to ask the question, it is time for him to assume his boyhood.”
“Gosh, dad. Do you mean I get to be a boy now? Can I pick out my own body, huh? When can I have it?”
“Now hold up a minute, son. Don’t get so excited. We’ll take you down tomorrow for your psyche tests, and if everything goes well, you should have your new body in a few days. As for picking out your own, I think we can let you do that. There are only three styles. Personally, I prefer the mesomorphic body, but I see no reason why you can’t make your own selection. However, your new face will have to be designed by the expression projector. You wouldn’t want to look altogether different, would you?” “I guess not,” David said. The thought of being a boy created a whirlpool of excitement in his brain. Reluctantly he obeyed his father’s instructions to go to bed. He was sure that he would not sleep. For a long time he lay awake, dreaming of the new adventures that would be his when he had his new body.
Later that night, he heard his mother come into the room. Without actually seeing her, he was aware that she was standing over him and looking at him in the dim light. With a sudden insight, he sensed a part of what it was that troubled her, and he called her a name which for some time he had not used and would never use again. “Mommy,” he said.
She reached down and pulled him against her breast. For a long time she held him, and then, still without speaking, she gently laid him down again on his resting place.
The subpriest chanted, “We have a mouth; yet we do not eat.”
The students replied, “Only Man eats.”
The subpriest chanted, “We have a nose; yet we do not smell.”
“Only Man can smell,” the students replied.
“We have lungs; yet we do not breathe.”
“Only Man can breathe.”
“We have organs; yet we do not reproduce.”
“Only Man can reproduce.”
“We have senses; yet we feel no pain.”
“Only Man can feel pain; only Man can suffer.”
“We have life; yet we do not die.”
“Only Man can die,” the students sang back.
“Our father is Man; in his image are we made.”
“We are made in the image of Man.”
“Man gave his life that we might live. Yes, when death walked the earth, Man gave his life that we might live.” “We are the descendants of Man; we are made in his image; we must be worthy to be mind-brothers of Man.” David Zimmerman felt a vague thrill as the liturgy was ended. Of the twelve liturgies used by the subpriest to open these religious seminars, this was his favorite. Just as the study of Man was his favorite subject. He particularly enjoyed the seminars, for here, in informal sessions, he was able to get answers to some of the questions that had begun to trouble him.
The opening ceremony completed, the subpriest brightened the lights and took his place in the center of the curved table. “Today, students, we are going to review a few basic facts concerning the—ah—nature of Man. Perhaps a good place to start would be with the liturgy we have just sung. Now then, can someone tell me what we mean when we say that we have senses, yet we feel no pain?”
The girl who was sitting on David’s right raised her hand. “That means,” she said eagerly, “we can feel the shape, temperature, and texture of an object with our sensors, but the object has no power to cause us pain.” “That is fairly close, Betty. Where we have sensors to register stimuli, Man had nerves which registered pain as well as other stimuli. I think we can assume that not all of those stimuli were painful. In fact, some of them are thought to have been quite pleasurable. However, we won’t get into that until some of your more advanced classes.
“Now, Richard, can you tell us why we say that only Man can reproduce?”
“Yes, sir. Man reproduced by combining complex gene patterns from the male and female. Since each gene pattern was completely unique, the resulting life represented a unique entity.”
“Yes, Richard, that is correct up to a point. But are not all humanoids unique?”
“Yes, sir, but our minds come from combinations of brain cells from just twelve Men, the Holy Twelve. What differences there are between us, initially, are determined by our parents’ selection of cells from one or more of the original cultures. Therefore, the range of our differences is less.”
“Very good, Richard. Now let us suppose that I am riding the conveyor to Central City and a meteor strikes the tube and causes an accident. Let us say that my body is hurtled with great force against the side of the conveyor and that my head cage is smashed. I cease to exist. Have I not died?”
Several hands went up. “Agnes?”
“No, sir,” Agnes said. “Your mind has gone out. You have ceased to exist, but only Man dies.”
“Richard?”
“It’s because death ends a unique gene combination—”
“Billy?”
“Death, I think, is something more than a mere cessation of existence. To have death, it is first necessary to have life, and our life continues in the vats of the twelve brain cultures.”
“This is an extremely difficult concept for you to understand,” the subpriest said. “Death is a symbolism. Of course, you all know that in approximately four hundred years our existence ceases whether we have an accident or not. Our minds simply go out. But this, too, is not death.”
The subpriest turned toward David and asked, “David, perhaps you can name some of the similarities between Man and humanoid?”
David had decided that the subpriest was deliberately avoiding calling on him today. “Yes, sir. First, we are mind-brothers. Since we have the mind of Man, we are intelligent. We have egos; therefore, we desire the rewards of achievement and recognition. We have likes and dislikes. We are able to love, and we are able to hate. We have all the emotions which are not directly related to needs of the body. The main difference between Man and us is that Man was an animal and we are not.”
A disapproving frown passed over the subpriest’s face. “Man was not an animal. Man was more than an animal, David.” There was a sharp rebuke in his voice.
“I meant no disrespect, sir.”
“What you meant, David,” the subpriest said more gently, “is that we were designed while Man evolved. Do not forget that the first principle of the fifth concept of Man is that evolution is more noble than creation.”
“Why, sir?”
“Because, David, evolution can produce a higher order of Man. We, as mind-brothers to Man, can never hope to surpass Man as he existed two thousand years ago in the minds of the Holy Twelve. Only Man evolves. And that is why, David, we acknowledge the godhood of Man. Individually, our bodies, being the products of a superior science, perform better than that of Man. Because we are descended from twelve of the finest minds which Man possessed in the final days, we are superior mentally to most of Mankind.
“Yet we acknowledge Man as our masters. Why? Because only Man contains the seeds of evolution. Even if Man did not exist, it would be necessary for us to believe that he existed. For what purpose to our lives if it is not to serve Man and to preserve the evolutionary chain? Do we live to collect knowledge unto ourselves? In four hundred years our minds cease to function, and what is knowledge then? Do we exist to satisfy our own egos? Many of us seem to do just that. They create a greater music than the world has ever known. They capture beauty itself on a piece of canvas. Or perhaps they spend their time in inventions so that our minds are forever freed from toil. But for what purpose? These things are satisfying. They are wo
rthy activities, but if they serve not Man, then they are without purpose. For the satisfaction of the ego for its own sake can be just as purposeless as existence for the pleasure principle.”
This was a new term for the young group. “The pleasure principle, sir?” Agnes asked.
“Yes,” the subpriest said. “You will learn about it soon enough. For the moment, it is enough for you to know that there are those among us who deny the existence of Man. There are those who deny that our life has any purpose other than their own pleasure. They stimulate their minds in sinful ways with subtle electronic impulses from their devilish machines. They create bodies for themselves which are not Manlike. They spend their time in the foolish satisfaction of their own egos. Some of them even profess to believe in the Anti-Man.
“But enough for today. Tomorrow we will begin our study of the History of Man in the final days. Read chapters eight and nine in the Book of Man”
The subpriest dimmed the lights, assumed his place behind the rostrum, and began the chant of dismissal. David waited until the other students had begun to drift toward the door, then he approached the priest.
“Sir?”
“Yes, my son.”
“I have thought that I might serve Man.”
“Yes?”
“But I am troubled. How do we serve Man here on earth? How do our actions aid Man?”
“We are here to preserve Man’s heritage, son. We must protect earth and preserve its resources for Man’s return.”
“Yes, sir, but where is Man? No humanoid has seen Man for two thousand years. How can we be sure he still exists?”
“There are some things that we must accept on faith, my son. There were three starships. Only two have returned. Perhaps Man will be on the third.”
“But, father, in military science we learned that both the starships returned within a few years after the final days. And neither contained life. Surely it is unlikely that the third would return more than two thousand years after its departure.”
“It is possible. But there are other ways Man may have survived. In the final days, many things were tried to preserve Man’s evolution. As recently as four hundred years ago, two female and two male bodies were found in the famous Cave of Man in Old Europe. Had the power source not failed, it is obvious that the life-suspension system employed would have been successful. And in my own time, two more life capsules have been found which, with just a slight change in the chemicals used, could have preserved Man’s seed in such a way as to have permitted synthetic gestation.”
“I believe that Man exists, father. I believe. And yet I am sure that I want to devote my life to the Search for Man.”
“You are very young to commit your life to the Search.”
“I know, and yet—”
“It will not be easy.”
“I know it will not be easy, father.”
“Do you wish to be a Digger, a Caveman, or a Searcher?”
“Father, I wish to be none of those. There are many who dig in the ground; there are many who explore for caves; and there are many who search the old ruins. There must be something else.”
“Each must decide for himself how he may best serve Man, my son. You are very mature for your age. I have it in mind that you will not long wear your boy’s body now. You are thirteen now—?”
“Twelve, father.”
“Twelve years old, then. I shall speak to your mother and father soon about a new body for you. You have matured much faster than the others in your group. Your parents selected your mind cells very carefully.” With a slight nod of his head the old subpriest indicated that the interview was ended.
That evening David decided to walk home instead of taking the underground conveyor. His boyhood was slipping away from him even before he had abandoned his boy’s body. He was maturing rapidly. He had awakened at birth with an adult mind containing the same innate intelligence which he would possess throughout his life. From the many tests he had taken, he knew that he ranked in the upper ninety-eight percentile in four of the five major areas of intelligence. By the somewhat fortuitous selection of brain cells by his parents, he possessed perhaps the highest level of creative potential which his world had known in over eight hundred years. It was a mind which, he had already come to recognize, contained a fierce need for achievement.
Now he had to decide what he would choose for his life’s work. In just a few weeks he would have completed his general training, and he must select his specialty. Was he willing to commit himself to the Search? Was he ready to commit his talents to a task that had spelled frustration to some of the finest minds in the past two thousand years? Was his faith great enough?
He thought of his parents. His mother would be proud of him, of course. She was a very religious person. His father, perhaps, would be disappointed. His father, he knew, had always wanted to be a creative inventor, but his father’s brain lacked that indefinable something which would enable him to successfully recombinate old ideas into anything unique. So his father had settled for a technician’s job with one of the computer factories. Yes, his father would probably be disappointed if he joined the Search.
As he continued the long walk from the school to his home, David’s keen ears detected a slight grating sound off the old roadway which he had been following. He had walked for miles through the lifeless countryside without hearing a sound. No one traveled for any distance upon the earth’s surface, and there was, of course, no walking life upon the earth. The sound, therefore, excited his curiosity. He hesitated a moment, turning his head to get his bearings, and then struck a course through the luxuriant undergrowth toward the direction of the sound.
He came to a small clearing about a hundred yards off the roadway. A solitary humanoid was squatting near a pile of dirt and debris. He was dressed in the austere garb of a Digger. David approached to within a few yards before he spoke.
“Good afternoon, Reverend Digger.”
The Digger barely glanced up from the dirt which he was sifting as he answered. “Good afternoon, young son of 1 Man.”
“You work alone?”
“Yes, I work alone. I have worked alone these past two hundred eighty years.”
“Do you not get lonely, sir?”
“I get lonely.”
“Your work must be tiring, sir.”
“It is tiring. It drains the brain. In my two hundred eighty years of sifting the soil in search of Man, I have found not one artifact which would aid the Search.”
“Then why, reverend sir—?”
“Because, young son of Man, within each scoop of earth I turn may lay buried a capsule containing the seed of Man.”
“Why do you dig in this wilderness, sir? I see no evidence of one of the olden cities here.”
“Not all Diggers work in the old cities, young son of Man. I myself have spent my whole life digging at isolated homesites. You are the first person I have seen in eighteen years. I may never see another before my mind ceases to function. I get little news of the outside world. Tel} me, have there been any new discoveries?”
With only a momentary hesitation, David lied. “Why, yes, Reverend Digger. In Australia just four months ago a young Digger was excavating the site of an old plantation when he happened upon a capsule which was remarkably well preserved. Unfortunately, the seed of Man had not survived due to a slight excess of acidity in the preservative.”
The old man’s eyes lit up. “I knew it,” he said triumphantly. “I knew that Man would not entrust all the capsules to the cities. When the live seed is found, it will be from a site such as this.” And he seemed almost to examine the next turn of earth as though expecting to see the cherished capsule contained in that very sample.
It was plain that the Digger was now more interested in continuing his exploration around the sunken foundation than he was in continuing the conversation, so David took leave of him and returned to the old road leading to his home.
Yes, he would join the Search for Man.
But not as a Digger. Nor as a Caveman. Nor as a Searcher. He would join the Search because the old subpriest was right: there was no purpose to his existence unless it was to find Man. And not alone to serve Man—but also to serve his fellow humanoids. For two thousand years they had worked, and worshipped, and waited. They had waited long enough. Perhaps Man had irrevocably disappeared from the evolutionary chain. If so, it was time for his kind to face this reality and to begin a search for a new purpose.
Standing there in the middle of the ruins of the paved roadway and staring into a blood-red sun low on the horizon, he felt the vague stirrings of ancient emotions— too faint for articulation, too strong to be ignored. Perhaps the first thing that came crawling from that ancient sea had felt something akin to what he was feeling now. Perhaps the first animal to stand erect had felt a part of it. Perhaps the first Man to light a fire, to grasp a tool, or to speak a word had felt a part of it. And perhaps the last Man on earth to draw a poisoned breath had felt it too.
His mind struggled with itself. He was on the verge of a discovery. His love for Man, the evolutionary animal, flooded his mind. He would have willingly committed himself to become a Digger for life. And yet—
A flash of inspiration burst inside his mind like a dam unleashed.
And at that precise moment, he became the Anti-Man.
David Zimmerman looked the group over carefully before giving the signal to dim the lights. It was the usual crowd, mostly teenagers with a sprinkling of adults. There were several new faces tonight. This was good. The group was off to a promising start. It would grow. He mounted the speaker’s stand. On the other side of him two torches cast an eerie, flickering glow on his face. He began his nightly speech.
It was a good speech. He had made it many times these past two years with only slight variations. He knew his audience. He knew the words which would most appeal to their emotions. We are entering a new era, he told them. The age of Man has passed. Man will never again walk the earth. The old people have lied to you. They have tried to deprive you of your true heritage. They have made gods of animals.
In the Wake of Man Page 17
