The Brain Read online

  CHAPTER II

  Inside, the cabin in the sky seemed to be built almost entirely around ahuge primeval looking fireplace. Despite the fierceness of the Arizonasun there was a fire in it of long and bluish flames, one of thosemodern inventions which reverse the processes of nature. Like the gasrefrigerators of an older period, this fire worked in combination withthe airconditioning system to _cool_ the house, lending to it in themidst of summer heat the same attractions which it had in winter.

  In front of the fire and framed by its rather ghostly light, there stooda man with his head bowed down, pensively staring at the flames. AsLee's steps resounded from the ancient millstones which formed thefloor, Dr. Scriven wheeled around; he approached the man from Down-Underwith outstretched hands.

  Rarely had Lee seen such a distinguished looking figure of a man. Helooked more like a diplomat of the extinct old school than a scientist,with the immaculate expanse of his white tropical suit and the dignityof his leonine head. His width of shoulder and the smooth agility withwhich he moved gave the impression of great strength. Only his fingerswere small, slender, almost like a woman's.

  The reluctant softness of their pressure contrasted so much with hisheartiness of manner that Lee felt repulsed by their touch until heremembered that a great surgeon lived and caused others to live by hissensitivity of hand.

  "Dr. Lee, I'm happy, most happy, that you have been able to come."Scriven's voice was soft, but he spoke with an extraordinary precisionof diction which had a quality almost of command. "Over there, please,by the fire...."

  From the blue flames there came the freshness and the coolness of anocean breeze; the rawhide chairs, built for barbaric chieftains as theyseemed, proved to be most comfortable; the semidarkness, the roughnessof the unhewn stone, gave a sense of the phantastical and the paradox.Lee sat and waited patiently for Scriven to explain.

  "In case you're wondering a little about this setup," Scriven made asweeping gesture around the room, "I've long since reached theconclusion that in these mad times a man needs above all some paddedcell, some shell in which to retire and preserve his sanity. This is mypadded cell, soundproof, lightproof, telephoneproof; a wholesomereminder of the basic, the primeval things. Simple, isn't it?"

  Lee blinked at the extravagance of this statement. "Do you really callthat simple?" he asked.

  Scriven grinned: "You are right; it is of course a willed reversal fromthe complex, synthetic and perhaps a little perverse. But then, noteverybody has the opportunity you had in living in the heart of nature.Frankly I envy you; your work reflects the depth of thinking which comesout of retirement from the world. That's why I called you here; that'swhy I am so sure you'll understand."

  He paused. Lee thought that he saw what was perhaps a mannerism; thegreat surgeon didn't look at his visitor. With his head turned aside,staring into the flames, stroking his chin, speaking as if to himself,he reminded Lee of some medieval alchemist.

  "It's a long story, Lee," Scriven continued. "It starts way back with aletter I wrote to the President of the United States. In this letter Ipointed to the immense dangers which I anticipated in the event of anatom war; dangers to which the military appeared to be blind. I amreferring to the inadequacy of the human brain and its susceptibility tomental and psychic shock. I explained how science and technology overthe past few hundred years had developed by the _pooled_ efforts of the_elite_ in human brains, but that the individual brain, even ifoutstanding, was lagging farther and farther below the dizzy peak whichscience and technology in their totality had reached. I furtherexplained, by the example of the Nazi and Jap States, how the collectivebrains of modern masses are reverting from and are hostile to a highlevel of civilization because it is beyond their mental reach. You knowall this, of course, Lee. I made it clear that not even the collectivebrains of a general staff could be relied upon for normal functioning;that no matter how carefully protected physically, they remained exposedto psychic shock with its resultant errors of judgment. How much lessthen could production and transportation workers be expected to functioneffectively in the apocalyptic horrors they would have to face...."

  * * * * *

  Lee's eyes had narrowed in the concentration of listening; his headnodded approval. He wasn't conscious of it, but Scriven took note of itby a quick glance. His voice quickened:

  "That was the first part of my letter, Lee. I then came out squarelywith the project which has since become the work of my life. I told thePresident that under these circumstances the most needed thing for ourcountry's national security would be the creation of a _mechanical_brain, some central ganglion bigger and better than its humancounterpart, immune to shock of any kind. This ganglion to beestablished in the innermost fortress of America as an auxiliaryaugmenting and controlling the work of a general staff. I gave him afairly detailed outline of just how the thing could be done. There wasreally nothing basically new involved. Personally I have held for a longtime that Man never "invents", that in fact it is constitutionallyimpossible for him to do so. Being a part of nature Man merely_discovers_ what nature has "invented" in some form of its own a longtime ago. Mechanical brains. Lord, we have had them in their rudimentsfor the past hundred thousand years, at a minimum. The calendar is one;every printed book is one; the simplest of machines incorporates one.And ever since the first mechanical clock started its ticking we havedeveloped them by leaps and bounds!"

  "And did the President react positively to this project?" Lee asked.

  Scriven shook his head. "He did not."

  Then he paused. Little beads of perspiration had appeared on hisforehead; he wiped them away with a handkerchief:

  "That year, Lee," he began again, "when the decision was pending and Icould do nothing but wait, knowing that there was no other defenseagainst the Atom Bomb, knowing that our country's fate was at stake--itmade me grey, it came pretty close to shattering my nerve.... But_then_...." His body tightened, the small fist pounded the rail of thechair: "... _But then We BUILT THE BRAIN._"

  He said it almost in a triumphant cry.

  Mounting tension had Lee almost frozen to his seat. Now he stirred andleaned forward.

  "It actually exists? I mean it works? It is not limited to the analysisof mathematical problems but capable of cerebrations after the manner ofthe human brain?"

  Scriven, with a startling change, sounded dry, very factual in a tiredway as he answered: "I appreciate your difficulty of realization, Dr.Lee. The whole idea is new to you and I have presented it in a ratherabrupt and inadequate way. In time, and if we get together, as I hope wewill, you shall get visual impressions which are better than words. Forthe moment, just to give you a general idea and to prove that this isnot a small matter, let me give you a few facts: Our first monetaryappropriation for The Brain, as an unspecified part of the militarybudget, of course, was for one billion dollars. We have since receivedtwo more appropriations of an equal size."

  Lee's gasp made a sound like a low whistle. With a depreciating gestureScriven waved it away.

  "While these funds could only cover the first stages in the constructionof The Brain," he calmly went on, "we have been able to build amechanical cortex mantle composed of ninety billion electronic cells.Considering that the cortex mantle of the human brain contains over 9billion cells, this doesn't sound like much. Our synthetic or mechanicalcells are a little better than the organic, natural cells, but not verymuch. So alone and by themselves their number would indicate only a tentimes superiority of The Brain over its human counterpart. If that wereall the result of our labors, a brain of, let's say, twice geniuscapacity, we would be a miserable failure. But then we _have_ achieved avery considerable improvement in the _utilization_ of the The Brain'scortex capacity. In the first place we have full control over theintake of thought impulses; and more important, we use multiple wavelengths in feeding impulses to The Brain and throughout all theimpulse-processings. Even the human brain has some capacity ofsimultaneous thought on differ
ent levels of consciousness, but its rangein this respect is extremely limited. The Brain by way of contrastoperates on two thousand different wave lengths, which means that TheBrain can process at least 2000 problems at one time. Finally, theabsence of fatigue in The Brain makes operations possible for 20 out ofthe 24 hours of the day--the rest of the time we need for servicing andoverhauling."

  * * * * *

  With apparent effort Scriven turned his face away from the blue flames.His dark brown eyes probed into Lee's as he summed up:

  "All together, Lee, The Brain has now reached the approximate capacityof 25,000 first class human brains. You as a man of vision willunderstand what that means...."

  Lee had his face upturned. The tension of thought gave to his featuressomething of the ecstatic or the somnambulist. Slowly he said:

  "The equivalent of twenty-five-thousand human brains--there is nocomparison other than a God's...."

  Striven had jumped from his chair. He started pacing the flagstones infront of the fire, whirling his mighty frame around at every corner witha sort of wrath, as if about to meet some attack.

  "Yes, you are right," he almost shouted, "we hold that power; that poweralmost of a God's. And how we are wasting it."

  "What do you mean?" Lee's eye-brows shot up. "You would not waste thosepowers once you have them. You would turn them to the most constructiveuse--the advancement of science, of humanity!"

  Scriven froze in his steps. A cruel smile parted his lips; there was agnashing sound of big white teeth. He pointed a finger at his visitor.

  "Idealist, eh? That's what I thought I was ten years ago. That's what Ihad in mind with The Brain right from the start. As it has turned out,however, the Army, Navy, Air Force, and half a dozen other governmentdepartments, besieged The Brain for the solution of their "problems",some of them as destructive as warfare, others as insipid as the trendof the popular vote in some provincial primaries. Sometimes Uncle Sameven farms out the services of the Brain to aid some friendly foreigngovernment--without that government's knowledge as to where the solutionis coming from. To cut a long story short: What these fellows utterlyfail to understand is that The Brain is not a finite mechanism like anyother, but a mechanism which unendingly evolves and becomes richer inits associations by the material which is being fed into its cells. Inother words; the Brain _learns_; consequently it must be _taught_, itmust be given the wherewithal for its own self-improvement...."

  Scriven halted his impatient step by the other's chair. His nervousfingers tapped Lee's shoulder: "And that is where you come in."

  "Me?" Lee asked, startled. "What you just told me, Dr. Scriven, it willtake me weeks to comprehend. At the moment I am at a loss to see how mywork could connect...."

  The surgeon's sensitive hand patted Lee's shoulder as if it were theneck of a shy horse. "You _will_ comprehend--in just another moment."

  He pressed a button; in the entrance to the cabin in the sky the girlappeared, like an apparition. She approached, her hair a golden halo,her tunic transparent against the glare of the summer day. "Yes?"

  "Oona, _please_"

  She seemed familiar with the boss' code. With a smile on her lips shewalked over to one of the pillars, opened a hidden recess and broughtout the Scotch and syphon using an Egyptian clay tablet for a tray. Withsurgical exactitude Scriven poured out a good two fingers for his guestand an exceedingly small one for himself. "Stay with us for a moment,Oona, please," he said. "I didn't tell you the idea behind my callingDr. Lee; you might be interested."

  Wordlessly she slid into a seat, attentive and yet fading somehow intothe background, as if trying to remain unnoticed. In that she did notsucceed. Her beauty was such that its very presence changed theatmosphere; it put Lee under a strain to keep his eyes off her. As toScriven, he seemed to address her almost as much as he did Lee.

  "You have met Dr. Lee, haven't you, Oona; but do you know _whom_ youhave met? He probably wouldn't admit it; nevertheless Dr. Lee is themost successful peacemaker on earth, I think. He has just put an end tothe oldest war in this world between the two most venerablecivilizations in existence. That war between the states of the ants andthe states of the termites has been waged with never abating fury formillions of years--until Dr. Lee came along with the perfect solution ofthe eternal dispute. All he did was to crossbreed the belligerents andnow we have "united nations", _Ant-termes-pacificus-Lee_ which lives upto the spirit of its name. Elementary, isn't it?"

  "So elementary," the girl said with ironical sweetness, "that theso-called peacemakers of the international conferences must haveconsidered it below their dignity to stoop to it. How exactly did you doit; I mean the crossbreeding?"

  * * * * *

  Lee felt his cheeks burn; it was extremely irritating that this shouldhappen to him every time Oona Dahlborg spoke to him, especially when itwas in praise.

  "It wasn't too hard," he said depreciatingly. "The main difficulty laynot with the termite queen nor with the furtive little king of the antsthemselves. Biggest trouble was in getting the potential lovers togetheragainst the bulldog determination of their palace guards. To use forcewas out of the question. So I had to trick the guards, smuggle in themale and keep him hidden under the royal abdomen of his spouse."

  She smiled amused. "What a perfect classic; the story of Romeo andJuliet all over--and with you in the role of the nurse."

  Lee blushed still deeper at that. "Yes", he admitted, "I was very muchreminded of that story and my role in it. Only I had to avoid the tragicend."

  "And how did you avoid the Shakespearean end?"

  "In the best cloak and dagger manner, Miss Dahlborg. First I made theguards drunk; that's easy enough with termites. Then I broke into thechamber where they keep the queen immured. I killed her legitimateconsort and substituted my own candidate after having anointed him withthe genuine termite smell. Finally I re-immured the pair. There are onlylittle holes in the walls through which the royal family is serviced,they are never really in touch with their guards. That's why it couldwork."

  "And thus they lived happy forever afterwards," the girl concluded.

  "I'm afraid not, Miss Dahlborg," he said, "there is no such thing ashappiness in the eternal gloom of termite society. But even if nothappy, the match I brought about was definitely blessed. In due course Ibecame godfather to 30,000 baby ant-termes; I've about 15 million now indifferent hybrid strains. Now that I have an inkling of the grandiosework you are doing over here I am ashamed to mention mine; it's verysmall, very insignificant and I still don't see where it comes in."

  The girl seemed to cross out those words with an energetic move of herhead. "No," she said, "your work is not small nor is it insignificant;it is great and contains the most intriguing possibilities."

  "Ah!" Scriven interrupted. "I have been waiting for this. I knew thatOona would hit upon those intriguing possibilities; her's is anunspoiled intelligence; it penetrates to the core of things. Dr. Lee,let me begin at the beginning so you will understand just where you andyour work connect with The Brain. The society of the higher insectstates like bees and ants and termites constitutes the oldest and themost stable civilizations in this world. Human society by way ofcontrast has created the youngest and the most unstable civilizationamongst higher animals. Throughout history we find collapse aftercollapse of civilization. Quite possibly civilizations higher than oursmay have existed in prehistoric times. Right?"

  Lee nodded assent.

  "Fine. From that it follows that Man has much to learn from the societyof the higher insects. Their ingenious laws and methods, their "spiritof the hive," the incredible renouncement of individual existence andindividual advantage, their undying devotion to the race.... We muststudy those if ever we want to reach anything like stability in _our_society. We ought to model our civilization after theirs, especially nowthat we have this new species "_Ant-termes-pacificus_" which hasrenounced war. There is something basically wrong with the type ofcivi
lizations which Man builds and which ceaselessly devour one another.No doubt you see the third World War approaching inexorably just as Ido; civilization forging ahead, for what? For the big plunge intosuicide. It's sickening to think of it. Do you feel I'm right?"

  Unconscious of himself Lee had arisen and paced the room. With his leanlong-legged figure bending slightly forward and wild-maned head boweddown in thought he resembled a big heron stalking the shallows for prey.

  * * * * *

  Fascinated, Oona's eyes followed the two contrasting men as their pathscriss-crossed like guards before some palace gate. She alone had kepther seat. It was with greater assurance than before that Lee now spoke.

  "I can see eye to eye with you, Scriven, as to the wrongs of man-madecivilization and its probable course. But I do not think it desirablethat we should model human society after the insect states. Ingenious asit is, their system is the most terrifying tyrany I could imagine. Justthink of it: they literally work themselves to death. Workers who haveoutlived their usefulness are either killed off, or else they become thebloated, living containers for the tribe's staple food."

  "You, yourself, can see the similar trend in Man, today. Our productionof new thought is lagging; not starting from the roots, it becomessuperficial, cut off from the roots. The results? The curse of theBabylonian confusion of the tongues under which we live. We are rapidlybecoming thought-impotent. Cerebral fatigue, dissociation of its nervepaths, emotionalism which rejects logic as "too difficult", mass idiocyand relapse to barbarism.... It is by our brains, it is by this highestevolution of matter that we have built this civilization of ours; andnow our own brainchild proceeds with might and with main to destroy thevery organ of its creation. Is that not irony supreme?

  "Now we have The Brain, this truly superlative tool of 20,000 timeshuman capacity. All we have to do now is to submit the various societieswhich nature has built: insect states, other animal states, Man and hisstate to the analysis of The Brain. Have their good and their badfeatures tested and compared. Let The Brain synthesize all thebeneficial components, let it shape the pattern of a new civilizationmore enduring and better adapted to the nature of Man. And then abide bythe laws which The Brain lays down. I need your aid, Lee. You havealready made one most valuable contribution to "peace on earth" withyour "_Ant-termes-pacificus_". This is your big chance to continue thegood work; be with us, be our man."

  In silence both men stood close to each other, eyes searching. All OonaDahlborg could hear was their heavy breathing. Instinctively she crossedher fingers; never before to her knowledge had Scriven opened his mindwith such reckless abandon--and to a perfect stranger at that. Herrespect for the strange, the birdlike man from Down-Under skyrocketed.

  "He really must be a great man," she thought, and, "Howard and he willbe either fast friends or very violent enemies."

  At last Lee's voice came, husky and highpitched with emotion: "I cannotconceive of a man-made superhuman intelligence. Neither can I believethat mankind could or should be _forced_ into its happiness by anintelligent machine. But that's besides the point ... the idea isgrandiose. It has the sponsorship of the government. You say that TheBrain needs me. That makes it a duty; so here I am."

  He stretched out his hand and felt the cautiously eager grip of thesurgeon's sensitive fingers. The great man beamed. "Good," he said, "Iknew you would. Oona, like a good girl--the glasses, yours too. Thisreally deserves a toast."

  The girl stepped between the two men. Handing Lee his glass she said:"Today you may follow only the call of duty; tomorrow it will be thecall of love. I've never met any man who has not fallen in love with hiswork for The Brain."

  "I think you are quite right in that, Miss Dahlborg," he answered,wondering vaguely exactly what her words meant, wondering also just howmuch his decision was inspired by the wish to see more of her.

  * * * * *

  They drank their toast in silence. Scriven then turned to the girl:

  "Apperception center 36," he said. "Yes, I think 36 will be the best.Get in touch with Operations, Oona. Tell them I want 36 cleared for theexclusive use of Dr. Lee. Call Experimental; I want the whole batch of"_Ant-termes-pacificus_" transferred to Apperception 36 by tomorrowmorning. Then--no, today is too late and Dr. Lee is tired, he needsrest--but tomorrow at 8 A.M. I want a car for him to go over to TheBrain. Would that suit you, Lee?"

  "Fine; but why a car? It's only a few steps...." He stopped, confused bythe hearty laughter in the wake of his words.

  "It's quite a few steps, Dr. Lee." Oona said, "you would be _very_ tiredbefore you got there; chances are that your feet wouldn't carry you thatfar."

  "But this is the Brain Trust Building," he stammered.

  "It is," Scriven answered, "but it houses only part of theadministration, not The Brain. You wouldn't expect us to place a thingof such vital strategic importance in a skyscraper on a wide open plainas a landmark for every enemy?"

  "No, I guess not." Lee said. "But since I'm briefed to go there, whereis it?"

  "That," Scriven frowned, "is a very reasonable and a simple question.Unfortunately, _I do not know_."

  Lee felt a wave of red anger; it rose into his cheeks because he saw thesparks of frank amusement dancing in Oona Dahlborg's eyes. He opened hismouth to some bitter remark about this hoax when Scriven put arestraining hand upon his arm.

  "This is no joke, Lee. I have planned The Brain, have in part designedit, seen it under construction for the past ten years, managed itsaffairs--but I don't know where it is and that's a fact."

  He led his speechless guest to a lookout on the west side of the room.Beyond the lush, green oasis of Cephalon the desert stretched unbrokentill on the far horizon the mountains of the High Sierra rose in a bluehaze of scorching sun. His hand moved sweepingly from north to south.

  "Over there," he said, "somewhere inside those mountains; that's whereit is. But its location? Your guess is as good as mine. Take your choiceof any of the mountains, attach a name to it; I've done so myself. Oneof them must be "The Cranium", but the question remains: which? Thereare people who know, of course; military intelligence, the generalstaff; but that," he shrugged his shoulders, "... isn't my department."