Through ore, rock, and soil they sped; straight to the bodies of all
the men aboard one selected vessel of the Terrestrials. As each group
of beams struck its mark one of the crew stiffened momentarily, then
settled back, apparently unchanged and unharmed. But the victim was
changed and harmed, and in an awful and hideous fashion.
Every motor and sensory nerve trunk had been severed and tapped by
the beams of the thinkers. Each crew member's organs of sense now
transmitted impulses, not to his own brain, but to the mechanical brain
of a thinker. It was the thinker's brain, not his own, that now sent
out the stimuli which activated his every voluntary muscle.
Soon a pit yawned beneath the doomed ship's bulging side. Her sealed
air-locks opened, and four hundred and ten automatons, with their
controllers and other mechanisms, entered her and concealed themselves
in various pre-selected rooms.
And thus the _Dresden_ took off with her sister-ships--ostensibly
and even to television inspection a unit of the Fleet; actually that
Fleet's bitterest and most implacable foe. And in a doubly ray-proofed
compartment the ten thinkers continued their work, without rest or
intermission, upon a mechanism even more astoundingly complex than any
theretofore attempted by their soulless and ultra-scientific clan.
CHAPTER II
_Hater of the Metal Men_
Ferdinand Stone, physicist extraordinary, hated the robot men of
metal scientifically; and, if such an emotion can be so described,
dispassionately. Twenty years before this story opens--in 2991, to be
exact--he had realized that the automatons were beyond control and that
in the inevitable struggle for supremacy man, weak as he then was and
unprepared, would surely lose.
Therefore, knowing that knowledge is power, he had set himself to the
task of learning everything that there was to know about the enemy
of mankind. He schooled himself to think as the automatons thought;
emotionlessly, coldly, precisely. He lived as did they; with ascetic
rigor. To all intents and purposes he became one of them.
Eventually he found the band of frequencies upon which they
communicated, and was perhaps the only human being ever to master their
mathematico-symbolic language; but he confided in no one. He could
trust no human brain except his own to resist the prying forces of
the machines. He drifted from job to position to situation and back to
job, because he had very little interest in whatever it was that he was
supposed to be doing at the time--his real attention was always fixed
upon the affairs of the creatures of metal.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account