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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ad9f0f1 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #63709 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/63709) diff --git a/old/63709-h.zip b/old/63709-h.zip Binary files differdeleted file mode 100644 index b29546e..0000000 --- a/old/63709-h.zip +++ /dev/null diff --git a/old/63709-h/63709-h.htm b/old/63709-h/63709-h.htm deleted file mode 100644 index b30616b..0000000 --- a/old/63709-h/63709-h.htm +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1505 +0,0 @@ -<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" - "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> -<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> - <head> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=us-ascii" /> - <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> - <title> - The Project Gutenberg eBook of Prisoner of the Brain-mistress, by Bryce Walton. - </title> - <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" /> - - <style type="text/css"> - -body { - margin-left: 10%; - margin-right: 10%; -} - - h1,h2 { - text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ - clear: both; -} - -p { - margin-top: .51em; - text-align: justify; - margin-bottom: .49em; -} - -hr { - width: 33%; - margin-top: 2em; - margin-bottom: 2em; - margin-left: 33.5%; - margin-right: 33.5%; - clear: both; -} - -hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} -hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} - -.center {text-align: center;} - -.right {text-align: right;} - -/* Images */ -.figcenter { - margin: auto; - text-align: center; -} - -div.titlepage { - text-align: center; - page-break-before: always; - page-break-after: always; -} - -div.titlepage p { - text-align: center; - text-indent: 0em; - font-weight: bold; - line-height: 1.5; - margin-top: 3em; -} - - - </style> - </head> -<body> - - -<pre> - -Project Gutenberg's Prisoner of the Brain-Mistress, by Bryce Walton - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Prisoner of the Brain-Mistress - -Author: Bryce Walton - -Release Date: November 10, 2020 [EBook #63709] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONER OF THE BRAIN-MISTRESS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class="titlepage"> - -<h1>Prisoner of the Brain-Mistress</h1> - -<h2>By BRYCE WALTON</h2> - -<p>The silver sphere bobbed beside the Brain. It<br /> -began to glow, and suddenly to expand, and I<br /> -felt myself drawn toward it. Then I became<br /> -part of it, part of the heat and brightness<br /> -and whirling, and I could feel myself melting<br /> -away—until I became nothing....</p> - -<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br /> -Planet Stories Summer 1946.<br /> -Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br /> -the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p> - -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>There are all kinds of men labeled with all sorts and degrees of psycho -tags. For what it's worth, I have always been primarily motivated by an -insatiable urge for action.</p> - -<p>I have always awakened with faculties sharp and eyes clear, ready for -any emergency of which there are plenty in these chaotic years of -social adjustment from the Twentieth to the Twenty-fifth Century. This -awakening I knew would exceed in magnitude any I had known. I knew I -was in a place to which the little alien man had brought me.</p> - -<p>I was stretched out on a smooth cold table of metal. I was also -aware of a contraption of unknown purpose clamped about my skull, -and my entire store of bodily faculties seemed vitally prepared for -any eventuality, as though steeling itself for a subconsciously -preconceived super-human effort.</p> - -<p>I still hesitated about opening my eyes. It wasn't from physical fear -which I have learned to convert into mental and physical energy. There -was a fear of that alienness. Alien was the word for the little man -with the bulbous head and crinkled little face of a premature child.</p> - -<p>I knew that his outer dress and hairless, swollen and blue-veined -skull, and the invisible electronic force that had brought us here, -were all of some other time, world, dimension, or something of all -three.</p> - -<p>It wasn't exceptional on my part to be thinking of such fantastic -possibilities in such a calm and detached a manner. Nothing seems -fantastic anymore to a Twenty-fifth Centurian. Nothing. What we have -not actually seen practiced through the marvels of chemistry and -electronics, we have been trained to believe possible. We have two -great goals facing us around the corner of probability—an Elixir of -Life from some bio-chemical laboratory, and a ship constructed for an -ultimate landing on a distant star.</p> - -<p>But first, we must readjust the various political factions which -prevent integration of human potential.</p> - -<p>The last effort is the gigantic one. All other sciences have advanced -beyond the science of society which is still infantile, but learning to -walk more or less alone. The goal of global social integration is in -sight, but the battle will still be long and difficult. This all leads -to the body of this story—to the World-City of Mohln, to which the -Scientist, Draken, brought me for the fulfillment of a grandiose and -necessary, but horribly destructive destiny.</p> - -<p>When the Fascisti wormed their way underground after their crushing -defeat by the forces of World Democracy, after the close of that -episode of evolutionary birth pangs called World War II, they created -a small, evil and powerful recalcitrant force of reaction, seeking to -regain minority control over the Earth Mass. Their threat is their -secrecy. They never work openly; they are too small in number; but -their acts of sabotage and political intrigue is disheartening at -times, and a constant threat to our Administrative balance.</p> - -<p>As elected Commander of the International Secret Police, my sole duty -is to combat the specially trained cult of sabateurs of our democratic -World-State, the Black Spartans.</p> - -<p>Somehow that night—I've never been able to find the leak—two of them -gained the top of my apartment building and were hiding on the roof -landing as I stepped out to enter my jet-car.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>There was no warning, no challenge. Their aim was simply to burn me -out. Some well-trained intuitive sense threw me in a long dive forward -and sidewise as the shaft of deadly heat crackled past and smoked -beside my outstretched hand.</p> - -<p>My E-special blaster was out and ready even as I hit the fine plastic -mesh of the roof. I twisted over and burned a swath in their direction. -I came up to one knee, keeping their area lanced with rays, then to my -feet, going to one side and trying to distinguish their black plastic -suits from the shadows.</p> - -<p>A form stumbled out of the thick dark. It was half bent forward, -grasping its middle. I smelled scorched flesh and knew he must be -mortally injured, but I couldn't afford to underestimate the fanatical -power of a Spartan.</p> - -<p>He was still coming at me, so I burned him again, watched him crumble -and sag. That was an error. The other Spartan, who was still somewhere -back in the shadows of the collonade, blasted my arm, burning it half -through. I watched my fingers curl and my E-special fall out and away -slowly as in a dream.</p> - -<p>There wasn't pain, physical pain. There was sheer mental anguish as -I visualized myself closing my career of duty for the World-State, a -failure. I knew what they wanted with my corpse. Dead, my cerebrum -would be removed, activated, and its mental storage released through -electronic recorders the Spartan scientists had developed. They -preferred a brain taken from death as there was no slightest difficulty -from conscious or even subconscious resistance.</p> - -<p>But the Spartan couldn't burn me without a parting voice. His egomania -demanded that I see and hear the power that had defeated me. He came -out of the shadows, a black muscled melodramatic outline.</p> - -<p>"Goodby," he slurred in a thick accent. "For a reputed great man, you -employ pathetic guards. Your force is growing weak and negligent, -Allinger. Soon our long wait and our long fight will reach its -victorious end, even as you reach your shameful end now."</p> - -<p>The Spartan tensed his blaster and I leaped straight into it, -desperately, because I had nothing to lose.</p> - -<p>I never got to him, and his blaster never got to me. I hit something -painfully and bounced off. My arm was a lump of burning agony as I -thudded to the roof, stunned by an impact with an invisible barrier.</p> - -<p>The Spartan was discharging his blaster at me, but the power rebounding -flung him to his knees. The blaster was knocked over the side of the -roof-landing, and the Spartan staggered to his feet again, and weaved -back.</p> - -<p>Then, abruptly, his eyes bulged with awe that changed to terror. He -backed away, staring, not at me, but at something beside me. Then the -Spartan disappeared suddenly. I heard a faint <i>whirring</i> that rose up -and faded rapidly. For an instant I followed the sound of the jet-car -as it receded toward the red moon outlining the archaic structure of -the Golden Gate Bridge, then I turned to see what had saved my life. It -had been prolonged at least.</p> - -<p>I hadn't been at all surprised to see the little man appear on the -private jet-car landing of my San Francisco apartment. There had been -no sound, only coruscating shifting hues of light that materialized -him, not like the magic of old, but with all the magnificent and -unlimited magic of science.</p> - -<p>He stood there juggling the huge silver globe like a bubble toy, but -one that certainly could never burst. His long, delicate arms and legs -and torso couldn't have lifted twenty pounds without straining. The -silver sphere must be elevated by unknown forces of its own.</p> - -<p>The little man's body, only a bit more than bone tightly stretched over -with transparent, form fitting material, swayed toward me. The pinched -up, chalk face in the midst of that bulging head studied me with -enigmatic lack of expression that was extremely disconcerting. I could -read plenty of purpose behind the blankness. So much elaborate ritual -demanded proportionate purpose.</p> - -<p>The ancient bulky structure of the Bridge twinkled its lights against -the night sky behind the little man. Or was it the twitching of my -eyes? I was preparing for a run over to the Federal Building for -a meeting of the Pacific Defense Zone of the International Peace -Maintenance Fleet, but, important as that meeting was to be, I had -forgotten it completely.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>His voice was nasal, squeaky, and somehow contemptuous. It was halting, -too, difficult to follow. I doubted if he had ever employed the -International symbols before. In fact, I intuitively knew that he was -either not of my time at all, or not of my world.</p> - -<p>"I have studied the psychology of all potential men for the task that -is to follow. I have chosen you, Ivan Allinger."</p> - -<p>"Should I be flattered?"</p> - -<p>I studied him, but could reach no conclusion.</p> - -<p>The face puckered more. "Flattered?" The meaning of the word seemed -to escape him for a moment. "Perhaps. It is a great task. I have not -chosen you because of your physical attributes alone, although they -seem exceptional enough. Your ideological background will synchronize -perfectly with the job that you must do in Mohln."</p> - -<p>"Mohln?"</p> - -<p>"It is another world. A future and far distant one."</p> - -<p>"You are from some future time? Really?"</p> - -<p>"Yes. Mohln is another planet of this system, to which your descendants -will migrate in a length of time you would label one million years. -Our greatest scientist, the atavistic female, Jokan, demanded that -I go back into the past of the race and seek out an object for her -laboratory experiments."</p> - -<p>I accepted him as he presented himself, which is always advisable under -such circumstances. "I'm afraid that doesn't sound inviting at all," I -explained. "A guinea pig of some sort for future scientific probing. -Sorry." I started away, though I knew he could stop me when he pleased. -It was a test. But he stopped me with a word.</p> - -<p>"Wait, Ivan."</p> - -<p>I turned. "Yes?"</p> - -<p>"My reasons for choosing you are different from Jokan's reasons. Let me -explain." He tottered toward me weakly on his spindly legs. I towered -over him as he squinted up into my face.</p> - -<p>"There are many reasons why I cannot allow your refusal," he said. "One -great reason that ties you with destiny."</p> - -<p>I tried to escape then, feeling that he was right. I knew that a series -of unimaginable events were twisting me into cosmic circumstances. -Circumstances too gigantic to even excite amazement or disbelief, -only stunned passivity. I wasn't able to execute an about face or the -lifting of one leg that might possibly have sent me beyond the range of -the little man's potentiality.</p> - -<p>I had forgotten the silver sphere which bobbed beside him as a -monstrous toy might. It began to glow and expand into a great bulb -of incandescence, and it caught me immediately and paralyzed me, and -sucked me into realms of cosmology beyond the wildest imaginings of all -the Einsteins. I actually felt the sensation of melting. Of melting and -flowing as an integral part of space-time, for want of a better phrase. -I was an atomic drop of liquid poured into a river without beginning, -end or embankments. Perfection was an empty, archaic word to me. I had -never thought it could be intellectually employed, and I was especially -careful not to apply it to that shifting abstract—woman. I was looking -at it now. A perfect woman. A creation molded from centuries of -perfection; a creation of symmetric loveliness that was literally and -figuratively out of this world.</p> - -<p>My last day on Earth was ended. I had opened my eyes. I saw first that -some miracle of science had reconstructed the burned away half of my -right arm. Then I noticed the woman. I was sitting bolt upright in an -instant on the smooth metal table. The little man with his strange -"Buck Rogers" dress was looking quietly at me. And she was looking at -me, too, out of slitted lids that veiled all the women of the ages in -subtly yet violently burning eyes.</p> - -<p>She lifted a jeweled hand. Her sensual lips trembled a little before -they parted, and strong white teeth gleamed provocatively between the -red lines.</p> - -<p>I started, and gripped hard at the edges of the table. Was this the -way a woman scientist studied coldly and objectively a prospective -laboratory subject? I looked questioningly at the little wizened man -who had kidnaped me from my own world. His blank face showed me -nothing.</p> - -<p>Then, when she spoke....</p> - -<p>I don't want to take unnecessary time at this point or any other to -explain or describe this woman, Jokan. I doubt if you could visualize -her anyway, even if I occupied this entire narrative describing her, -because she was too strangely lovely. She was perfection, as I've said, -and that's all. Her voice was music, and I involuntarily started toward -her as she spoke.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>"Withdraw the brain recorder, Draken," she said softly, not taking -those icy eyes from mine. The little man, Draken, complied. She pointed -to a great three-dimensional chart extending across the laboratory. -It was made up of shifting convolutions and numerical graphs and -complicated combinations of shadings corresponding to brain patterns.</p> - -<p>"That is your brain, Ivan," she said. Her voice was cold, completely -frozen, and yet—"We know all about you." I felt a little -disappointment along with the relief. She turned toward Draken.</p> - -<p>"You made a great mistake, Draken. Bringing in an Intellectual was a -foolish thing to do."</p> - -<p>Draken objected. "But you said you wanted a good physical specimen. -This man is. You defined your requested specimen in no greater detail."</p> - -<p>"But you should know that an intellectual can cause difficulties. This -man would be considered a god among the women. Perhaps even among -the men. Mohln is at a point where such an element as this could -precipitate disaster, create perhaps a germ of dissatisfaction with our -great order. Or is that, by chance, what you intend?"</p> - -<p>Draken backed away. "No, it isn't."</p> - -<p>"Don't let the presence of this man be known beyond these four walls, -or out of your own laboratory. For your sake and mine, heed my -suggestion, Draken."</p> - -<p>"Yes," quivered Draken. "I am heeding it. But you know my attitude -toward this <i>great</i> order. You know how I regard the maintenance of the -Status Quo."</p> - -<p>I knew it too, from the way his pallid lips curled. This little man -hated the Mohln system, whatever it was.</p> - -<p>Jokan got languidly to her feet, a fluid musical allegro. "I know, -Draken. If you weren't the greatest thinker in Mohln besides myself, I -would report you to the Council for the Maintenance of the Status Quo. -But as long as you only think idly, you can cause Mohln no harm."</p> - -<p>"The only harm Mohln can suffer," said Draken wearily, "is to continue -on as it does now. Toward final decay and rot."</p> - -<p>Jokan laughed frostily. I shivered. "Stop worrying, Draken, and go -away. I must begin my experiments." She turned her eyes on me. She -could have stared down a bronze statue. I turned my eyes from hers on -the pretense of looking for Draken, but he was gone.</p> - -<p>I jumped to my feet, and the movement revealed that I, too, had on the -costume that Draken wore.</p> - -<p>Without egoism, I can say that it must have looked more becoming on me -than on the little scientist. I was at least a foot taller than Jokan.</p> - -<p>She came toward me, fluid motion. I couldn't back away—I insist I -wanted to get away for various reasons, the least being that I wanted -to get solid on my mental feet—from the metal table. I looked almost -frantically for a door or some kind of exit, even a window. There was -nothing.</p> - -<p>Then those perfect arms slipped around my neck and that body pressed -itself against mine and—</p> - -<p>I am only human. That's a trite enough excuse, if an excuse is -necessary, but under those conditions I could certainly do no less. I -let my arms come around her perfect waist, and I bent her back in the -most acceptable televex manner and planted a long solid one right on -those perfect lips—lips I'm very certain had never been kissed before.</p> - -<p>And that was precisely the trouble, perhaps, with that thoughtless, -but irresistible, impulse of mine. Her nails were long and sharp and -they clawed at my face. Cold light blazed in her eyes, flashing with -outraged dignity and burning hate.</p> - -<p>I swung down and away, sliding across the metal table, and stood with -blood running down my face, with the table my only protection between -myself and this paradoxical Circe.</p> - -<p>"Savage," she shrieked, and shrieking was very unbecoming to the cold -austerity of her. In fact it was like a cloak I had torn away from her -body. "Primal, barbaric beast!"</p> - -<p>"I'm not quite primal enough to cope with you," I said, looking more -frantically still for an exit. There still weren't any exits, but -people came into this room, and people went out of it. How?</p> - -<p>I expected her to vault the table after me, but she lithely backed -away, and though I didn't realize it then, her cold brain was summoning -her eunuchs from afar.</p> - -<p>A section of the wall to one side began to glow like a light through -semi-opaque glass. The light deepened and began to whirl. And then I -saw that there was a kind of opening there. Yes. A kind of opening with -something promising no good lumbering through, its head and massive -shoulders projecting up out of the shifting mist like a televexed -fictional monster.</p> - -<p>It was a monstrous metal man. A real, animated robot out of an old -scientification fabrication. It was coming directly for me. I flashed -one look—I think it was a beseeching one—at Jokan. In such instances -as that people swallow great lumps of their pride.</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Jokan was stretched up to her complete height against the far wall. Her -face was expressionless, and her eyes oozed liquid oxygen. Her hands -were strained into fists at her sides. "Atavistic," Draken had said of -this female scientist of Mohln. An understatement promising no hope for -consideration.</p> - -<p>I dodged beneath the robot's reaching appendages. There were three arms -with a number of variously utilized digits at the end of each. And all -of them were wicked. Many of them designed for purposes I couldn't -grasp. Anyway I looked at it, the robot represented a perfect mauling -and crushing instrument.</p> - -<p>I can describe it now with a light touch. <i>Then</i> I was trembling with -cold fear, and sweat poured off my face as I eluded the robot by -dodging about the only fixture in the middle of the room, the table. I -noticed a minor motion of Jokan; then I watched, with a hideously empty -stomach, the table fold itself into the floor.</p> - -<p>I leaped to one side and grabbed Jokan, twisted her around in front of -me, and said with as little chattering as possible into her perfect -pink little ear, "Call them off or—"</p> - -<p>I tightened my arm about her throat and began bending her head back. -She writhed around and kicked me, and her finger nails started their -old habit pattern again. But she wasn't used to this sort of thing, and -didn't employ any real effeminate technique at all.</p> - -<p>I continued bending her head back. I could feel her choking and -gasping. She knew then that I would kill her. I hadn't asked to come -to Mohln, wherever and whenever it was. It was all something I had -nothing to do with, that now threatened my life. All directly the -responsibility of Jokan. To me, she was a real Circe, deserving no -sympathy, only hate, and deserving death. But I could never have -actually tried, or threatened to kill her, under less pressing -conditions than those. It was simply a case of breaking her neck to -save mine, which I consider justified.</p> - -<p>The metallic digits squeezed shut on each elbow, from behind. I twisted -my head upward at the second robot, sweating pain in my eyes. Unfeeling -paralysis then, as the digits tore through muscle tendon, nerve fibers -and even cracked bone. I was mouthing sounds, probably screaming, -hearing my own cries from a great distance, blinded by pain, a mist -blurring my eyes.</p> - -<p>I was lifted straight up, then swung down beneath one implacable arm. -I dangled there, my crushed elbows swinging and dripping beneath my -face. I saw those perfect little feet come up and stand in front of -my tortured eyes. And they <i>were</i> perfect little feet, encased in red -sandals to match the blood from my wounds. Even facing torture, and -possible death, I thought of them as perfect little feet. I didn't -attempt to twist my face upward.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus1.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>I kept on staring crazily at those perfect little feet. There was -character and expression in them, different and more sympathetic than -the body they supported. They came closer, shifted a bit, uncertain -and nervous. I had been brought here as the subject for anatomical -research, a laboratory specimen to be dissected. Yet, for an instant, -another purpose had shown in Jokan's eyes. I knew that, or did I merely -want to know it. I tried to imagine how terribly lonely and maladjusted -she must be in a loveless world. Beautiful and to be desired, yet in a -loveless, sexless world.</p> - -<p>With specimens like Draken, I could easily guess that this was the -kind of world in which Jokan lived out frustration. Perfect women, and -pathetic, skin-and-bone puppets for men.</p> - -<p>She had said I would be a god among women. Without egoism, again, I -could see why. There was too much gross ambiguity. The women and men -just didn't seem to be of identical species. And in addition, Jokan was -an atavistic.</p> - -<p>Which wouldn't matter anymore to me, because I was being dragged out of -there. Where? Into what? How could I know? I watched those feet fade -into blurred distance. They were whirling around as they faded. I knew -I was losing all grasp of consciousness. Which was all right, too, -because hard after the initial shock, the real excruciating agony was -beginning to shoot into my brain.</p> - -<p>Only a few hours later, that's all, and I was all in one piece again. -A more effective and healthy feeling organism than before, thanks to -incredible biological treatments I couldn't even guess at. I kept -flexing my arms, watching them bend and unbend with questioning -fascination.</p> - -<p>I turned toward Draken. "Why am I still here and alive?"</p> - -<p>Draken's embryonic face puckered at me like an impish child's.</p> - -<p>He explained: "Jokan is an atavist as I said. Women have always been -noted for their bodies rather than their brains, although potentially -their brain capacity has always been equal to the male's. And that -cultural error has never been changed. Instead, women have grown more -beautiful and symmetrical with the centuries, from the standpoint of -decadent and ancient aesthetic values. The men, on the other hand, -have always been considered as thinkers rather than as creations of -beauty. They have developed brain potential alone, while their physical -characteristics have atrophied.</p> - -<p>"Except for atavists like Jokan, the overly curious longing for the -male body, as you represent it, has been conditioned out of the -reaction patterns by the psycho-medics by centuries of selection. -Jokan, as you have seen, is different. She demanded that I go back -to your time, or even further back and return with a man capable of -matching her body in physical attraction. You enraged her for a -moment, but she has recovered from that momentary emotional unbalance."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>I objected at this point. "But you said I was to be just a laboratory -specimen for dissection."</p> - -<p>"This whole transaction was elaborate and demanded official sanction -from the Council. So, on the record, your space-time teleportation is -only for biological purposes. You understand."</p> - -<p>I nodded. It was not an exceptional situation, basically. It seemed -that a few million years of evolution can't destroy the fundamental -behavior patterns entirely. "A good man's still hard to find?"</p> - -<p>The little scientist stared in blank affirmation. Then he said: "I -could have chosen any number of men who could have satisfied Jokan's -demands, perhaps even more thoroughly than you. Don't you wonder -why I singled you out? With your background in your world, and your -ideological concepts, you were the only one for me to chose—for my own -purposes."</p> - -<p>"Which are—" I prompted.</p> - -<p>"Neither of the preceding purposes are the basic ones for my asking you -to return here with me. The real reason is that you must destroy Mohln."</p> - -<p>I stared. I turned everything over in my mind, then tried to say -calmly: "Why? This is civilization and the apex of human progress for -which I face death daily in my own time. Destroy it!"</p> - -<p>I had begun to regard this little withered man as a first class -fanatic, born of highly complicated and advanced psychological -conflicts.</p> - -<p>He said: "When the Earth was enveloped in its final ice sheet, living -as we demanded it ceased to be feasible. The pick of human mentality -and physiognomy migrated here to Mohln. Here we began our great—what -we thought great—new and scientific social order. Yes, it's reached -a zenith all right. A zenith of decay and stagnation. Except for a -few scientists, Mohln is populated by mindless automatons. Beautiful, -mindless women, and great brained, spineless men. They all exist in a -futile vacuum."</p> - -<p>I was watching him narrowly for signs of madness. He looked mad enough, -but his squeezed up face was unreadable. I said feebly: "From what -little experience I've had here, you seem to have reached a pretty -ultimate state of civilization."</p> - -<p>"That is the great tragedy. There is no ultimate state. That is the -great delusion which you must shatter. Everyone, societies, worlds, all -seek an ultimate state. Change is the law, and there is no ultimate -law. This world of Mohln thinks it has achieved an ultimate perfection. -It has, because of the delusion, only succeeded in stagnation. This -social structure is neither alive nor dead, Ivan Allinger. It is -standing still. The ultimate futility is to be static."</p> - -<p>"Then you refute yourself," I said, feeling for a sophistic insert. -"You have reached an ultimate something."</p> - -<p>"Only movement is the ultimate goal. And change is success. -Advancement—progress is limitless. This culture of Mohln has reached -an ultimate lostness. Only one action can shake it back onto the -pattern of change. The entire World-City of Mohln must be destroyed, -reduced to chaos. Out of this chaos, by trial and error, the people -of Mohln must be given the germ of incentive again, and forced by -necessity to fight their way back onto new roads of endeavor."</p> - -<p>I thought hard. I felt familiar struggles in my heart. I understood -this. My own life was dedicated, back in my own space and time, to this -same effort and goal—to stimulate progress, and change; to destroy all -reactionary elements that might lead to permanence.</p> - -<p>He followed my introspection with words. "You fought in the great wars -of your time against the reactionary forces that would have led your -society into staticism and decay. You are devoting the present to the -furthering of the ideals of progress. Do you want to see all your work, -and all the work of all your kind, of your own present, past and future -end in—this?"</p> - -<p>He spread his withered arms about him, encompassing the whole of the -World-City of Mohln.</p> - -<p>"No," I heard myself muttering. "No. I wouldn't want that. I would -prevent it, if I could. But I demand more than your words to convince -me that this magnificence of organization I see about me is the -hopeless futility you are telling me it is."</p> - -<p>"I will take you out into the city and show you," he said. "But it is -strictly against the rules of the Council. And the few intellectuals, -the scientists and research technicians don't care anymore about the -disintegration of the order about them. In their own little worlds they -find something to work on, a stimulus, and they ignore everything else. -Like Jokan."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Draken led me out onto a balcony, and I saw—well, a word that might -inspire somewhat explanatory suggestive visions of what I saw, in your -own mind, could be the symbol, Utopia. It was an endlessly stretching -composite of all social dreams.</p> - -<p>The mauve lighting that softened the city like a beautiful mist. The -mighty, gleaming plastic shells of buildings. Power hung at levels -reaching high toward a translucent dome that covered the city. Tiers on -tiers of splendidly designed walkways, tubeways and highways networked -the spaces between structures. And the air sang with music, more -magnificent than all the symphonies of my own time.</p> - -<p>I forgot the dizzying height, and almost stepped out into the exalting -splendor of it. There seemed no danger, as though it were all an -endless soft cloud of enchantment into which I could sink, then float -buoyed up by dreams and music and shifting light....</p> - -<p>But the little tugging fingers of Draken dragged me back.</p> - -<p>"It is all false," he whispered. "It is all delusion. Beneath all -this grandeur the lost puppets dance and sleep, but never live. These -words, which are the only words that make a social system worthy -of continuation—curiosity, incentive, ambition, drive, longing, -dissatisfaction—all meaningless here, all unknown to these pathetic -tropisms. If you will come with me, you can see for yourself, and -understand."</p> - -<p>I went with little Draken. I did see for myself. I understood....</p> - -<p>And Draken was entirely correct in all that he had said. This -World-City of Mohln had achieved an ultimate—an ultimate lostness. It -was a magnificent hollow shell of a City. There were no people in it. -All the mighty wonder was lost to the semi-living marionettes that -wandered through it. But it meant life to them, nevertheless. They -never had to exert a finger, nor expend the energy of one thousandth of -a gram of thinking energy to live. But the technocratic creations of -long preceding times, of even a few still working scientists, kept them -alive. But they neither knew this, nor cared.</p> - -<p>They were fed, clothed, bathed and even reborn by robots. They were put -to sleep, awakened, vitalized, and exhausted by machines. They were -parasitic non-entities, dependent on the machines that other, <i>vital</i> -minds, had built.</p> - -<p>Back on the balcony, Draken continued in that squeaky, uncertain quaver -of his:</p> - -<p>"Everything here is done by robots. There are different castes of -robots. Their functional system is graduated up through ever lessening -numbers until it reaches what is only a master switch. One single -switch in this World-City, pushed too far—" Draken looked at me -suggestively and added hoarsely:</p> - -<p>"If the master switch was ever pushed too far, this entire -civilization, as you call it, would stop functioning with any set -mechanical pattern. All the robots and machines and the system they -operate would cease activity. There would be your chaos. There would -be the needed situation under which the unthinking slaves will have to -think for themselves, solve their own problems once again. Or die. I -think they will solve them. I have that much faith in them. They always -have. So far."</p> - -<p>It was a statement on Draken's part. But it was really a question. -Would I push that master switch—too far?</p> - -<p>"Why haven't <i>you</i> done this before?" I asked. "Why drag a man from -another world, a million years in the past, to do this simple thing?"</p> - -<p>Draken lowered his head in the first display of real, understandable -emotion I had seen in him. Shame. "I can't," he said simply. "I do -not have the will, the free will to do it. My intellect tells me it -is the correct thing to do. But my psycho-conditioning has created an -insurmountable antipathy toward such an act."</p> - -<p>His dried up monkey-like hands clenched into tiny impotent fists. "Many -times I have gone into that room and tried to pull that switch. But -each time I have failed. I know now that I shall never be able to. No -one in this world could do it until you came. You can. Your age was a -dynamic one, of destruction and construction, each inseparable from the -other. You could do it, not only with ease, but with the satisfaction -of knowing you were taking a necessary step forward in human progress. -The question is—will you?"</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>A lot of time clambered through my fogged mind then before I formulated -a logical sequence of thoughts that led to what seemed to me a logical -reply.</p> - -<p>"I believe I will," I finally answered slowly. "I can't see that there -is any other way out."</p> - -<p>"Execution," a familiarly brittle voice said behind me, and I turned. -Draken began whimpering pathetically and cowered back against the -colonnade.</p> - -<p>Jokan stood a few feet from me, wearing a thin, semi-transparent gown -that seemed anachronistic and out of place, as though she had gotten -the idea for it out of an old history book. Her body was a lithe shadow -behind it. But her eyes burned irrascible hatred.</p> - -<p>"Execution for you, and for Draken; that is a better way."</p> - -<p>"I wish I could agree," I said. "But you see our concern is for society -as a whole, rather than with a small minority that benefit from the -apathy and ignorance of the majority. For your satisfaction, and that -of a few others, you may be right. Frankly, dear Jokan, though you're -very very lovely to look at, your mind is ugly and warped. And I would -rather see you dead."</p> - -<p>I sprang and reached for her. She screamed once, before the robots came -in and lumbered for me. I remember mumbling about the monotony of the -robot act; as she eluded me, and I eluded them. And I kept on trying to -grab Jokan. It was an obsession with me.</p> - -<p>A quick glance revealed Draken cowered down in his corner, his old -child's face twisted in stunned horror.</p> - -<p>My only intention at that moment was to get my hands around Jokan's -perfect neck just one more time. It was a mad, fanatical urge now. I -hated her. I hated her with a blind madness.</p> - -<p>The robots weren't nearly as dexterous as they should have been. -Physical encounter was undoubtedly alien to their primary purpose. -This place of Draken's was bigger, with a few articles in it, than the -laboratory had been. There were pneumatic chairs and couches and ray -lamps and vitamin globes. I ducked, sprawled, ran and careened in and -out of these rooms and around the strange looking fixtures. I, close -on Jokan's sandaled heels, and the robots close on mine. It might even -seem more or less a comical scene in retrospect, but—</p> - -<p>Then I saw that silver sphere of Draken's, hanging in the air about -four feet from the floor, smooth, mysterious, but very suggestive. As I -ran back past Draken, I yelled at him.</p> - -<p>I doubt if Draken understood my words, he was so stricken with horror, -but he grasped my meaning, and somehow managed to stagger onto his -quavering legs and tottered wild-eyed toward the sphere.</p> - -<p>But Jokan understood my meaning, too. And through some telepathic -direction I still don't understand, she guided the robots onto poor -Draken. Draken never had a chance.</p> - -<p>I don't think he even comprehended conflict. He could neither fight -back, nor try to escape. It seemed that violence, either offensive or -defensive, was beyond his understanding. That was why he could not -bring himself to pull the master switch that would have accomplished -his desired destruction of Mohln. That was also the reason why the -robot was able to take him into its inexorable metal arms and crush him -into something not far removed from pulp.</p> - -<p>His delicate, deep pocketed eyes looked beseechingly into mine, once. -Then the tremendous pressure bulged them horribly and unconsciously at -me. His bony arms flapped and waved spasmodically and blood spurted -from his small almost invisible ears and equally minute nose. Then -his whole frail body seemed to crack through the middle and deflate. -At another telepathic command from Jokan, the robot's arms raised and -unbent, and the body of Draken thudded on the inlaid floor.</p> - -<p>I heard myself yelling. I wasn't retreating from the other two robots -then, or trying to get away at all. Something gave way inside me. -What I had seen just now shocked every sense that might have been -ethical or moral in me. One word churned inside my brain. The word was -revenge. And then another word was added to it that seemed better. -Compensation. Then another word etched in capital letters overshadowed -and encompassed the other two. <i>Kill.</i></p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>The first robot reached out with its very utilitarian and -gadget-studded arms to rake me in. I had no idea how much the monster -weighed. But the Frankensteinian creation was off balance as it reached -for me. I twisted and grasped the metalic tentacle, heaved forward, -throwing my hip into the gleaming stomach and heaved down.</p> - -<p>The robot seemed light-weighted enough as it flew ceilingward, and -clanged hollowly against the wall. There was a flash of current, a -slight odor of ozone as the teleo-electronic man twitched about at my -feet.</p> - -<p>The violence evidently stunned my fair and wicked Circe. Her telepathic -control over the remaining robots faltered and in that instant I seized -her. A dead, hot rage swelled through my head and heart so I could -hardly draw a breath. I wrenched at her neck, felt it crack dangerously -and felt her long sleek muscles tremble against mine.</p> - -<p>I felt almost bestial in the power of my rage. I twisted sidewise -and felt her body give, and heard her breath coming in short jagged -whines like a dog's. Her finger nails weren't clawing now. The cold, -emotionless cruelty of her eyes was dying behind fear and indecision. -She hadn't been reluctant to dream of blood and guts and shattered -bones, but too much of the real thing hurt even her atavistic senses.</p> - -<p>"Keep them off me," I said in her ear. She tried to pull away. I held -her at arm's length and began slapping her. Her face was white as -powder until red finger marks appeared on it. I hit harder and her -perfect upper lip split and a narrow line of blood ran down and stained -the dark hollow between her perfect marble breasts. The gold-flecked -pupils of her eyes widened, and the horror deepened in back of them. -The the horror went out like a flame and the lids with the perfect long -lashes blinked over them and tears flowed down as from a weeping statue.</p> - -<p>I threw a quick circuit about the room. The robots were immobile; -tensed, though, for action. At any moment Jokan might regain her Circe -faculties and summon them, even if it meant her own life. I didn't know -then what emotions surged around inside her strange heart. I lifted her -onto my shoulder and started through the rooms.</p> - -<p>I had no idea how to escape. Whatever inconceivable manner the walls -dissolved through the manipulation of incredible advanced force -fields, I of course didn't know. But I put three rooms filled with the -futuristic mores between myself and the robot minions of Jokan before I -dropped her on a pneumatic couch and wrapped my hands about her throat -for the third time and began to squeeze.</p> - -<p>I began slowly and methodically, looking all the time into her eyes. -Then I saw it. I saw the real depths of her eyes, and a shock trembled -through me. Jokan had changed. How she had changed!</p> - -<p>She read the implacable purpose in my eyes that I felt in my heart, and -as her arms came up, mine slid down softly from about her throat. I -kissed her. I lifted her passive softness up and felt it respond. The -hands with the feral nails caressed the back of my neck, and her lips -were hungry.</p> - -<p>I had seen in her eyes a change, and had answered it. Then I said: -"Lead me to the room that holds the master switch. Then we'll go."</p> - -<p>She slid out of my arms languidly and onto her feet. She leaned toward -me, and her fingers grasped mine. They were warm, not cold; how could -they ever have been cold? "Go where?"</p> - -<p>"Can you run that space-time apparatus that brought me here?"</p> - -<p>She nodded, then looked fearfully over my face.</p> - -<p>"Take me to the main switch," I repeated.</p> - -<p>We went back, and she somehow attracted the translucent, yet not -translucent, sphere to her side. It followed after her like a monstrous -being, a cosmic slave.</p> - -<p>She led me toward the wall and it dissolved. I still am not able to -understand the phenomenon. We continued through and into an elevator. -We dropped down through a blur of distance. She led me through a -glowing tunnel and into a tubecar and there was a dim sensation of -movement in which we might have sped a thousand miles, or ten thousand.</p> - -<p>She led me out of the tubecar and we crossed a walkway, where lines -of listless people stood moving in various directions. The little -swollen-headed men and the tall austere but listless women. They were -all going places, but it didn't matter. They had eyes, ears, senses, -but they might have been machines reacting through photo-electric -devices. I thirsted for the main switch that would send them all into -blind chaos. It was a hellish thing for the world I had risked my life -many times to build upward and progressively toward greatness. But it -had all ended here, a blind alley of despair, and the hell I planned -would be its only salvation.</p> - -<p>Suddenly, from all sides, robots converged on us, directed by a number -of the little white-skulled men with velvet togas flapping about -slug-white spindly legs.</p> - -<p>"The Council," said Jokan. "They are afraid now. They attack, and they -are half mad because they have been conditioned that such an act of -violence is atavism, the inexcusable social crime."</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Their puckered faces, in the center of the bloated domes of heads, -were strained and flinching. The robots shambled onto Jokan and me, -and Jokan did something to them with her mind which evidently was more -powerful in this capacity at least than all the Council combined. And -the robots turned and began flailing each other into lumps of smoking -twisted metal.</p> - -<p>My stomach crawled. The Council, supreme intellects of a million years -of progress, had fallen down onto the moving walkway, slobbering and -twitching in the final stages of dementia. Even a thousand gram brain -breaks when faced with an insolvable problem. The gleaming expanse of -moving plastic carried the Council out of our sight. The little men and -the Amazonian women who slouched past didn't even notice. And if they -did, it was foreign to their conditioning. They couldn't think about it.</p> - -<p>They would soon have to think. When I pushed the master switch too -far....</p> - -<p>We encountered no more resistance, if that feeble expression of the -apex of human development so far met could be called resistance. -Finally we emerged into a room that surprised me with its lack of -grandeur and its barrenness. All the World-City that was meaningless -was a dream of ostentation and color and beauty of intricate design. -This room, in contrast, the heart of the World-City, the key to its -life, was completely denuded. A small plastic shell and in the middle -was a conical dais and on the dais was a lever.</p> - -<p>Jokan nodded toward the lever and her eyes that followed me as I -walked to it and moved it, were bright with some inner fire I couldn't -diagnose.</p> - -<p>I jerked my hand away.</p> - -<p>The meaning of my act enveloped me in a mist of fear. I trembled -violently. Sweat beaded on my face and smarted in my eyes.</p> - -<p>Had I been right in my choice? Had Draken been correct in his analysis, -and had I been justified in jumping to such an empirical conclusion -without more conclusive proof? Had all these nameless slaves of decay -been victims of the delusion from which I had freed them? Or had I been -deluded by the lies of a fanatic?</p> - -<p>I looked down and saw my hand reaching for the lever to move it back. -It was an unconscious gesture motivated by vague fears. I seemed such a -little man to destroy a world.</p> - -<p>What was happening to all animated puppets of this future society now -that its mechanical contrivances had been destroyed? What had happened, -even back in my own time, in large cities, when only the electric -systems had been blown up, or the water mains, or gas mains? What -mind-numbing chaos and madness must be developing around me as I stood -inside the heart of a world which I had torn loose from its arteries.</p> - -<p>Jokan led me from the room and onto a balcony. Somehow I had thought -myself down far in the bowels of this World-City. But as I stepped out, -clouds were on a level with my eyes, synthetic clouds, and wind slapped -my face. We looked down.</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"> - <img src="images/illus2.jpg" alt=""/> -</div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<p>Blind in that room with only my imaginative thoughts, the vastness -of my act had been a conceivable thing. Here, looking over the -true vastness, an endlessness, I found my brain whirling, refusing -to consider what was really happening. In a monody of sadness and -fatalism, Jokan recited the meaning to me, as she watched her world -crumble.</p> - -<p>A sound surged up and about me. A low murmuring that grew and expanded -into a vibrating roar. To my right, far away, I saw a massive steely -structure explode into a billion fragments and a blinding flash of -power carried to my ears a splitting roar. It began happening all over, -through the tiers and levels and towering heights of the World-City, as -far on any side I looked, as far as I could see.</p> - -<p>I cringed. Below, a sea of blind ants scurried madly about in infantile -terror. Flying boats crashed as their automatic pilots stopped -functioning. All the power of the city had ceased. The smoothly working -machinery had become an onrushing nemesis of destruction, each stride -feeding on the preceding flaw in function or the complete lack of any -function.</p> - -<p>Huge structures, power-hung, dropped their millions of tons of weight -onto hordes of milling humans who had no idea what was happening—if -they had ever known.</p> - -<p>Gravity neutralizing units died and whole tiers collapsed. Unlimited -power from the harnessing of liquid oxygen reversed into a destructive -titan; a wave of overpowering heat rose up in a choking mist. Then the -building on which we stood began to tremble.</p> - -<p>I turned. The bobbing sphere of escape was between Jokan and I, a -small supremely compact unit of atomic power, perhaps, conducting its -own motivation. "Why doesn't it stop, too?" I asked, as people ask -ambiguous questions in a crisis.</p> - -<p>"It responds to the human mind alone," she said. "We have progressed -far in physiogenics, too, as well as in the mechanical sciences. -Perhaps it is the real world after all. We can go far beyond the -machines."</p> - -<p>"We'd better go someplace—fast," I said shakily, for the building -lurched sickeningly, and I toppled back against the wall. The colonnade -buckled in front of me, but Jokan wasn't afraid. She kept looking over -the World-City.</p> - -<p>I stumbled toward her. The heat was intensifying, becoming intolerable. -I clutched at her frantically. "You are going with me," I shouted. I -doubt if she heard me. "I love you," I yelled into her ear. "Don't you -understand?" She heard that. Her lips smiled thinly. Pain altered her -face like a plastic mask.</p> - -<p>I felt the gigantic power of the sphere then as before. It began to -glow and oscillate and expand. And it sucked me into its limitless -depths and cosmological labyrinths as before. I felt the melting and -flowing and the indescribable twisted warping of sanity....</p> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p>Jokan, working at my side, has done much to conquer the evil virus -of the Spartan menace. Her scientific knowledge, and her telepathic -acumen, place her above many of our greatest minds. This is enhanced by -an almost fanatical desire to destroy those who would destroy social -progress. Her faithfulness to duty is legendary.</p> - -<p>We love each other with ties no one can understand who hesitate to -conceive of bonds extending through dimensions of space and time. She -never leaves my side in the unceasing night and day, crusading against -the Fascistic disease that is being stamped out, though painfully and -with aching slowness, that has extended over six centuries.</p> - -<p>But between us there is an uneasiness. Sometimes this uneasiness finds -expression in little episodes—like the conversation at the last -meeting of the International Agencies in Casablanca. We were having -drinks before going into the Presidium.</p> - -<p>Jokan was lovely—that's a dismal understatement—in a low cut evening -gown of plasti-silk. Her eyes were half closed.</p> - -<p>"Will we ever win?" she said over the brim of a Tom Collins, which is -still the world's favorite cocktail.</p> - -<p>"Yes," I said. Then I turned casually, though I didn't feel casual at -all. I knew what she was thinking.</p> - -<p>"You must be the greatest optimist of all time," she said. "And I'll -help you and myself and all of us stay that way. I'll never mention it -again. Perhaps we can both forget."</p> - -<p>"Try to forget what?" I said, though I knew well enough.</p> - -<p>Her eyes fixed mine as only her eyes can. "Forget that the great world -we're fighting so hard to build we will be destroying a million years -from tonight."</p> - -<p>I coughed and ordered another drink for myself. But I can't forget.</p> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Prisoner of the Brain-Mistress, by Bryce Walton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONER OF THE BRAIN-MISTRESS *** - -***** This file should be named 63709-h.htm or 63709-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/7/0/63709/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: Prisoner of the Brain-Mistress - -Author: Bryce Walton - -Release Date: November 10, 2020 [EBook #63709] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ASCII - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONER OF THE BRAIN-MISTRESS *** - - - - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - - - - - - - - - - Prisoner of the Brain-Mistress - - By BRYCE WALTON - - The silver sphere bobbed beside the Brain. It - began to glow, and suddenly to expand, and I - felt myself drawn toward it. Then I became - part of it, part of the heat and brightness - and whirling, and I could feel myself melting - away--until I became nothing.... - - [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from - Planet Stories Summer 1946. - Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that - the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] - - -There are all kinds of men labeled with all sorts and degrees of psycho -tags. For what it's worth, I have always been primarily motivated by an -insatiable urge for action. - -I have always awakened with faculties sharp and eyes clear, ready for -any emergency of which there are plenty in these chaotic years of -social adjustment from the Twentieth to the Twenty-fifth Century. This -awakening I knew would exceed in magnitude any I had known. I knew I -was in a place to which the little alien man had brought me. - -I was stretched out on a smooth cold table of metal. I was also -aware of a contraption of unknown purpose clamped about my skull, -and my entire store of bodily faculties seemed vitally prepared for -any eventuality, as though steeling itself for a subconsciously -preconceived super-human effort. - -I still hesitated about opening my eyes. It wasn't from physical fear -which I have learned to convert into mental and physical energy. There -was a fear of that alienness. Alien was the word for the little man -with the bulbous head and crinkled little face of a premature child. - -I knew that his outer dress and hairless, swollen and blue-veined -skull, and the invisible electronic force that had brought us here, -were all of some other time, world, dimension, or something of all -three. - -It wasn't exceptional on my part to be thinking of such fantastic -possibilities in such a calm and detached a manner. Nothing seems -fantastic anymore to a Twenty-fifth Centurian. Nothing. What we have -not actually seen practiced through the marvels of chemistry and -electronics, we have been trained to believe possible. We have two -great goals facing us around the corner of probability--an Elixir of -Life from some bio-chemical laboratory, and a ship constructed for an -ultimate landing on a distant star. - -But first, we must readjust the various political factions which -prevent integration of human potential. - -The last effort is the gigantic one. All other sciences have advanced -beyond the science of society which is still infantile, but learning to -walk more or less alone. The goal of global social integration is in -sight, but the battle will still be long and difficult. This all leads -to the body of this story--to the World-City of Mohln, to which the -Scientist, Draken, brought me for the fulfillment of a grandiose and -necessary, but horribly destructive destiny. - -When the Fascisti wormed their way underground after their crushing -defeat by the forces of World Democracy, after the close of that -episode of evolutionary birth pangs called World War II, they created -a small, evil and powerful recalcitrant force of reaction, seeking to -regain minority control over the Earth Mass. Their threat is their -secrecy. They never work openly; they are too small in number; but -their acts of sabotage and political intrigue is disheartening at -times, and a constant threat to our Administrative balance. - -As elected Commander of the International Secret Police, my sole duty -is to combat the specially trained cult of sabateurs of our democratic -World-State, the Black Spartans. - -Somehow that night--I've never been able to find the leak--two of them -gained the top of my apartment building and were hiding on the roof -landing as I stepped out to enter my jet-car. - - * * * * * - -There was no warning, no challenge. Their aim was simply to burn me -out. Some well-trained intuitive sense threw me in a long dive forward -and sidewise as the shaft of deadly heat crackled past and smoked -beside my outstretched hand. - -My E-special blaster was out and ready even as I hit the fine plastic -mesh of the roof. I twisted over and burned a swath in their direction. -I came up to one knee, keeping their area lanced with rays, then to my -feet, going to one side and trying to distinguish their black plastic -suits from the shadows. - -A form stumbled out of the thick dark. It was half bent forward, -grasping its middle. I smelled scorched flesh and knew he must be -mortally injured, but I couldn't afford to underestimate the fanatical -power of a Spartan. - -He was still coming at me, so I burned him again, watched him crumble -and sag. That was an error. The other Spartan, who was still somewhere -back in the shadows of the collonade, blasted my arm, burning it half -through. I watched my fingers curl and my E-special fall out and away -slowly as in a dream. - -There wasn't pain, physical pain. There was sheer mental anguish as -I visualized myself closing my career of duty for the World-State, a -failure. I knew what they wanted with my corpse. Dead, my cerebrum -would be removed, activated, and its mental storage released through -electronic recorders the Spartan scientists had developed. They -preferred a brain taken from death as there was no slightest difficulty -from conscious or even subconscious resistance. - -But the Spartan couldn't burn me without a parting voice. His egomania -demanded that I see and hear the power that had defeated me. He came -out of the shadows, a black muscled melodramatic outline. - -"Goodby," he slurred in a thick accent. "For a reputed great man, you -employ pathetic guards. Your force is growing weak and negligent, -Allinger. Soon our long wait and our long fight will reach its -victorious end, even as you reach your shameful end now." - -The Spartan tensed his blaster and I leaped straight into it, -desperately, because I had nothing to lose. - -I never got to him, and his blaster never got to me. I hit something -painfully and bounced off. My arm was a lump of burning agony as I -thudded to the roof, stunned by an impact with an invisible barrier. - -The Spartan was discharging his blaster at me, but the power rebounding -flung him to his knees. The blaster was knocked over the side of the -roof-landing, and the Spartan staggered to his feet again, and weaved -back. - -Then, abruptly, his eyes bulged with awe that changed to terror. He -backed away, staring, not at me, but at something beside me. Then the -Spartan disappeared suddenly. I heard a faint _whirring_ that rose up -and faded rapidly. For an instant I followed the sound of the jet-car -as it receded toward the red moon outlining the archaic structure of -the Golden Gate Bridge, then I turned to see what had saved my life. It -had been prolonged at least. - -I hadn't been at all surprised to see the little man appear on the -private jet-car landing of my San Francisco apartment. There had been -no sound, only coruscating shifting hues of light that materialized -him, not like the magic of old, but with all the magnificent and -unlimited magic of science. - -He stood there juggling the huge silver globe like a bubble toy, but -one that certainly could never burst. His long, delicate arms and legs -and torso couldn't have lifted twenty pounds without straining. The -silver sphere must be elevated by unknown forces of its own. - -The little man's body, only a bit more than bone tightly stretched over -with transparent, form fitting material, swayed toward me. The pinched -up, chalk face in the midst of that bulging head studied me with -enigmatic lack of expression that was extremely disconcerting. I could -read plenty of purpose behind the blankness. So much elaborate ritual -demanded proportionate purpose. - -The ancient bulky structure of the Bridge twinkled its lights against -the night sky behind the little man. Or was it the twitching of my -eyes? I was preparing for a run over to the Federal Building for -a meeting of the Pacific Defense Zone of the International Peace -Maintenance Fleet, but, important as that meeting was to be, I had -forgotten it completely. - - * * * * * - -His voice was nasal, squeaky, and somehow contemptuous. It was halting, -too, difficult to follow. I doubted if he had ever employed the -International symbols before. In fact, I intuitively knew that he was -either not of my time at all, or not of my world. - -"I have studied the psychology of all potential men for the task that -is to follow. I have chosen you, Ivan Allinger." - -"Should I be flattered?" - -I studied him, but could reach no conclusion. - -The face puckered more. "Flattered?" The meaning of the word seemed -to escape him for a moment. "Perhaps. It is a great task. I have not -chosen you because of your physical attributes alone, although they -seem exceptional enough. Your ideological background will synchronize -perfectly with the job that you must do in Mohln." - -"Mohln?" - -"It is another world. A future and far distant one." - -"You are from some future time? Really?" - -"Yes. Mohln is another planet of this system, to which your descendants -will migrate in a length of time you would label one million years. -Our greatest scientist, the atavistic female, Jokan, demanded that -I go back into the past of the race and seek out an object for her -laboratory experiments." - -I accepted him as he presented himself, which is always advisable under -such circumstances. "I'm afraid that doesn't sound inviting at all," I -explained. "A guinea pig of some sort for future scientific probing. -Sorry." I started away, though I knew he could stop me when he pleased. -It was a test. But he stopped me with a word. - -"Wait, Ivan." - -I turned. "Yes?" - -"My reasons for choosing you are different from Jokan's reasons. Let me -explain." He tottered toward me weakly on his spindly legs. I towered -over him as he squinted up into my face. - -"There are many reasons why I cannot allow your refusal," he said. "One -great reason that ties you with destiny." - -I tried to escape then, feeling that he was right. I knew that a series -of unimaginable events were twisting me into cosmic circumstances. -Circumstances too gigantic to even excite amazement or disbelief, -only stunned passivity. I wasn't able to execute an about face or the -lifting of one leg that might possibly have sent me beyond the range of -the little man's potentiality. - -I had forgotten the silver sphere which bobbed beside him as a -monstrous toy might. It began to glow and expand into a great bulb -of incandescence, and it caught me immediately and paralyzed me, and -sucked me into realms of cosmology beyond the wildest imaginings of all -the Einsteins. I actually felt the sensation of melting. Of melting and -flowing as an integral part of space-time, for want of a better phrase. -I was an atomic drop of liquid poured into a river without beginning, -end or embankments. Perfection was an empty, archaic word to me. I had -never thought it could be intellectually employed, and I was especially -careful not to apply it to that shifting abstract--woman. I was looking -at it now. A perfect woman. A creation molded from centuries of -perfection; a creation of symmetric loveliness that was literally and -figuratively out of this world. - -My last day on Earth was ended. I had opened my eyes. I saw first that -some miracle of science had reconstructed the burned away half of my -right arm. Then I noticed the woman. I was sitting bolt upright in an -instant on the smooth metal table. The little man with his strange -"Buck Rogers" dress was looking quietly at me. And she was looking at -me, too, out of slitted lids that veiled all the women of the ages in -subtly yet violently burning eyes. - -She lifted a jeweled hand. Her sensual lips trembled a little before -they parted, and strong white teeth gleamed provocatively between the -red lines. - -I started, and gripped hard at the edges of the table. Was this the -way a woman scientist studied coldly and objectively a prospective -laboratory subject? I looked questioningly at the little wizened man -who had kidnaped me from my own world. His blank face showed me -nothing. - -Then, when she spoke.... - -I don't want to take unnecessary time at this point or any other to -explain or describe this woman, Jokan. I doubt if you could visualize -her anyway, even if I occupied this entire narrative describing her, -because she was too strangely lovely. She was perfection, as I've said, -and that's all. Her voice was music, and I involuntarily started toward -her as she spoke. - - * * * * * - -"Withdraw the brain recorder, Draken," she said softly, not taking -those icy eyes from mine. The little man, Draken, complied. She pointed -to a great three-dimensional chart extending across the laboratory. -It was made up of shifting convolutions and numerical graphs and -complicated combinations of shadings corresponding to brain patterns. - -"That is your brain, Ivan," she said. Her voice was cold, completely -frozen, and yet--"We know all about you." I felt a little -disappointment along with the relief. She turned toward Draken. - -"You made a great mistake, Draken. Bringing in an Intellectual was a -foolish thing to do." - -Draken objected. "But you said you wanted a good physical specimen. -This man is. You defined your requested specimen in no greater detail." - -"But you should know that an intellectual can cause difficulties. This -man would be considered a god among the women. Perhaps even among -the men. Mohln is at a point where such an element as this could -precipitate disaster, create perhaps a germ of dissatisfaction with our -great order. Or is that, by chance, what you intend?" - -Draken backed away. "No, it isn't." - -"Don't let the presence of this man be known beyond these four walls, -or out of your own laboratory. For your sake and mine, heed my -suggestion, Draken." - -"Yes," quivered Draken. "I am heeding it. But you know my attitude -toward this _great_ order. You know how I regard the maintenance of the -Status Quo." - -I knew it too, from the way his pallid lips curled. This little man -hated the Mohln system, whatever it was. - -Jokan got languidly to her feet, a fluid musical allegro. "I know, -Draken. If you weren't the greatest thinker in Mohln besides myself, I -would report you to the Council for the Maintenance of the Status Quo. -But as long as you only think idly, you can cause Mohln no harm." - -"The only harm Mohln can suffer," said Draken wearily, "is to continue -on as it does now. Toward final decay and rot." - -Jokan laughed frostily. I shivered. "Stop worrying, Draken, and go -away. I must begin my experiments." She turned her eyes on me. She -could have stared down a bronze statue. I turned my eyes from hers on -the pretense of looking for Draken, but he was gone. - -I jumped to my feet, and the movement revealed that I, too, had on the -costume that Draken wore. - -Without egoism, I can say that it must have looked more becoming on me -than on the little scientist. I was at least a foot taller than Jokan. - -She came toward me, fluid motion. I couldn't back away--I insist I -wanted to get away for various reasons, the least being that I wanted -to get solid on my mental feet--from the metal table. I looked almost -frantically for a door or some kind of exit, even a window. There was -nothing. - -Then those perfect arms slipped around my neck and that body pressed -itself against mine and-- - -I am only human. That's a trite enough excuse, if an excuse is -necessary, but under those conditions I could certainly do no less. I -let my arms come around her perfect waist, and I bent her back in the -most acceptable televex manner and planted a long solid one right on -those perfect lips--lips I'm very certain had never been kissed before. - -And that was precisely the trouble, perhaps, with that thoughtless, -but irresistible, impulse of mine. Her nails were long and sharp and -they clawed at my face. Cold light blazed in her eyes, flashing with -outraged dignity and burning hate. - -I swung down and away, sliding across the metal table, and stood with -blood running down my face, with the table my only protection between -myself and this paradoxical Circe. - -"Savage," she shrieked, and shrieking was very unbecoming to the cold -austerity of her. In fact it was like a cloak I had torn away from her -body. "Primal, barbaric beast!" - -"I'm not quite primal enough to cope with you," I said, looking more -frantically still for an exit. There still weren't any exits, but -people came into this room, and people went out of it. How? - -I expected her to vault the table after me, but she lithely backed -away, and though I didn't realize it then, her cold brain was summoning -her eunuchs from afar. - -A section of the wall to one side began to glow like a light through -semi-opaque glass. The light deepened and began to whirl. And then I -saw that there was a kind of opening there. Yes. A kind of opening with -something promising no good lumbering through, its head and massive -shoulders projecting up out of the shifting mist like a televexed -fictional monster. - -It was a monstrous metal man. A real, animated robot out of an old -scientification fabrication. It was coming directly for me. I flashed -one look--I think it was a beseeching one--at Jokan. In such instances -as that people swallow great lumps of their pride. - - * * * * * - -Jokan was stretched up to her complete height against the far wall. Her -face was expressionless, and her eyes oozed liquid oxygen. Her hands -were strained into fists at her sides. "Atavistic," Draken had said of -this female scientist of Mohln. An understatement promising no hope for -consideration. - -I dodged beneath the robot's reaching appendages. There were three arms -with a number of variously utilized digits at the end of each. And all -of them were wicked. Many of them designed for purposes I couldn't -grasp. Anyway I looked at it, the robot represented a perfect mauling -and crushing instrument. - -I can describe it now with a light touch. _Then_ I was trembling with -cold fear, and sweat poured off my face as I eluded the robot by -dodging about the only fixture in the middle of the room, the table. I -noticed a minor motion of Jokan; then I watched, with a hideously empty -stomach, the table fold itself into the floor. - -I leaped to one side and grabbed Jokan, twisted her around in front of -me, and said with as little chattering as possible into her perfect -pink little ear, "Call them off or--" - -I tightened my arm about her throat and began bending her head back. -She writhed around and kicked me, and her finger nails started their -old habit pattern again. But she wasn't used to this sort of thing, and -didn't employ any real effeminate technique at all. - -I continued bending her head back. I could feel her choking and -gasping. She knew then that I would kill her. I hadn't asked to come -to Mohln, wherever and whenever it was. It was all something I had -nothing to do with, that now threatened my life. All directly the -responsibility of Jokan. To me, she was a real Circe, deserving no -sympathy, only hate, and deserving death. But I could never have -actually tried, or threatened to kill her, under less pressing -conditions than those. It was simply a case of breaking her neck to -save mine, which I consider justified. - -The metallic digits squeezed shut on each elbow, from behind. I twisted -my head upward at the second robot, sweating pain in my eyes. Unfeeling -paralysis then, as the digits tore through muscle tendon, nerve fibers -and even cracked bone. I was mouthing sounds, probably screaming, -hearing my own cries from a great distance, blinded by pain, a mist -blurring my eyes. - -I was lifted straight up, then swung down beneath one implacable arm. -I dangled there, my crushed elbows swinging and dripping beneath my -face. I saw those perfect little feet come up and stand in front of -my tortured eyes. And they _were_ perfect little feet, encased in red -sandals to match the blood from my wounds. Even facing torture, and -possible death, I thought of them as perfect little feet. I didn't -attempt to twist my face upward. - -I kept on staring crazily at those perfect little feet. There was -character and expression in them, different and more sympathetic than -the body they supported. They came closer, shifted a bit, uncertain -and nervous. I had been brought here as the subject for anatomical -research, a laboratory specimen to be dissected. Yet, for an instant, -another purpose had shown in Jokan's eyes. I knew that, or did I merely -want to know it. I tried to imagine how terribly lonely and maladjusted -she must be in a loveless world. Beautiful and to be desired, yet in a -loveless, sexless world. - -With specimens like Draken, I could easily guess that this was the -kind of world in which Jokan lived out frustration. Perfect women, and -pathetic, skin-and-bone puppets for men. - -She had said I would be a god among women. Without egoism, again, I -could see why. There was too much gross ambiguity. The women and men -just didn't seem to be of identical species. And in addition, Jokan was -an atavistic. - -Which wouldn't matter anymore to me, because I was being dragged out of -there. Where? Into what? How could I know? I watched those feet fade -into blurred distance. They were whirling around as they faded. I knew -I was losing all grasp of consciousness. Which was all right, too, -because hard after the initial shock, the real excruciating agony was -beginning to shoot into my brain. - -Only a few hours later, that's all, and I was all in one piece again. -A more effective and healthy feeling organism than before, thanks to -incredible biological treatments I couldn't even guess at. I kept -flexing my arms, watching them bend and unbend with questioning -fascination. - -I turned toward Draken. "Why am I still here and alive?" - -Draken's embryonic face puckered at me like an impish child's. - -He explained: "Jokan is an atavist as I said. Women have always been -noted for their bodies rather than their brains, although potentially -their brain capacity has always been equal to the male's. And that -cultural error has never been changed. Instead, women have grown more -beautiful and symmetrical with the centuries, from the standpoint of -decadent and ancient aesthetic values. The men, on the other hand, -have always been considered as thinkers rather than as creations of -beauty. They have developed brain potential alone, while their physical -characteristics have atrophied. - -"Except for atavists like Jokan, the overly curious longing for the -male body, as you represent it, has been conditioned out of the -reaction patterns by the psycho-medics by centuries of selection. -Jokan, as you have seen, is different. She demanded that I go back -to your time, or even further back and return with a man capable of -matching her body in physical attraction. You enraged her for a -moment, but she has recovered from that momentary emotional unbalance." - - * * * * * - -I objected at this point. "But you said I was to be just a laboratory -specimen for dissection." - -"This whole transaction was elaborate and demanded official sanction -from the Council. So, on the record, your space-time teleportation is -only for biological purposes. You understand." - -I nodded. It was not an exceptional situation, basically. It seemed -that a few million years of evolution can't destroy the fundamental -behavior patterns entirely. "A good man's still hard to find?" - -The little scientist stared in blank affirmation. Then he said: "I -could have chosen any number of men who could have satisfied Jokan's -demands, perhaps even more thoroughly than you. Don't you wonder -why I singled you out? With your background in your world, and your -ideological concepts, you were the only one for me to chose--for my own -purposes." - -"Which are--" I prompted. - -"Neither of the preceding purposes are the basic ones for my asking you -to return here with me. The real reason is that you must destroy Mohln." - -I stared. I turned everything over in my mind, then tried to say -calmly: "Why? This is civilization and the apex of human progress for -which I face death daily in my own time. Destroy it!" - -I had begun to regard this little withered man as a first class -fanatic, born of highly complicated and advanced psychological -conflicts. - -He said: "When the Earth was enveloped in its final ice sheet, living -as we demanded it ceased to be feasible. The pick of human mentality -and physiognomy migrated here to Mohln. Here we began our great--what -we thought great--new and scientific social order. Yes, it's reached -a zenith all right. A zenith of decay and stagnation. Except for a -few scientists, Mohln is populated by mindless automatons. Beautiful, -mindless women, and great brained, spineless men. They all exist in a -futile vacuum." - -I was watching him narrowly for signs of madness. He looked mad enough, -but his squeezed up face was unreadable. I said feebly: "From what -little experience I've had here, you seem to have reached a pretty -ultimate state of civilization." - -"That is the great tragedy. There is no ultimate state. That is the -great delusion which you must shatter. Everyone, societies, worlds, all -seek an ultimate state. Change is the law, and there is no ultimate -law. This world of Mohln thinks it has achieved an ultimate perfection. -It has, because of the delusion, only succeeded in stagnation. This -social structure is neither alive nor dead, Ivan Allinger. It is -standing still. The ultimate futility is to be static." - -"Then you refute yourself," I said, feeling for a sophistic insert. -"You have reached an ultimate something." - -"Only movement is the ultimate goal. And change is success. -Advancement--progress is limitless. This culture of Mohln has reached -an ultimate lostness. Only one action can shake it back onto the -pattern of change. The entire World-City of Mohln must be destroyed, -reduced to chaos. Out of this chaos, by trial and error, the people -of Mohln must be given the germ of incentive again, and forced by -necessity to fight their way back onto new roads of endeavor." - -I thought hard. I felt familiar struggles in my heart. I understood -this. My own life was dedicated, back in my own space and time, to this -same effort and goal--to stimulate progress, and change; to destroy all -reactionary elements that might lead to permanence. - -He followed my introspection with words. "You fought in the great wars -of your time against the reactionary forces that would have led your -society into staticism and decay. You are devoting the present to the -furthering of the ideals of progress. Do you want to see all your work, -and all the work of all your kind, of your own present, past and future -end in--this?" - -He spread his withered arms about him, encompassing the whole of the -World-City of Mohln. - -"No," I heard myself muttering. "No. I wouldn't want that. I would -prevent it, if I could. But I demand more than your words to convince -me that this magnificence of organization I see about me is the -hopeless futility you are telling me it is." - -"I will take you out into the city and show you," he said. "But it is -strictly against the rules of the Council. And the few intellectuals, -the scientists and research technicians don't care anymore about the -disintegration of the order about them. In their own little worlds they -find something to work on, a stimulus, and they ignore everything else. -Like Jokan." - - * * * * * - -Draken led me out onto a balcony, and I saw--well, a word that might -inspire somewhat explanatory suggestive visions of what I saw, in your -own mind, could be the symbol, Utopia. It was an endlessly stretching -composite of all social dreams. - -The mauve lighting that softened the city like a beautiful mist. The -mighty, gleaming plastic shells of buildings. Power hung at levels -reaching high toward a translucent dome that covered the city. Tiers on -tiers of splendidly designed walkways, tubeways and highways networked -the spaces between structures. And the air sang with music, more -magnificent than all the symphonies of my own time. - -I forgot the dizzying height, and almost stepped out into the exalting -splendor of it. There seemed no danger, as though it were all an -endless soft cloud of enchantment into which I could sink, then float -buoyed up by dreams and music and shifting light.... - -But the little tugging fingers of Draken dragged me back. - -"It is all false," he whispered. "It is all delusion. Beneath all -this grandeur the lost puppets dance and sleep, but never live. These -words, which are the only words that make a social system worthy -of continuation--curiosity, incentive, ambition, drive, longing, -dissatisfaction--all meaningless here, all unknown to these pathetic -tropisms. If you will come with me, you can see for yourself, and -understand." - -I went with little Draken. I did see for myself. I understood.... - -And Draken was entirely correct in all that he had said. This -World-City of Mohln had achieved an ultimate--an ultimate lostness. It -was a magnificent hollow shell of a City. There were no people in it. -All the mighty wonder was lost to the semi-living marionettes that -wandered through it. But it meant life to them, nevertheless. They -never had to exert a finger, nor expend the energy of one thousandth of -a gram of thinking energy to live. But the technocratic creations of -long preceding times, of even a few still working scientists, kept them -alive. But they neither knew this, nor cared. - -They were fed, clothed, bathed and even reborn by robots. They were put -to sleep, awakened, vitalized, and exhausted by machines. They were -parasitic non-entities, dependent on the machines that other, _vital_ -minds, had built. - -Back on the balcony, Draken continued in that squeaky, uncertain quaver -of his: - -"Everything here is done by robots. There are different castes of -robots. Their functional system is graduated up through ever lessening -numbers until it reaches what is only a master switch. One single -switch in this World-City, pushed too far--" Draken looked at me -suggestively and added hoarsely: - -"If the master switch was ever pushed too far, this entire -civilization, as you call it, would stop functioning with any set -mechanical pattern. All the robots and machines and the system they -operate would cease activity. There would be your chaos. There would -be the needed situation under which the unthinking slaves will have to -think for themselves, solve their own problems once again. Or die. I -think they will solve them. I have that much faith in them. They always -have. So far." - -It was a statement on Draken's part. But it was really a question. -Would I push that master switch--too far? - -"Why haven't _you_ done this before?" I asked. "Why drag a man from -another world, a million years in the past, to do this simple thing?" - -Draken lowered his head in the first display of real, understandable -emotion I had seen in him. Shame. "I can't," he said simply. "I do -not have the will, the free will to do it. My intellect tells me it -is the correct thing to do. But my psycho-conditioning has created an -insurmountable antipathy toward such an act." - -His dried up monkey-like hands clenched into tiny impotent fists. "Many -times I have gone into that room and tried to pull that switch. But -each time I have failed. I know now that I shall never be able to. No -one in this world could do it until you came. You can. Your age was a -dynamic one, of destruction and construction, each inseparable from the -other. You could do it, not only with ease, but with the satisfaction -of knowing you were taking a necessary step forward in human progress. -The question is--will you?" - - * * * * * - -A lot of time clambered through my fogged mind then before I formulated -a logical sequence of thoughts that led to what seemed to me a logical -reply. - -"I believe I will," I finally answered slowly. "I can't see that there -is any other way out." - -"Execution," a familiarly brittle voice said behind me, and I turned. -Draken began whimpering pathetically and cowered back against the -colonnade. - -Jokan stood a few feet from me, wearing a thin, semi-transparent gown -that seemed anachronistic and out of place, as though she had gotten -the idea for it out of an old history book. Her body was a lithe shadow -behind it. But her eyes burned irrascible hatred. - -"Execution for you, and for Draken; that is a better way." - -"I wish I could agree," I said. "But you see our concern is for society -as a whole, rather than with a small minority that benefit from the -apathy and ignorance of the majority. For your satisfaction, and that -of a few others, you may be right. Frankly, dear Jokan, though you're -very very lovely to look at, your mind is ugly and warped. And I would -rather see you dead." - -I sprang and reached for her. She screamed once, before the robots came -in and lumbered for me. I remember mumbling about the monotony of the -robot act; as she eluded me, and I eluded them. And I kept on trying to -grab Jokan. It was an obsession with me. - -A quick glance revealed Draken cowered down in his corner, his old -child's face twisted in stunned horror. - -My only intention at that moment was to get my hands around Jokan's -perfect neck just one more time. It was a mad, fanatical urge now. I -hated her. I hated her with a blind madness. - -The robots weren't nearly as dexterous as they should have been. -Physical encounter was undoubtedly alien to their primary purpose. -This place of Draken's was bigger, with a few articles in it, than the -laboratory had been. There were pneumatic chairs and couches and ray -lamps and vitamin globes. I ducked, sprawled, ran and careened in and -out of these rooms and around the strange looking fixtures. I, close -on Jokan's sandaled heels, and the robots close on mine. It might even -seem more or less a comical scene in retrospect, but-- - -Then I saw that silver sphere of Draken's, hanging in the air about -four feet from the floor, smooth, mysterious, but very suggestive. As I -ran back past Draken, I yelled at him. - -I doubt if Draken understood my words, he was so stricken with horror, -but he grasped my meaning, and somehow managed to stagger onto his -quavering legs and tottered wild-eyed toward the sphere. - -But Jokan understood my meaning, too. And through some telepathic -direction I still don't understand, she guided the robots onto poor -Draken. Draken never had a chance. - -I don't think he even comprehended conflict. He could neither fight -back, nor try to escape. It seemed that violence, either offensive or -defensive, was beyond his understanding. That was why he could not -bring himself to pull the master switch that would have accomplished -his desired destruction of Mohln. That was also the reason why the -robot was able to take him into its inexorable metal arms and crush him -into something not far removed from pulp. - -His delicate, deep pocketed eyes looked beseechingly into mine, once. -Then the tremendous pressure bulged them horribly and unconsciously at -me. His bony arms flapped and waved spasmodically and blood spurted -from his small almost invisible ears and equally minute nose. Then -his whole frail body seemed to crack through the middle and deflate. -At another telepathic command from Jokan, the robot's arms raised and -unbent, and the body of Draken thudded on the inlaid floor. - -I heard myself yelling. I wasn't retreating from the other two robots -then, or trying to get away at all. Something gave way inside me. -What I had seen just now shocked every sense that might have been -ethical or moral in me. One word churned inside my brain. The word was -revenge. And then another word was added to it that seemed better. -Compensation. Then another word etched in capital letters overshadowed -and encompassed the other two. _Kill._ - - * * * * * - -The first robot reached out with its very utilitarian and -gadget-studded arms to rake me in. I had no idea how much the monster -weighed. But the Frankensteinian creation was off balance as it reached -for me. I twisted and grasped the metalic tentacle, heaved forward, -throwing my hip into the gleaming stomach and heaved down. - -The robot seemed light-weighted enough as it flew ceilingward, and -clanged hollowly against the wall. There was a flash of current, a -slight odor of ozone as the teleo-electronic man twitched about at my -feet. - -The violence evidently stunned my fair and wicked Circe. Her telepathic -control over the remaining robots faltered and in that instant I seized -her. A dead, hot rage swelled through my head and heart so I could -hardly draw a breath. I wrenched at her neck, felt it crack dangerously -and felt her long sleek muscles tremble against mine. - -I felt almost bestial in the power of my rage. I twisted sidewise -and felt her body give, and heard her breath coming in short jagged -whines like a dog's. Her finger nails weren't clawing now. The cold, -emotionless cruelty of her eyes was dying behind fear and indecision. -She hadn't been reluctant to dream of blood and guts and shattered -bones, but too much of the real thing hurt even her atavistic senses. - -"Keep them off me," I said in her ear. She tried to pull away. I held -her at arm's length and began slapping her. Her face was white as -powder until red finger marks appeared on it. I hit harder and her -perfect upper lip split and a narrow line of blood ran down and stained -the dark hollow between her perfect marble breasts. The gold-flecked -pupils of her eyes widened, and the horror deepened in back of them. -The the horror went out like a flame and the lids with the perfect long -lashes blinked over them and tears flowed down as from a weeping statue. - -I threw a quick circuit about the room. The robots were immobile; -tensed, though, for action. At any moment Jokan might regain her Circe -faculties and summon them, even if it meant her own life. I didn't know -then what emotions surged around inside her strange heart. I lifted her -onto my shoulder and started through the rooms. - -I had no idea how to escape. Whatever inconceivable manner the walls -dissolved through the manipulation of incredible advanced force -fields, I of course didn't know. But I put three rooms filled with the -futuristic mores between myself and the robot minions of Jokan before I -dropped her on a pneumatic couch and wrapped my hands about her throat -for the third time and began to squeeze. - -I began slowly and methodically, looking all the time into her eyes. -Then I saw it. I saw the real depths of her eyes, and a shock trembled -through me. Jokan had changed. How she had changed! - -She read the implacable purpose in my eyes that I felt in my heart, and -as her arms came up, mine slid down softly from about her throat. I -kissed her. I lifted her passive softness up and felt it respond. The -hands with the feral nails caressed the back of my neck, and her lips -were hungry. - -I had seen in her eyes a change, and had answered it. Then I said: -"Lead me to the room that holds the master switch. Then we'll go." - -She slid out of my arms languidly and onto her feet. She leaned toward -me, and her fingers grasped mine. They were warm, not cold; how could -they ever have been cold? "Go where?" - -"Can you run that space-time apparatus that brought me here?" - -She nodded, then looked fearfully over my face. - -"Take me to the main switch," I repeated. - -We went back, and she somehow attracted the translucent, yet not -translucent, sphere to her side. It followed after her like a monstrous -being, a cosmic slave. - -She led me toward the wall and it dissolved. I still am not able to -understand the phenomenon. We continued through and into an elevator. -We dropped down through a blur of distance. She led me through a -glowing tunnel and into a tubecar and there was a dim sensation of -movement in which we might have sped a thousand miles, or ten thousand. - -She led me out of the tubecar and we crossed a walkway, where lines -of listless people stood moving in various directions. The little -swollen-headed men and the tall austere but listless women. They were -all going places, but it didn't matter. They had eyes, ears, senses, -but they might have been machines reacting through photo-electric -devices. I thirsted for the main switch that would send them all into -blind chaos. It was a hellish thing for the world I had risked my life -many times to build upward and progressively toward greatness. But it -had all ended here, a blind alley of despair, and the hell I planned -would be its only salvation. - -Suddenly, from all sides, robots converged on us, directed by a number -of the little white-skulled men with velvet togas flapping about -slug-white spindly legs. - -"The Council," said Jokan. "They are afraid now. They attack, and they -are half mad because they have been conditioned that such an act of -violence is atavism, the inexcusable social crime." - - * * * * * - -Their puckered faces, in the center of the bloated domes of heads, -were strained and flinching. The robots shambled onto Jokan and me, -and Jokan did something to them with her mind which evidently was more -powerful in this capacity at least than all the Council combined. And -the robots turned and began flailing each other into lumps of smoking -twisted metal. - -My stomach crawled. The Council, supreme intellects of a million years -of progress, had fallen down onto the moving walkway, slobbering and -twitching in the final stages of dementia. Even a thousand gram brain -breaks when faced with an insolvable problem. The gleaming expanse of -moving plastic carried the Council out of our sight. The little men and -the Amazonian women who slouched past didn't even notice. And if they -did, it was foreign to their conditioning. They couldn't think about it. - -They would soon have to think. When I pushed the master switch too -far.... - -We encountered no more resistance, if that feeble expression of the -apex of human development so far met could be called resistance. -Finally we emerged into a room that surprised me with its lack of -grandeur and its barrenness. All the World-City that was meaningless -was a dream of ostentation and color and beauty of intricate design. -This room, in contrast, the heart of the World-City, the key to its -life, was completely denuded. A small plastic shell and in the middle -was a conical dais and on the dais was a lever. - -Jokan nodded toward the lever and her eyes that followed me as I -walked to it and moved it, were bright with some inner fire I couldn't -diagnose. - -I jerked my hand away. - -The meaning of my act enveloped me in a mist of fear. I trembled -violently. Sweat beaded on my face and smarted in my eyes. - -Had I been right in my choice? Had Draken been correct in his analysis, -and had I been justified in jumping to such an empirical conclusion -without more conclusive proof? Had all these nameless slaves of decay -been victims of the delusion from which I had freed them? Or had I been -deluded by the lies of a fanatic? - -I looked down and saw my hand reaching for the lever to move it back. -It was an unconscious gesture motivated by vague fears. I seemed such a -little man to destroy a world. - -What was happening to all animated puppets of this future society now -that its mechanical contrivances had been destroyed? What had happened, -even back in my own time, in large cities, when only the electric -systems had been blown up, or the water mains, or gas mains? What -mind-numbing chaos and madness must be developing around me as I stood -inside the heart of a world which I had torn loose from its arteries. - -Jokan led me from the room and onto a balcony. Somehow I had thought -myself down far in the bowels of this World-City. But as I stepped out, -clouds were on a level with my eyes, synthetic clouds, and wind slapped -my face. We looked down. - -Blind in that room with only my imaginative thoughts, the vastness -of my act had been a conceivable thing. Here, looking over the -true vastness, an endlessness, I found my brain whirling, refusing -to consider what was really happening. In a monody of sadness and -fatalism, Jokan recited the meaning to me, as she watched her world -crumble. - -A sound surged up and about me. A low murmuring that grew and expanded -into a vibrating roar. To my right, far away, I saw a massive steely -structure explode into a billion fragments and a blinding flash of -power carried to my ears a splitting roar. It began happening all over, -through the tiers and levels and towering heights of the World-City, as -far on any side I looked, as far as I could see. - -I cringed. Below, a sea of blind ants scurried madly about in infantile -terror. Flying boats crashed as their automatic pilots stopped -functioning. All the power of the city had ceased. The smoothly working -machinery had become an onrushing nemesis of destruction, each stride -feeding on the preceding flaw in function or the complete lack of any -function. - -Huge structures, power-hung, dropped their millions of tons of weight -onto hordes of milling humans who had no idea what was happening--if -they had ever known. - -Gravity neutralizing units died and whole tiers collapsed. Unlimited -power from the harnessing of liquid oxygen reversed into a destructive -titan; a wave of overpowering heat rose up in a choking mist. Then the -building on which we stood began to tremble. - -I turned. The bobbing sphere of escape was between Jokan and I, a -small supremely compact unit of atomic power, perhaps, conducting its -own motivation. "Why doesn't it stop, too?" I asked, as people ask -ambiguous questions in a crisis. - -"It responds to the human mind alone," she said. "We have progressed -far in physiogenics, too, as well as in the mechanical sciences. -Perhaps it is the real world after all. We can go far beyond the -machines." - -"We'd better go someplace--fast," I said shakily, for the building -lurched sickeningly, and I toppled back against the wall. The colonnade -buckled in front of me, but Jokan wasn't afraid. She kept looking over -the World-City. - -I stumbled toward her. The heat was intensifying, becoming intolerable. -I clutched at her frantically. "You are going with me," I shouted. I -doubt if she heard me. "I love you," I yelled into her ear. "Don't you -understand?" She heard that. Her lips smiled thinly. Pain altered her -face like a plastic mask. - -I felt the gigantic power of the sphere then as before. It began to -glow and oscillate and expand. And it sucked me into its limitless -depths and cosmological labyrinths as before. I felt the melting and -flowing and the indescribable twisted warping of sanity.... - - * * * * * - -Jokan, working at my side, has done much to conquer the evil virus -of the Spartan menace. Her scientific knowledge, and her telepathic -acumen, place her above many of our greatest minds. This is enhanced by -an almost fanatical desire to destroy those who would destroy social -progress. Her faithfulness to duty is legendary. - -We love each other with ties no one can understand who hesitate to -conceive of bonds extending through dimensions of space and time. She -never leaves my side in the unceasing night and day, crusading against -the Fascistic disease that is being stamped out, though painfully and -with aching slowness, that has extended over six centuries. - -But between us there is an uneasiness. Sometimes this uneasiness finds -expression in little episodes--like the conversation at the last -meeting of the International Agencies in Casablanca. We were having -drinks before going into the Presidium. - -Jokan was lovely--that's a dismal understatement--in a low cut evening -gown of plasti-silk. Her eyes were half closed. - -"Will we ever win?" she said over the brim of a Tom Collins, which is -still the world's favorite cocktail. - -"Yes," I said. Then I turned casually, though I didn't feel casual at -all. I knew what she was thinking. - -"You must be the greatest optimist of all time," she said. "And I'll -help you and myself and all of us stay that way. I'll never mention it -again. Perhaps we can both forget." - -"Try to forget what?" I said, though I knew well enough. - -Her eyes fixed mine as only her eyes can. "Forget that the great world -we're fighting so hard to build we will be destroying a million years -from tonight." - -I coughed and ordered another drink for myself. But I can't forget. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's Prisoner of the Brain-Mistress, by Bryce Walton - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK PRISONER OF THE BRAIN-MISTRESS *** - -***** This file should be named 63709.txt or 63709.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/3/7/0/63709/ - -Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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