“You tried to keep me from going on, and you see what I have become? To such as you, no doubt, I seem terrible, yet you two and all like you seem as low to me as the worms that crawl!”
“Good God, Pollard, you’ve made yourself a monster!” The words burst from me without thought.
His enormous eyes turned on me. “You call me Pollard, yet I am no more the Pollard you knew, and who entered that chamber first, than you are the ape of millions of years ago from whom you sprang! And all mankind is like you two! Well, they will all learn the powers of one who is a hundred and fifty million years in advance of them!”
“What do you mean?” Dutton exclaimed.
“I mean that with the colossal brain I have I will master without a struggle this man-swarming planet, and make it a huge laboratory in which to pursue the experiments that please me.”
“But Pollard—remember why you started this!” I cried. “To go ahead and chart the path of future evolution for humanity—to benefit humanity and not to rule it!”
The great head’s enormous eyes did not change. “I remember that the creature Pollard that I was until tonight had such foolish ambitions, yes. It would stir mirth now, if I could feel such an emotion. To benefit humanity? Do you men dream of benefiting the animal you rule over? I would no sooner think of working for the benefit you humans!
“Do you two yet realize that I am so far ahead of you in brain power now as you are ahead of the beasts that perish? Look at this…”
He had climbed onto a chair beside one of the laboratory table was reaching among the retorts and apparatus there. Swiftly he poured several compounds into a lead mortar, added others, poured upon the mixed contents another mixture made as swiftly.
There was a puff of intense green smoke from the mortar instantly, and then the great head—I can only call him that—turned the mortar upside down. A lump of shining mottled metal fell out and we gasped as we recognized the yellow sheen of pure gold, made in a moment, apparently, by a mixture of common compounds!
“You see?” the grotesque figure was asking. “What is the transformation of elements to a mind like mine? You two cannot even realize the scope of my intelligence!
“I can destroy all life on this earth from this room, if I desire. I can construct a telescope that will allow me to look on the planets the farthest galaxies! I can send my mind forth to make contact with other minds without the slightest material connection. And you think it terrible that I should rule your race! I will not rule them, I will own them and this planet as you might own a farm and animals!”
“You couldn’t!” I cried. “Pollard, if there is anything of Pollard left in you, give up that thought! We’ll kill you ourselves before we’ll let you start a monstrous rule of men!”
“We will—by God, we will!” Dutton cried, his face twitching.
We had started desperately forward toward the great head but stopped suddenly in our tracks as his great eyes met ours. I found myself walking backward to where I had stood, walking back and Dutton with me, like two automatons.
“So you two would try to kill me?” queried the head that had been Pollard. “Why, I could direct you without a word to kill yourselves and you’d do so in an instant! What chance has your puny will and brain against mine? And what chance will all the force of men have against me when a glance from me will make them puppets of my will?”
A desperate inspiration flashed through my brain. “Pollard, wait!” I exclaimed. “You were going on with the process, with the rays! If you stop here you’ll not know what changes lie beyond your present form!”
He seemed to consider. “That is true,” he admitted, “and though it seems impossible to me that by going on I can attain to greater intelligence than I now have, I want to find out for certain.”
“Then you’ll go under the rays for another fifteen minutes?” I asked quickly.
“I will,” he answered, “but lest you harbor any foolish ideas, you may know that even inside the chamber I will be able to read your thoughts and can kill both of you before you can make a move to harm me.”
He stepped up into the chamber again, and as I reached for the switch, Dutton trembling beside me, we glimpsed for a moment the huge head before the down-smiting white force hid it from our sight.
The minutes of this period seemed dragging even more slowly than before. It seemed hours before I reached at last to snap off the lays. We gazed into the chamber, shaking.
At first glance the great head inside seemed unchanged, but then we saw that it had changed, and greatly. Instead of being a skin-covered head with at least rudimentary arms and legs, it was now a great gray head-like shape of even greater size, supported by two gray muscular tentacles. The surface of this gray head-thing was wrinkled and folded, and its only features were two eyes as small as our own.
“Oh my God!” quaked Dutton. “He’s changing from a head into a brain—he’s losing all human appearance!”
Into our minds came a thought from the gray head-thing before us, a thought as clear as though spoken. “You have guessed it, for even my former head-body is disappearing, all atrophying except the brain. I am become a walking, seeing brain. As I am so all of your race will be in two hundred million years, gradually losing more and more of their atrophied bodies and developing more and more their great brains.”
His eyes seemed to read us. “You need not fear now the things I threatened in my last stage of development. My mind, grown infinitely greater, would no more now want to rule you men and your little planet than you would want to rule an anthill and its inhabitants!
My mind, gone fifty million years further ahead in development, can soar out now to vistas of power and knowledge unimagined by me in that last stage, and unimaginable to you.”
“Great God, Pollard!” I cried. “What have you become?”
“Pollard?” Dutton was laughing hysterically. “You call that thing Pollard? Why, we had dinner with Pollard three hours ago—he was a human being, and not a thing like this!”
“I have become what all men will become in time,” the thing’s thought answered me. “I have gone this far along the road of man’s future evolution, and am going on to the end of that road, am going to attain the development that the last mutation possible will give me!”
“Turn on the rays,” his thought continued. “I think that I must be approaching now the last possible mutation.”
I snapped over the switch again and the white shaft of the concentrated rays veiled from us the great gray shape. I felt my own mind giving beneath the strain of horror of the last hour, and Dutton was still half-hysterical.
The humming and crackling of the great apparatus seemed thunderous to my ears as the minutes passed. With every nerve keyed to highest tension, I threw open the switch at last. The rays ceased, and the figure in the chamber was again revealed.
Dutton began to laugh shrilly, and then abruptly was sobbing. I do not know whether I was doing the same, though I have a dim memory of mouthing incoherent things as my eyes took in the shape in the chamber.
It was a great brain! A gray limp mass four feet across, it lay in the chamber, its surface ridged and wrinkled by innumerable fine convolutions. It had no features or limbs of any kind in its gray mass. It was simply a huge brain whose only visible sign of life was its slow twitching movement.
From it thoughts beat strongly into our own horror-weighted brains.
“You see me now, a great brain only, just as all men will be far in the future. Yes, you might have known, I might have known, when I was like you, that this would be the course of human evolution, that the brain that alone gives man dominance would develop and the body that hampers that brain would atrophy until he would have developed into pure brain as I now am!
“I have no features, no senses that I could describe to you, yet can realize the universe infinitely better than you can with
your elementary senses. I am aware of planes of existence you cannot imagine. I can feed myself with pure energy without the need of a cumbersome body, to transform it, and I can move and act, despite my lack of limbs, by means and with a speed and power utterly beyond your comprehension.
“If you still have fear of the threats I made two stages back against your world and race, banish them! I am pure intelligence now and as such, though I can no more feel the emotions of love or friendship, neither can I feel those of ambition or pride. The only emotion, if such it is, that remains to me still is intellectual curiosity, and this desire for truth that has burned in man since his apehood will thus be the last of all desires to leave him!”
“A brain—a great brain!” Dutton was saying dazedly. “Here in Pollard’s laboratory—-but where’s Pollard? He was here, too…”
“Then all men will some day be as you are now?” I cried.
“Yes,” came the answering thought, “in two hundred and fifty million years man as you know him and as you are will be no more, and after passing all the stages through which I have passed through tonight, the human race will have developed into great brains inhabiting not only your solar system, no doubt, but the systems of other stars!”
“And that’s the end of man’s evolutionary road? That is the highest point that he will reach?”
“No, I think he will change still from those great brains into still a higher form,” the brain answered—the brain that three hours before had been Pollard!—“and I am going to find out now what that higher form will be. For I think this will be the last mutation of all and that with it I will reach the end of man’s evolutionary path, the last and highest form into which he can develop!
“You will turn on the rays now,” the brain’s order continued, “and in fifteen minutes we will know what that last and highest form is.”
My hand was on the switch but Dutton had staggered to me, was clutching my arm. “Don’t, Arthur!” he was exclaiming thickly. “We’ve seen horrors enough—let’s not see the last—get out of here…”
“I can’t!” I cried. “Oh God, I want to stop but I can’t now—I want to see the end myself—I’ve got to see…”
“Turn on the rays!” came the brain’s thought-order again.
“The end of the road—the last mutation,” I panted. “We’ve got to see—to see—” I drove the switch home.
The rays flashed down again to hide the great gray brain in the cube. Dutton’s eyes were staring fixedly, he was clinging to me.
The minutes passed! Each tick of the watch in my hand was the mighty note of a great tolling bell in my ears.
An inability to move seemed gripping me. The hand of my watch was approaching the minute for which I waited, yet I could not raise my hand toward the switch!
Then as the hand reached the appointed minute I broke from my immobility and in a sheer frenzy of sudden strength pulled open the switch, rushed forward with Dutton to the cube’s very edge!
The great gray brain that had been inside it was gone. There lay on the cube’s floor instead of it a quite shapeless mass of clear, jelly-like matter. It was quite motionless save for a slight quivering. My shaking hand went forth to touch it, and then it was that I screamed, such a scream as all the tortures of hell’s crudest fiends could not have wrung from a human throat.
The mass inside the cube was a mass of simple protoplasm! This then was the end of man’s evolution-road, the highest form to which time would bring him, the last mutation of all! The road of man’s evolution was a circular one, returning to its beginning!
From the earth’s bosom had risen the first crude organisms. Then sea-creature and land-creature and mammal and ape to man; and from man it would rise in the future through all the forms we had seen that night. There would be super-men, bodiless heads, pure brains; only to be changed by the last mutation of all into the protoplasm from which first it had sprung!
I do not know now exactly what followed. I know that I rushed upon that quivering, quiescent mass, calling Pollard’s name madly and shouting things I am glad I cannot remember. I know that Dutton was shouting too, with insane laughter, and that as he struck with lunatic howls and fury about the laboratory the crash of breaking glass and the hiss of escaping gases was in my ears. And then from those mingling acids bright flames were leaping and spreading sudden fires that alone, I think now, saved my own sanity.
For I can remember dragging the insanely laughing Dutton from the room, from the house, into the cool darkness of the night.
I remember the chill of dew-wet grass against my hands and face as the flames from Pollard’s house soared higher. And I remember that as I saw Dutton’s crazy laughter by that crimson light, I knew that he would laugh thus until he died.
* * * *
So ends my narrative of the end that came to Pollard and Pollard’s house. It is, as I said in the beginning, a narrative that I only can tell now, for Dutton has never spoken a sane word since. In the institution where he now is, they think his condition the result of shock from the fire, just as Pollard was believed to have perished in that fire. I have never until now told the truth.
But I am telling it now, hoping that it will in some way lessen the horror it has left with me. For there could be no horror greater than that we saw in Pollard’s house that night. I have brooded upon it. With my mind’s eye I have followed that tremendous cycle of change, that purposeless, eon-long climb of life up from simple protoplasm through myriads of forms and lives of ceaseless pain and struggle, only to end in simple protoplasm again.
Will that cycle of evolutionary change be repeated over and over again upon this and other worlds, ceaselessly, purposelessly, until there is no more universe for it to go on in? Is this colossal cycle of life’s changes as inevitable and necessary as the cycle that in space makes of the nebulae myriad suns, and of the suns dark-stars, and of the dark-stars colliding with one another nebulae again?
Or is this evolutionary cycle we saw a cycle in appearance only, is there some change that we cannot understand, above and beyond it? I do not know which of these possibilities is truth, but I do know that the first of them haunts me. It would haunt the world if the world believed my story. Perhaps I should be thankful as I write to know that I will not be believed.
NO GUTS, NO GLORY, by Edward M. Lerner
I have a theory about baseball caps and intelligence. Grown men who wear baseball caps move their lips when they read. Grown men who wear baseball caps backwards can’t read. Okay, I’ll make exceptions for actual pro ball players.
And then, in a league of his own, we have Alistair Winkler. The first words I heard from Alistair’s lips, plaintively spoken, were, “Have you seen my baseball cap? I can’t find it.”
Appearances can be deceiving.
* * * *
I had just emerged from my office, too bored for the usual charade. You know: where my secretary keeps a client waiting to show how little I need the business. Right.
Winkler was looking all around, befuddled. He was comfortably middle-aged, average in height and spare-tire size. His eyes, behind Coke-bottle-bottom lenses, were muddy brown. It was windy today; my new client hadn’t bothered to comb his sparse hair since coming inside—maybe not since the Carter administration. For sure, that was when he’d bought his tweed sport coat. Lapels don’t lie.
“Mr. Winkler?” I said. “Come this way, please. My secretary will be happy to look for your cap.” It might even have been true. Phyllis was as bored as I.
My client clutched a shoebox that leaked receipts. If only he had misplaced that. He mumbled something as I settled him at the conference table.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Doctor Winkler.”
“Sorry.” Appearances can be deceiving, I thought, reaching for his box. “When you made your appointment, did Phyllis tell you to bring your last three returns?�
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“They’re in the box.”
Meaning they were, at best, folded. Based on the crumbled receipts, I’d have bet on finding the returns wadded up. Too bad I didn’t have any money; I’d have won. Sliding the old 1040s back and forth across a table edge to flatten them, I asked. “So what’s your field?”
Winkler mumbled again, something about guts. That was less disturbing than his old returns, which, it appeared, he had prepared himself. He sure wrote like a doctor.
“Um,” I responded insightfully. “I don’t understand medical specialties. Does that make you a GI doc?” As in: It may be shit to you, but it’s my bread and butter.
Winkler’s hearty laugh surprised me. “I’m a Ph.D. in physics, not a medical doctor. GUT stands for grand unified theory. You’re familiar, of course, with the work aimed at unifying the gravitational, electroweak, and strong nuclear forces.”
Electro-who? I hid behind an old tax form, where an odd entry caught my eye. “What’s this $407,000 in ‘other income’ from two years ago?”
Winkler scratched his head, then brightened. “Oh, that must be my share of the Nobel.”
I did say appearances can be deceiving, didn’t I?
* * * *
We went through Winkler’s old returns, me tsk-tsking at the many missed deductions. Just what I could recover with a corrected last-year return would more than pay my fees.
According to Alistair, Einstein once said the hardest thing in the world to understand is the income tax. Apparently Einstein had had problems with his grand unified theory, too. I think my client had taken on both GUTs and his returns as a dare.
Alistair read physics journals with one eye as we worked. I’d have needed both eyes, absolute silence, and a brain transplant.
Still, I could read the cover. Okay, a handful of words on the cover. “Black holes?” I commented, making conversation. “Pretty heavy stuff. I bet you could even explain where all the mortgage money is disappearing.”
The Mad Scientist Megapack Page 30