Homunk tried once again to get into communication with Pucky through the communication equipment and, as he turned on ‘receiving’, he stopped in his tracks, bewildered.
All interference noises had disappeared.
There were rhythmic impulses but no interference sounds; they came too evenly and ordered for that. Probably they were command impulses of the aliens who were directing their robots in this way. Homunk tried to think why the solar interference was suddenly no longer effective and he came to the conclusion that only the planet’s atmosphere was responsible. The upper atmosphere must have ionized levels that reflected all interference impulses back into space. Radio communication was possible below these levels but not above them.
"Pucky! Let’s hear from you! Can you hear me? Turn on your receiver! Take my bearings, do you hear?"
Again and again Homunk spoke into his microphone, turned it off and turned on the receiver but the mousebeaver never replied. Either something had happened to him or he had given up too soon on radio communication. On the dayside, remembered Homunk, radio and communication had been impossible even below these reflecting layers. So the thing would function only at ‘night’, when the influence of the yellow sun, which was the nearest celestial body, became ineffective.
Radio communication only at night—that was something new. It was important that Pucky would catch onto it and would eventually reply.
Homunk did not give up trying. At regular intervals he signalled to the mousebeaver and gave him the chance to answer.
Then, when he turned around, he noted with surprise that he was being followed.
* * * *
The paralysis lessened. Pucky remained lying down and tried not to call attention to himself. Carefully he felt his pockets. They had taken his raygun. He was without a weapon. Now, he was not really dependent on the raygun; besides which, it would not take him long to get another one. The main thing was that they’d let him keep his radio equipment. In this world, it would be useless, but later it might come in handy.
Without moving his head, he looked around him. He realized, to his immeasurable fury, that they had simply laid him on the floor of the vehicle. He could see the legs of the robots sitting on the benches. In the background was the control panel; to one side, the door. Vibrations came from below the metal floor. The vehicle must be racing at top speed towards an unknown goal.
Pucky didn’t know whether he could turn on his TK powers or whether it was still too early to try. He could have tried out telepathy without much danger of being noticed. But simply to teleport himself away did not even enter his mind for that would have amounted to nothing but cowardly flight. And he would take flight only when something could be accomplished by it.
He held his eyes tight shut, after he’d concentrated on the control panel, groping towards the contact and steering points. He found thousands of them without grasping their meaning. He soon realized that it would be impossible for him to take over the remote-controlled vehicle. Even so, he now knew that he was regaining his strength and, with it, his abilities.
It was time to let the robots know it too.
There were 4 of them; he could count them by their legs. They all wore the deadly rayguns that, in other circumstances, could be used as welding tools. He had to be careful of these if he wanted to survive the next two minutes.
When Pucky was later questioned as to why he went about the whole thing in such a complicated way when it could have been accomplished quite simply, the mousebeaver only shrugged his shoulders and kept repeating: "Only somebody without a sense of humour could ask that—at the same time, I must admit that only a pretty macabre sense of humour let me act that way. I simply wanted to give an object lesson to the robots—and not only to the four who were guarding me. Every single one of them should realize that they were underestimating me. One has one’s honour, after all, friends."
"Wasn’t it too dangerous?" was most often the next question.
"Absolutely no more so than if I had disposed of them myself. But this way I’ve got a clear conscience. The 4 robots committed robocide by mutual agreement. They sat directly opposite each other and shot at each other until they were completely destroyed. I then teleported myself out of the car that continued on its way with its now worthless cargo. What was said at the final station about the scrap heap run amok, I’m sorry I don’t know. At any rate, as you can see, I managed to get out of it safe and sound."
Later it could be retold in a light vein but at the moment it didn’t look as if the mousebeaver’s luck would hold. He floated high up in the air and saw the car disappear through a vegetationless, rocky countryside. In the west, the sun sank below the horizon. Stars appeared in the milky sky. They had actually been visible all day long but the yellow sun had outshone them.
There seemed to be no sky-watch here, Pucky thought. Otherwise he would have been discovered long ago. There were also no aircraft. Now and then, of course, a Silver Arrow was to be seen either landing or taking off, since there were spaceports all around. If the robot ships wanted to avoid contact with all other races, why didn’t they just stay in their own world? Why did they send off patrol after patrol? What were they really after?
Pucky teleported himself eastward and, in a fraction of a second, covered several hundred kilometres. Only the stars in the sky and the surface of the nameless planet beneath were visible to him.
It was not exactly an accident that after many hours he noticed a car standing stock-still.
Near a spaceport or around the area of a factory he would hardly have noticed it but here in the wild, untouched countryside, a standing vehicle was unusual. Robots did not drive out to the country to hold a picnic.
Pucky let himself farther down and floated a few meters above the vehicle. It seemed abandoned. The door was locked. But then Pucky stopped short. He discovered the welding seam and right away sensed what had happened. In this vehicle, Homunk had been taken away. The android had managed to outwit his guards; he had left them behind in the wagon and welded the door shut with his laser gun.
Pucky lost more altitude until he finally touched ground. The footprints pressed into the grass gave him his final answer. He stooped down and found the hole on the underside of the car. The robots had broken out to pursue the escapee.
Pucky breathed a sigh of relief. Finally he’d found Homunk’s tracks. It was now only a question of time until he would overtake him. He only had to be swifter than the robots who were in hot pursuit of Homunk.
* * * *
As Homunk detected the movements behind him, the sun was rising in the east, just over the tops of the trees. A short trial convinced him that radio connection was again impossible. Then he changed his direction and ran up towards a plateau. The bushes were thicker here. Besides, he wanted to find out just who was following him.
As he’d expected, it was the 4 robots he’d left behind in the wagon. If he’d kept to his original speed, he would not have been overtaken but he’d dawdled because he’d thought he was safe. Under the given circumstances, the zeal of his pursuers could have only one explanation: they wanted to recapture him to keep him from harm. Harm that threatened from the other group of robots.
When Homunk reached the top of the mountain and could look down the other side, he stopped involuntarily. His view reached all the way to the mountains that were still a few kilometres away. Before them lay a broad valley, mostly grass-steppes and some few clumps of trees. A narrow creek wound its way from east to west.
But that was not all that ended Homunk’s flight so abruptly.
Robots. Thousands of them. They came from all directions and seemed to have only one goal: the hillock on which Homunk stood. Maybe he could entrench himself here, on high; maybe hold them off for awhile; but in the long run, they must overpower him. But the robots didn’t they have orders to treat him well and under no circumstances to kill him? Wasn’t he to be taken to the holy city?
The holy city…!
I
nvoluntarily Homunk’s glance turned north, beyond the wide plateau, to the foothills of the mountain chain.
Only now did he see what he should have seen all along.
The city!
In the light of the rising sun, it lay there like the remains of long-forgotten days.
Its antiquity did not fit into this fully mechanized world. It was surprising that the city still existed at all. The word ‘holy’ here tipped Homunk off. The city must be the spiritual centre of the believing robots, who were the opponents of the non-believers. It was still incomprehensible why the masters would put up with these crazy robot antics and why they would not simply have razed the city.
The 4 robots got to Homunk and stayed with him. Their entire demeanour denoted humility and a plea for forgiveness, as they looked toward the distant city and, at the same time, noted the metal crowd on the flats below them.
Homunk shrugged and started down the valley.
Right and left, he was accompanied by the robots.
Thus Pucky discovered him. He had materialized at some altitude above them and had nearly come to grief before he saw the whole show. It made his eyes bulge. He gained altitude in order not to be easily discovered.
In the flats the armoured bodies of the robots shimmered like a sea of molten silver. Every movement was like a small wave ripping in all directions. As Homunk and his 4 guards came towards the crowd they parted their ranks, forming a wide opening to let them through. Dumbfounded, Pucky watched as Homunk calmly and proudly strode through the honour cordon towards the city that was no longer far away. Behind him the ranks closed again and the crowd of robots followed him at a respectful distance.
It was a regular procession.
Pucky stayed straight above Homunk so he wouldn’t lose him again. He could have teleported down to him as fast as lightning, to escape with him, but now his curiosity was aroused. He wanted to know what the robots had in mind for Homunk—and why they were behaving so peculiarly. There must be some secret there that might well be the key to the Silver Arrows’ strange behaviour.
The sun was to the south when Homunk reached the edge of town. Here, too, robots were lined up on the streets. They stared in silence, full of expectation. The houses, seen close up, were exactly as could have been guessed from a distance. The walls were partly decayed and crumbling. Some roofs had caved in, destroying the upper stories. No one had thought to repair the damage. The streets were paved with cobblestones and were full of holes. There were no panes in the windows. Homunk realized that the city was uninhabited.
But now thousands of robots had gathered here to greet him. It was like being at a folk festival and gradually Homunk began to wonder what they expected of him.
In contrast to the old and crumbling houses, the shimmering dome structure in the middle of the city seemed new and cared for. Its walls also consisted of unfinished, hewn stone but the damage of time had obviously been repaired. A broad staircase led to the curved portal on either side of which stood guards. At the top of the dome stood a shimmering, metallic figure—a human figure, though not easily recognizable. It wore clothing reminiscent of overalls. Footprints on the roof indicated that it was set there today—to honour him?
Yes, that must be it. The robots had put his likeness up on the dome in his honour; steep steps led up to it. The robot guards opened wide the portal as he reached its height. They bowed.
Homunk felt his throat tighten as he passed them and went into the wide hall whose ceiling vaulted high above him. He was between his 4 guards. Still, they held back a step. Right and left stood robots, hundreds of them, the entire hall full of them. Everyone was looking in his direction, their eyes full of devout awe and joyful hope.
Hope… in the eyes of soulless robots!
Opposite the portal, at the end of the hall, there was a monster of a steel robot brain—at least that’s what Homunk took it for. But as they came closer, he had to correct himself. It could not be the usual robot brain for it lacked all control panels and other attributes of technological wonders. In any case, there was only one video screen, exactly at its midpoint and two meters above the stone floor.
If Homunk had been a human being, his pulse at this moment would have stepped up, for on the only screen he at last and for the first time saw an alien for whom he had come to this strange world.
A human being!
His very short hair formed a triangle on his brow. Under it, the eyes looked stem and calm; they did not move. The nose was narrow and long. The mouth was drawn into a somewhat ironical smile. The chin was clean-shaven. The man—surely it was a man—wore a blue uniform with gold epaulettes. More could not be seen for the image reached only to the waist.
Homunk stopped a few meters from the screen. He could not take his eyes off the serious yet gentle face. Fascinated, he returned the glance until finally, almost against his will, he realized that he was facing no living image but a lifeless reproduction.
It was masterfully executed. Three-dimensional and coloured, at first glance it gave the impression that he was facing the living original or at least a video-screen that was projecting the image of the living original.
But it was only an image, a quite wonderful and realistic hologram, but still dead, perhaps dead for a long time.
When Homunk turned toward the guards, he saw that they stood beside him, bowing deeply and with lowered eyes.
All the robots followed their example.
They bowed before the image.
The image of a human being!
And as if at one stroke, Homunk understood what had happened on this planet.
He understood that some of the robots had waited for him for millennia perhaps. For him, whom they honoured as a god!
* * * *
At this exact moment, Harno appeared.
The black sphere materialized directly under the dome and at first was not noticed. It barely stood out against the dark ceiling; and besides, it stayed quiet and did not stir.
But it established contact with Homunk who was normally not sensitive to telepathy.
"You’ll have to play along, Homunk—don’t be alarmed, I’m Harno. Stay proud and unapproachable, as is expected of someone as honourable as you. Don’t disturb the illusions of the robots."
Homunk inwardly heard the voice and froze. He knew who Harno was but he had no explanation of why that energy-being should come here now. Was Pucky behind it all?
"How did you find me?"
"I’ll explain everything later. Now just do exactly as I tell you. If the robots find out that they’ve been duped, you won’t live a second longer. They’ve waited too long for this moment of triumph to put up with any deception."
"How can the robots think and behave this way? It’s totally against all known laws and experiences. It’s impossible!"
"Nothing is impossible when robots are left to themselves."
Homunk thought this over. Left to themselves? Could that mean…?
"Later," Harno repeated. "What is taking place here now has already occurred in other worlds. In worlds inhabited by organic intelligences. The slumbering memory and the hope for a miracle arouse an eternally returning combination of feelings that no thinking being can withstand for long, no matter whether it has an organic or an artificial brain. Sometimes it lasts longer, and groups that fight each other are formed. Like here."
Homunk saw that the robots straightened up again as farther up in the ‘altar’ a metal piece rolled back. A dull shining screen became visible.
It was oval.
The colour patterns came quickly and nearly automatically. Whoever was at the controls knew what he was doing. It was hard for Homunk to follow the text but segments were enough for a general idea.
It was a kind of sermon in which it was triumphantly mentioned that the creator had returned. They had waited 10,000 years for it—that was 20,000 Earth years. An unimaginably long time. Now the day of triumph over the non-believers could no longer be far off. Now at last t
hey would be converted.
Homunk wished at this moment that Pucky were in his place. The mousebeaver had landed them all in this soup with his curiosity and his drive for exploration. But Pucky did not look in the least like a human being. They could not accept him as God. Maybe they even thought he was the devil. That would explain the ill treatment that had fallen his lot.
"They expect you to stay in the temple—for this is a temple that’s a relic from long-gone days. Like the city. All the others were razed to the ground but this one escaped. The last sign of the old inhabitants who used to live in this world."
Homunk did not move, even though the final confirmation of his most secret fears hit him like a bodily blow. "Who used to live…? Are you trying to say that they are no more?"
"No more for a long time. Not for 20,000 Earth years. Time enough for the surviving robots to develop into what they are today. But my explanation will come later; I don’t want to give it twice."
"And the oval screens? I was convinced they represented a connection between the robots and the aliens. I thought…"
"I’ve already told you that there are no aliens. Some of the robots partly obey the screens or brains. Others are entirely independent and rule in turn over these robots. They fight against the respect shown their extinct masters. But behind the robot brain that stands in this temple, a robot priest is hiding. He pretends to be speaking for the creator. So, a swindle, Homunk."
"The parallel of…"
"I’ve told you already, it has happened on nearly all worlds in similar circumstances. You must remain standing when the robots leave the temple. Don’t move and don’t turn around. Look at the screen."
Homunk heard the noise of stamping feet as the robots left the great hall. It took a long time but then he heard the portal close with a dull thud.
Now at last he turned around and saw the black sphere slowly floating downwards. It grew larger and brighter until it filled the entire hall. It was as if the sun were suddenly shining through a wide window.
In the Centre of the Galaxy Page 8
