E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 26 - The Coming Event

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The Coming Event by

E.C. Tubb

CHAPTER ONE

Buried deep beneath the scarred surface of a lonely world the

cavern held the awesome grandeur of a legendary tomb— a

tremendous mausoleum buttressed by massive columns which

formed an adamantine protection for the soaring tiers of

featureless ovoids within their embrace, though it was even now

being despoiled by men and machines.

To Master Elge, Cyber Prime, the fabrication was the reverse

of a tomb, the ovoids far from being coffins, but the desecration

was real, and he watched as units were freed from their housings

and swung down into the arms of waiting cradles to be wheeled

silently away.

And each ovoid held a living, thinking brain.

This was the reward for which cybers dedicated their lives.

They worked until they grew physically inefficient then were

stripped of hampering flesh, their brains removed from their

skulls and placed in containers, sealed from harm while fed with

nutrients, at last hooked into series with others of their own kind

to form a part of the tremendous complex which was the heart

and power of the Cyclan.

But now Central Intelligence was threatened and with it the

security of the whole.

"Twelve dozen units," said Jarvet from where he stood at

Elge's side. "The entire section. As you instructed, Master."

And how many before them? Elge knew the exact number but

even one would have been too many. "Results?"

"As yet totally negative."

"Numbers tested?"

"Eighteen selected at random." That was more than enough

for a representative sample. The aide added, "I ordered a halt at

twenty for your decision."

The aide could anticipate what the decision would be, Elge

knew, but as his was the final responsibility his must be the

deciding voice.

He turned, tall, thin, the scarlet robe shielding the taut lines

of his body, maintained at optimum efficiency and carrying no

surplus fat. To Elge as to all cybers food was to be used as fuel,

eaten from necessity not pleasure. Training and an operation

performed at puberty on the cortex had rid them of the capacity

for emotion.

Jarvet fell into step behind him as Elge moved to a passage

where a moving way carried them to a laboratory in which

technicians worked over the freed ovoids. Many lay open to

reveal their contents and Elge looked dispassionately at the

convoluted brains rested beneath transparent covers amid their

attendant mechanisms. Components designed never to fail. And

they had not failed—the fault lay within the brains themselves.

But the fault was yet to be determined.

"Nothing, Master." Icelus gave his report. "No trace of any

foreign bacteria or virus. No radiation-scarring or isotopic

accumulation. No discernible tissue decay. No aggravated

pressure zones. The Homochon elements are enlarged but only

within anticipated parameters. No change in the cortex. Nothing

can be discerned in the physical condition which could account

for the aberration." He added, "The conclusions are as before."

At that time units had been sterilized with flame and reduced

to their component atoms for fear of contamination, and

examinations had been conducted in isolated areas by

technicians who still remained isolated on distant worlds. Entire

banks of machinery had been volatilized—Elge knew the details.

"Is there any traceable pattern?"

"No. The brains are old and that is the only thing we can be

sure of."

"Any correlations?"

"None." Icelus was definite. "The thing seems to strike at

random. These units are younger than the last yet older than the

ones before. There is no similarity as to location or apparent

vulnerability. These are from Bank 8 Tier 5. Those before came

from Bank 3 Tier 9."

Different caverns and different positions—diversifying the

units was an elementary precaution against total loss by

unforeseen damage. Yet even that had provided no defense. The

aberration must, somehow, be inherent. But what?

"Your orders, Master?" Icelus was waiting. "Shall I continue

with the examinations?"

How often must he go over the same ground? There was a

point beyond which any further effort would be worse than

useless—efficiency demanded the full utilization of each and

every facility and the technicians had other work.

Elge said, "Terminate."

"All, Master?"

"All." Every brain to be thrown into a furnace to be consumed

by fire, the components dissolved into basic elements, the

residue to be blasted deep into space. To Jarvet he said, "Order

an assembly. I will meet the Council in an hour."

They sat at a long table, the warm hue of their robes the only

touch of color in the bleakness of the chamber. Dekel was the

first to speak, as Elge had predicted, but the mental achievement

gave him little pleasure. The man was old, patterns established;

the merest tyro could have done as well.

"This matter concerns Central Intelligence?"

"Yes."

"You have fresh information?" Boule was swift in his attack.

"There is nothing to be gained by discussing what we already

have covered."

Like Dekel and the rest, he was old, but that was to be

expected—men did not achieve power without the passage of

time. But age was relative and small signs betrayed when the fine

edge had been crossed; the delicate balance between optimum

efficiency and the insidious decline toward senility. Signs

watched for by all as they all watched Elge. He with the highest

office must demonstrate his ability to hold it.

From where he sat Theme said, "From my study of recent

information I arrive at the conclusion that nothing new can be

learned of the degeneration of the units by further

examinations."

"Agreed. That is why I ordered a termination of all such

activity." Elge continued, "There is no need to detail the negative

findings. They are as before. Nor is there need to discuss

extrapolations of probable consequences should the aberrations

continue. The prediction of internal collapse based on an

exponential curve leads to near-certain disaster."

This seemed so obvious as to need no comment.

Alder said, "Why have we been summoned?"

"To review the situation. Later I shall want from each of you

detailed plans of optimum survival based on all possible

contingencies. Now I wish to cover the base problem. From a

summation of all findings relevant to the affected units it is

logical to accept the premise that there is no mechanical or

biological cause for the derangements. The brains involved failed

because of some inherent fault other than external cause.

Agreed?"

Boule demurred. "That need not necessarily be the case.

Because we cannot find a cause does not mean that one does not

exist."

"True, but all precautions have been taken as regards

shielding and monitoring." Elge was curt. "I submit the fault

could lie in the region of the psyche. To illustrate the point I have

arranged for a demonstration." A communicator stood on the

table before him. Activating the instrument he said, "Now."

Abruptly the room turned black.

It was the complete elimination of all light and for a moment

they felt as if blinded and buried deep in a tomb, shielded for

eons from the sun. Then, slowly, light came and with it an image.

It floated above the table; a three-dimensional hologram

depicting a male, nude, set with wires which sprouted from his

skull like the tendrils of some strange and oddly designed

creature. The eyes were closed, sunken beneath prominent

brows, the ears padded. Mouth and nose were covered by a mask

and the medium in which he floated was not air or space.

"Water warmed and maintained at his individual body heat."

The accompanying voice whispered through the chamber. "All

senses have been blocked or negated so as to deny the

intelligence any external stimuli. The electrodes on the skull relay

the encephalic readings of the cortex."

Another picture joined the first; a depiction of wavering lines

traced by delicate points. The wave pattern of the subject's

brain, which all could read.

"Total disorientation was achieved in a remarkably short

space of time," continued the voice. "Hallucinations followed

leading to a complete catatonic withdrawal. Note the zeta and

lunbda lines." A pause, then, "Three hours later." A flick and the

figure could be seen with knees drawn up to its chin, arms

wrapped around the knees. "The classic fetal position. Twelve

hours later when removed from the tank."

They looked at an idiot.

"Enough." Elge had no wish to stare at the drooling,

vacuous-eyed, blank-faced vegetable. The point, surely, had been

made. "The subject was of low intelligence," he explained. "Run

as a comparison with others of a higher level of capability. The

greater the intelligence the longer was individual awareness

maintained."

Dekal said, "Your conclusion?"

"The derangement affecting the units has some relation to

sensory deprivation."

After a moment Boule said, "We are talking of minds

accustomed to a degree of sensory deprivation for the major part

of their lives. And need I remind you that when sealed in their

units they are provided with external stimuli in the form of

communication with others of their kind together with cybers in

rapport? I find the conclusion lacking in conviction."

Theme said, "If the matter is one of the need for external

stimuli I agree there remains a doubt as to the validity of the

conclusion. As sanity is being maintained the cause must lie

elsewhere."

"Sanity is not being maintained," reminded Elge. "Not in all

units at all times. If so there would be no problem. You have

studied the recordings made of communication with affected

units—what did you find?"

"Delusion," admitted Theme. "Ravings. Systems of logic built

on false premises."

"Withdrawal; Intelligences disoriented and drifting in a void

of speculation. A denial of accepted fact." Elge looked from one

to the other. "I stand by my conclusion."

"That the aberrations are induced by sensory deprivation?"

"That a relationship could exist." Elge was precise. "If so it

may be necessary to reaffirm established frameworks of

reference. With this in mind I have taken steps to investigate the

value of certain methods." Again he activated the communicator.

"Continue."

This time the room didn't turn black but color and movement

shone where there had been emptiness. The chamber was

equipped, like an operating theater, with muted greens and

sterile whites, with metal and plastic and the sheen of crystal. To

one side lay an opened ovoid, the brain clearly visible. In the

foreground stood a squat machine in the shape of a man. A

grotesque parody with a domed head, rounded torso and oddly

fashioned limbs. Around it, both robot and brain technicians

worked in smooth coordination.

"Attempts to provide units with separate, operational vehicles

have been made several times," explained the accompanying

voice. "All have led to failure. A direct brain transplant to a

human body is impossible because of the enlargement of the

engrafted Homochon elements which takes place after the unit

has been sealed into its container. The use of substitute physical

hosts was tried and abandoned because of the low-return

anticipated against the high-effort such attempts entailed. We

are now attempting to couple the brain to a mechanical

analogue of the human shape. Once the attachments have been

made and activated the analogue will become an extension of the

unit's intelligence. As yet we have had little success in this line of

experimentation."

In the glowing depiction figures moved in accelerated tempo,

wires and pipes and terminals meshing to form a complex web.

A moment later the scene slowed to show the robot now standing

alone. As they watched, it stirred, one arm lifting, to lower, to lift

again. Then it paused like a child who has made a discovery and

now broods over what it has found.

"The first reaction. Two hours later we had this." The arm

again, moving like a hammer, up and down, up and down. The

dome of the head moved a little, the body tilting to allow the

scanners set in the parody of eyes to stare upward at a brightly

polished surface. "Thirty-two minutes later."

A man hurtled through the air as a steel arm smashed into his

chest and filled his lungs with splintered bone. Spewing blood he

fell, tripping another, joined by a third with an oddly twisted

neck. A fourth, head pulped, dropped like a stone as the robot

moved. It swayed, turned, lurched forward, the massive arm

lifting to slam down with crushing force, pulping the exposed

brain, sending it to spatter in all directions.

In his office Elge touched a control and watched as a galaxy

was born. The air filled with the cold glitter of countless points of

radiance interspersed with sheets and curtains of luminescence,

the ebon smudges of interstellar dust. A masterpiece of

electronic wizardry; each mote of light held in a mesh of

electromagnetic forces, the whole forming a compressed

depiction of the galactic lens.

With such diminution details had to be lost; the billions of

individual worlds, comets, asteroids, satellites, rogue planets,

meteors, the drifting hail of broken suns. But the stars were

present and, as he watched, scarlet flecks appeared in scattered

profusion.

The power of the Cyclan.

A power vast and yet almost invisible. Each fleck represented

a world which had lost self-determination in its reliance on the

services provided by the Cyclan, though the planets were

unaware of the trap into which they had fallen. It did not take an

army to move a mountain when a touch could shift the stone

which led to an avalanche. One touch could exert pressure where

it would achieve the greatest gain, use persuasion and play on

lust and greed, envy and hatred, anger and fear—all the weapons

forged by emotion-cursed humanity against itself. The Cyclan

stood aloof as it manipulated the destiny of captive worlds.

His power was hidden, unsuspected by most, but nonetheless

real.

"Master." Jarvet had entered the office to stand beside the

Cyber Prime, the blazing depiction illuminating his face, dotting

it with rainbow patches. "The reports from Siguri and Guptua?"

These details could not be ignored. On Siguri a drunken

young fool had threatened a cyber and had slapped him in the

face, the act compounded in its folly by having been done in

public. The physical injury was slight, but the man had

committed an unpardonable crime.

Elge said, "From a check of his background it is obvious the

culprit fears ridicule more than death. Order the failure of the

crops on Heght. They provide the basis of his Family's income.

At the same time seduce him into making heavy investments in

the Chan-Pen Enterprise. It will fail and his House be ruined. He,

himself, will be ostracized and vilified."

This was using a hammer to crack a nut and yet no insult to

any cyber could be allowed to pass unpunished. The fool would

pay with ridicule and dishonor and final death by his own or

another's hand. His Family would be disgraced and their power

lost—payment for having given birth to the one who had struck

the blow. All would know the details and, knowing, would fear

the Cyclan. And with that fear would come enhanced respect.

"And Guptua?"

A world torn by internecine war as two brothers fought for a

decaying throne. Elge gave orders which would ruin them both

and place the future prosperity of the planet firmly in the grasp

of the Cyclan. Details would be attended to by local cybers; he

plotted the main strategies, but some things demanded his

personal attention.

The mania of the brains.

His own fate should he fail to provide the solution.

Nequal had failed and now Nequal was dead and he occupied

the vacated position. That position was determined by the vote

of the Council and they would be watching for the slightest trace

of inefficiency. Who would take his place should he fail? Icelus?

No, the man was too circumscribed by his devotion to science.

Jarvet? He was a good aide but lacked the subtle attribute which

made a leader. Avro? A possibility, as was Marie.

Such speculation had no place and Elge recognized the

danger. The love of power was reason enough for any cyber to be

denied it and for the Cyber Prime most of all. For him, as for all,

the Cyclan must be paramount.

Why had the robot destroyed the brain?

Suicide, Dekal had said, and he could be right, but that in

itself was a demonstration of madness. What intelligent mind

would seek self-destruction? This was another facet of the

problem which had to be tested with further experiments but

those were already underway.

The depicted galaxy seemed to expand as he manipulated a

control; points of light streamed to all sides to paint transient

paths of brilliance over robes and the bleak furnishings of the

office. As movement halted greater detail became visible; a sun,

planets, a world marked with a glowing arrow.

"Ascelius." Jarvet didn't look at the Cyber Prime. "Where

Okos went insane."

A reminder Elge didn't need; he was fully aware of the

problem. Aware too of the hammer-blow the incident had struck

at the tower of confidence based on the efficiency of Central

Intelligence.

It was impossible to tell which units of the gigantic complex

were contacted by a cyber in rapport. Relaxing, he activated the

implanted Homochon elements with the aid of the Samatchaze

formulae and, once a certain stage had been reached, became as

one with the massed brains. This union was beyond normal

understanding; a merging, a belonging, a communion of minds.

Knowledge was exchanged by a form of osmosis; a mental

communication conducted at near-instantaneous velocity. This

all cybers relished because of the mental intoxication

experienced during the aftermath.

Yet Okos had gone insane.

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E. C. Tubb - Dumarest 26 - The Coming Event

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