The Cosmic Computer, Page 3
H. Beam Piper
III
It wasn't until they were down to the main level and outside in thelittle plaza to the east of the Airlines Building that his fatherbroke the silence.
"That was quite a talk you gave them, Conn. They believed every wordof it. I even caught myself starting to believe it once or twice."
Conn stopped short; his father halted beside him. "Why didn't you tellthem the truth, son?" Rodney Maxwell asked.
The question, which he had been throwing at himself, angered him. "Whydidn't I just grab a couple of pistols and shoot the lot of them?" heretorted. "It wouldn't have killed them any deader, and it wouldn'thave hurt as much."
"There is no Merlin. Is that it?"
He realized, suddenly, that his father had known, or suspected thatall along. He started to say something, then checked himself and beganagain:
"There never was one. I was going to tell them, but you saw them. Icouldn't."
"You're sure of it?"
"The whole thing's a myth. I'm quoting the one man in the Galaxy whoought to know. The man who commanded the Third Force here during theWar."
"Foxx Travis!" His father's voice was soft with wonder. "I saw himonce, when I was eight years old. I thought he'd died long ago. Why,he must be over a hundred."
"A hundred and twelve. He's living on Luna; low gravity's all thatkeeps him alive."
"And you talked to him?"
"Yes."
There'd been a girl in his third-year biophysics class; he'd found outthat she was a great-granddaughter of Force General Travis. It hadtaken him until his senior midterm vacation to wangle an invitation tothe dome-house on Luna. After that, it had been easy. As soon as FoxxTravis had learned that one of his great-granddaughter's guests wasfrom Poictesme, he had insisted on talking to him.
"What did he tell you?"
The old man had been incredibly thin and frail. Under normalgravitation, his life would have gone out like a blown match. Even atone-sixth G, it had cost him effort to rise and greet the guest. Therehad been a younger man, a mere stripling of seventy-odd; he had beenworried, and excused himself at once. Travis had laughed after he hadgone out.
"Mike Shanlee; my aide-de-camp on Poictesme. Now he thinks he's mykeeper. He'll have a squad of doctors and a platoon of nurses in hereas soon as you're gone, so take your time. Now, tell me how things areon Poictesme...."
"Just about that," he told his father. "I finally mentioned Merlin, asan old legend people still talked about. I was ashamed to admitanybody really believed in it. He laughed, and said, 'Great Ghu, isthat thing still around? Well, I suppose so; it was all through theThird Force during the War. Lord only knows how these rumors startamong troops. We never contradicted it; it was good for morale.'"
They had started walking again, and were out on the Mall; the sky wasflaming red and orange from high cirrus clouds in the sunset light.They stopped by a dry fountain, perhaps the one from which he had seenthe dust blowing. Rodney Maxwell sat down on the edge of the basin andgot out two cigars, handing one to Conn, who produced his lighter.
"Conn, they wouldn't have believed you _and_ Foxx Travis," he said."Merlin's a religion with those people. Merlin's a robot god,something they can shove all their problems onto. As soon as they findMerlin, everybody will be rich and happy, the Government bonds will beredeemed at face value plus interest, the paper money'll be worth ahundred Federation centisols to the sol, and the leaves and wastepaperwill be raked off the Mall, all by magic." He muttered anunprintability and laughed bitterly.
"I didn't know you were the village atheist, Father."
"In a religious community, the village atheist keeps his doubts tohimself. I have to do business with these Merlinolators. It's all Ican do to keep Flora from antagonizing them at school."
Flora was a teacher; now she was assistant principal of the gradeschools. Professor Kellton was also school superintendent. He couldsee how that would be.
"Flora's not a True Believer, then?"
Rodney Maxwell shook his head. "That's largely Wade Lucas's influence,I'd say. You know about him."
Just from letters. Wade Lucas was from Baldur; he'd gone off-planetas soon as he'd gotten his M.D. Evidently the professional situationthere was the same as on Terra; plenty of opportunities, and fiftycompetitors for each one. On Poictesme, there were few opportunities,but nobody competed for anything, not even to find Merlin.
"He'd never heard of Merlin till he came here, and when he did, hejust couldn't believe in it. I don't blame him. I've heard about itall my life, and I can't."
"Why not?"
"To begin with, I suppose, because it's just another of these thingseverybody believes. Then, I've had to do some studying on the ThirdForce occupation of Poictesme to know where to go and dig, and I neverfound any official, or even reliably unofficial, mention of anythingof the sort. Forty years is a long time to keep a secret, you know.And I can't see why they didn't come back for it after the pressure toget the troops home was off, or why they didn't build a dozen Merlins.This isn't the only planet that has problems they can't solve forthemselves."
"What's Mother's attitude on Merlin?"
"She's against it. She thinks it isn't right to make machines that aresmarter than people."
"I'll agree. It's scientifically impossible."
"That's what I've been trying to tell her. Conn, I noticed that afterKurt Fawzi started talking about how long it would take to get to theGamma System, you jumped right into it and began talking up a ship.Did you think that if you got them started on that it would take theirminds off Merlin?"
"That gang up in Fawzi's office? Nifflheim, no! They'll go on huntingMerlin till they die. But I was serious about the ship. An idea hitme. You gave it to me; you and Klem Zareff."
"Why, I didn't say a word ..."
"Down on the shipping floor, before we went up. You were talking aboutselling arms and ammunition at a profit of two hundred sols a ton, andKlem was talking as though a bumper crop was worse than a Green Deathepidemic. If we had a hypership, look what we could do. How much doyou think a settler on Hoth or Malebolge or Irminsul would pay for agood rifle and a thousand rounds? How much would he pay for hislife?--that's what it would come to. And do you know what a fifteen-ccliqueur glass of Poictesme brandy sells for on Terra? One sol;Federation money. I'll admit it costs like Nifflheim to run ahypership, but look at the difference between what these trampfreighter captains pay at Storisende and what they get."
"I've been looking at it for a long time. Maybe if we had a few shipsof our own, these planters would be breaking new ground instead ofcutting their plantings, and maybe we'd get some money on this planetthat was worth something. You have a good idea there, son. But maybethere's an angle to it you haven't thought of."
Conn puffed slowly at the cigar. Why couldn't they grow tobacco likethis on Terra? Soil chemicals, he supposed; that wasn't his subject.
"You can't put this scheme over on its own merits. This gang wouldn'tlift a finger to build a hypership. They've completely lost hope ineverything but Merlin."
"Well, can do. I'll even convince them that Merlin's a space-station,in orbit off Koshchei. I think I could do that."
"You know what it'll cost? If you go ahead with it, I'm in it withyou, make no mistake about that. But you and I will be the only twopeople on Poictesme who can be trusted with the truth. We'll have tolie to everybody else, with every word we speak. We'll have to lie toFlora, and we'll have to lie to your mother. Your mother most of all.She believes in absolutes. Lying is absolutely wrong, no matter whomit helps; telling the truth is absolutely right, no matter how muchdamage it does or how many hearts it breaks. You think this is goingto be worth a price like that?"
"Don't you?" he demanded, and then pointed along the crumbling andlittered Mall. "Look at that. Pretend you never saw it before and arelooking at it for the first time. And then tell me whether it'll beworth it or not."
His father took a cigar from his mouth. For a moment, he sat staringsilently.
"Well, convince them that I can find Merlin and that they can't findit without me. I think I've done that already. Then convince them thatwe'll have to have a ship to get to Koshchei, and--"
"Won't do. That'll take money, and money's something none of this ganghas."
"You heard me talk about the stuff I found out on Terra? Father, youhave no idea what all there is. You remember the old Force CommandHeadquarters, the one the Planetary Government took over? I know wherethere's a duplicate of that, completely underground. It has everythingthe other one had, and a lot more, because it'll be cram-full ofsupplies to be used in case of a general blitz that would knock outeverything on the planet. And a chain of hospitals. And a spaceport,over on Barathrum, that was built inside the crater of an extinctvolcano. There won't be any hyperships there of course, but there'llbe equipment and material. We might be able to build a ship there. Andsupply depots, all over the planet; none of them has ever been openedsince the War. Don't worry about financing; we have that."
His father, he could see, appreciated what he had brought home fromTerra. He was nodding, with quick head jerks, at each item.
"That'll do it, all right. Now, listen; what we want to do is get acompany organized, a regular limited-liability company, with acharter. We'll contribute the information you brought back from Terra,and we'll get the rest of this gang to put all the money we can twistout of them into it, so we'll be sure they won't say, 'Aw, Nifflheimwith it!' and walk out on us as soon as the going gets a littletough." Rodney Maxwell got to his feet, hitching his gun-belt. "I'llpass the word to Kurt to get a meeting set up for tomorrow afternoon."
"What'll we call this company? Merlin Rediscovery, Ltd?"
"No! We keep Merlin out of it. As far as the public is supposed toknow, this is just a war-material prospecting company. I'll impress onthem that Merlin is to be kept a secret. That way, we'll have toengage in regular prospecting and salvage work as a front. I'll see toit that the front is also the main objective." He nodded down theMall, toward the sunset, which was blazing even higher and redder."Well, let's go. You don't want to be late for your own welcome-homeparty."
They walked slowly, still talking, until they came to the end of theMall. The escalators to the level below weren't working. Now that hethought of it, they hadn't been when he had gone away, six years ago,but he could remember riding up and down on them as a small child. Fora moment they stood in the sunset light, looking down on the lowerterrace as they finished their cigars.
Senta's was mostly outdoors, the tables under the open sky. The peoplegathered below were looking at the sunset, too; Litchfielders loved towatch sunsets, maybe because a sunset was one of the few thingseconomic conditions couldn't affect. There was Kurt Fawzi, the centerof a group to whom he was declaiming earnestly; there was his mother,and Flora, and Flora's fiance, who was the uncomfortable lone man inan excited feminine flock. And there was Senta herself, short anddumpy, in one of her preposterous red and purple dresses, bubblinghappily one moment and screaming invective at some laggard waiter thenext.
They threw away their cigars and started down the long, motionlessescalator. Conn Maxwell, Hero of the Hour, marching to Destiny. Heseemed to hear trumpets sounding before him.
And an occasional muted Bronx cheer.
