— Well, I'll be damned, said Tennyson. How do you know this?
— I know. I know not how. But the Bubbly and the Plopper are very closely related.
— Let's try to sum it up, said Tennyson. We are here. We found this place and it is not Heaven. We should be getting back to Vatican with the word it isn't Heaven. But how can we prove it isn't Heaven? We can't just say it isn't. No one would believe us. And we haven't much time to hunt around for proof.
— We should be leaving now, said Jill. Whisperer, could you take us home?
— I can take you home.
— How about the equation folk?
— No need to worry about them. They can find their way back. If they want to go.
— You think they may not want to go? Oh, yes, I see what you mean. They were put away in an old folks' home and now they've broken free of it…
— So we have only ourselves to think of, said Tennyson. What worries me is how much time we may have to try to pick up proof and how much danger we may be in by waiting. Once the Bubblies recreate the new Jill and the new me, they might just put an end to us. They could use the new ones of us to try to weasel their way into Vatican.
— Why do we feel this way? asked Jill. Here we are assigning the Bubblies an adversary role. Maybe it won't turn out that way at all. This Center and Vatican are engaged in the same activity. They might want to be cooperative. They might want to join in with Vatican…
— Which is the last thing Vatican would want.
— I can't help it, said Jill. I think the same way you do — that the chance is they are adversaries. But we can't be sure of that.
— For one thing, said Tennyson, Decker showed far too much interest in the Listeners. He asked a lot of questions. In their data-gathering capability, Vatican is light-years ahead of this place. This gang would dearly love to get their hands on the Listeners.
— But they must have known about Vatican long before we came here. Remember the Theodosius memo. A survey party of the Bubblies did visit Vatican.
— Yes I know, I have been wondering about that. Also what Decker said about the data piling up. A Bubbly survey sweep might take centuries, might cover a lot of planets. They'd come back with tons of data. They'd be forced to pick and choose. They'd study only what seemed the most important. Maybe the Vatican data is still in the files untouched. Vatican's not too spectacular. It might not have made much of an impression. Perhaps the Bubblies never had run across robots before, would not even guess at their capabilities. So far as we know, the human made robots are the only ones in the galaxy. To the Bubblies, a robot might seem to be nothing but a lump, a chunk of metal, a machine. They stayed only a few minutes, not much more than a fly-over. Remember what that memo written by Theodosius said — that the one he saw clearly looked down upon him with enormous disdain.
— Theodosius couldn't be sure of that. It was only his impression.
— I'm not certain of that. A robot cardinal can be pretty damn discerning.
— Well maybe so, said Jill. I hope you're right.
— Do you now, asked Whisperer, wish to go back home? I am ready to transport you there. I'd not mind going back myself.
— We can't, said Tennyson. We simply must have proof. Otherwise, all this will have been for nothing. What we must have is some sort of iron-clad proof.
— You endanger yourselves, warned Whisperer. I know of danger in this place.
— I wish we could pin down, said Tennyson, some idea of what this place is all about. Decker called it a study center, and I'm inclined to believe it is. But the motive is the thing. Most research centers — human research centers, that is — are aimed at knowledge for the sake of knowledge alone. In Vatican, the acquisition of knowledge is aimed at the acquisition of a faith, in the belief that faith will come through knowledge. Another motive might be power, using knowledge as a power base. I fear that this may be the motive here. Decker spoke of a move to extend this Center's research to nearby galaxies. Could this be a reaching out for power — for power rather than knowledge?
— It could be, said Jill, but the exercise of power must presuppose a political organization. Does this place operate politically?
— There's no way we can know, said Tennyson. We haven't the time to find out.
— I know, said Jill. I know what we could take back as proof. One of the worms. If we took back a worm, the theologians would have to agree that this is not Heaven. There are no worms in Heaven. There simply could not be.
— I sorrow to tell you this, said Whisperer, but I cannot transport one of the worms. There would be too much mass for me to handle. I do not have the energy.
— Now that we know where Heaven is, said Jill, could we send out other Listeners? They could bring back proof imprinted on their cubes.
— It wouldn't work, said Tennyson. It may be the Bubblies missed Mary the first time. She came and saw Heaven and was so impressed and captivated by what she saw — or by what she thought she saw — that she returned a second time. She only caught a glimpse of it that first time. The second time she tried to enter Heaven, perhaps intent, as we are now, to bring back proof of it. The second time this place knew that she was there and they scared her off. But now that they know of the Listeners, another Listener wouldn't have a chance.
— If we, said Jill, could only take back a cube.
— We can't, said Tennyson. We aren't Listeners.
— They let us in, said Jill. They must have let us in. They could have stopped us or driven us off as they drove off Mary.
— In that you're wrong, said Whisperer. The equation people do not operate as the Listeners operate. The equation people did get us here without detection. We were here before Center knew of us. Having done it once, however, I'm not sure we could do it a second time. The people here, now aware of the chink in their defenses, will take steps to insure it won't come about a second time.
— So that's it, said Tennyson. There is no way we can come again. There is nothing we can take back as proof. Our word is all we have, and that will not be accepted by the theologians. No matter what we might take back, they could always say it was something we'd picked up along the way.
— Do you mean to say, Jill asked, that we have made this trip for nothing?
What was the answer to that? Tennyson asked himself. Could what little they had to tell give Theodosius and those who supported him the resolve to fight a little longer? Would what they had to say give the theologians some pause, stave off a little longer their take-over of Vatican and the Search Program? There was, he told himself, a bare chance that it might, but more than likely not for long — at best a short breathing spell.
Why, he wondered, had he (or Jill) not been able to foresee this situation? They had talked about it, of course — the necessity of returning from Heaven with some proof, one way or another. But they had given no adequate thought to what such proof must be. Why had they not realized the near impossibility of obtaining unquestioned proof?
If they only had more time, they could work it out. It seemed, however, that they had little time. There was a danger here, a danger that he could not define, but a danger that every fiber of his being insisted that they faced. And Whisperer agreed.
Failure, he thought. They had accomplished their mission and still they faced failure.
What the hell could he do, or Jill, or the two of them together? One thing, he knew, they could not do. They could not turn tail and run, not for a while at least.
— If we could only get word back to Theodosius, said Jill. Word that we are here and it isn't Heaven.
— I can take back word, said Whisperer.
— But who could you tell it to? There is no one on End of Nothing you can talk with. Not Theodosius, not Ecuyer….
— There are the Old Ones, said Whisperer. I can talk with them. The Old One above Decker's cabin could take the message to Theodosius.
— But we need you here.
— It would only tak
e a while.
— No, said Tennyson, we do not want you to leave, even for a while. We might have great need of you.
— Then I can send another Duster. One of my flock brothers would carry the message for me. I told you, didn't I, that there are Dusters here?
— Yes, you did, said Jill.
— Then not to worry, said Whisperer. I'll ask one of them.
Fifty-seven
When a monk brought word that an Old One was coming up the esplanade Cardinal Theodosius went out to the basilica to meet him.
The Old One spun sedately up to the steps, halted his spinning and settled to the pavement. He instantly began his vibrating drumming and finally he managed words.
'I return your visit, he said.
'I thank you for it, said Theodosius. 'It is gracious of you. We should get together often.
'I also bring you word, said the Old One. 'I have a message for you, brought me by a Duster.
'Whisperer? Decker's Duster?
'No, not the Whisperer. One of our long-lost Dusters, happily home again. Once there were many of them here, then they went away. We had despaired of ever seeing them again. We thought of them, strangely enough, as our special children. Now one of them came back to us; we hope that others may.
'I feel happy for you, said Theodosius. 'You said the Duster brought a message.
'A message for you, Cardinal. The Tennyson and the Jill reached Heaven, but it is not Heaven.
'Thank God for that!
'You did not wish it Heaven?
'Some of us had hoped it would not be.
'Also, said the Old One, 'that the Jill and the Tennyson will be returning.
'When?
'Soon, the Duster said. They'll be returning soon.
'Fine. I shall be waiting for them.
'I suggested, said the Old One, 'that when they did return, they arrive upon this esplanade.
'How will they know?
'The Duster went back to this not-Heaven to tell them. I had it in mind that the two of us might wait here to greet them.
'We may have to wait a while.
'I have patience for long waiting and I think you have as well.
'That is fine. We both are full of patience and we have much to talk about. We can talk away the hours.
'Your pardon, please, said the Old One, 'but talking in your method is laborious for me. I cannot talk for long.
'In that case, we shall share a mutual silence. Perhaps the two of us may find we have no need of talk. Perhaps we can commune together.
'That is a noble thought, said the Old One. 'We'll attempt communing.
'If you don't mind, said Theodosius, 'I think I'll get a stool. It is silly that a robot should ever need a stool, but I have become accustomed to a stool. When I visit Jill in the library, I always sit on one. I know it is a ridiculous habit, but….
'I'll wait for you while you go to get it, said the Old One.
He waited on the esplanade while the cardinal went to get his stool.
Fifty-eight
Haystack was asleep again. He slept a great part of the time, or perhaps he only closed his eyes, all thirteen of them. Haystack didn't move around a lot, and if his eyes were closed, there was no way to tell if he was asleep or only shutting out the world. Haystack more than likely was bored, thought the Bubbly that Decker had named Smoky. There were times when Smoky had been convinced that he should get rid of Haystack, but on more deliberate consideration had always kept him on. Despite his slothfulness and his unkemptness, Haystack was a wise old bird. It would be hard to get another like him — impossible, more than likely. Also, once one had taken on another as a triad partner, the relationship was such that one shrank from disrupting it. It took a long time to build up a smoothly operating triad, and Haystack had been with him longer than he could remember. One would think, Smoky told himself, that in all that time the two of them should have become so accustomed to one another that they would be inseparable as a result of the close personal ties that entwined them both. They were inseparable all right, thought Smoky, but not because of any strong ties — close only because Haystack would not allow himself to be pried away. There was some psychological factor that made Haystack, in spite of all his wisdom, an insecure personality. He must have someone to hang on to, someone to shield him against the world. He might complain and fulminate about the racket that Plopper made, he might even threaten to take off, to break up the triad, but he would never do it because he knew that safety and security lay within the triad.
Plop, plop, plop, went Plopper.
Haystack was asleep (or maybe only had his eyes shut) and Decker was not around. A lot of the time, Smoky grumbled to himself, Decker was not around. At times he could be an amusing and entertaining creature, and there was no question that he had an audacious imagination, and all in all he had been loyal enough, but there were times when one could not help but have certain doubts of his devotion to the central triad theme. Decker, Smoky admitted, was an opportunist, albeit a most engaging one. So long as no greater opportunity presented itself, Decker would stay and, Smoky told himself with some pride, there was at the moment no better opportunity than to be with him. There was no other Bubbly in all of Center that had more clout than he had, and that clout had been generated by the wisdom of Haystack and the audacity of Decker. In his triad, he knew, he had chosen well and wisely. How then, did it come that at times he felt irritation and downright disaffection for the two of them? Would it be possible, he asked himself, once the recreation of the two newly arrived humans had been completed, that he could add them to his triad and make of it a quintet? Would he dare? Could he get away with it? It ran counter to all tradition and right thinking and there would be fierce criticism, but he could withstand some criticism if that was all it was. Would it be wise? he wondered. Three Deckers would be a bit lopsided, but there was strength in these so-called humans. With the wisdom of one Haystack and the sharp opportunism of three humans. It was something, he decided, that he must think about, think very hard about.
Plop, plop, plop, went Plopper.
Why, Smoky asked himself, should he hesitate? He already was a tetrad, although no one was aware of it, or he hoped no one was aware of it. He had concealed it rather effectively (at least so far he had) by making out that Plopper was no more than a passing pet, when the fact of the matter was that if it came down to a pinch, he would let go the other two if necessary to keep Plopper with him. He had worked it very well, he thought — no one had suspicion.
Why was it he wondered, that he valued Plopper so? Plopper had no wisdom, like Haystack, and he had no audacity and imagination like Decker, but he did give him deep moral strength and a sustaining comfort, qualities that so far as he knew no other member of his race had ever had before.
Haystack was still sleeping and Decker still was absent and all the cones had drifted off, so he sat alone, almost alone — the only thing that showed any signs of life was the bouncing Plopper. The silly cubes that had come along with the two humans and the Duster (he had not seen the Duster, but Decker said he had) were out in the parking lot, roosting in a circle, yelling at one another with the flashing, skittering symbols they paraded across themselves.
The diversity of the galaxy, he thought, the utter unending diversity of its life forms and the diversity, too, of the concepts that they had developed, some of them making not a single bit of sense, others pregnant with awe-inspiring possibilities. Yet there was in them all a certain logic if it only could be found — and all of these, all the concepts and the logic, could be adapted to sure and certain use if they could be puzzled out. This Center was the place where they could be puzzled out — that was the purpose of it. But once they were puzzled out, there was yet another step, and that step was to put the logic to a proper use — to selfish use, perhaps, but selfish use, he told himself, was better than no use at all. Of all of them, of all the others of them here, he was the only one who had the wile and craft to put them to that use. W
ith the aid of Haystack and Decker, and the close support of Plopper, who never failed to assure him that his course was right, he could put to proper (and to selfish) use all the concepts and the knowledge that had been harvested through millennia. The others, in their arrogance and pride, who in their self-deceit thought they were the ones who might accomplish it, were not the ones who would accomplish it. He was the one, the only one who could manage and turn to his own good the possibilities and the promises. He thought, hugging the thought against himself, of the expressions he would see upon their shocked and incredulous, their ridiculously surprised and beaten faces, once the knowledge of his actions finally burst upon them.
First, the galaxy, he thought, and then the universe. First the galaxy, then the universe.
Those others, sitting smug within their restricted orbits, secure in their associations with their triad fellows, had missed the one bet that he had not missed. They had missed because of their misplaced arrogance and their fatal smugness, their failure to recognize a simple truth — that they could be wrong.
Over the millennia, Center had come upon hundreds, perhaps thousands, of faith systems. Difficult as they might be to study, they had been studied and after being studied tested and in every instance had failed the tests; all of them, every one of them, had been judged meaningless. Not only was it concluded that all gods were false gods; the judgment had been carried one step further: There were no gods at all, either weak or strong, true or false. The faith systems had been pegged as no more than self-delusions, willing self-delusions sought after and propounded by weak people who felt compelled to erect shelters for themselves against the bitter truth of existence, against the overwhelming evidence that there was nothing within the universe that cared.
Plopper landed directly in front of him and now, instead of plopping off in a new direction, it jumped in place, straight up and down in front of him. Plop, plop, plop it went, going very fast.
Watching it, half hypnotized by the straight up and down, by the steady rhythm of the plopping, he felt the wonder, the never-ending wonder, enter him; he felt the piety, the passion, and the power, all welded together, the piety to the passion and both of them welded to the power. All of the three equally sanctified so that the power was no whit baser than the piety. And gripped by all of this, he thought, marginally, that all was as it should be, that the power was equally sanctified with the piety and passion. That pleased him for it was the power that he cared about. There were those who said that power was evil and the use of it was evil, but that was not so, for those who said it were in error. As they had been in error when they had said there were no gods. Wrong because he had found a god and it was his own — along with Haystack and Decker, it was his very own. In time, it would give the power he needed to carry out his plan. When the time came for him to move, he would hold the power.
Project Pope Page 31
