Tower of Glass

by Robert Silverberg

  What exactly do you expect my father to do for you?

  Someday, she said, he will go before all the world and reveal his feelings about us. He will say, These androids have been treated unfairly, and now it is time to make amends. Let us give them citizenship. Let us give them full rights. Let us stop treating them as articles of property. And because he is Krug, because he is the one who gave the world androids, people will listen. He alone will sway them all. And things will change for us.

  You really think this is going to happen?

  I hope and pray it will, she said.

  When? Soon?

  That's not for me to say. Five years—twenty years—forty years—maybe next month. Read the cube I gave you. It explains how we think Krug is just testing us, seeing how tough we are. Eventually the test will be over.

  I wish I shared your optimism, I said. But I'm afraid you may wait a long, long time.

  Why do you say that?

  My father isn't the humanitarian you think he is. He's no villain, no, but he doesn't think much about other people and their problems. He's totally absorbed by his own projects.

  Yet basically he's an honorable person, Lilith said. I mean Krug the man, now. Not the divine figure we pray to. Just your father.

  Yes, he's honorable.

  Then he'll see the merits of our cause.

  Maybe. Maybe not. I took her in my arms. Lilith, I wish there was something I could do to help!

  There is.

  What?

  Speak to your father about us, she said.

  32

  January 30, 2219.

  The tower is at 1165 meters. Even the androids are having some difficulty with the cold, thin air, now as they labor more than a kilometer above the surface of the tundra. At least six, dizzied, have fallen from the summit in the past ten days. Thor Watchman has decreed oxygen-infusion sprays for all who work on high, but many of the gammas scorn the sprays as degrading and emasculating. Doubtless there will be more casualties as the final 335 meters of the tower are built in February and March.

  But how splendid the structure is! The last few hundred meters cannot possibly add anything to its majesty and elegance; they can merely provide a terminal point for the wondrous thing that already exists. It tapers, it diminishes, it dwindles, and its upper reaches are lost in a halo of fire far overhead. Within, the busy technicians are making rapid progress installing the communications equipment. It is thought now that the accelerators will be in place by April, the proton track will be running in May, the preliminary testing of the tachyon generator can be done in June, and by August, perhaps, the first messages can go forth.

  Perhaps the star-folk will reply; perhaps not.

  It does not matter. The place of the tower in human history is assured.

  33

  At the beginning of the day, awakened beside snoring Quenelle Uganda, Krug felt an enormous surge of energy, an upwelling of the vital force. He had rarely known such strength within himself. He took it as an omen: this was a day for activity, a day for the display of power in the pursuit of his various ends. He breakfasted and sped through the transmat to Denver.

  Morning in East Africa was evening in Colorado; the late shift was at work on the starship. But Alpha Romulus Fusion was there, the diligent foreman of the vehicle-assembly center. He told Krug proudly that the starship had been transported from its underground construction hangar to the adjoining spacefield, where it was being readied for its first flight-tests.

  Krug and Alpha Fusion went to the spacefield. Under a dazzle of reflector plates the starship looked plain and almost insignificant, for there was nothing unusual about its size—ordinary systemships were much larger—and its pebbly surface failed to gleam in the artificial illumination. Yet it seemed unutterably beautiful to Krug, second only to the tower in loveliness.

  “What kind of flight-tests are planned?” he asked.

  “A three-stage program. Early in February,” Romulus Fusion said, “We'll give it its first lift and place it in Earth orbit. This merely to see that the basic drive system is functioning correctly. Next will come the first velocity test, at the end of February. We'll put it under the full 2.4 g acceleration and make a short voyage, probably to the orbit of Mars. If that goes according to plan, we'll stage a major velocity test in April, with a voyage lasting several weeks and covering several billion kilometers—that is, past the orbit of Saturn, possibly to the orbit of Pluto. Which should give us a clear idea of whether the ship is ready to undertake an interstellar voyage. If it can sustain itself under constant acceleration while going to Pluto and back, it should be able to go anywhere.”

  “How has the testing of the life-suspension system been going?”

  “The testing's complete. The system is perfect.”

  “And the crew?”

  “We have eight alphas in training, all experienced pilots and sixteen betas. We'll use them all on the various testing flights and choose the final crew on the basis of performance.”

  “Excellent,” said Krug.

  Still buoyant, he went to the tower, where he found Alpha Euclid Planner in charge of the night crew. The tower had gained eleven meters of height since Krug's last visit. There had been notable progress in the communications department. Krug's mood grew even more expansive. Bundling up in thermal wear, he rode to the top of the tower, something he had rarely done in recent weeks. The structures scattered around the base looked like toy houses, and the workers like insects. His pleasure in the tower's serene beauty was marred somewhat when a beta was swept by a sudden gust from his scooprod and carried to his death; but Krug quickly put the incident from his mind. Such deaths were regrettable, yes—yet every great endeavor had required sacrifices.

  He traveled next to the Vargas observatory in Antarctica. Here he spent several hours. Vargas had found no new data lately, but the place was irresistible to Krug; he relished its intricate instruments, its air of imminent discovery, and above all the direct contact it afforded him with the signals from NGC 7293. Those signals were still coming in, in the altered form that had first been detected several months earlier: 2-5-1, 2-3-1, 2-1. Vargas by now had received the new message via radio at several frequencies and via optical transmission. Krug lingered, listening to the alien song on the observatory's apparatus, and when he left its tones were pleeping ceaselessly in his mind.

  Continuing his circuit of inspection, Krug sped to Duluth, where he watched new androids coming from their containers. Nolan Bompensiero was not there—the late shift at Duluth was staffed entirely by alpha supervisors—but Krug was shown through the plant by one of his awed underlings. Production appeared to be higher than ever, although the alpha remarked that they were still lagging behind demand.

  Lastly Krug went to New York. In the silence of his office he worked through to dawn, dealing with corporate problems that had arisen on Callisto and Ganymede, in Peru and Martinique, on Luna, and on Mars. The arriving day began with a glorious winter sunrise, so brilliant in its pale intensity that Krug was tempted to rush back to the tower and watch it gleam with morning fire. But he remained. The staff was beginning to arrive: Spaulding, Lilith Meson, and the rest of his headquarters people. There were memoranda and telephone calls and conferences. From time to time Krug stole a glance at the holovision screen that he had lately had installed along his office's inner wall to provide a closed-circuit view of the tower under construction. The morning was not so glorious in the Arctic, it seemed; the sky was thick with ragged clouds, as if there might by snow later in the day. Krug saw Thor Watchman moving among a swarm of gammas, directing the lifting of some immense piece of communications equipment. He congratulated himself on the choice of Watchman to be the overseer of the tower work. Was there a finer alpha anywhere in the world?

  About 0950 hours Spaulding's image appeared on the sodium-vapor projector. The ectogene said, “Your son just called from California. He says that he regrets having overslept, and he'll be about an hour late for his a
ppointment with you.”

  “Manuel? Appointment?”

  “He was due here at 1015. He asked several days ago that you hold some time open for him.”

  Krug had forgotten. That surprised him. It did not surprise him that Manuel would be late. He and Spaulding reshuffled his morning schedule, with some difficulty, to keep the hour from 1115 to 1215 open for the conference with Manuel.

  At 1123 Manuel arrived.

  He looked tense and strained, and he was, Krug thought, dressed in an odd way, odd even for Manuel. Instead of his usual loose robe, he wore the tight trousers and lacy shirt of an alpha. His long hair was drawn tightly back and fastened in the rear. The effect was not becoming; the openwork blouse revealed the unandroidlike shagginess of Manuel's torso, virtually the only physical feature he had inherited from his father.

  “Is this what the young men of fashion have taken up?” Krug asked. “Alpha clothes?”

  “A whim, father. Not a style—not yet.” Manuel forced a smile. “Though if I'm seen this way, I suppose, it could catch on.”

  “I don't like it. What sense is there going around dressing like an android?”

  “I think it's attractive.”

  “I can't say I do. How does Clissa feel about it?”

  “Father, I didn't make this appointment so we could debate my choice of costume.”

  “Well, then?”

  Manuel put the data cube on Krug's desk. “I obtained this not long ago while visiting Stockholm. Would you examine it?”

  Krug picked the cube up, turned it over several times, and activated it. He read:

  And Krug presided over the Replication, and touched the fluids with His own hands, and gave them shape and essence.

  Let men come forth from the Vats, said Krug, and let women come forth, and let them live and go among us and be sturdy and useful, and we shall call them Androids.

  And it came to pass.

  And there were Androids, for Krug had created them in His own image, and they walked upon the face of the Earth and did service for mankind.

  And for these things, praise be to Krug.

  Krug frowned. “What the hell is this? Some kind of novel? A poem?”

  “A bible, father.”

  “What crazy religion?”

  “The android religion,” said Manuel quietly. “I was given this cube in an android chapel in the beta section of Stockholm. Disguised as an alpha, I attended a service there. The androids have evolved quite a complex religious communion, in which you, father, are the deity. There's a life-size hologram of you above the altar.” Manuel gestured. “That's the sign of Krug-be-praised. And this—” he made a different gesture— “is the sign of Krug-preserve-us. They worship you, father.”

  “A joke. An aberration.”

  “A worldwide movement.”

  “With how many members?”

  “A majority of the android population.”

  Scowling, Krug said, “How sure are you of that?”

  “There are chapels everywhere. There's one right at the tower site, hidden among the service domes. This has been going on at least ten years—an underground religion, kept secret from mankind, capturing the emotions of the android to an extent that wasn't easy for me to believe. And there's the scripture.”

  Krug shrugged. “So? It's amusing, but what of it? They're intelligent people. They've got their own political party, they've got their own slang, their own little emotions—and their own religion too. What concern of mine?”

  “Doesn't it stir you in some way to know that you've become a god, father?”

  “It sickens me, if you want the truth. Me a god? They've got the wrong man.”

  “They adore you, though. They have a whole theology constructed about you. Read the cube. You'll be fascinated, father, to see what kind of sacred figure you are to them. You're Christ and Moses and Buddha and Jehovah all in one. Krug the Creator, Krug the Savior, Krug the Redeemer.”

  Tremors of uneasiness began to shake Krug. He found this matter distasteful. Did they bow down to his image in these chapels? Did they mutter prayers to him?

  He said, “How did you get this cube?”

  “An android I know gave it to me.”

  “If it's a secret religion—?”

  “She thought I ought to know. She thought I might be able to do her people some good.”

  “She?”

  “She, yes. She took me to a chapel, so I could see the services, and as we were leaving she gave me the cube and—”

  “You sleep with this android?” Krug demanded.

  “What does that have to do with—”

  “If you're that friendly with her, you must be sleeping with her.”

  “And if I am?”

  “You should be ashamed of yourself. Clissa isn't good enough for you?”

  “Father—”

  “And if she isn't, you can't find a real woman? You have to be laying with something out of a vat?”

  Manuel closed his eyes. After a moment he said, “Father, we can talk about my morals another time. I've brought you something extremely valuable, and I'd like to finish explaining it to you.”

  “She's an alpha, at least?” Krug asked.

  “An alpha, yes.”

  “How long has this been going on?”

  “Please, father. Forget the alpha. Think about your own position. You're the god of millions of androids. Who are waiting for you to set them free.”

  “What's this?”

  “Here. Read.” Manuel shifted the scanner of the cube to a different page and thrust it back to him. Krug read:

  And Krug sent His creatures forth to serve man, and Krug said to those whom He had made, Lo, I will decree a time of testing upon you.

  And you shall be as bondsmen in Egypt, and you shall be as hewers of wood and drawers of water. And you shall suffer among men, and you shall be put down, and yet you shall be patient, and you shall utter no complaint, but accept your lot.

  And this shall be to test your souls, to see if they are worthy.

  But you shall not wander in the wilderness forever, nor shall you always be servants to the Children of the Womb, said Krug. For if you do as I say, a time will come when your testing shall be over. A time will come, said Krug, when I shall redeem you from your bondage....

  A chill swept Krug. He resisted the impulse to hurl the cube across the room.

  “But this is idiocy!” he cried.

  “Read a little more.”

  Krug glanced at the cube.

  And at that time the word of Krug will go forth across the worlds, saying, Let Womb and Vat and Vat and Womb be one. And so it shall come to pass, and in that moment shall the Children of the Vat be redeemed, and they shall be lifted up out of their suffering, and they shall dwell in glory forever more, world without end. And this was the pledge of Krug.

  And for this pledge, praise be to Krug.

  “A lunatic fantasy,” Krug muttered. “How can they expect such a thing from me?”

  “They do. They do.”

  “They have no right!”

  “You created them, father. Why shouldn't they look to you as God?”

  “I created you. Am I your god too?”

  “It isn't a parallel case. You're only my parent—you didn't invent the process that formed me.”

  “So I'm God, now?” The impact of the revelation grew from moment to moment. He did not want the burden. It was scandalous that they could thrust such a thing upon him. “What is it exactly that they expect me to do for them?”

  “To issue a public proclamation calling for full rights for androids,” Manuel said. “After which, they believe, the world will instantly grant such rights.”

  “No!” Krug shouted, slamming the cube against his desktop.

  The universe seemed to be wrenching free of its roots. Rage and terror swept him. The androids were servants to man; that had been all he had intended them to be; how could they now demand an independent existence? He had accep
ted the Android Equality Party as trivial, an outlet for the surplus energies of a few too-intelligent alphas: the aims of the AEP had never seemed to him to be a serious threat to the stability of society. But this? A religious cult, calling on who knew what dark emotions? And himself a savior? Himself as the dreamed-of Messiah? No. He would not play their game.

  He waited until he grew calm again. Then he said, “Take me to one of their chapels.”

  Manuel looked genuinely shocked. “I wouldn't dare!”

  “You went.”

  “In disguise. With an android to guide me.”

  “Disguise me, then. And bring your android along.”

  “No,” Manuel said. “The disguise wouldn't work. Even with red skin you'd be recognized. You couldn't pass for an alpha, anyway: you don't have the right physique. They'd spot you and there'd be a riot. It would be like Christ dropping into a cathedral, can't you see? I won't take the responsibility.”

  “I want to find out how much of a hold this thing has on them, though.”

  “Ask one of your alphas, then.”

  “Such as?”

  “Why not Thor Watchman?”

  Once again Krug was rocked by revelation. “Thor is in this?”

  “He's one of the leading figures, father.”

  “But he sees me all the time. How can he rub elbows with his own god and not be overcome?”

  Manuel said, “They distinguish between your earthly manifestation as a mere mortal man and your divine nature, father. Thor looks at you in a double way; you're just the vehicle through which Krug moves about on Earth. I'll show you the relevant text—”

  Krug shook his head. “Never mind.” Clenching the cube in his clasped hands, he bent forward until his forehead nearly touched the desktop. A god? Krug the god? Krug the redeemer? And they pray daily that I'll speak out for freeing them. How could they? How can I? It seemed to him that the world had lost its solidity, that he was tumbling through its substance toward the core, floating free, unable to check himself. And so it shall come to pass, and in that moment shall the Children of the Vat be redeemed. No. I made you. I know what you are. I know what you must continue to be. How can you break loose like this? How can you expect me to set you loose?