A glow of light suffused the audio-screen on the desk, rousing him from his reverie. A voice announced: “Miss Melbridge.” Levison responded briefly, eagerly. In a moment Lalia was in the room.
“I had to see you,” she said, her blue eyes shining. “The visor is so— impersonal.”
“I’m glad you came,” he replied. “Did you see—him?”
Her eyes clouded. There was sadness in her voice. “It was all I could do to persuade him, but he finally agreed to place himself in Dr. Seldon’s hands. I told him what the Thought Amplifier had done for me, how it had fulfilled all your expectations in curing hundreds of cases of disease by influencing the mind. He tried to convince me that his case was different, said the principle didn’t apply where the tissues had been damaged by harmful radiations such as those from his machine. If he had thought at the time, he said, that his exposure to them might have such an effect after three months, he would have taken steps to ward it off. But it was only recently he began to suspect that his brain had been affected while he lay there in the laboratory unconscious, without his helmet, on the day of the Great Storm.
“I pleaded with him, told him I felt I was to blame for having left him there exposed to those deadly radiations. But he insisted it was his own fault for meddling with forces that he couldn’t properly control. He was a little hysterical—he’s very ill, Levison. He realises, now, in spite of his growing madness, that his craving for power and his misuse of it once he had it in his grasp could only bring about his downfall. He’s completely penitent—and wretched.”
Levison looked anxious. “But he did agree to submit himself to the Amplifier?”
“He said he would try it, if only for my sake, so that I would have nothing on my conscience. Though he insisted I shouldn’t have, and that he didn’t deserve to escape—his penalty, he called it. Since he first realized his illness soon after he went away, he’s been resigned to his fate, waiting for it. He thought of killing himself, but he said he hadn’t the courage—the courage that you had, Levison.
“He was full of admiration for you and what you have accomplished. The rebuilding, the replanning, the abolition of the Workers’ Circle, their equal status—he praised them all. You had a sense of rightness he could never have, he said. And your scheme for the universal acceptance of the Amplifier, to rid men’s minds of fear and mistrust and to promote the ideals of human progress—he was all in favour of that, too. He’s a changed man, if a hopeless one.”
She brightened. “But Melvin will live,” she added confidently. “The Amplifier will heal his brain and restore his mind, just as it will improve the minds of millions, stop all the muddled thinking and prejudice that hold us back. It’s a perfect instrument for good, Levison. With it, we can remake the world. Or you can—for as you’ve always said, the responsibility lies with you.”
He got up from the desk, stopped to stare once more through the window at those gleaming fingers pointing towards the sky. He turned to her, smiling.
“Let’s try together, shall we?” he said.
NEMESIS
The edifice of the World Council was packed to the doors.
Hither had come the scientists, engineers, social workers, mathematicians—the whole living, breathing network of mentalities responsible for cohesion in this despot-controlled world of the twenty-fourth century.
Bruce Lanning arrived late. The aerobus ways had been choked with craft all heading to the centre of Governopolis. He pushed his way in at last between the mighty black doors, and his permit gave him immediate admission to his reserved seat. Astronomer Lanning was a valued member of the Governopolis Council...and Drayton Konda, the Master, knew it well. Perhaps—too well.
Lanning’s sharp grey eyes went over the sea of faces white, yellow, and black. Men and women of every clime. Some rustled papers, others silent recorders for personal use; still others just sat and waited. It was the most impressive gathering Lanning had ever seen in his ten years as chief-astronomer. Some knew why the meeting had been convened. Others did not.
Lanning was one of those who did. and he had come to make a stand. The Master dare not. A hush fell. Muttering subsided. A loudspeaker in the black cupola of roof gave forth the harsh, impartial announcement so often heard throughout the world—
“Silence for the Master! Silence for He Who Rules!”
Automatically opened doors back of the immense rostrum permitted a figure to appear. There was not a soul in the Solar System who did not recognise him—massive, well over six feet, ox-shouldered, heavy-necked, with a truly remarkable and altogether round bald head. His brow went up in a straight line, curved over the top of his hairless skull, then went down in a straight line at the back. Intellectual, unsentimental, utterly stubborn.
As usual he was quietly dressed in the lounge suit of the time. In two strides he reached the main desk, flicked the microphone switch, and waited. Far overhead winked the eyes of television cameras. His image was being picked up and hurled to the furthest reaches of the cosmos.... Bruce Lanning smiled a little crookedly. Though from his position he could not see the face clearly he knew it well enough. Hook-nosed, tight-lipped, square-jawed. Eyes as blue and cold as a glacier.
Drayton Konda had set himself out to master the world and the Solar System, and what was more important, he had done it. Whether for ill or for good nobody seemed to know. Perhaps because nobody was permitted to say....
Konda spoke. His voice was hard-etched, biting, purposeful. He went straight to his subject without friendly preamble.
“I have decided we need more power! Vast power! Endless power!”
Transiently he looked about him, lips out-thrust as though he challenged denial. None came. He continued talking:
“When I gained control of Earth and the Solar System, I promised it should be for a definite purpose. It was. We cannot be confined to a mere Solar System whose boundaries end with the known planets. All the neighbour worlds and satellite colonies are under the control of Earth. Therefore, I shall reach further. Outward to Alpha Centauri; then to the furthest stars! But here on Earth there is not enough power for the construction of interstellar ships; not enough power to feed endless chains of factories. We have atomic force and we have the natural power of Earth itself generated at the north magnetic pole, but more is needed! More! There remains one powerhouse still to be tapped, the greatest of them all. The sun!”
There was a murmur and then silence. Lanning’s eyes narrowed. Now it was coming, just as he had expected.
Konda continued: “My solar engineers inform me that it is possible to erect a vast powerhouse for the sole purpose of utilising the sun’s surplus power. We all know that the vast percentage of the sun’s power is wasted. Drawn to a focus by magnetism it can be used, transformed to feed our chains of factories. Our output can be tripled. In five years we shall be ready to launch the greatest attempt to conquer the Universe within the history of Mankind. War? No, conquest! For this purpose of erecting a giant magnetic power plant I have convened this meeting, so that you can make the depositions for the necessary labour.
“Engineers, you will submit plans for the intended powerhouse. Labour chiefs, you will estimate the labour required. Social workers, you will broadcast statements on the benefits that can accrue. Mathematicians, you will determine the calculations. Astronomers, you will determine the effects of this process—”
“That I have already done!”
Bruce Lanning had jumped up, his voice cutting across the Master’s and echoing through the hall’s vast reaches. There was a dumbfounded silence. That anybody should dare to interrupt He Who Rules....
Then the automatic analyser gave forth a harsh announcement: “The interrupter is Bruce Lanning. First Astronomer to the Council of Governopolis. Guards, remove him!”
“Remove me if you will,” Lanning said, standing his ground, “but I am determined that certain facts shall be known—”
“You have dared to interrupt He Who Rules,” stat
ed the Voice.
“And I will again, if it be in the common interest!”
Gathering uproar, amazement, a desperate pulling at Lanning’s coat tails by his nearest neighbours—then the Master spoke.
“You may speak, Astronomer Lanning, provided it is in the interests of Governopolis. Continue.”
“I submit, sir, that your scheme for harnessing solar power will bring more destruction than benefit. In my position as Astronomer to the Council I have known for some time of your intention to utilise the sun’s surplus power. Your scheme, as I see it, involves a system of magnetism between Earth and sun, by which process you intend to draw—as indeed Earth itself draws already in a more diffuse form—the electrons and energy streams which would otherwise scatter in space. This vast surplus you intend to convert in your powerhouse, and so supply your chains of lesser normal powerhouses....”
“You are correct,” the Master conceded.
“Do that,” Lanning stated deliberately, “and you will destroy the world! Firstly, your magnetism system will not only draw electronic streams, but also the brickbats and flying fragments forever hurtling through space. On this planet there will descend an incessant bombardment of incendiary material. Fires will break out. Hundreds of thousands of people will be killed. The extra amount of power gained will be counterbalanced by losses in labour and material.”
Silence. And the Master meditated.
“That will not be all,” Lanning added. “It is a well-known fact that electrical storms and radio interference are brought about entirely by electronic activity from the sun, worse at some periods than others. Increase the stream of electronic energy, and the whole world will be blanketed by radio static. Storms beyond imagination will lash the Earth. There are limits, sir, beyond which a man may not go.”
Lanning remained silent, strained, and white-faced. The battering, watchful thousands of eyes was a vast ordeal. Then at last the Master spoke again.
“Your statement has been interesting, Astronomer Lanning, in spite of its variance from truth. You have overlooked that all the cities of the world, and Governopolis in particular, are fire- and invasion-proof. We need fear no attack from weapons of war: therefore even less need we fear a pseudo-invasion in the form of brickbats and meteorites. Storms are possible, but of trifling consequence. Radio we can control by static eliminators. Taken by and large, Astronomer Lanning, your statement may be summed up as a reactionary attempt to disturb this meeting.”
Konda turned his head slightly. “You are ordered to strike out Astronomer Lanning’s statements; No summary of them is to be published or transmitted. And, Lanning”—the bald head turned—“you will report to my office immediately after this meeting.”
“But, sir, I—”
“Leave us!” Konda ordered.
“Astronomer Lanning, you are commanded to leave!” thundered the loudspeaker. “Guards, open the doors....”
Lanning’s shoulders drooped. He knew—yes, and Drayton Konda knew too—that he was right. But if one man rules, and that man is determined to have extra power no matter what the cost....
Lanning went out through the assembly without uttering another word. The black doors closed soundlessly behind him.
* * * *
On the colonnaded terrace outside the doors there was a scattering of people, mainly radio, television and press representatives. Gloomily Lanning glanced at them, then he wandered to the balcony and gazed out over the city from this high elevation.
Preposterous city, Governopolis! Mile-high towers of black ebonoid metal, lacy bridges, beacon towers, the streets incredibly distant below and picked out like serpents of smooth flickerless light. The quiet of the summer evening was upon Governopolis. There was no sound save the lazy hum of eternal power. The stars sprinkled the serene, purple heavens. Far away, the Earth-Mars space liner nosed silently to rest. Peaceful. A Paradise.
No, a mask! A mask for subdued humanity under the heel of omnipotent science. Science in the hands of a man convinced of his own godlike power, a man to whom human pity and kindness were unknown.
“And so shall this insubstantial pageant fade...,” Lanning murmured, contemplating the crazy expanse.
“...and leave not a wrack behind,” whispered a soft voice close to his ear.
Lanning turned abruptly, gazing into the eyes of a slender woman in a light, Grecian-style gown. Her eyes were brown and warm, eyes that still had not become clouded by the heel of oppression. The soft wind blew back the chestnut hair from a serene, oval face.
“Eleanor dearest, whatever are you doing here?” Lanning caught at her slim hands. “You know the wives of delegates are not really allowed....”
“No?” Her gaze slanted down the file of waiting people. “There are women there—wives too. They wait.”
“But they are the wives of the Council members. I am only an astronomer—”
“The First—and the greatest in the world,” Eleanor said gently. “Konda or no Konda, that is the truth.”
“Take care what you say about Konda, dearest. The city is worm-eaten with pick-up cells. One word against him and—”
“Did you say your piece?” the girl interrupted. quietly.
“Oh yes, I said it.” Lanning’s jaw tightened. “I was told to get out.”
“I expected that. But you are so right, Bruce. If Konda dares to go ahead—”
“Hush, dearest, hush!” Lanning laid a finger on her lips. “If such words as yours were ever to reach him, it would be the end.”
“I wonder...would that matter so much?”
Lanning was silent for a moment, then: “As long as we still have each other, and I have a moderately good position, we can perhaps make out. At least we can hope for better things even if they never come....”
Lanning paused as the black doors of the hall swung wide open and the delegates began to emerge with sombre faces. Lanning moved to the nearest one and caught at his arm.
“What was the final decision?” he asked quickly.
“As we expected,” the man shrugged. “The power of the sun will be harnessed at the earliest moment.”
The man went on his way; and on each man and woman who passed there was the brand of the Master. It was maddening. Inevitable. Lanning turned away at last and caught Eleanor’s arm.
“I have to see the Master, dearest. His orders.”
Eleanor nodded silent assent and Lanning hurried off. He pushed his way through the crowd along the galleries, through the immense ebonoid tunnel which linked up the buildings, up a gently rising staircase, and so at last to the mighty sealed doors behind which lay the sacrosanct territory of the Master of the System....
Lanning waited whilst a miscellany of instruments identified him, checked for weapons, registered him—then the three invincible doors opened one by one, and he was in Konda’s presence. Slowly he walked to the massive desk and waited.
Konda’s bald head was a white patch where the desk light shone upon it. The remainder of the great office was thickly shadowed. Then he looked up suddenly and the white patch was replaced with the friendless, glacier-blue eyes.
“What I have to say will not take long, Astronomer Lanning. You are suspended from duty for a period of eight weeks.”
Lanning stared. “What! Just because I stated truths at—”
“What you said, was calculated to cast a reflection on my knowledge, and that I cannot allow. It was finally decided that the powerhouse for solar energy shall be erected immediately. And if you remain in your position, it will be believed that I am in secret agreement with you. Therefore, for the period of time occupied in building the powerhouse—eight weeks—you will be absent.”
“But, sir, in a city like this, without work— It means starvation!” Lanning clutched at the edge of the desk. “You are taking away my only means of livelihood. You are tearing up my privilege-ticket for food, my voucher for money, my permit as an honoured Council member—”
“You should have thought
of these possibilities before you dared to question my judgment at the meeting. You may go.”
Lanning turned bemusedly, backing towards the huge door. Half-aware, he heard the buzz of the Master’s desk phone. Then suddenly:
“Lanning!”
Lanning looked up eagerly and marched back to the desk. But there was no sign of recant in those pale blue eyes.
“Lanning, you and your wife discussed matters beyond your province on the colonnade tonight. That was most unwise.”
Lanning’s face tautened. “It was nothing important—”
“I know exactly what you said, and your wife too. The electronic ear recorded every word of it. I have just heard it from headquarters. I gather that I am drunk with power, that you are right and I am wrong. Your wife spoke very unwisely, Lanning.”
“Look, Konda, if you even dare to touch her I’ll—”
Lanning stopped dead, gulping down his surging fury as the black shadows suddenly sprouted with the grim muzzles of ray guns. He remembered. Robot guards, controlled from the desk. They were everywhere, all over the city, prying, peeping, protecting the baleful genius who was Master of the System.
“Sit down!” Konda commanded, and then snapped a switch. “Find Eleanor Lanning and bring her here immediately.”
During the leaden silence that followed there was no sound save the scratch of the Master’s pen as he went on with his work. Lanning sat and sweated, inwardly scalded with murderous fury. There was a click and a concealed door opened. A man in black entered, a man with a pick-axe face, dark, shrunken eyes, and pinched forehead.
Melicot! The most hated man in the System outside Konda, a legal wizard in whose hands rested the absolute enforcement of law. All infractions, however small, were examined by Melicot with ruthless thoroughness.
He sat down beside Konda and relaxed, his mouth a thin scratch and the rest of his face in shadow. Then Eleanor came in by the main doorway, calmly showing no trace of fear, though she must have known that only an ominous reason could have needed her presence here. The city guards released her.
Last Conflict Page 7
