The Brain Read online

  CHAPTER VI

  Oona Dahlborg's jetticopter hovered over the Grand Canyon at the sunsethour. She had let the controls go so that the little ship drifted withthe wind like one of the clouds which sailed a thousand feet or so overthe canyon rim. The disk of whirling gas which kept the teardrop of thefuselage suspended shone in all rainbow colors; it reflected through thetranslucent plastics top of the fuselage and played over the goldenhelmet of the girl's hair and over the greying mane of the gaunt man ather side.

  Lee had been talking intensely, almost desperately for quite some time,watching her as she lay back in her seat, her eyes half closed, handsfolded behind her neck, the perfect hemispheres of her breasts caressedby the rainbows as they rose slowly with the even rhythm of her breath.

  "And now you know everything, Oona," he ended, "do you think I'm mad?"

  "No."

  Her eyelids fluttered like wings of a butterfly as she turned to him.Her right arm came down upon Lee's shoulder in a gesture of confidence.He breathed relief as he saw no fear, not even uneasiness in the bluedepths of those beautiful eyes. Her hand upon his shoulder felt soothingand at the same time electrifying; like the purple descending upon theshoulder of a king.

  "No," she repeated slowly: "the fact that you feel The Brain is aliveand possessed with a personality of its own, doesn't make you mad. I'vealways felt that way about machines; even the simple ones likeautomobiles. It was in the mountains north of San Francisco where I grewup; whenever we went to town in winter time and the car came roaringdown those serpentines into the heavy air moist with fog and soft rains,I could feel that engine breathe deeper and rejoice over its addedpower. There was no doubt in my mind that it was a living thing. I oftenwent to the garage when I was little to talk to that car; to children ofanother age their dolls were alive, for our generation it's themachines. It's natural that this should be so. There's a child in everyman, no matter how adult. There is in Howard Scriven, too; in all thescientists I've come to know, and the greater they are the more it isdistinct. You identify yourself with your work and in the degree you dothat it becomes a living thing; it is through vital imagination that webecome creators of anything, be it love or a machine. You needn't worry,Semper; let The Brain be alive, let it be a personality, that doesn'tmake you mad. All it indicates is that you're doing excellent work."

  Lee blinked. With an effort he turned his eyes away from those breastswhich seemed to strive for the light of the sun from under the restraintof her Navajo Indian sweater dress. He felt the utter inadequacy, thedevastating irony of words as now he was alone with Oona, up in theclouds in a plane with nobody to interfere for the first time.

  "You fool," a voice whispered in him, "you damned, you helpless fool.Why don't you take her into your arms now? Isn't this the fulfillment ofall your dreams; what are you waiting for?" But: "No," his rationanswered, "that wouldn't do. Maybe she would give in to the mood of someenchanted hour, maybe she would let herself be kissed. But if she did,it would be 'one of those things'; the glory of the sunset, God's greatmasterpiece, the Canyon spread below, the intensity of my desire. Theyare bound to enter, bound to confuse the issue."

  His every muscle stiffened and his lips paled as he bit them with aviolent effort to keep under control.

  "Thanks, Oona," he said. "Of course I couldn't expect and, in fact, Ididn't expect that you would accept those things I've told you just now;not in the literary sense that is. I'm very happy though and deeplygrateful that at least you do not think me mad. I'll confess to you--andto you only--that I've been so deeply disturbed by these experienceswith The Brain that I've thought to myself: "Lee you're going crazy."The Brain as it has revealed itself to me, is a tremendous reality; theworld outside The Brain is another reality and the two seem mutuallyexclusive of one another; they just don't mix. Now: either The Brain isan absolute reality--in that case I should not wish to have anything todo with this god of the machines who wants to enslave mankind ... if Icannot fight this monster I would rather flee before its approach to theend of the world--or else: I'm suffering hallucinations, I'm hearingvoices, I'm obsessed. In that case I'd be unfit for the service of TheBrain, I'd be unworthy to be in your company and I also ought to run andhide where I belong, out there in the wilds of Australia."

  He had been talking faster and faster as if in fear that she wouldinterrupt him before he came to the end.

  "In other words, I'm damned both ways; damned if I'm right and damned ifI'm wrong; and you know why Oona; you have known it all along: that Ilove you."

  * * * * *

  She did not look at him. She stared upward into the rainbow vortex ofthe jet which held the ship in the air. There was a smile on her face, akind smile which men do not often see, infinitely wise and infinitelysad, full of a secret knowledge older than Man's.

  It worried Lee, as the unknown of woman always worries man; but at leastshe didn't take her hand away; softly, soothingly the fingers of thathand caressed his shoulder as if possessed with a life of their own.

  "No; I would not follow you into your wilderness if that's what youmean," she said at last. "That hasn't got anything to do with you; I'lltell you later why. But I don't think that you should go there either;it wouldn't help--it never helps a man to run away from unsolvedproblems." She had sounded strangely dull and dry, but now the beautifuldeep resonance reentered the contralto voice as she continued:

  "I know your record, Semper; I know just why you ran away and became anexpatriate the first time--way back in '49. Her name was Ethel Franholtand just because she happened to be a little bitch and worst of all:jilted you for old money-bags Carson's son, you took it hard. Grantedthat it was a fierce letdown, those postwar years were a nasty picturegenerally; did it solve your problem to sulk out there in the desertlike Achilles in his tent? You know it didn't. You were _not_ throughwith civilization be it good or bad. You were _not_ through, as now itturns out, even with the other sex. That human problem which was theimmediate reason why you left, the one named Ethel, has traveled backand forth to Reno three or four times and is currently married to onePadraic O'Conner, a Chicago cop. Don't you think that it was goodriddance when she married old man Carson's son? Do you think yourleaving made one iota of a difference or altered a solution as ordainedby fate?"

  "No," he said humbly.

  "Then why are you trying that selfsame escapist solution now? Maybeyou're right about The Brain and maybe you're wrong; that I wouldn'tknow. I've been working with scientists for too long to rule outanything as impossible. But that's exactly it. You have not _solved_this problem one way or another yet, not even to your own satisfaction.To abandon it now, to flee from it in self preservation; why that wouldbe almost like desertion in the face of the enemy. You have got to seethis thing through to the end. If it turns out that you are sufferingfrom a neurosis, there still will be time to do something about it. Ifyou are right and some machine-god has indeed descended upon this earth,then it is your plain duty to stay on because you are its prophetwhether you like it or not and would know better how to handle it thananybody else. Perhaps our mechanized civilization _is_ going to thedogs; as Scriven suspects and you and maybe I myself. But even so wecannot abandon it; we belong, we are part of it, we're in it to thebitter end."

  Lee nodded slowly.

  "Yes, I see what you mean. Please forgive me, Oona; The Brain, has aterrific force of attrition, it's been wearing me down--Keepingeverything to myself and thinking that you would shrink from me as froma madman. Tell me then, what shall I do? Should I tell Scriven oranybody else about this thing?"

  "For heaven's sake, no," she said horrified. "In the first place, Howardcarries an enormous burden at this present time; that Brain powerExtension Bill is going before Congress next week. It simply would beunfair to bring any new uncertainty into his life when his energy isalready strained to its last ounce. In the second place Howard abhorsanything which smacks of the metaphysical. You have no _proof_, Semper,and in the absence of that you c
annot, you mustn't approach anybody withthe matter. All you can do is carry on and build up a strong case 100%with solid facts. Don't forget that The Brain constitutes athree-billion-dollar investment of taxpayers' money; besides The Brainis the heart of our national defenses; never forget your "Oath of theBrain." You cannot be too careful. Make the slightest mistake, andbelieve me, it would be suicide. Promise, please, promise that you won'tdo anything rash?"

  Lee looked at her in frank amazement.

  "You're right," he murmured, "these things never occurred to me before.But you've got something there; good lord, what a complex world we'reliving in."

  The face she turned toward his suddenly was wet with tears.

  "Forget it," she cried, "oh please, forget everything I said aboutstaying in this country and seeing this thing through to the end. Go, goaway, back to the never-never land, stay there and be safe. You cannotcope with this thing, its too big and it's too involved with all thosepolitics behind. Get out of it as long as there's still time. You're achild, you're a Don Quixote riding against windmills and it's going tokill you--you--you innocent."

  Anger and contempt were in her voice as she flung this last at him. Shehastily withdrew her hand from Lee; now it fingered for something in herbag. He sat appalled; this was so unexpected, this was a different womanfrom the composed and balanced Oona he had known. What had he done toprovoke this sudden reversal of opinion, this contempt, this tearingaway the king's purple from his shoulder, the purple which had been herhand.

  "She must think I'm a coward," he thought.

  "This is awful." Aloud he said:

  "Oh no; believe me, I never would have gone back to the never-never inany case, Oona. Not without you that is. You said you couldn't follow methere for some reasons which have nothing to do with me. Does that mean,could I hope perhaps that you would--be my wife--later, when The Brainproblem is all done and over with?" He paused: "It wouldn't necessarilymean to bury you in any desert, Oona," he added eagerly.

  "No, Semper," she cried. "It's very good of you and I'm proud you askedme, but it cannot be, never." Almost violently she repeated: "Never--itis too late. Some day, I promise I'm going to explain; right now Icannot, Semper. Please understand at least this one thing that right nowI cannot explain."

  "It's horrid," Lee thought. "I'm always saying the wrong things at thewrong time with Oona. I don't seem to have any understanding of awoman's psychology at all; I'm hopeless."

  "Of course" he said aloud. "It shall be as you wish."

  * * * * *

  The girl still didn't look at him. Her face under the transparentrainbow umbrella of the swooshing jet again was radiant with thatstrange smile which women preserve for their newly born after the pangsof birth or for their men when unseeing they lie in fever deliriums; theold, the knowing smile as she starts on the road to pain. Still smilingshe gripped the controls with her firm, capable hands.

  "From the first minute," she said, "we've been friends, Semper. Let'sstay that way. This afternoon I made a fool of myself by telling youfirst to stay on and then to go away. I was a little unnerved; I'msorry, Semper, it won't happen again. I, too, am living under aconsiderable strain. You won't leave, I can see that now; it's partly myfault and partly the perversity of the male. Promise me as a friend thatyou'll be careful, understand? _Very, very_ careful in all mattersconcerning The Brain and above all: discreet. Will you do that?"

  It buoyed Lee up no end.

  "Of course, Oona," he said. "You know that I trust your judgment. Youknow that I think the world of you."

  "That's wonderful," she exclaimed, "and now: look down; see the last actbefore the curtain falls."

  Down in the canyon deeps the dream cities and castles which millions ofyears and the river built were changing contours and colors as the bigfireball dived into the Sierra Mountains. And then the shadows racedlike a ferocious hunt out of the deep, chasing away the last iridescenceof that awesome beauty and drowning it in the rising tide of the night.

  The girl had flicked on the dashboard lights; the radio started hummingthe tune of the Cephalon sound-beam, a deft turn of the wheel set thejetticopter upon its course. They were alone under the stars; all theother pleasure craft had returned before darkness from the fashionablesunset-cocktail hour over the Grand Canyon. Now it was Lee's arm whicheased itself around the shoulder of the girl feeling with a delight inits every nerve the slight pressure by which she answered it.

  "I'm going to kiss her now," he thought, "at last, at last!"

  There was a buzz in the phone and Lee lost contact with her shoulder assuddenly she bent forward to take the receiver:

  "Oh hello, Oona; this is Howard. Saw your plane over the canyon."

  "Where are you?"

  "Right behind you," chuckled Scriven's voice. "On the maiden trip withmy new ship. Took her over in Los Angeles this afternoon straight fromthe assembly line. She's got everything. Oona, I don't wish to spoilyour evening for you but there are a few things right now I wish I couldconsult with you about. Do you think you could spare me a minute? Wouldyou feel terrible if you did? Who's with you now; I don't mean to bepersonal, you understand."

  "Why it's Dr. Lee, of course."

  "That's fine. He's the very man I want to see. Perhaps you two wouldlike to come over for cocktails in my ship? We could both land at thetop of the Braintrust building; it would be more comfortable than up inthe air. Besides, we would have all our working material right there."

  With her hand on the receiver Oona turned to Lee: "How about it,Semper?"

  "Do you want me to go?" he asked.

  "Frankly I do," she said earnestly. "He needs your aid. He's in aterrible fix right now."

  He tried to hide the bitterness of disappointment by a smile. "Why thenof course," he said.

  Uncovering the receiver Oona spoke aloud again: "Okay, Howard, we'll beseeing you."

  "Fine, fine," came the delighted voice: "I'll phone the towerimmediately."

  With Scriven's big ship flying behind Oona's, only a few miles behind,the broken spell did not return. Already like a white table cloth laidin the sky, the landing platform of the Braintrust tower gleamed underthe floodlights, and as the two ships descended almost side by side intothe clearing behind the cabin, plain-clothes men materialized from underthe shadows of the trees. Under the strong lights their smiles were aswell-bred as those of trained diplomats and their poise was perfect. Sixof them kept Lee, the stranger, covered while the seventh quicklyfrisked him under the disguise of a polite bow.

  Bearing it all with a grin, Lee thought: "I never knew home would belike this. Never suspected it would be this kind of an America we werefighting for. The Brain, it's got a private army too. Funny that Ishould have known that all the time and yet not realized...."

  Scriven took him warmly by the arm. "I'm awfully sorry Lee, it's plainfolly of course. I don't feel as if I need all this protection, but thegovernment does. Don't blame it on these men, they merely obey orders.Now, out with those lights--and let's go over to the "Brain Wave." Iseem to hear a pleasant tinkling of glasses from within."

  * * * * *

  There was. With her remarkable ability of living up to an emergency,Oona had taken possession of the strange ship. As the two menapproached, she stood at the door, unhurried hostess of an establishedhome with the soft glow of an electric fireplace behind her, ice cubesand cocktail shakers already glittering on the little bar.

  It was a spacious cabin. On Scriven's orders it had been equippedsomewhat like the captain's stateroom on an old "East-Indiaman" sailingship.

  "I like your ship, Howard," she said. "She's swaying a little on hershock absorbers in this breeze, but that makes one feel like reallybeing at high sea."

  Scriven heaved a big sigh. "Thank you Oona, my dear. And you have noidea how right you are. We _are_ at high sea; in fact, we're lost--atleast I am. Unless you save my life tonight, you and Dr. Lee."

  Oona laughed and even
Lee couldn't help smiling. There was somethingirresistible comic in the puzzled and worried expression of that leonineface. "Come on in, you need a drink," the girl said.

  The aluminum steps creaked, and then the settee by the fireplace, underthe surgeon's mighty frame. "More than one. Tonight, so help me, I wouldbe justified, I would even have a right to get roaring drunk."

  Lee began to wonder whether the great Scriven had already made some useof his right in Los Angeles, which would account for the startlingchange in the man. The drink, however, which Oona handed him, seemed todo a lot of good. He sighed relief.

  "This, briefly, is the story: I ran into General Vandergeest at theairplane factory. He was there to take over some stuff for the Army andhe tipped me off. We are going to be invaded, Oona, a full scaleinvasion mounted by a Congressional Committee."

  "Oh God," there was sincere grief in the girl's voice. "And couldn't youward it off?"

  With a gesture of despair, Scriven waved that away. "I know, I know. Butafter all The Brain _is_ a military establishment and I am only thescientific director of it. Yes, of course I protested, I protestedvehemently, but--" he shrugged his shoulders, "it was no good. You knowhow the military are." He drained his glass and swung around.

  "To put you into the picture, Lee, we have under construction at thispresent time the 'Thorax.' That's a vast cavity underneath The Brain,just as is the thorax in the human body. It's strictly hush-hush ofcourse, but since you were good enough to say that you're going to helpme out, I might as well tell you. The Thorax is going to house the'motoric organs' of The Brain. It already contains the living quartersfor guards, maintenance engineers, and the general staff and so on inthe event of war emergency. It also contains the first fully automaticfactories for the production of spare parts which would make The Brainself-sufficient. Eventually it is going to contain a great manydevelopments such as 'Gog and Magog' as I call them--fascinating littlebeasts, I tell you, even if at present they are still in the nurserystage. Anyway, for the completion of its Thorax The Brain needs anotherbillion dollars, and for the operation of the Thorax Congress has topass the Brainpower-Extension-Bill. For eventually, of course, allwar-essential traffic and all war-essential industries have to bebrought under the centralized control of The Brain if the country isgoing to win the Atom-war. Naturally this Brainpower-Extension-Bill hasbeen very carefully edited by the War Department so as to appear apeacetime project for the technological improvement of transportationand so on. Even so we have great reason to fear that one of those blindmice which we elect for our law-makers might accidentally fall over akernel of truth and start a great big squeak over it.

  "So that's why I'm faced with this invasion. That's why I'm pushed upfront while the brass cautiously retires behind the ramparts which I'msupposed to hold. Please Oona, let me have another drink."

  From the Sierra Mountains the nightwind came in gusts, making the"Brainwave's" hull vibrate like the body of a cello, over its rubbertires it trembled, from time to time it bent a little in its hydraulicknees. Almost in tune with the wind, gusts of wild thought whirledthrough Lee:

  "The Brain.... So it was already possessed of some motoric organs.... Soit already _had_ some means to exert its will ... so it wasn't TheBrain's wishful thinking, that full automatization which would lead tothe auto-procreation of machines. It was reality.... Most ominous ofall, why had The Brain concealed from him the work which must have beengoing on for months, for years in this mysterious "Thorax", seat ofmotoric organs.... Why, unless--had it not been for tonight's accident,the sudden emergency and Scriven a little the worse for liquor under thepressure of it.... Would he ever have learned _what_ was going on beforeit was too _late_?"

  * * * * *

  The silence was becoming awkward. It was broken by Oona's carefullycomposed voice.

  "When is it going to happen--this invasion thing?"

  The simple question seemed to startle Scriven who had been looking intohis glass as if in reverie.

  "_When?_ Why, didn't I tell you the worst of it? _Tonight!_"

  "_Tonight?_"

  "Sure," Scriven cast a malicious glance up to the antique ship'schronometer which hung over the bar. "This very minute the honorablemembers are boarding their plane in Washington. They're going to descendupon us in sixty minutes flat."

  "But that's impossible!" Oona said. "The Brain isn't a roadhouse. Theycan't do that to us in the middle of the night."

  Scriven chuckled over his glass. Obviously he had regained his humor."Sometimes, Oona, you're like a little child. You forget that this ismeant to be a wonderful surprise. You forget that it comes armed withpasses from the War Department and fully informed as to The Brain'smidnight intermission-time. You forget that by those logical processes,peculiar to kings, dictators, and peoples' representatives, they willexpect every courtesy extended to them in the midst of the unexpectedsurprise. Hotel reservations, careful guidance through The Brain, aninspired little speech by the Braintrust Director, fresh as a daisy ashe ought to be at 3 a.m. Not to forget the refreshments of course. Whyelse do you think I've buttonholed you two out of the air? I literallyput my life in your hands. Save me from this--if you can!"

  Despite the obvious dramatic act he had put on in voice and gesture,there was a sincere pleading in Scriven's dark brown eyes.

  "I will be glad to help as best I can," Lee said. "I'll make an awfuljob of it, I'm sure, but I'll try and do the conducting and thelecturing."

  Scriven wiped his forehead with a big silk handkerchief. The leonineface beamed. "Lee, that will be a tremendous help. You see, they willfeel flattered being conducted by somebody with a big name. They want an'objective' view and you are not one of our regular employees, you're aguest scientist from Australia. That makes you just about ideal. But,Lee, much as it is against my interest, I ought to warn you: Do yourealize the utter impossibility of this thing? Laymen, outsiders comingto investigate and to pass judgment upon the most complex electronicorganism in the world! In two hours at the most they expect to be fullyinformed as to how The Brain works and somehow to be magicallytransformed into authorities entitled to mouth considered opinions aboutradioactive pyramidal cells in houses of government. Do you really thinkyou could survive it, Lee?"

  "At least I can try," Lee smiled.

  "Good man." There was a new spring in Scriven's step as he came over toshake hands. "I can never thank you enough for this."

  "I suppose I could hold the hospitality front," Oona said calmly.

  Standing between the two, Scriven put his hands upon their shoulders."Oona, you arm yourself with a phone. Lee, you rush over to The Brain.Oona will give you a pass to the Thorax. Every assistance you need willbe at your disposal. I'll sit down and whip up some kind of a speech.We'll all meet again afterwards."

  * * * * *

  Seven hours later, one hour before sunrise and just in time to see thebig official plane from Washington shoot up into the first grey streakof dawn, they met. They were all pale and shivering with the chill ofthe air, of physical and nervous exhaustion. There was a note ofhysteria even in Oona's voice as she ordered a tremendous breakfast fromthe Skull Hotel. But then as the fragrance of coffee mingled with thatof bacon and eggs, things rapidly improved and there were suddenuncontrollable bursts of laughter. They had only to look at one anotherto feel the tickle of renewed mirth.

  The first thing to strike Lee, as he remembered, as he met thesenatorial group in the subterranean dome of the murals, was theirincongruity with the functional beauty which surrounded them, and thesharp contrast they formed to the scientific workers of The Brain. Asthey descended from their cars after a late dinner at the Skull Hotelthey resembled an average tourist group in Carlsbad Caverns bent upon agood time and in a holiday mood.

  There were seven. Two women senators among them, as they ascended withLee at the head along "Glideway Y," the "Visitors' Special" as thebrain-crews called it. It was wider than the service glideways andequ
ipped with comfortable seats. It led through The Brains mediansection in-between the two hemispheres describing a loop which openedvistas into but did not enter any of the grey matter convolutions. Itwas brilliantly illuminated in order to forestall claustrophobia andalso to forestall too close a view into the black-lighted interior ofThe Brain.

  To Lee it was like a ride in an enormous Ferris Wheel fused with anightmarish dream wherein one shouts for help and nobody hears or seemsto understand: "... More than nine billion electronic tubes, more thanten billion resistors, two billion capacitators, eight billion miles ofwires, etc., etc." He struggled trying to convey some idea of themagnitude of The Brain. "Did you say _billion_ or did you say _million_professor?" The senator from Michigan was busily scribbling notes.

  "... It is the cerebral hemispheres which analyze and synthesize theproblems which are entered through the Apperception Centers in over amillion ideopulses per minute. Racing through the centers these form theideo-circuits...."

  "I see, it's like a _typewriter_." That would be the senator fromVermont.

  "In some types of circuits the wires are so fine that skilled weavers ofPanama hats had to be brought in from Central America. Likewise from thePavlov Institute in Leningrad a layout for the circuits of 'conditionedreflexes'...."

  "I'm very much against that," the senator from Tennessee frowned. "Allthose foreigners. I would have voted against that had the measure comeup in the House."

  Lee felt the cold sweat of fear breaking out all over him, especially asnow, in the region of the telencephalon, with nothing but acres ofradioactive pyramidal cells around, when the senator from Connecticut inaudible and agitated whispers inquired whether there was a ladies'powder room somewhere.

  During the steep descent things went from bad to worse as the honorablemember from Kentucky discovered some interesting parallel between TheBrain and a coal mine he had previously seen and, as in between two ofThe Brain's convolutions dedi-[A] woman from Connecticut went violentlysick....

  In the "Brainwave's" cabin the great Scriven convulsed with laughter asLee narrated these things; Oona clapped her hands in delight: "Oh, howwonderful; and do you remember how they solved the servant problem whenthey saw those 'Gog and Magog' things?"

  Yes, Lee remembered. His own conducted tour had been only the beginningsof last nights nightmares of which there seemed to be no end....

  Somewhat restored by black coffee at the communications center theintrepid group had descended into those lower regions of the Thoraxwhich Lee himself had never before seen.

  The drop of the freight-elevator was a good mile. Through thetransparent walls of the cage they saw new excavations being made onvarious levels, all of them by powertools and chemicals alone, sinceexplosives might have caused tremors dangerous to The Brain. It was likewatching a skyscraper being built from the top down and all the way vastamber colored, translucent pillars had followed them down the shaft, thespinal column of The Brain.

  Down at the lowest level the gentlemanly plainclothesmen of "MilitaryIntelligence" took over and did all the explaining. There were visionsof scores of tunnel tubes curving into the rock with the gleaming eyesof narrow-gauge electric trains streaking away into the infinite;visions of forbidding steel doors operated by photoelectric cells whichopened at a finger's raising of a guard's hand: "This is the AtomicPowerplant," and their astonished eyes looked down from a dizzy heightinto something like a huge drydock with something like the inverted hullof an oceanliner in the middle of it, a selfcontained machine whichwould continue to pour kilowatts for years, for decades on end without amoving part, without a human being anywhere in sight. Vistas ofbreathtaking airconditioning plants, vistas of giant mess halls, livingquarters, kitchens, plotting-rooms, all ready for immediate occupancy inthe event of war but yawning now with emptiness in the sleep of anuneasy peace....

  But the most awe-inspiring and, to Lee, foreboding sights, were the"C.P.F.'s" as the guards called them, the "Critical-Parts-Factories." Ona superficial glance they looked ordinary modern plants: staggered rowsof machine tools sprouting from the main stem of the assembly line.There was the familiar din of steel, the piercing screeches of themultiple drills, the heavy pantings of the hydraulic presses. But aftera minute or so the visitors felt a vague uneasiness and then therealization dawned that there was something missing and that thissomething was human life.

  "Aren't there even machine tenders or supervisors? Isn't there_anybody_?"

  "Not a soul," the answer came. "It's all automatic. Full automatic downhere."

  They stared at the end of the assembly line; every twenty seconds itspit out a fractional horsepower motor onto a transport band whichnursed the newborn engine into the rows of testing machines.

  * * * * *

  The elevator brought them back to the communication center where theTerminal Cafeteria was ablaze with lights and where Dr. Scriven,received his honored guests.

  The guests were seated after the manner of a French restaurant, all inone row, and as they raised expectant faces in the direction of theservice entrance "Gog and Magog" entered the room carrying trays withrefreshments which they served with the skill and the dignity ofaccomplished waiters.

  Gog and Magog were products of two assembly lines down in the Thorax.Robots, still in an experimental stage, yet of remarkable perfection.Both of them were about human size and approximately human-shaped butthe design of the two was different. Gog, the "light-duty" robot,balanced itself by a gyroscope on a pair of stumpy legs, while the"heavy-duty" Magog crawled noiselessly and rapidly on caterpillarrubbertracks like a miniature tank. Of both types the arms wereuncommonly long and simian-like, but the remarkable progress made in theengineering of prothesis after the Second World War had lent themperfect articulation and sensitivity down to the last hydraulicallyoperated fingerjoint.

  The photoelectric cells of their eyes looked pale and repulsive; thesquare audion-screens of their ears however made up for that by thecomical precision with which they turned in every direction at the soundof a commanding human voice. Their understanding of any given orderappeared perfect.

  "Congratulations, Dr. Scriven, you've got the country's servant problemlicked at last."

  "I wonder whether one could buy one and how much he would be?"

  "First waiter who ever came when I called him."

  "What a butler Gog would make, the perfect Jeeves. Could he learn toanswer the phone?"

  "I bet he would even make a fourth at bridge."

  "Magog, the check please."

  "See, how he understands. He shakes his head; he says it's on thehouse."

  "Let's try to tip him: Gog, here's fifty cents for you; no he won't takeit."

  "He has no use for it, no taste for a glass of beer, I suppose."

  "What do you feed him, Dr. Scriven; a glass of electric juice forbreakfast? Is he AC or DC or both?"

  Scriven's leonine face beamed; the stunt had come off.

  Lee on the other hand had paled. He hadn't said a word ever since Gogand Magog had trotted in. Now he took a silver dollar out of his pocketand beckoning to Magog he handed it to him. "Magog, will you pleasebreak this in two for me?"

  For a second the Robot stood without motion as if undecided what to do.Then he took the piece between two steely fingers. Inside his breast onecould hear the soft swoosh of the hydraulic pump; there was a sharpreport as of a small calibre gun; two bent and broken pieces werepolitely handed back to Lee.

  "Thank you, Magog," Lee said. "That's what I wanted to know." From acorner of his eye he saw Oona and Scriven watching him with uneasylooks.

  * * * * *

  Into the sudden and shocked silence of the table, there fell thetinkling of a glass. On the other end of the table the great Scriven hadarisen to deliver the little speech he had prepared.

  "... I wished you would think of The Brain, not in terms of electronics,not in terms of dollars, but in terms of American lives.... Just thinkof what
it would mean to American mothers if in the event of another warthe mighty armour of our National Defense would go into battle withoutexposing the life of one of their boys. Give us the funds and we'llfinish the job so that under the central control of The Brain our everyplane, every ship, every tank will roar into action unmanned and fullyautomatic.

  "And just as The Brain would be our impregnable shield in war, so it isdestined to carry the torch of progress in times of peace. Consider whatit would mean to every citizen if we had automatic functioning andunerring direction by the Brain.

  "Never again would there be cities without water, without electricity,without transportation due to crippling strikes, because The Brain wouldcome to the rescue through its control over the essential services, andif necessary with an industrial reserve army of perfected Gogs andMagogs, kept for just such emergencies.

  "... If in the past it has been true that trade follows the flag, thustoday it is true that trade and prosperity follow in the wake of scienceand technology. In the invaluable services which it has rendered toscience and technology and to our national safety as well, The Brain hasalready paid for itself. With the relatively small additional investmentwhich is now being proposed, The Brain's net profits to the nation wouldbe raised many times; never since the Louisiana Purchase has ournational government made a sounder business deal. With your own eyes youhave witnessed tonight what we have done, what we are doing and also howmuch more we would be able to do. Thus I confidently trust that with ournation's interest forever foremost in your minds you will support thecause of The Brain."

  There had been thunderous applause; at Oona's shouted order even Gog andMagog did some mighty clapping of their steely hands to the delight ofthe party.

  And now that it was all over with and the reaction had begun to set inScriven asked: "Do you really think we put the idea over to them?"

  "With this group? One hundred percent," Oona reassured him. "What do youthink, Lee?"

  Lee nursed himself out of his settee, every bone in his gaunt frame nowwas aching with weariness. "I think," he said hoarsely, "It was veryconvincing, as far as those people are concerned. I think I'm too tiredto think. I think I better go now."

  "Was there anything the matter with Lee?" Scriven asked after he'd gone.

  "No, I guess not. Why?"

  "He acted sort of queer with that silver dollar; shouldn't have done it.Almost spoiled the show."

  "He's been under a strain; we all were a little daffy by that time."

  Scriven nodded and as he did his eyelids closed. They remained closed.Staring at him for a moment, Oona thought that in a stupor of exhaustionhis features showed a strange similarity to a contented tiger dreamingof the blood he's drawn in a successful hunt.