Barrington Bayley SF Gateway Omnibus: The Soul of the Robot, The Knights of the Limits, The Fall of Chronopolis

by Barrington J. Bayley

  The picture show ended with a shorter second series showing weird, almost impossible animals. Creatures with ludicrously long necks or with twenty-foot wing spans, cats the size of elephants and horses the size of cats. Some of the animals bore no resemblance to any beast Jasperodus knew of and defied description.

  ‘None of these animals occur in nature but were created during the classical civilisation by a science now lost,’ the expositor explained. ‘This science could also culture bizarre types of man, but these and all other like species are extinct today, not having survived the wild state that attended the Dark Age.’

  He put aside the laser projector; but the show was not yet finished. Another man took the stage and performed baffling feats of magic. Jasperodus watched closely. He could discern faster movements than could the human eye and he was able to see that many of the tricks depended on legerdemain or on misdirecting the attention of the audience. Others, mainly those using cards or apparently demonstrating mind-reading, made use of devious mathematical calculations or ingenious psychology, at both of which the conjurer was clearly an expert. Jasperodus was able to see through the operation of these also; but others mystified even him.

  Afterwards the four leaders of the troupe, including the expositor and the conjuror, sat before him relating unusual tales and propounding riddles. Jasperodus had secretly looked forward to this part of the proceedings. These people spent their lives travelling the world, and their knowledge covered a vast range of subjects. The troupe could cater for all tastes: not only could it perform plays, exotic foreign music, displays of dancing, acrobatics, conjuring and buffoonery; it could also debate philosophy with remarkable erudition. Jasperodus needed some stimulating conversation now that Padua, otherwise his only outlet, had become churlish and unfriendly towards him.

  After listening for a while he expressed a wish to be posed a riddle or two.

  A jolly-faced oldster, his face more wrinkled than the others and fringed by a fluffy white beard, obliged him. ‘Which are more numerous, the living or the dead?’

  Jasperodus thought for a moment. ‘The living, for the dead don’t exist.’

  ‘Correct! Now apply yourself to this ancient conundrum. A judge once sentenced a man to death, informing him that he was to be garotted sometime between the following Monday and Friday, but that up until the moment he was taken from his cell he would not know on which day. That night the condemned man reasoned thus: “I cannot be garotted on Friday, which is the last day, for in that case I would be forewarned of it the instant Thursday midnight had passed, which is against the judge’s ruling. But if Friday is eliminated I cannot be garotted on Thursday either – because I would likewise be forewarned of it the instant Wednesday midnight had passed. By the same argument Wednesday, Tuesday and Monday are each eliminated in turn. I am saved! I cannot be executed.” And so he rested easy. But when Tuesday arrived he was taken from his cell and garotted, unforeseen as the judge had promised. Explain.’

  Jasperodus explored the intricacies of the tale and found himself in a paradox. After some abortive attempts to solve it he shifted uneasily in his chair. ‘Pah! It is a play on words merely. The judge lied. He imposed a condition that cannot be carried out in reality, which is something any fool can do. He should have exempted the last day from his promise and then there would be no paradox.’

  ‘My opinion exactly!’ Shoulders jiggling, the oldster chuckled in amusement. ‘But you would be surprised how many philosophers have taken his words at face value and erected imposing systems of logic on them.’ He gave a crafty laugh, looking sidewise at his colleagues. ‘A ruler with an intellect for a change!’

  The remark emboldened Jasperodus. ‘You are all men of discernment,’ he said, adopting an imperious pose. ‘Consider, then, my achievements. I have made myself king of this land and all men here do my bidding. I can out-think most and have determination enough for ten. Do you not think that this gives me equal status with men? That I am, in effect, a man?’

  He was answered by a trouper with a lean rubbery face the colour of red brick. ‘By no means. You are a machine for all that. How did you gain your kingdom?’

  ‘Why, by trickery and deceit!’ Jasperodus said proudly. ‘Is that not the way of men?’

  ‘The way of most men, just so. By your own admission you add weight to my case. With you, all is imitation.’

  ‘You have no moral sense,’ chortled the white-bearded oldster.

  The fourth member of the team, a man somewhat younger than the others, spoke up. ‘Your question is dealt with by the Riddle of the Sphinx, said by many to predate all recorded history.’

  Jasperodus darted him a quick look. ‘Tell it.’

  ‘The riddle runs: What can a man do that is neither thinking, feeling, sensing nor action? The answer is that he can be conscious that he does any of those things. Here we have the vital difference between a man and any construct. Your Majesty can think, have emotions, perceive – in the machine sense – and perform effective action. But there can be no awareness behind these functions, and if you aver that there is then you have formed an erroneous conclusion.’

  ‘So my good friend Padua tells me,’ Jasperodus said huffily, disappointed that he had received no praise. ‘And yet I do indeed hold to this error, at no small cost to my peace of mind. Tell me, do you not fear that I will punish you for your ill-considered remarks?’

  ‘Should we then insult both you and ourselves with pandering lies?’ The man put on an exposition of dignity. ‘We undertake to earn our fee wherever we go, whether with frolics or erudition.’

  The expositor twisted the knife still further. ‘It needs to be said that gaining power over others, even in seizing a kingdom by force, is among the coarsest of human accomplishments and does not indicate any high level of attainment.’

  But meanwhile the white-bearded poser of paradoxes was apparently seized by a huge joke and sat giggling quietly to himself. Jasperodus’ gaze veered towards him.

  ‘Why do you laugh, old man?’

  ‘Who is to prove that human beings are conscious either?’ the other replied, restraining his mirth. ‘There is no objective test. They themselves assert it, of course – but you make the same claim, and we know the claim to be false in your case. Perhaps we are deluded concerning ourselves – therefore rest easy, robot, probably we are all unconscious together! After all, life is but a dream, the playwright tells us!’

  ‘Well spoken!’ acclaimed Jasperodus in a hollow voice. ‘For all I know your state is just as mine is.’ But inwardly he felt the emptiness of this small victory. The oldster’s argument was clever but too sophisticated to be taken seriously. If he were to cling to it he might well be like the man in the condemned cell who believed he could not be garotted.

  ‘Let us leave this fruitless area of discussion,’ the old man suggested. ‘Would Your Majesty care to hear more paradoxes? I will prove that motion is impossible, that a swift runner cannot overtake a slow one, and that a bullet can never reach its target.’

  ‘Enough, enough.’ Jasperodus rose to his feet. ‘Enough of paradoxes. I bid you good night.’

  He swept through the hall. All present – save the entertainers – kept their eyes downcast, embarrassed that their lord’s construct nature had been made so much of, and nervous of what his reaction would be. On leaving the hall Jasperodus signalled to Cree Inwing to follow; the two conferred in the passage outside.

  ‘Do we go now to Fludd?’ Inwing asked.

  ‘No … I think not.’ Jasperodus uttered a deep sigh, as if of weariness and tedium. ‘I have made a decision, Inwing. Gordona is too small a pond for me. I am abandoning all and taking myself to the east. Since I have no further interest in what happens here you are free to return to Zhorm; I release you from your oath.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Inwing accepted this statement with remarkably little astonishment, but with some appearance of self-concern. He fingered his moustache doubtfully. ‘You place me in an unenviable situation. The
re can be no question of taking sides with Zhorm – I am a traitor of the first rank and he will kill me at the earliest opportunity. It seems I had best flee the country.’

  ‘But you saved Zhorm’s life.’

  ‘He doesn’t know that; and it would certainly be hard to convince him.’

  Jasperodus looked down at the young officer’s face. Inwing was a man of practicality, he decided; in the space of seconds he had turned his back on Gordona and was already contemplating a new future somewhere in a strange land. Jasperodus grunted with a hint of humour. ‘I shall be taking the aircraft. Accompany me, if you want to get away from here in a hurry – it makes no difference to me, and you have served me well so perhaps I owe you that.’

  Inwing nodded. ‘I accept.’

  ‘You don’t feel degraded to travel in the company of a robot?’ Jasperodus asked in a tone edged with sarcasm. ‘You heard the debate in the hall just now; you must have opinions of your own.’

  Inwing shrugged. ‘I’m not a philosopher. I’ve no time for subtle distinctions, especially when the throttling cord is practically around my neck. What of Craish and the others, by the way? You leave them in circumstances that are even less to be desired.’

  Jasperodus considered briefly. ‘I will send a message releasing Craish and the rest also. Let him try to seize Gordona for himself if he cares to – but I think he’ll take his men and sneak off back to the forest to carry on as before.’

  ‘Yes, the heart will go out of things without you there,’ Inwing agreed. Jasperodus was pleased that he had dropped all formality and was speaking to him as man to man.

  They stopped by the office while Jasperodus wrote to Craish, sending the letter by dispatch rider. He could imagine the ex-bandit’s dismay on receiving it.

  Unobtrusively they left the palace. Thunder rolled from the distance and was coming rapidly nearer through the darkness. The rain was heavy, making a continuous splash and patter on the courtyard and pouring off the slanting roofs of the palace.

  ‘Craish will have time for a getaway, at any rate,’ Jasperodus ruminated. ‘Zhorm will not move tonight.’ Not that he cared; his attitude to his followers remained unsentimental.

  Gordona’s one and only serviceable aircraft was kept in a shed in the palace grounds. Jasperodus sent away the guards, then he and Inwing lifted up the door, propping it open with the shafts provided for the purpose. Together they pushed the small, natty flier on to the short grass runway.

  The robot opened the cabin door and flicked a switch, causing the dashboard to glow. He checked the dials, was satisfied, then turned back to Inwing standing on the grass.

  ‘So goodbye to Gordona,’ he said tonelessly, his gaze flicking around at the palace and at the lights thrown up by the town beyond. ‘My kindergarten.’

  ‘Where are we bound for, as a matter of interest?’ Inwing asked mildly. ‘To the east, you said. But east of here lies a veritable chaos of states and principalities, many of them places of danger and violence. Anarchy has its advocates, but I would prefer that we fixed a safer, more definite destination.’

  ‘You fear for your safety, then? Set your mind at ease, I am flying directly to Tansiann, the centre of the inhabited world.’

  Inwing looked startled. ‘That’s half the world away!’

  ‘The flier is perfectly capable of making the journey. I have seen to that by helping to service it myself, since there is no trusting these doltish mechanics. The motor is powered by an isotope battery, so we shall not be stranded for lack of fuel.’

  Inwing sighed. ‘I fear my provinciality will show. It is a place where one needs one’s wits about one.’

  Jasperodus became impatient. ‘Tonight I made a vow to experience everything a man can experience,’ he said in a low voice that was like iron. ‘Where else would I go for this but Tansiann? If you lack the verve to survive in a city I’ll set you down wherever you please en route.’

  ‘You vowed to experience everything?’ Inwing echoed.

  ‘Everything, everything! I know my strength. Anything the world offers I can take. As for this thing called consciousness, if it truly exists I shall seize even that!’

  Perplexed, Inwing stepped back in the rain. ‘But – how?’

  Jasperodus suffered an agitated pause. ‘By will-power!’ he exclaimed, throwing up his hands. ‘I will find a way. But are you going to stand there all night? Let us be going, unless you have altered your plans.’

  ‘No, indeed. Tansiann it is, then.’ Inwing clambered up after Jasperodus into the tiny cabin, closing the door behind him. Jasperodus occupied the pilot’s seat. By this time Inwing’s cape was wet through, but he settled into the single passenger seat without complaint and sat staring blankly through the windscreen.

  Jasperodus switched on the motor. The propeller spun and shimmered; they bumped over the grass and were airborne, veering sharply upwards.

  Okrum receded below. Lightning flickered a few miles away and Jasperodus saw that he would be forced to fly directly through the storm unless he was careful. The rain drummed against the windscreen; gusts took hold of the little plane and buffeted it about. Handling it was all the harder because his own weight spoiled its trim, but he had already taught himself to fly with skill and he managed to avoid the worst of the storm, taking them up above it into calmer air. Soon they were speeding uneventfully eastward.

  Eventually Inwing dozed in his seat. Navigating by the stars, Jasperodus flew on through the night and into a clear, sunny day. Inwing awoke, grumbling sleepily, and made a meagre breakfast from part of a loaf of bread he had brought with him.

  Now that the landscape was revealed Jasperodus took the plane lower, interested by the sights that met his elevated eye. Mostly they flew over forest, but there were also frequent patches of cultivated land betokening some community or other – a manor, a principality, even a kingdom. Here all the areas of authority were fairly small; only further east were big nations, federations and empires to be found.

  One spectacle filled them both with awe: a vast grid hundreds of miles across, its rectangular walls marching with regularity and precision over the surface of the Earth. From ground level it would not have been visible at all, the outlines having been weathered away and absorbed into the landscape; only from an aerial perspective did its repetitious design become evident. Neither of them could guess at what its purpose could have been, but clearly it was yet another piece of imposing grandeur from the classical civilisation of Tergov.

  A fair-sized town swung into view ahead of them. Out of curiosity Jasperodus dived to get a better view of its streets and buildings, noting that though still narrow and twisting they were somewhat better appointed than those of Okrum. Inwing coughed nervously and Jasperodus swung up again, climbing so as to continue their journey. Just then something flashed up from below and a short, sharp explosion rocked the plane.

  ‘They’re firing rockets,’ Inwing warned in a low voice.

  Jasperodus fought to regain control. He twisted and turned as more missiles hurtled towards them, trailing streaks of white smoke. Again the plane shuddered but was not hit; he poured on the power and zoomed away from the town.

  ‘I was afraid of this,’ Inwing said in a terse tone which indicated Jasperodus should have listened to him more closely. ‘Some of these countries are in a constant state of war with their neighbours. To them we look like raiders.’

  Jasperodus made no answer, being busy scanning the surrounding sky and ground. He saw that the worst was happening: three aircraft were climbing to meet them. Even at this distance he could see from their outlines that they sported either guns or missile racks.

  And his own plane was unarmed.

  The ensuing minute of time assured him that there was no hope of outdistancing the pursuers. Two of them were propeller-driven, like himself, but the third used some other principle – some kind of thruster by appearances – and was much faster. Jasperodus swung to the North and dived down towards some heavily forested hill
s.

  ‘We’ll have to get under cover,’ he said curtly to Inwing. ‘Hold tight, it might be bumpy.’

  The interceptors were banking to follow him. Jasperodus winged down between the walls of a valley, temporarily losing them from view. He was looking for somewhere to put down, but all he saw were trees, a few outcroppings of rock, and more trees. If nothing else offered, he told himself, he would have to crash-land into the tree-tops, sacrificing the plane and hoping that the foliage would brake their velocity gently enough not to kill Inwing – Jasperodus himself, of course, had less to worry about on that score.

  But at its far end the valley narrowed into a modest canyon, beyond which Jasperodus glimpsed what was needed: an even, though slightly upsloping stretch of ground on which there was a gap in the trees wide enough and long enough for the aircraft, with luck, to land.

  Lowering the flaps, he shot between the walls of the canyon and approached the wild grass. When the wheels first touched down the tail reared up; he was forced to re-power the motor to stabilise. They bounced over the turf, lost speed, and then one wing hit a bush and sent the plane lurching through a quarter circle, whereupon it came to a halt.

  ‘Get out,’ Jasperodus ordered. They scrambled from the cabin and together managed to push the aircraft under the cover of nearby trees, forcing it as deep as it would go into the dappled shade.

  Stepping halfway from under the screen of branches, Jasperodus peered skyward. The pursuers were sailing overhead. They dipped low towards the forest and banked, searching.

  He returned to Inwing. ‘We had best stay here until nightfall,’ he said. ‘We may not be able to evade them a second time.’

  Inwing nodded, glad of a chance to take some exercise. He paced up and down, stretching gratefully.

  Time passed. They turned the plane round so as to be able to manoeuvre it more easily into a take-off position, and then simply waited.

  Presently Jasperodus thought to reconnoitre their surroundings. He left Inwing and strode off through the forest, making for high ground. After a while he came across a trail which wound round a hillside to lead, he judged, to the town a few miles away. He paused pensively, not liking this turn of events, and then continued. Half an hour later he heard sounds nearby. He stepped off the trail, and was able to observe a party of men dressed in a uniform consisting of green tunics and berets which had a short peak hanging over one ear. All were armed, and from the way they separated occasionally to explore the forest on either side of the path it was plain they were searching for the wreck of Jasperodus’ aircraft. He turned back and moved stealthily through the undergrowth, keeping out of sight until he was ahead of them, and then loped swiftly along the trail towards Inwing.