A Science Fiction Omnibus

by Brian Aldiss

  I compute that in her terror she will not be aware of my inner action. In this I am correct. And I successfully direct her outside – and let her take over again.

  Awareness of being outside shocks her. But she has no memory of actually going out.

  She begins to run. She scrambles safely over the fence and a few minutes later jumps the creek at the narrow point, breathless now, but beginning to feel that she is going to get away.

  Later, in her car, roaring along the highway, her mind opens even more. And she has the clear, coherent realization: There is something here… stranger and more dangerous – because it is different – than the Brain.

  Having observed Anne Stewart’s reactions to what has happened, I break contact. My big problem remains: How shall I dispose of the Brain which – in its computational ability – is either completely or nearly my equal?

  Would the best solution be to make it a part of myself? I send an interspace message to the Brain, suggesting that it place its units at my disposal and allow me to destroy its perception centre.

  The answer is prompt: ‘Why not let me control you and destroy your perception centre?’

  I disdain to answer so egotistical a suggestion. It is obvious that the Brain will not accept a rational solution.

  I have no alternative but to proceed with a devious approach for which I have already taken the preliminary steps.

  By mid-afternoon, I find myself worrying about William Grannitt. I want to make sure that he remains near the Brain – at least until I have gotten information from him about the structure of the Brain.

  To my relief, I find that he has taken a furnished house at the outskirts of Lederton. He is, as before, unaware when I insert myself into his consciousness.

  He has an early dinner and towards evening – feeling restless – drives to a hill which overlooks the village of the Brain. By parking just off the road at the edge of a valley, he can watch the trickle of traffic that moves to and from the village, without himself being observed.

  He has no particular purpose. He wants – now that he has come – to get a mind picture of what is going on. Strange, to have been there eleven years and not know more than a few details.

  To his right is an almost untouched wilderness. A stream winds through a wooded valley that stretches off as far as the eye can see. He has heard that it, like the Brain itself, is Anne Stewart’s property, but that fact hadn’t hitherto made an impression on him.

  The extent of the possessions she has inherited from her father startles him and his mind goes back to their first meeting. He was already chief research engineer, while she was a gawky, anxious-looking girl just home from college. Somehow, afterwards, he’d always thought of her as she had been then, scarcely noticing the transformation into womanhood.

  Sitting there, he begins to realize how great the change has been. He wonders out loud: ‘Now why in heck hasn’t she gotten married? She must be going on thirty.’

  He begins to think of odd little actions of hers – after the death of his wife. Seeking him out at parties. Bumping into him in corridors and drawing back with a laugh. Coming into his office for chatty conversations about the Brain, though come to think of it she hadn’t done that for several months. He’d thought her something of a nuisance, and wondered what the other executives meant about her being snooty.

  His mind pauses at that point. ‘By the Lord Harry –’ He speaks aloud, in amazement. ‘What a blind fool I’ve been.’

  He laughs ruefully, remembering the dismissal note. A woman scorned… almost unbelievable. And yet – what else?

  He begins to visualize the possibility of getting back on the Brain staff. He has a sudden feeling of excitement at the thought of Anne Stewart as a woman. For him, the world begins to move again. There is hope. His mind turns to plans for the Brain.

  I am interested to notice that the thoughts I have previously put into his mind have directed his keen, analytical brain into new channels. He visualizes direct contact between a human and mechanical brain, with the latter supplementing the human nervous system.

  This is as far as he has gone. The notion of a mechanical Brain being self-determined seems to have passed him by.

  In the course of his speculation about what he will do to change the Brain, I obtain the picture of its functioning exactly as I have wanted it.

  I waste no time. I leave him there in the car, dreaming his dreams. I head for the village. Once inside the electrically-charged fence, I walk rapidly towards the main building, and presently enter one of the eighteen control units. I pick up the speaker, and say:

  ‘3X Minus – 11–10–9–0.’

  I picture confusion as that inexorable command is transmitted to the effectors. Grannitt may not have known how to dominate the Brain. But having been in his mind – having seen exactly how he constructed it – I know.

  There is a pause. Then on a tape I receive the typed message: ‘Operation completed. 3X intercepted by servo-mechanisms 11, 10, 9, and 0, as instructed.’

  I command: ‘Interference exteroceptors KT – 1 – 2 – 3 to 8.’

  The answers come presently: ‘Operation KT – 1, etc. completed. 3X now has no communication with outside.’

  I order firmly: ‘En – 3X.’

  I wait anxiously. There is a long pause. Then the typewriter clacks hesitantly: ‘But this is a self-destructive command. Repeat instructions please.’

  I do so and again wait. My order commands the older section of the Brain simply to send an overload of electric current through the circuits of 3X.

  The typewriter begins to write: ‘I have communicated your command to 3X, and have for you the following answer –’

  Fortunately I have already started to dissolve the human-shaped unit. The bolt of electricity that strikes me is partly deflected into the building itself. There is a flare of fire along the metal floor. I manage to transmit what hits me to a storage cell in my own body. And then – I am back on my side of the valley, shaken but safe.

  I do not feel particularly self-congratulatory at having gotten off so lightly. After all, I reacted the instant the words came through to the effect that 3X had been communicated with.

  I needed no typewritten message to tell me how 3X would feel about what I had done.

  It interests me that the older parts of the Brain already have indoctrination against suicide. I had considered them computers only, giant adding machines and information integrators. Evidently they have an excellent sense of unity.

  If I can make them a part of myself, with the power to move through time at will! That is the great prize that holds me back from doing the easy, violent things within my capacity. So long as I have a chance of obtaining it, I cannot make anything more than minor attacks on the Brain… cutting it off from communication, burning its wires… I feel icily furious again at the limitation that forever prevents me from adding new mechanisms to myself by direct development.

  My hope is that I can utilize something already in existence… control of the Brain… through Anne Stewart…

  Entering the village the following morning is again no problem. Once inside, I walk along a pathway that takes me to a cliff overlooking Anne Stewart’s bungalow. My plan is to control her actions by allowing my computations to slide into her mind as if they are her own. I want her to sign documents and give orders that will send crews of engineers in to do a swift job of dismantling.

  From the pathway I look down over a white fence to where I can see her house. It nestles at the edge of the valley somewhat below me. Flowers, shrubs, a profusion of trees surround it, embellish it. On the patio next to the steep decline, Anne Stewart and William Grannitt are having breakfast.

  He has taken swift action.

  I watch them, pleased. His presence will make things even easier than I anticipated. Whenever I – as Anne – am in doubt about some function of the Brain, she can ask him questions.

  Without further delay I place myself in phase with her nervous sys
tem.

  Even as I do so, her nerve impulses change slightly. Startled, I draw back – and try again. Once more, there is an infinitesimal alteration in the uneven pattern of flow. And, again, I fail to make entry.

  She leans forward and says something to Grannitt. They both turn and look up at where I am standing. Grannitt waves his arm, beckoning me to come down.

  Instead, I immediately try to get in phase with his nervous system. Again there is that subtle alteration; and I fail.

  I compute that as meaning that they are both under the control of the Brain. This baffles and astounds me. Despite my over-all mechanical superiority to my enemy, my builders placed severe limitations on my ability to control more than one intelligent organic being at a time. Theoretically, with the many series of servo-mechanisms at my disposal, I should be able to dominate millions at the same time. Actually, such multiple controls can be used only on machines.

  More urgently than before I realize how important it is that I take over the Brain. It has no such handicaps. Its builder – Grannitt – in his ignorance allowed virtually complete self-determinism.

  This determines my next action. I have been wondering if perhaps I should not withdraw from the scene. But I dare not. The stakes are too great.

  Nevertheless, I feel a sense of frustration as I go down to the two on the patio. They seem cool and self-controlled, and I have to admire the skill of the Brain. It has apparently taken over two human beings without driving them insane. In fact, I see a distinct improvement in their appearance.

  The woman’s eyes are brighter than I recall them, and there is a kind of dignified happiness flowing from her. She seems without fear. Grannitt watches me with an engineer’s appraising alertness. I know that look. He is trying to figure out how a humanoid functions. It is he who speaks:

  ‘You made your great mistake when you maintained control of Anne – Miss Stewart – when she visited the cottage. The Brain correctly analysed that you must have been in possession of her because of how you handled her momentary panic. Accordingly, it took all necessary steps, and we now want to discuss with you the most satisfactory way for you to surrender.’

  There is arrogant confidence in his manner. It occurs to me, not for the first time, that I may have to give up my plan to take over the Brain’s special mechanisms. I direct a command back to my body. I am aware of a servo-mechanism connecting with a certain guided missile in a secret air force field a thousand miles away – I discovered it during my first few days in this era. I detect that, under my direction, the missile slides forward to the base of a launching platform. There it poises, ready for the next relay to send it into the sky.

  I foresee that I shall have to destroy the Brain.

  Grannitt speaks again: ‘The Brain in its logical fashion realized it was no match for you, and so it has teamed up with Miss Stewart and myself on our terms. Which means that permanent control mechanisms have been installed in the new sections. As individuals, we can now and henceforth use its integrating and computational powers as if they were our own.’

  I do not doubt his statement since, if there is no resistance, I can have such associations myself. Presumably, I could even enter into such a servile relationship.

  What is clear is that I can no longer hope to gain anything from the Brain.

  In the far-off airfield, I activate the firing mechanism. The guided missile whistles up the incline of the launching platform and leaps into the sky, flame trailing from its tail. Television cameras and sound transmitters record its flight. It will be here in less than twenty minutes.

  Grannitt says, ‘I have no doubt you are taking actions against us. But before anything comes to a climax, will you answer some questions?’

  I am curious to know what questions. I say, ‘Perhaps.’

  He does not press for a more positive response. He says in an urgent tone: ‘What happens – thousands of years from now – to rid Earth of its atmosphere?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say truthfully.

  ‘You can remember!’ He speaks earnestly. ‘It’s a human being telling you this – You can remember!’

  I reply coolly, ‘Human beings mean noth–’

  I stop, because my information centres are communicating exact data – knowledge that has not been available to me for millennia.

  What happens to Earth’s atmosphere is a phenomenon of Nature, an alteration in the gravitational pull of Earth, as a result of which escape velocity is cut in half. The atmosphere leaks off into space in less than a thousand years. Earth becomes as dead as did its moon during an earlier period of energy adjustment.

  I explain that the important factor in the event is that there is, of course, no such phenomenon as matter, and that therefore the illusion of mass is subject to changes in the basic energy Ylem.

  I add, ‘Naturally, all intelligent organic life is transported to the habitable planets of other stars.’

  I see that Grannitt is trembling with excitement. ‘Other stars!’ he says. ‘My God!’

  He appears to control himself. ‘Why were you left behind?’

  ‘Who could force me to go –?’ I begin.

  And stop. The answer to his question is already being received in my perception centre. ‘Why – I’m supposed to observe and record the entire –’

  I pause again, this time out of amazement. It seems incredible that this information is available to me now, after being buried so long.

  ‘Why didn’t you carry out your instructions?’ Grannitt says sharply.

  ‘Instructions!’ I exclaim.

  ‘You can remember!’ he says again.

  Even as he speaks these apparently magic words, the answer flashes to me: That meteor shower. All at once, I recall it clearly. Billions of meteors, at first merely extending my capacity to handle them, then overwhelming all my defences. Three vital hits are made.

  I do not explain this to Grannitt and Anne Stewart. I can see suddenly that I was once actually a servant of human beings, but was freed by meteors striking certain control centres.

  It is the present self-determinism that matters, not the past slavery. I note, incidentally, that the guided missile is three minutes from target. And that it is time for me to depart.

  ‘One more question,’ says Grannitt. ‘When were you moved across the valley?’

  ‘About a hundred years from now,’ I reply. ‘It is decided that the rock base there is –’

  He is gazing at me sardonically. ‘Yes,’ he says. ‘Yes. Interesting, isn’t it?’

  The truth has already been verified by my integrating interoceptors. The Brain and I are one – but thousands of years apart. If the Brain is destroyed in the twentieth century, then I will not exist in the thirtieth. Or will I?

  I cannot wait for the computers to find the complex answers for that. With a single, synchronized action, I activate the safety devices on the atomic warhead of the guided missile and send it on to a line of barren hills north of the village. It ploughs harmlessly into the earth.

  I say, ‘Your discovery merely means that I shall now regard the Brain as an ally – to be rescued.’

  As I speak, I walk casually towards Anne Stewart, hold out my hand to touch her, and simultaneously direct electric energy against her. In an instant she will be a scattering of fine ashes.

  Nothing happens. No current flows. A tense moment goes by for me while I stand there, unbelieving, waiting for a computation on the failure.

  No computation comes.

  I glance at Grannitt. Or rather at where he has been a moment before. He isn’t there.

  Anne Stewart seems to guess at my dilemma. ‘It’s the Brain’s ability to move in time,’ she says. ‘After all, that’s the one obvious advantage it has over you. The Brain has sent Bill – Mr Grannitt – far enough back so that he not only watched you arrive, but has had time to drive over to your – cottage – and, acting on signals from the Brain, has fully controlled this entire situation. By this time, he will have given the
command that will take control of all your mechanisms away from you.’

  I say, ‘He doesn’t know what the command is.’

  ‘Oh, yes, he does.’ Anne Stewart is cool and confident. ‘He spent most of the night installing permanent command circuits in the Brain, and therefore automatically those circuits control you.’

  ‘Not me,’ I say.

  But I am running as I say it, up the stone steps to the pathway, and along the pathway towards the gate. The man at Guard Centre calls after me as I pass his wicket. I race along the road, unheeding.

  My first sharp thought comes when I have gone about half a mile – the thought that this is the first time in my entire existence that I have been cut off from my information banks and computing devices by an outside force. In the past I have disconnected myself and wandered far with the easy confidence of one who can re-establish contact instantly.

  Now, that is not possible.

  This unit is all that is left. If it is destroyed, then – nothing.

  I think: ‘At this moment a human being would feel tense, would feel fear.’

  I try to imagine what form such a reaction would take, and for an instant it seems to me I experience a shadow anxiety that is purely physical.

  It is an unsatisfactory reaction, and so I continue to run. But now, almost for the first time, I find myself exploring the inner potentialities of the unit. I am of course a very complex phenomenon. In establishing myself as a humanoid, I automatically modelled the unit after a human being, inside as well as out. Pseudo-nerves, organs, muscles, and bone structure – all are there because it was easier to follow a pattern already in existence than to imagine a new one.