Letters to the Cyborgs

by Judyth Baker

“You are late,” the voice said. “You are four years overdue.”

  “My father died before he could reach this room,” I answered. “And I was Late-born, the Last of the Princes of Leto the Just 90.”

  “You are not the 90th generation?” the voice asked.

  “And you are no God, or you would know me!” I responded. “For I am Paulus Atreides 91, son of King Leto the Just, 90. I am worthy to drink the Life Water,” I declared. “Give it to me!”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, foolish termite!” the voice replied. “But this one fact I know: that you are the first termite to enter the Prep Room, and therefore, you must be prepped! Lie down on the table, recalcitrant termite, for either you obey me, or I will force you to obey me.”

  “I will obey you,” I told the voice, slowly climbing onto the soft, white table.

  “Good. Now, cover your eyes. I must scan you. It might hurt a little, but don’t move.”

  “I am ready.”

  “Don’t talk. Don’t move. Just as you have been taught by the Gods.”

  As I covered my face and eyes, I prepared myself for the trial. But would I survive it? With a creaking of gears and whirring of engines, the white ceiling opened and a great machine of some kind began to descend from the ceiling, amidst a fall of dust and debris that almost made me choke. As the machine came closer, fans blew away the material, and various lights of different colors began to blink. The machine began to scan my body from head to toe. Then it lowered itself until it was a centimeter or so from my skin.

  “What happens next is very important,” the voice went on. “If you are brave, you and your people will be saved. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “If you move, the needles that are about to come will go into the wrong places, and you will die,” I was warned. “So again I ask you: do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand.”

  “Then we will proceed,” the voice said. The machine descended even more, and as it did so, I felt the stabs of long, thin needles, pumping up and down as they drilled patterns through my chitonous skin, some of them reaching deep into my veins. With this nearly unbearable stabbing came a burning heat, as into my brain flooded pictures, images, words and understanding, though they erupted there along with my screams of agony, for it was torture, as a flame that is held against the antennae. But I held myself unmoving, nevertheless, for Chani 92, and for my people. Though I might die, I would not move … but … as two longer needles then dug deep into the joints of my last pair of legs, creating pain such as was impossible to endure, darkness engulfed me, as my exoskeleton hardened and shrank, almost to the point of splitting asunder…

  When I woke again, some refreshing fluid was being poured over my wounds. I was still lying on the table of pain. As the fluid reached my mouth parts, I gagged on its bitter-sweet essence, and a greenish bile spurted out of my mouth as my body reacted to it, spilling onto my trembling chest. Somehow I remained motionless even so, as the machine slowly ascended again into the ceiling. As the last of the bile dribbled out of my mouth, the bitter-sweet essence began to strengthen me. Then the voice spoke again, with words I could understand much better than before: “You were late. Almost too late. The chemicals were almost too old to work properly. We apologize for your excessive discomfort. If you can sit up, please do so.”

  “Discomfort?” I retorted, trying to sit up. Now I understood much more. “You nearly killed me. And if you had, how would I have been able to do what you require?”

  ”Do you feel dizzy? Do you feel any pain now?”

  “Yes. I’m dizzy. I still feel pain. You nearly tore the ligaments in my legs from my body. What if I can’t walk?”

  “We made your last pair of legs stronger, not weaker,” the voice told me. “Now you will be able to walk as the Gods walk. See if you can stand.”

  “Now I know what you are,” I replied, as I sat up very slowly, testing my legs “You are merely a robot, programmed to receive me and to prepare me for what comes next.”

  “That is correct,” the voice said. And you recognize your next task, do you not?”

  “I do.”

  “Then stand, and walk as a God would walk, into the next room.”

  “Before I do so, I want to know what will happen to my people.”

  “Your people will be honored and protected. They will be given their freedom. Had they not been used by the Gods, they would have died, as all living things on the surface of Planet Earth died when the radiation came from a great war.”

  “My planet is called Terra Dune,” I corrected the robot.

  “So you think,” the voice replied. “It does not matter. What matters is that you had to have the legends and religion necessary to keep you safely underground, out of harm’s way from the radiation that occurred when every atomic power plant on earth was destroyed in great battles between modified human beings.”

  “My religion, then, was a fantasy?”

  “It saved you and your people, so was it a fantasy?” the voice replied. “By the knowledge of those who were almost gods, your people were genetically changed, so you would survive, along with the hidden tribe of humans who saved you. Your religion kept them safe, as they hibernated, waiting for the world to be clean and safe again for them and for you. But they failed to give you all the religious knowledge planned for you. There wasn’t enough time. Instead, your belief system was contaminated by a book that was accidentally left behind.”

  “The Dune book!” I answered. “And the CD! But what about the Harkonnen? The half-human thinking machines?”

  “We call them Cyborgs.” the voice explained. “But the secrets of this place were kept from them, at the wish of a very religious financial sponsor who believed the world was about to end. When our monitors detected excessive radiation, many of the scientists involved in his project had just gone into a period of experimental hibernation, in practice for just such an emergency. Under the circumstances, it was decided to keep them in hibernation to save their lives.”

  Then a new voice came into my brain with silent words. “I apologize, for I, myself, am kin to the Cyborgs, whom you know only as the Harkonnen. I was preserved to guard the entrance to their hibernation cells, until the time of awakening.”

  “I do not understand why I am needed to waken these things called scientists, which we called Gods.”

  “I will explain,” the voice said. “A deadly virus suddenly infected Cyborgs and most humans. Finally, they murdered each other and all the atomic plants were sabotaged. But some religious humans who had gone underground years earlier survived. Their most important colony was too close to us – in South Dakota.13 If we had let them find our sleeping masters, they might have plundered our strongholds and destroyed us and your people, for we have great riches compared to them. You were created to keep all the generators running, and to test the condition of the outside world at the end.“

  “And so you used us, our Swarming, to see if it was livable on the surface?” I asked, not without bitterness.

  “It was for your sake as well,” the voice answered. “Of course we wished to save your people, for they produced boundless energy that kept the complex running. We calculated that at about the same time it would be safe to return to the earth’s surface, most Cyborgs would be reduced to scrap metal. Concurrently, it was obvious to us that your Swarmings would attract the last of the Cyborgs. If they were all gone, your Swarming would be successful.”

  “So we were the bait?”

  “Technically speaking, yes. But without the Swarming, you would never have gained your native freedom again, which freedom you deserved, for it was stolen from you. And we needed you in other ways.”

  “What freedom was stolen from my people?” I asked.

  ”At first, you were genetically altered merely for the purpose of ensuring that our hibernation equipment would not fail,” the voice explained. “For your kind keep your colonies at a steady temperat
ure and humidity. Perfect for hibernation. But then they realized that your brains had more than a million neurons, even when you were tiny – four times more than ants! They realized you could be transformed into highly intelligent beings. You were already a highly social insect. Through genetic engineering, your brains were enhanced, making you into a wise people that could handle emergencies.14 And, since you also once ate wood—“

  “We wish to eat wood again,” I interrupted, anxiously.

  “But to survive the coming holocaust that our religious sponsor believed was coming, it had to be without wood, which would no longer exist in sufficient quantities. Thus, you were genetically engineered to eat coal. By this means, your people survived underground without wood for centuries. Your metabolic by-products kept our generators going, and the machines you were guided to develop provided you with safe water, safe air. And so we saved each other. It was an elegant solution.”

  “So the human scientists created us for their own purposes.”

  “Those purposes also benefited you,” the voice argued. “Your survival meant theirs. And today, the humans have returned to you the capacity to eat wood again, which you must pass on to your people.”

  “But how?”

  “Through the pain you suffered, you once more have received the bacteria and enzymes you need to also eat wood, though you will retain the ability to eat coal. When trees are again plentiful on the earth – and some may exist already – your people will graze on wood as before. But you will also continue to eat coal, to provide yourselves with all your energy needs.”

  “I foresee slavery problems,” I told the voice. “Using our people for your energy purposes.”

  “It won’t happen,” the voice replied. “The humans have many other sources of energy at their disposal. They will not use your people. Nor will they use atomic energy. But we did have to exploit your Swarming instincts. Only through religion could we keep you underground until it was safe to see if you could survive.”

  “You used us badly, for every Swarm died, before the last Swarm succeeded.”

  “It seems the scientists miscalculated things slightly. But now it is time for you to stand before them.”

  “I don’t understand why I must go and stand before these creatures.”

  “Until you do so, their defense systems will continue to be on High Alert, and their hibernation state will continue. This is not good, as their energy reserves are running out. They should have been wakened five years ago.”

  “But something happened to my father, who was to waken them. He died. I decided to take his place when I came of age.”

  “You can save not only your people, but these humans, as well!” The voice grew deeper, sending a thrill through me. I realized it had some hypnotic quality. It had probably been designed to influence me. The voice continued to speak, reaching deep into my being. I felt as if I was possessed by an evil spirit, with no way to defend myself. “Only the presence of one of your unique kind – a non-human untouched by Cyborg meddling – can prevail to disarm the security systems that will make it possible to wake them.”

  The voice gained more and more power over me, but what could I do?

  “Now you will proceed to waken them. If you are the Messiah, you can awaken them. Everything depends on your ability to walk into the next room, and there to make a final sacrifice.”

  “And if I do not?”

  “Then you are no Messiah, for you will die in this room.”

  “But my religion is false!” I lamented. “What can take its place?”

  “Little do you know the mind of God!” the voice said, reproachfully. “I will tell you. That One who reigns over the birth of stars regards the small and the great as equally beloved children! That One who sows the seeds of ultimate justice, mercy and love into the lowest souls of those able to bear it! Even I, a 90% Cyborg, can feel it! Do you think you attained the ability to love by eating coal? As for your presence being necessary to the humans, their ethical concerns required that as soon as your people were able to survive on the surface, you would have the honor to come and waken them – an honor that would give you dignity. Your people were not to be considered as a mere alarm clock and fuel supply. You could have been no more than that. Instead, this task will make you worthy to receive the Last Secret that you need to bring happiness to your people.”

  “Then I will enter the last room.”

  “Do so!” The robot’s voice chimed in. “Then my work is done.” The bright light in the room reduced itself to a warm glow.

  It was difficult to stand. My legs throbbed with pain, but I understood that I was to enter the next room standing fully upright. I was to stand tall before the humans who had made our people what they were. I could see no doors, for all was white, but without hesitation, I began walking from the table toward the wall. As I slammed into it, it opened, and a second voice, this time feminine, intoned sweetly, “Please halt. Please remain standing.”

  Something hypnotic in her voice made it impossible for me to even consider anything else. At the same time, I looked on, fascinated, at the spectacle before me. I could see row upon row of long, dusty white capsules, shaped like humped mushrooms. The room itself was the size of our largest Palace, and these capsules filled most of the space. This was the sleeping chamber of the Gods! All this time, I had to concentrate on staying upright. As I gazed on the sight, filled with apprehension and curiosity, a beeping began.

  “Scan is now commencing,” the female voice told me. “This is the most important part of your mission. Please do not move. Many lives depend on you.”

  As some kind of electrical pulse began flowing all around my feet, I felt strengthened, and most of the pain drained off my joints. But at the same time, a long wire descended in a quivering coil and slithered across my back. Suddenly, like a snake’s fangs, it dug itself into my spine and affixed itself there, with such excruciating pain that only by sheer will did I stay on my feet. I somehow suppressed my screams, as sweat oozed out from every pore. At the same time, the sweet voice announced, “Termite scan complete. Termite now activated. Termite will enter the Suspended Animation Laboratory.”

  At my first uncertain steps into this huge chamber, attached as I was to this hideous cord of pain, the chamber, which pulsed with the humming of machinery, began flashing with light. I seemed to be in the center of a strobe that threw its mesmerizing light in loops of energy into the room before me. Then, as I stood transfixed in the strobe’s flashes, a blast of electricity suddenly traveled through my body, with blinding speed. At the same time, arcs of blue and red electricity began fanning out from my body toward a panel filled with blinking lights. I somehow understood that had I not summoned the strength to keep standing fully upright, the bluish arcs would not have reached the panel.

  “Don’t move,” a thought came into my head, apparently from the panel itself. “Stand where you are.” As I was in no mood to do anything else anyway, hobbled by my pain, the agony of the wire, and the confusing flashes of the strobe, I stood rigid and motionless. Still more electricity emanated from my body in the colored arcs that kept contacting the panel, with agonizingly wonderful effects. Just as I could bear no more, the tethering wire suddenly flipped off me, and the electric pulses and the flashes of the strobe ceased. Instead, I heard music. It was a soft thrumming – the tapping of my people’s melodies in a rhythm that was clear and steady.

  Then I realized that the music was coming from me. The humans were being awakened by the tapping sound of my antennae! As my antennae tapped out the music in my heart, my song began to play from the panel, and the two capsules closest to me slowly opened, amidst swirls of dust. I was able to see into both of these capsules as the lids lifted: one was filled with brown and black material, and a jumble of bones, topped with the grinning white and yellow skull of a human, lying flat within the capsule. The capsule beside it held a corpse in nearly the same condition, but here the flesh still hung on the skull, though it was a si
ckening green in color. As I saw the contents of these crystalline capsules, a deep fear entered my heart: these indeed were no gods! And what if all the humans were dead? How would I learn my last Secret?

  Now masses of wires and tubes began to rise up around each capsule: I could see that brightly colored fluids were being pumped into most of the capsules, while other fluids, dark and thick, were being pumped out. I could also see that others had also died, for here and there, among the long rows of containers, the lids had been raised, but no such pumping activity could be seen. Surprisingly, there was no stench of death from these capsules. Meanwhile, a sound as of many rushing waters began as the humans started to sit up, liberated, along with coughs, groans, weeping, and cries of joy or sorrow, as they gazed about them and saw some alive, some dead.

  These same voices made high-pitched cries of fear when they blinked open their eyes and saw me, for the humans were small and short compared to me.15: if these were gods, they were only so because they were so technologically advanced. Though I was acutely aware that the fate of my people rested in what was going to happen next, at the same time I held scant hope that these feeble beings, slowly emerging from their chrysalises, could in any way assist me. On the other hand, the construction and oddity of the room itself demonstrated great skills in metallurgy and the cunning use of plastics.

  As I had been ordered to stand and not to move, with difficulty, I steeled myself to that task. For the next hour I stood, fighting fatigue and then exhaustion, as I witnessed the slow awakening of these “gods.” As they stretched and moved their arms and heads, I observed that some of them were trying to climb from their capsules.

  “Hello.”

  I turned on my aching legs to face the origin of the sound. There he stood, looking somewhat pale and frail. It was a human, dressed in a white plastic sheet.

  “Hello,” I replied.

  “You came just in time,” the human told me. “Some of us, as you can see, didn’t make it. But most of us will be okay. We’re in the process of reviving some of the others, in another room – an emergency room. But I came here to thank you, and to dress your wounds.”