It was hard for him to do, but he kept his promise to Taine and did not look out through the crack in the screen till nine the next morning. And what he saw gave him occasion for many anxious thoughts.
In the center of the library was a large table of white marble, with thousands of little black points sticking out of it. Directly in front of the table, a middle-aged man sat, facing directly toward the screen sheltering the Chief. The detective could see his face distinctly, but he could not identify him. On one side of him, also facing the screen, sat a Chinese in flowing Oriental costume. At one end of the table was a mahogany box. At the other end was something covered up with a white sheet.
“And now,” said the one man, “the time has come for the final experiment. I have asked you to be here, Wing Loo, because it is your right. Without your wonderful help, I could not have gone ahead. My knowledge of electricity would have been useless without your knowledge of brain surgery.
“This entire experiment was started by a statement of an eminent psychologist which said that nothing is ever lost in the realm of knowledge, that everything once appreciated by a human brain is retained by that brain till the organism is destroyed. That declaration made me think.
“For years I have worried over two things: The shortness of human life and my inability to learn all there was to be known. Think of it! One person, working as fast as he can, would yet be unable, in the scope of a lifetime, to learn all there is to know. I learned a little about electricity, but realized that I was pitifully ignorant about ten thousand other forms of knowledge. And I could only live just so long—and then I had to die.
“Then an idea came to me. From that came other ideas, like little bubbles springing from a central one; but I realized the hopelessness of the idea till I heard of you, Wing Loo, and of your wonderful surgery.”
“I am glad that your servant could participate in your greatness.”
“Yes, your surgery and ability to keep parts of the body alive were the necessary additions to my plan, and here is what I did. I engaged five hundred readers. They were each to read fifteen hundred books. Their books were to be carefully selected. One was to read biology and another chemistry and so on throughout all the various parts of human endeavor to solve the mysteries of life. And the books that each read were to be carefully indexed, both by subject and by reader. Each man had a number, though he did not know it, and each read every day a book. The three librarians kept up with their work.
“I brought the books here by the hundreds of thousands, and as they were read I had them burned. They were no longer necessary in my experiment because they had become engraved on the convolutions of the brains of the five hundred readers.
“All the time I was working on the electro-dynamic part of the experiment. I had to have fine wire run from each of five hundred glass vessels. These five hundred wires finally came together and then separated again and became attached to the selective black posts you see in front of you. I have other apparatus, intensifiers, and radios, all ending finally in that little radio you see at the other side of the table.
“Now, suppose I want to know all there is to know about toadstools? I want in a few minutes and without any delay to hear a thousand word synopsis of the knowledge of the world on toadstools. I spell out the word on this little typewriter in the middle of the table. Then I go up and down among the thousands of little black points you see there, each of which has a name, and I press those I am interested in, as Food, Toxicology, Botany, Geography, General Interest, and a few others.
“Now I am all ready. I have asked my machine for what I want. I swing this lever and that starts the delivery of the information which I am asking for. I sit here in my chair, and listen to a thousand word essay on the toadstool. If I want to, I can take a subject like Anthropology and listen to it for several days. I can take one poem, such as Dante’s Inferno, and have it recited to me. In fact, I can get anything I ask for, and all I have to do is to know sufficiently about it to ask the question, and press the necessary points. All the information in that entire library is mine; all I have to do is to operate this machine. I do not have to read a single hook, yet, I have the knowledge gained by five hundred men, working nearly five years each.”
“How wonderful that I could help you in all this!”
“Your surgery made it possible. You took the brains from the five hundred readers and three librarians, and, through your skill, you have made it possible for those brains to remain alive and functioning for many years. You placed them in the five hundred glass jars and arranged for the pumping of the fluid to keep them alive. The men are dead, but their acquired wisdom lives on; and I am the beneficiary. I am now the most learned man in the world.
“And I did all this—we did all this, without interference. No one has any idea of what we were doing.”
“You are wrong,” replied the Chinaman. “There was a man by the name of Taine. He suspected something, but he did not know what. He came here once too often. Early this morning, I caught him. His brain will give me great pleasure. It is not often that I dissect the brain of a perfect fool. Here he is, a little doped, but very much alive.”
And at this point, he pulled off the sheet and there sat Taine, pitifully small, dazed, drugged, and tied to the chair with a rope. The American started to laugh.
“That is the best part of the experiment, Wing Loo. At least, it is the most ludicrous part. You are right. Better add him to the collection. Now suppose we start with the testing of the experiment?”
“There is one thing you forgot. How about my million and the Empress’ black pearls?”
“I have them here. One hundred of them. Take them now if you wish to. Please do not delay me. See, I spell out education. Now I touch the following black points, Australia, Statistics, Finance, History. And now I swing the lever and the information comes through the radio.”
He rapidly went through the various steps. In a clear tone came the words:
“Now is the time for all good men and true to come to the aid of their party.”
“That is very interesting! And is that the combined wisdom of five hundred and three brains?”
“It’s that damn detective!” yelled the infuriated scientist. “I am going to kill him! You can do as you wish with his brains.”
“No you are not!” shouted a voice. “Hands up! I have the drop on both of you. Sit down, and don’t make any false moves, and keep those hands up.”
The Chief of the Secret Service came across the space between the screen and the table. There was no doubt that he meant business.
“Thought you were going to kill one of the force, did you?” he sneered. “May be a fool, but he is a detective just the same, and we stick by each other. I will untie you, Taine, just as soon as I put the bracelets on these murderers. Hell! Five hundred and three good men gone! These fellows must be crazy.”
He put the handcuffs on the scientist first, and then turned to the Chinaman.
“You are next, Wing Loo. Put your hands out, and don’t try any monkey business.”
“Don’t you know me, Chief?” sighed the Oriental.
“Yes. I know you for a killer.”
“Why, Chief! After all I did for you. Giving you a nice cot to sleep in, and letting you arrest the greatest scientist of the age, Charles Jefferson; and then you want to put the cuffs on me.”
“Who the devil are you, anyway?” thundered the irate, yet puzzled, detective.
“I am Taine of San Francisco.”
“Then who is that there, roped to the chair?”
“That is Wing Loo. I suppose he is the greatest brain surgeon in the world, but he has had so much luminal for the last three months that his mind is not working right. He has been all in a dream for many days. Had to keep him that way to control him.”
“So he is the man who killed all those people?”
“No. He is the man who was going to. He never killed one of them.”
Charles Jefferson h
ad been following the conversation eagerly. He could stand no more.
“You are a liar!” he yelled. “How about those five hundred and three brains in those glass jars? How about the five hundred dead readers?”
“Those brains over there in the jars are just wax brains,” answered Taine. “I was sure that you would not know the difference. You really are a child, in spite of all your learning. You and the Chinaman did not kill a single person, and I am not sure that you have broken a single law; though, of course, you did not give the readers what you promised.”
“Just wax brains?” moaned Jefferson. “Oh! My beautiful experiment and my lost years!”
“Don’t you worry. You can go to a library and read some books of your own.”
“I cannot wait, Taine,” pleaded the Chief. “Please tell me what you did and how.”
“It won’t take long. I was out in San Francisco with my family. Yes, there is a family now. Wife has a baby, a little girl, and we are all very happy over it. One day, I read in the paper about the great Chinese surgeon, Wing Loo, and his coming to America; but none knew what for. I had a hunch that I would like to find out. A man like that does not travel around just for fun. It was easier when I found he was traveling alone. I met him, drugged him with luminal, and the rest was easy. He had letters, giving the directions for an appointment with Jefferson. At that time, I did not know who Jefferson was, but I thought we ought to keep the appointment. So, I changed into a doctor, and brought Wing Loo with me as a very dangerous epileptic who had to be kept in twilight sleep all the time. I put him in a private New York hospital; and I took his clothes, and met Jefferson in Philadelphia.
“After that, I stayed in New York, and as the young readers came after their pay, I gave them a song and dance—told them they had been working for an insane man, but that if we could collect anything for them, we would. In the meantime, they should be thankful that he had not killed them. I told them all to keep still if they wanted ever to collect the money due them, and for a good many, I found jobs. In the meantime, I ordered five hundred and three brains made out of wax, purchased some glass jars and some fake pumping apparatus, and brought it up here. Jefferson paid all my expenses, including two good shows a week, though he did not know it. The tickets were in the wax brains, only he could not see them. He was not interested much in the brains, even let me attach the wire ends to the middle of the cerebrums. I do not think, to give the devil his due, that he was very enthusiastic over the idea of murder, but he just had to do it to finish his experiment. I pitied him in a way, so I put a portable phonograph in the radio so he could have his first cerebral message.
“When everything was ready, I sent for you, Chief. I told Jefferson that we could go ahead at nine the morning of the tenth of July. Then I made a special trip to New York, and rescued the Chinese from the hospital. He has had a rough time of it, Chief. He has lost in weight, and it has been hard on him. If I were you, I would put him on a ship, and let him go back to China. He is a good man, only over-enthusiastic. I brought him up here and dressed him in my clothes, and painted his face a little so he would look like me. I thought you would like a real confession, and I knew it would make Jefferson mad to think that a detective had been on his trail. So, there are your two babies, and you can do anything you like with them. As far as I am concerned, I am through with the mystery of The Cerebral Library. You can clean up the trash. I am on my way back to wife and baby.”
“But how about your pay, man?” asked the almost dazed Chief.
“I have these black pearls. They are worth a king’s ransom. I earned them honestly, and I know that Jefferson will not mind my taking them; and you can send me a check, if you want to. I don’t have much use for the money; but—well, I am married, and Mildred understands what to do with it. Goodbye. Take care of my friends.
“I am sure that I am leaving them both in very good hands.”
UNTO US A CHILD IS BORN
Originally published in Amazing Stories, July 1933.
Jacob Hubler, seventh of that name and direct descendant of that Jacobus Hubelaire who had emigrated from Strassburg to Pennsylvania in 1740, had at last earned for himself a very satisfactory place in life. As Government Official, Class D, Division 7, No. 4829, Gross Number 25978432, he was now entitled to maintenance of the 5th type, which station made a man feel very comfortable.
He had earned that position by his inventions which made possible the artificial production of all food supplies in the individual home. Prior to his work in this dietary field, large laboratories in every city had produced synthetic food and meats, grown in large test tubes. The method was adequate in every way to the needs of the populace, but the manner of distribution was still antiquated. Hubler perfected a small, but complete production laboratory, not much larger than the electric refrigerators of the past century. His product, in its preparation, was entirely automatic and practically foolproof. It would generate, day by day and year by year, a complete and attractive food supply for a family of two. It not only created the food, but there was an auxiliary machine which prepared it for the table in any form desired by the consumer. All that was necessary was the selection of one of the twenty-five menus, and the pressing of the proper control button.
The inventions became very popular with the type of women who still took pride in their home life; and when he added a service unit which automatically served the meal, removed it, and washed the dishes, it was more than most women could resist. Thousands of women ceased to eat at the community restaurants, and accepted home meals as an ultra-refinement. Hubler’s name became a household shibboleth. The woman who had three units in her home could serve three meals a day with no greater effort than the pressing of fifteen push buttons. It was his ability as an inventor that placed Hubler in Class D, Division 7. The promotion carried with it certain rewards. It entitled him to complete support for the rest of his life, and it gave him the right to prolong that life to the age of one hundred and fifty years, if he so desired. Most valuable of all, it gave him permission to marry.
Years before, the State, realizing the important value of recent discoveries, passed laws which made the nation, rather than the individual, the sole owner and beneficiary of all inventions, especially those pertaining to the comfort of the individual, the welfare of the Commonwealth, and the prolongation of life. Thus, the age of usefulness was rapidly advanced to an average expectancy of one hundred and fifty years, but only those who, by their performances, showed that they were of real value to the nation, were allowed to live on.
Similarly, the right to marry and have one child was carefully guarded by the State. Strict laws of bio-genesis had been followed for three generations, and, as a result, the prisons and the hospitals for the abnormals had been made useless. These had been converted into nurseries and adolescent homes. Thus, a man and woman, under the most strict supervision, could marry and have one child, but only the most worthy were accorded that right.
However, if a man showed a real value to the nation, and it was determined that his child would also be of value, then he was allowed to marry, provided a suitable and scientifically proper woman could be found for his wife. No couple could have a second child till the first one had reached maturity and had been found to be normal in every way.
Hubler, at the age of sixty, was told that he could marry. He was rather thrilled at the news. During the last few years, permits had not been plentiful. With the prolongation of life and the increase of efficiency, it was found best not to have too many citizens. So for twenty years, permission to marry had been given only to the men and women of the highest type.
Thus, it was really an honor to marry. Hubler talked it all over with his first assistant, Ruth Fanning. She had worked at his elbow for twenty-five years and was nearly as old as he was. She, too, had ambitions.
“I think that it is wonderful, Mr. Hubler,” she said. “You deserve the honor, if any man does. Your inventions have made women desire homes and want
to spend some time in them, and what is the use of having a home without a husband and a child?”
“It is kind of you to say that, Miss Fanning,” the inventor replied. “You realize that much of the work would never have been done without your help and suggestions. I am proud of the honor, but I am not at all certain that I will ever marry. Just having the right is not all. They have to find a complimentary female for me.”
“Oh! You are too easily discouraged. You, no doubt, will fall into an unusual group, but there will be some women in that group; and I am sure that one of them will be glad to have you for a husband.”
“I hope so,” he said, rather pessimistically. As an inventor of service units for modern kitchens, he was bravery personified, but when it came to marriage—why, that was something different.
He only worked an hour a day, five days a week. Nevertheless, it was thought advisable to give him a month’s vacation, during which time he was to take the various examinations and prepare for married life. On the second day of his liberty, he drove his car to the Central Marriage Testing Bureau, and, with more than a slight degree of hesitation, he entered the main office with all his credentials.
The Head of the Bureau explained the procedure to him:
“This may seem very complicated to you, but, in reality, it is simple. We examine you in every way, and correlate the results. We then change everything into a mathematical formula, and this works out your final classification. After that, all that is necessary is to find a woman with the same classification, have you meet one another, and if you desire to be husband and wife, we will allow you to marry. Of course, it takes time. Even the development of your personality—the taking of pictures and their proper study—takes several days.”
“One question,” asked Hubler. “After I am typed, do I have to marry the woman you select for me?”
The Golden Age of Weird Fiction Megapack, Volume 5 Page 26