“I promise.”
“Very well. I take it we may proceed with complete honesty then. What do you want from us, Mr. Zimmerman?”
“I want access to the ancient records.”
“Why?”
“Because I do not believe all that I have read concerning the last days of Man in the History of Man.”
“Let me be sure that I understand you. Do you mean to tell me that you have fostered the Anti-Man cult just to force us to reveal the original records?”
“That is correct.”
“Why did you not simply join the priesthood then?”
“Not even the priests have access to the records I want, and it takes a minimum of two hundred years to become an Elder. I did not wish to wait that long.”
There was indignation in Sharon’s voice as she said, “You engaged in politics just for the records? You set up a threat to a culture which has developed from the best minds of the past two thousand years just to satisfy a personal whim? You are more contemptible than even I had imagined.”
The sub-Pope’s voice took on a firm note. “Sharon, please do not interrupt us. If you cannot control your emotions, then please leave the room. Mr. Zimmerman, I do not propose to judge your actions until I understand your motivation. I take it your desire for the records involves a higher purpose than the satisfaction of your own curiosity?”
“Yes.”
“Then speak. I promise you, as Man is my witness, what you say will go no further.”
“It is not an easy thing to explain, sir. I have a creative mind. I was born with a disproportionately high Beta rating which my parents did not condition from me. In my youth I wished to serve Man. I wanted nothing more than to aid in the Search.
“Only consider how hopeless the Search appears to be. With each generation, our prospects for success grow dimmer, until now, it seems to me, the statistical chances of finding Man are almost nonexistent.”
“Perhaps,” the sub-Pope said, “it is better for our kind to seek, even if there is no hope at all of success.”
“Have you seen the Diggers, sir? Have you observed the Cavemen in their dark worlds as they search for what is not there? Do you know that over one-fifth of our race—almost ten million of us—are engaged in the Search? Not to mention the Defenders who have blanketed the world with every imaginable weapon to protect the world from the invaders who are supposed to have destroyed Man. Either directly or indirectly, over half our population is engaged in serving nonexistent Man. I have a feeling for every one of our kind. I have a feeling for every mind that is forced to live in the monotony of a Digger’s body. I grant you your loyalty to Man—but what of your loyalty to our own race?”
“But if Man does not exist, then there is no purpose to our lives.”
“I will leave to some other mind the task of conceiving our new purpose. As for me, I wish to prove once and for all either that Man exists or that he does not. That is the purpose to which I have dedicated myself.”
“And if you find that he does not?”
“Then I shall devote the rest of my life to teaching this truth to our race. Before we can hope to find a new purpose, we must know the truth.”
“Why do you want the records?”
“I think the ancient records will tell me what I must know if I am to prove that Man still lives or has forever vanished.”
“Very well,” the sub-Pope said, “I will show you the records.”
“Father!” Sharon cried.
“Yes, you will be the first outside the high priesthood to see them. And when you have seen them, I think you will understand why the records have been kept from you. Let me warn you in advance, however, that I do not think the records will aid your search. Let me also warn you that what you are about to witness will place a burden on your shoulders that you are not likely to shake off so long as you exist. I will not even ask you to promise not to reveal the truth. If you are the kind of person who would disclose what you are about to see to others, then your promise would be worthless.”
“Nevertheless, I give you my promise.”
“Very well. Follow me, then.”
The sub-Pope rose and took a key from around his neck. He walked to the rear of the office, inserted the key into an old-fashioned lock, and opened a door leading into an unlighted chamber.
“Father, may I go with him?”
The sub-Pope paused and studied them both for a long moment before answering. “Somehow I have the feeling that it is best that you do,” he said at last. There was a sadness in his voice which David found hard to understand.
“Before we go in there,” David said, “I should tell you that before coming here I prerecorded a broadcast which will be sent out in a couple of hours. I would appreciate it if you would ask someone to cut the power to my apartment.”
“I see. I’ll take care of it.”
Sharon and David stepped into the dimly lighted chamber. “Aren’t you coming with us, sir?” David asked as the sub-Pope stayed outside.
“No, I have seen the films once, and I never wish to see them again. If you will take your seats, I will start the projector from here. Be assured of one thing: What you are about to see is the way it really happened. These are the original films.”
He closed the door as Sharon and David sat down and prepared to learn the truth.
They were witnessing the filmed history of the last days of Man. There was no need to question the authenticity of what the films revealed. They had been carefully edited to tell a story, but they were undoubtedly—terrifyingly—authentic.
Two thousand years ago, in the year known to Man as 2160, Man had achieved a degree of scientific achievement which, at last, permitted him to try for the stars. Three ships were sent out, one by one, to make the first tentative steps in a search for other worlds. In the excitement of the times and amidst so many pyramiding scientific discoveries, a discovery by a Man named Lowell Knipper passed almost unnoticed for two years by the general public. Dr. Knipper had found a way to duplicate the original brain cells of a subject from a comparatively small sample of the original cells. Two years later, he had perfected his technique to such an extent that, from the original culture, he was able to develop a brain which, he claimed, was equal in every way to the original human mind from which it had come.
It remained for Richard Pelgraf to give a practical application to the discovery. Pelgraf was a middle-aged engineer who had spent twenty frustrating years working with electronic robots in the Series E plan. He read of Dr. Knipper’s discovery in one of the journals and immediately began to modify an electronic Series E model body for receptivity to brain impulses. Ten years later, the first intelligent humanoid was successfully tested. In a few years there were over eight hundred working models of the new species—all developed from the brain of a brilliant young scientist who had sustained a fatal accident in an elevator failure in the Hall of Science Building.
Time passed. Perhaps a few years; perhaps half a century. The science-oriented race of Man was delighted with its new toy. It was like having a once-in-a-generation scientist magnified eight hundred times. Laws were passed; precedents established. The humanoid-type robots were not human and were not entitled to human treatment. A laboratory technician, enraged beyond reason by a fancied insult, deliberately hammered the “brain cage” of a humanoid until its brain was destroyed. He was charged with murder and found not guilty. He was charged with malicious destruction of property and sentenced to six months.
The humanoids were used almost exclusively for scientific research. New principles were discovered. Old ideas were recombinated into new concepts. The humanoids were the ultimate instrument of Man’s frenzied race toward technological development. From time to time, new brain cultures were donated to the program, but they were not used. They were not necessary. Everyone was satisfied with the capabilities of the models from the original culture. However, twelve of these donations were taken to the Hall of Science for possible future u
se.
Perhaps what happened next was inevitable. A young humanoid chemist who had a number but no name made a startling discovery while searching for a chemical which would forever rid Mankind of the annoyance of insects. He created a self-regenerating deadly chemical which would live in earth’s atmosphere for close to ten years. During its prolonged life expectancy, the chemical would feed on the atmosphere and grow like a giant plant until it blanketed the world. Then, like a plant, it would die and gradually disappear altogether. For several days the young humanoid chemist stayed in his airtight laboratory, refusing to admit anyone and refusing to answer the visaphone.
Then, on the sixth day, he opened the door to the laboratory and announced to the program director, who was impatiently waiting outside, that he had solved the insect problem for all time.
The program director fell dead in the midst of his congratulations. His staff soon suffered similar fates, and by nightfall the entire city lay beneath a deadly quiet. The poison spread. Knowledge came, and with knowledge, panic. The race of Man was doomed. It soon became possible to compute mathematically the exact date when the deadly gas would cover the earth. In three months and twenty-one days from the time when the laboratory door was opened, no living thing could breathe earth’s atmosphere.
In his struggle to survive, Man tried everything. Desperate attempts were made to preserve Man’s biological heritage. Ovum and sperm were buried in capsules which, it was hoped, would later be recovered and used to create life in artificial wombs. Bodies were placed in suspension and buried in lead tanks which contained detailed instructions for revival. In special underground environments a few were able to prolong their lives for a year or more by the use of stored oxygen. But at the end of ten years it was all over. No living thing remained on the face of the earth.
During the time of dying, the humanoids withdrew deep into the poison zone and were not again seen by Man. They had been treated as machines, and they responded as machines. Their education and training had been directed solely to the sciences. They had not been taught to feel pity, and they felt no pity. They regarded the passing of Man with only passing interest.
Three hundred years went by. The few hundred humanoids who had inherited the earth spent their time inventing things and in bathing in their new freedom. The original brain which had supplied their life force had been destroyed by a panicky people during the early stages of the dying. But they were not concerned. They thought themselves immortal, and their numbers were adequate for a race which has forever.
Then the first humanoid brain failed. Then another. It became evident that, even for them, existence was finite. The twelve brain cultures which had been preserved in the Hall of Science were used to create new life. And thus began the age of the humanoids.
The second generation of humanoids, their minds burdened by the great crimes committed by their predecessors, established the culture and religion whose basic patterns had been preserved for nearly two thousand years.
The sub-Pope was waiting in his office when David and Sharon returned.
“Well, are you satisfied now, Mr. Zimmerman?”
“I am satisfied that I know the truth, sir.”
“And you?” The sub-Pope spoke to his daughter, whose face reflected her torment.
“Oh, father. It was horrible. And all these years you have lied to me. Why? Why?”
“I wanted to spare you the guilt. Few can sustain their sanity under the burden of so much guilt. This is why the truth is usually confined to the Elders and the sub-Popes.”
“Our religion is a sham.”
“No,” her father protested. “The logic of our religion is not affected by the truth. Our devotion to Man and to the Search for Man is even more compelling when we know the whole truth.”
“I agree,” David said. “I intend to join the Search for Man in my own fashion. But first, tell me this: Do the Elders actually hope to find Man on this planet, or are they merely trying to keep the people’s hopes alive?”
“We still hope to find Man, because if we do not, then our lives have no purpose. But each year our hopes grow dimmer.”
“Then answer me this: Three ships were sent out into space. Only two returned. What happened to the third ship?”
“The third ship also returned. We have the records on the ships, too, if you want to see them. The first ship returned two years after the disappearance of Man. There were twenty-six adults and two children left alive. They died the moment the airlock was opened. The second ship followed a few years later. There was no one left alive on the ship. Apparently, all had perished on the long voyage —perhaps of some disease contracted on some other world. The third ship returned after fifty years. For two weeks it circled the globe, surveying the dead cities and broadcasting a plea for contact. Apparently they feared to land, for, after receiving no response, they left and have never been seen again.”
“Then why have we not built starships and sent them into space in our Search for Man?” Sharon demanded.
“Because,” the sub-Pope replied, “our instruments recorded a fuel pile in the third ship which was inadequate even to escape the sun’s gravity. There seems to be no basis for hoping that Man may have survived under the lights of some other sun.”
“What about the planets?” David asked.
“Unfortunately, not one of the planets was able to sustain human life. It is true that, at the time of dying,
Man had bases on the moon and others on Mars. However, none of these were self-sustaining. For a time, radio signals were received from those stations, but in a few years these ceased altogether.”
“Has anyone been there?”
“No, but—”
“Is either of the starships still operable?”
“They are preserved intact in the Museum of Man. I suppose they could still be used.”
“Good. I wish to go to Mars by way of the moon.”
“It’s useless. If Man could not survive a poison atmosphere for ten years, he could not have survived the absence of atmosphere for two thousand years.”
“You forget one thing that Man had on Mars which he lacked on earth.”
“What is that, David?”
“Time to adjust. Despite his fragile body, Man was a pretty tough species, with a strong urge to survive. I think it’s worth a try.”
“So do I.” Sharon spoke quickly. “I want to go with him, father. It’s a hope—even if remote.”
“I must ask you one question, David, before I consent to this. Do you go to Mars as the Anti-Man or in the Search for Man?”
“I go as the friend of Man, sir.”
The sub-Pope turned to his daughter. “And why do you wish to take this voyage, my daughter?”
There was a slight hesitation before she replied. “If he will have me thus, I will go as David’s mind-partner.”
“I am willing,” David said. “If we are to be together on the ship, we might as well be married.”
“Do you want a conditioned marriage?”
Both spoke simultaneously. “No.”
“Very well,” the sub-Pope said. “I was never very enthusiastic about the modest notion of conditioned marriages, anyhow. Your mother and I were married for over three hundred years without conditioning. Certainly we had our disagreements, and I suppose these could have been avoided by proper conditioning. Still, I like to think our arguments made life more interesting.”
“I’ll take the chance that our minds will not clash,” David said. “My mind has never been artificially conditioned, and I do not wish to take the risk of dulling my Beta quotient.”
Sharon said something too softly for either to hear.
“What’s that you say, dear?” David asked.
“I only said that it should be an interesting trip,” she said.
The moon had been a dead, lifeless thing which left them both in a mood of deep depression. The ancient bases which Man had established there had been deserted for two thousand years. A fe
w scattered diaries told of the unhappy fate of the crews which had Manned the bases when death had blanketed earth.
David rather enjoyed the big ship which they had managed to get from the Museum of Man through the influence of sub-Pope Hazlewood. He particularly liked it when he cut off the artificial gravity. The sensation of being without weight he found vaguely stimulating. Sharon preferred an earth-normal gravity. Weightlessness made her dizzy, she said. In. the end, they had compromised: one hour of weightlessness each day, and twenty-three hours of artificial gravity. David wondered, half-seriously, if all their compromises were to be so disproportionate.
He had no idea that marriage could be so complicated. For twelve years he had devoted his life to an idea. He had had little time to devote to the psychology of the female mind. One would think that with no biological urges to disturb the relationship, two humanoids of nearly equal intelligence should have little difficulty in making the minor adjustments which a close companionship demanded. One would also think that a starship in space would be the ideal place to make these adjustments. That was the reason, in fact, he had delayed their marriage until the night before takeoff.
Yet they argued constantly. Was it for this that custom decreed marriage for their kind? He had rather fancied having a first-rate mind around from which he could bounce back some of his more carefully thought out ideas. Secretly he had thought she should be somewhat impressed with the clarity of his thinking. Instead he found himself on the defensive more often than not. She seemed to take a special delight in finding tiny flaws in his arguments. Not only that, but when all else failed she fell back on a thing called “Woman’s intuition,” a mental quality which, she assured him, the records of Man showed to be a characteristic exclusive to the feminine mind.
Yet he had to admit that during no time in the three-week voyage from the moon to Mars would he have preferred that she not be with him. It was strange how fond he was becoming of her—despite her obstinacy.
In the Wake of Man Page 19
