Each robot was linked to a larger network under the control of the computer evermind, a labyrinth of circuitry that functioned in unison, building the Synchronized Worlds to a larger, more comprehensive state of order and progress.
Humans, on the other hand, clung to their much vaunted "free will." which enabled them to make horrendous, bumbling mistakes and mutter inane excuses afterward. Their freedoms, however, gave them the creativity and imagination to complete marvelous works, to succeed in monumental achievements that the vast majority of machine minds could never conceive. There were advantages.
But this… creature was none of those things. He was barely distinguishable from an animal. The young man — singlehandedly — seemed intent on increasing the universe's entropy by an order of magnitude.
"Stop that, Gilbertus Albans." The command was the same one Erasmus had uttered many times before, but the boy did not seem to comprehend simple instructions.
Erasmus had chosen the name for the boy after studying classical history, selecting sounds that carried respectable and important tonalities. Thus far, however, the appellation did not at all reflect the child's behavior, or his complete inability to follow simple instructions.
The feral slave boy heard the same thing over and over and simply did not do as he was told. At times Erasmus wondered if it was stupidity or stubborn refusal.
Gilbertus knocked over one of the robot's flowerpots, smashing the terra cotta, spilling dirt on the tile floor, and killing the plant.
"Stop doing that," Erasmus repeated, more sternly this time. The harshness seemed to have no effect. But what purpose did the child's defiance serve? Gilbertus gained nothing from all the destruction he wreaked; he just seemed to enjoy his ruinous acts because Erasmus had told him not to commit them.
Gilbertus smashed another flowerpot, then scampered out of the greenhouse alcove and scuttled toward his rooms. The distinguished robot strode after him, his luxuriant robes swishing with the speed of his gait.
No doubt Omnius was enjoying every moment of this, observing vicariously through his ever-present watcheyes.
By the time Erasmus reached the boy's room, Gilbertus had already torn the sheets and pillows from the bed and tossed them across the room. He yanked down the diaphanous curtains hanging from posts overhead, then proceeded to fling off his clothes, one article at a time.
"Stop that, Gilbertus Albans," Erasmus demanded, forming his flow-metal face into a stern, paternal visage.
In response, the feral boy tossed soiled underwear onto the robot's mirrored head.
This called for a change of tactics.
i
Even as the chaos continued, a squad of household robots entered the room and started picking up the mess. They gathered bedsheets and strewn clothes; in the greenhouse, other crews had already disposed of the smashed pots and swept clean the scattered dirt and terra cotta fragments. The boy tried to stay one step ahead of them.
Gilbertus Albans stood naked, laughing and making rude noises as he jumped onto the bed and avoided the robots deftly, though they made no overt move to capture him — not yet.
Observing him, Erasmus assessed what to do. The boy had been attired in the finest clothes, but did not seem to value them in the least. Repeatedly and patiently, the robot had tried to tutor him in manners, social responsibilities, and other acceptable behavior patterns. Yet Gilbertus insisted on smashing valuable objects, messing his room, ripping up books, and ignoring his studies.
Although the wild boy did not seem to be listening, the mirror-faced robot said calmly, "It is not efficient for me to continue repairing the damage in your wake. My system of benevolence and rewards has had no discernible effect." He emitted a silent signal for the household robots. They moved forward with stealthy speed and seized Gilbertus, holding him firmly despite his struggles.
Erasmus said, "Now we shall begin a course of strict supervision and punishment." He stepped aside so that the captor robots could move through the doorway. "Remove him to my laboratories. We will see if we can make him behave."
After centuries of dissection and careful observation involving thousands of humans, Erasmus knew exactly how to inflict pain, unpleasantness, and fear upon them. The robot had grown skilled enough in his technique to proceed vigorously without causing any permanent damage. If possible, he wanted to avoid harming or perhaps killing the frustrating boy. Not out of any compassion on his part. The boy was a challenge to him. And besides, he didn't want to have to admit failure to Omnius.
Drugs and brain surgeries were options, but Erasmus supposed that such methods might stretch the boundaries of his agreement with the evermind who had issued the challenge. For now he would hold that in reserve.
Still struggling and defiant, the boy seemed annoyed but not beaten. Erasmus knew he could keep going longer than his ward. "I alone see your potential, Gilbertus Albans, and I have the incentive not to give up on you."
They marched down the corridors toward the extensive surgical rooms and laboratories. "This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you. But always remember: I'm doing it for your own good." ;
The comments seemed illogical to Erasmus, but he was practicing a new technique, mimicking the words human parents often spoke to their offspring before administering punishments.. As they entered the laboratories and the squirming boy began to show genuine fear, the robot said in a flat voice, "From now on, you must pay closer attention to your lessons."
Through his mind and senses, the human anticipates hits and pieces of the reality to come. Despite endless calculations, thinking machines can never come close to achieving this, or even comprehending how it works.
—Titan Hecate, Renegade Journals
Iblis ginjo was trapped, as if he had been swallowed by a gigantic spacefaring whale. All of his ship's systems had shut down; the power grids and monitor panels lay dark, paralyzed and cold. Now he and his two companions were caught in a pitch black grotto deep within the mysterious artificial asteroid.
We are doomed.
Though they had sworn to protect the Grand Patriarch, his two Jipol aides could do nothing. Floriscia Xico had turned pale, her short-cropped auburn curls clumped with sweat. She stared at the Grand Patriarch as if Iblis could simply command a bolt of lightning from God to destroy this peculiar captor. Even staunch Yorek Thurr — who had successfully completed countless dangerous missions for his master and had masterfully exposed machine spies in all parts of the League — looked terrified.
Iblis dared not show weakness. To distract himself from his own apprehension, he glowered at the others and said, "The Jipol has faced any number of hazards without wavering from its faith in my leadership and in the cause of Serena Butler's Jihad. And now a mysterious asteroid turns you into frightened, superstitious fools?"
They waited in darkness and silence. What else was there to do?
Quite suddenly, strange lights flashed outside the ship in the enclosing grotto, as if filtered through diamond lenses. The asteroid chamber reflected the spangles with the intensity of small suns bouncing off polished planes.
The young Jipol sergeant shielded her eyes, while Yorek Thurr gazed with unapologetic curiosity. Iblis, the tallest of the three, stood behind the others and peered out. Vaporous mists curled around the well-lit chamber. "It's as if the asteroid swallowed a mouthful of heaven…"
Finally system lights blinked on around the hatch, and a soothing female voice spoke over the captured ship's loudspeakers. "Step out of your craft, Iblis Ginjo. I wish to meet the Grand Patriarch in person. Don't be shy — I've gone to a lot of trouble to arrange this little party."
The female sergeant looked at Iblis with eyes as round as glowglobes, but Thurr met him with a hard gaze. "I will accompany you, Grand Patriarch."
Trying to look courageous and commanding, Iblis snapped at Xico, "Stop acting so frightened, Sergeant. It is certain that this… entity… does not wish to destroy us. Not yet anyway."
Even though the rest of th
eir ship's systems remained deactivated, the hatch opened and a cool, metal-scented breeze drifted inside. The air within the asteroid seemed sterile and preserved, but breathable.
While Iblis was not convinced any of them would survive this encounter, he made a show of bravado anyway. If there was any way out of this, it would be because of his persuasive abilities. As if about to address a representative from an important League World, he smoothed a hand over his hair and stepped out into the brilliantly reflective chamber. Yorek Thurr followed him, matching his steps. An edgy Floriscia Xico hurried after them, prepared to demonstrate support for her sworn leader despite her obvious trepidation.
Once outside, Iblis put his hands on his hips, drew several deep breaths, and looked around with interest. Finally he shouted, "Why have you captured us?" His words reflected around the walls, and the echoes drained off into silence.
They heard a stirring and a clatter. A human-sized figure stepped out of a shadowed pocket in one of the mirror-plated walls. It was a machine form, but unlike any Iblis had ever seen in his time as a trustee and slave master on Earth: a beautiful yet frightening monstrosity on graceful segmented legs. A head studded with optic threads raised up on a sinuous neck covered with pearlescent scales, while long angular plates protruded from the sides like prismatic butterfly wings. The sharp forelimbs were delicate and curved, resembling the appendages of a praying mantis. The machine reminded him of a robotic dragon, fearsome but aesthetically pleasing.
Cymek.
Beside him, Yorek Thurr gaped in astonishment. Such a reaction from the normally cool and unflappable man surprised Iblis.
The dragon machine scrutinized its captives, then clattered forward again. She was much less intimidating than many of the monstrous warrior bodies Iblis had seen other cymeks wear.
Floriscia Xico yelped and yanked out her hand weapon. Before she could fire, though, the dragon-cymek raised a front forelimb adorned with antennas and lenses. A barely visible ripple of energy created turbulence in the air, then struck the anxious Jipol sergeant, knocking her to the polished floor.
"You hrethgir haven't changed a bit," the female voice said, emanating from the dragon-walker. "Come now, is that any way to make a first impression? Let's start our conversation without violence, all right?" She pranced forward, nimble in her exotic configuration, to the spot where Xico lay motionless. "Ajax always said that females were prone to overreaction. Of course, it took me ages to understand what an idiot he was."
Questions that had accumulated in Iblis's mind spilled forth like water tumbling through a sluice box. "How do you know who I am? Who are you? Why did you capture our ship? What do you want?"
The cymek's metallic green eyes glistened. "I've been gathering information for years, and your Jihad is the best entertainment I've encountered in a long time. Quite a spectator sport, just like some of our old gladiator matches during the Time of Titans. I was glad to be rid of those, though."
"And who are you?" Iblis demanded, trying to bring to bear all of his persuasive powers. "Identify yourself."
Every vibration caused the mirrored facets of the dragon body to send out rainbow glitters like water splashing off rocks. "Sadly, I'm not surprised that my story has faded into obscurity over the past millennium. I doubt Agamemnon wrote any glowing biographies of me, as he did with the other Twenty Titans. Ajax probably didn't even miss me."
"You're a Titan?"
The dragon cymek glowed. She had dropped plenty of hints, and Iblis had spent the first half of his life working for the cymeks, being taunted and bullied by the Titans. She talked as if she had been around for as long as Agamemnon and all the others. But Iblis had known all of the surviving Titans. It didn't make sense.
"You aren't going to guess?" The cymek sounded almost pouty. "Very well — I am Hecate." ,
"Hecate!" said Thurr. "That… is not possible!"
Iblis was stunned as well. "One of the first enslavers of humanity?"
"Oh, not nearly the first. There have always been slavers of humanity."
Iblis certainly knew the history of the original cymeks, and had himself been bullied by Ajax. He remembered that Hecate had been Ajax's lover a thousand years ago, but had surrendered her position among the Titans and departed for parts unknown. No one had seen her in many centuries.
"You consider us enslavers of humanity? So ominous-sounding, when it was nothing more than a youthful indiscretion. I was reckless and impetuous then. But there's only so far one can go in developing new paradigms of hedonism." Hecate made a wistful sound. "But much has changed and I've had ample time to reconsider. I've grown up, you might say. A thousand years of brooding will do that to you."
Pretending a comfort he did not feel, Iblis sat by the dragon cymek, taking care not to get too close to the winglike protrusions. She sat higher than he did. His mind felt as if it might explode from all the possibilities gathering like thunderclouds in his imagination. "You are correct, Hecate. Perhaps we do have a great deal to talk about."
Thurr did not give a second glance to the stunned Xico, as if she no longer mattered. He looked at Iblis with black, cadaverous eyes. Then he turned to Hecate and said, "We need to know where you've been. Are you in league with the Titans? Or Omnius?"
The female cymek made a rude snort. "Omnius didn't even exist when I left the Old Empire. And the Titans — why would I come back to those fools? I have no intention of making such a mistake ever again."
"You seem to have been watching closely though," Thurr muttered. "You probably know a great deal about the Synchronized Worlds."
Iblis tried to digest the situation. "I've heard stories about you, Hecate, but I don't know how much is the truth. Why did you leave the Titans behind? What is it you want now?"
Hecate lowered her dragon form as if hunkering down to tell a story. Iblis's fear had given way to curiosity and fascination.
"In the beginning I joined Tlaloc and his rebels because I was enraptured with the idea of power and grandeur. I was bored then, and easily impressed. When they recruited Ajax to be their military enforcer, he brought me with him. I was just his plaything, but I pleased him well enough. After the Titans overthrew the Empire, I found I liked the trappings of leadership: large estates, doting servants, fine clothes, and glittering jewels. It was all quite pleasant, though admittedly shallow."
Iblis struggled to match this information with his preconceived image of the lone Titan who had washed her hands of conquest. "I… knew Ajax." He lifted his chin, not sure if it would be wise to tell her too much. "He was a bully."
"Oh, much more than a bully. He was a bloodthirsty thug, a psychotic killer. A complete bastard."
"You were his lover," Iblis pointed out. "And now you want us to trust you and accept your friendship?"
Thurr's dead eyes narrowed, as if he distrusted her every answer. "What attracted you to such a man in the first place? Was he different before he became a Titan?"
"Oh, he always had a terrible violence within him, but Ajax was able to acquire the treasures and gifts I wanted. He made me feel special, though I was somewhat fatuous then."
"Later, listening to Tlaloc's great speeches, I started to get a greater sense of things… but I wasn't really paying attention. Tlaloc was a great visionary, you must understand. Agamemnon, Juno, and Barbarossa were all enamored with the idea of the conquest. So I followed along. I had no particular interest in achieving glory. I simply wanted the trappings of an Empress, not unlike your own wife, Iblis Ginjo." He squirmed. She paused. Her ornate head swiveled from side to side. "But I'm not that person anymore. Far from it."
Beside them, the young Jipol sergeant began to stir, but neither Iblis Ginjo nor Yorek Thurr paid any attention to her.
"Eventually, I figured out that everything I had wanted amounted to nothing. Maybe I was a late bloomer, but eventually I understood the point." Her tiny laugh sounded self-congratulatory. "If I'd had such feelings earlier, maybe the Time of Titans would have been different. After
my transformation into a cymek, I got tired of sparkling treasures. Pretty baubles just don't look the same through optic threads and all-spectrum sensors. I came to value other things, since I had all the time a human being could imagine."
"An enlightened cymek," Thurr muttered, as if he found the very concept incomprehensible.
"Is that so different from a Cogitor? I remember when I turned a century old. A hundred years! That still sounds ancient to me, though now I've been around ten times as long. But inside my cymek body, I felt as young and energetic as ever. I chose to better myself, studying philosophy and literature, contemplating the good that people could accomplish. Sure, the Old Empire was a blot on the potential of the human race. A tedious waste of time, a clock winding down. It nearly extinguished the individual human spirit and the creative drive."
"But as a cymek, I began to wonder what was the point of having immortality for its own sake? It gets awfully dull simply existing for centuries. In front of me the future looked bleak and featureless." She swiveled her head turret on its sinuous neck, as if studying her own reflections in the faceted wall mirrors.
"I had grown apart from Ajax. In our cymek bodies we had no need for each other's physical companionship. And he was — let's admit it — a downright ass. I must have been stupid or blind not to see it earlier. I changed and grew, but Ajax never matured beyond being a bully. I came to realize that he never would. With more power and fewer inhibitions, his penchant for bloodshed became unbearable to me. That horrific slaughter on Walgis during the First Hrethgir Rebellion was the last straw… so I left him. I left all of them. I didn't need them, after all. I told all the Titans what they could do with their dominion."
"Quietly, I had already built a ship for myself, along with alternative bodies to accommodate my preservation canister. I intended to go on a great voyage of discovery across the whole universe. A galactic sightseer with all the time any person could desire. I can't say the other Titans were sad to see me go." Hecate paused, her gleaming metal limbs twitching. "Then, less than two years afterward, Omnius took over."
The Machine Crusade Page 27
