* * * * *
Bewildered, stunned, Cadmus ran through the panels into the vaulted
height of the question submission chamber. He would worry about this
other fearful emergency once he got the microtape installed.
Across the chamber were panels containing many eyes of the
photoelectric analyzers--lenses which must focus his microtape.
Receptacles in front of the eyes waited for the microtape to be
inserted. A red light indicated that none of the eyes were being used
at that moment to analyze a problem for the Machine.
A problem scanned by these eyes was carried into the Machine by
electron beam tube. The Machine, a colossal mechanical brain, was the
result of the final achievements of the finest scientific minds in the
System.
It could think. It could think, but its answers could never vary. The
Gray God.
Cadmus ran across the chamber, inserted the microtape on its spindle
shaft and moved a small switch. The eyes glowed. The red light dimmed
into green, signifying that the Machine was now handling a problem.
Cadmus stumbled back toward the windows. There was no feeling of
triumphant release for having fulfilled his destiny. Now that the
problem Johlan had devised was submitted to the Machine's vast
mechanical mind, the Machine was supposed to destroy itself.
But the big problem now was why weren't those transmats bringing
Venusians to worship the Gray God? Why should only streams of screaming
psychopaths from Terra and Mars march out of transmats to their
pathetic worship?
What had Old Pirri said?
"Beware of friends and patriots who are such only to achieve selfish
ends. Remember history, and recall that when the Great Machine God was
spawned and stopped all progress, wars were brewing between the worlds.
Remember that was the reason the Machine was made--to halt progress and
social evolution that might lead to another atom war. If the Machine is
destroyed, remember that the old hates will return...."
Cadmus shivered as he hesitated before the panels leading onto the
balcony. The sun was higher now. The area about the valley was a sea of
surging humanity marching out of transmat receivers.
And the Machine lay there in its vaulted silence. That mass of
thinking apparatus was preparing now to solve the problem which Johlan
had prepared and which Cadmus had succeeded in injecting into its
mechanical brain. It would take a few minutes at least before any
results appeared.
But Cadmus knew something was terribly wrong. No Venusians were yet
emerging from those transmats!
A number of policejets were circling the areas about the
non-functioning Venusian transmats. A greater number had landed and
Cadmus could see Guards running in and out of the powerhouses.
He turned quickly as he heard the panels of the doors opening behind
him. He dropped to his side, dragged frantically at the neutron gun in
his belt. He caught a smearing glimpse of many faces and acted too late
to save himself.
He tried to activate the force-shield unit Old Pirri had given him. But
paralysis beams reached out like the fingers of a hand, gripped him,
held him rigid in a slowly-fading consciousness. He thought of Zaleel.
He tried to understand how their plan had seemed to succeed, but had
failed.