THE CYBERENE By Rog Phillips Somewhere in the far future a diabolical brain plotted the enslavement of mankind. But to do that a history had to be changed--ours! [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy September 1953 Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.] "Victor!" Her voice shattered the cathedral silence, going the full four hundred and fifty foot perimeter of the fourteen foot wide floor that encircled the case of the _Brain_. The echo rebounded from the maze of ladders and catwalks that went up and up until they were lost to view where the fifteen foot thick outer wall began its upward slope to form the giant dome. The silence returned; as motionless as the needles on the instrument panels resting on their zero pegs, unactivated; as enduring in essence as the atom proof concrete dome built to last--as long as the Earth itself. Then--a sound answered. A faint sound. Footsteps. Movement appeared through the grillwork of steel catwalks above. Trousered legs. A hand sliding along a railing of chrome pipe. More rapid steps as the man descended a steep stair well. Sharper as the man reached the marble floor. Dead video camera eyes let his passage go unregistered. Sensitive quartz crystals inside glistening microphone shells vibrated to the sound of his footsteps, his soft breathing, sending feeble currents along wires--to dead amplifying circuits. "What is it, Ethel?" Dr. Victor Glassman said to his wife. "Don't you realize it's almost an hour past your lunch time?" she chided. "Why do you come in here anyway? The Brain was completed six months ago. It won't run away--and it won't come to life until someone finds the proper chemical for the nerve fluid to make it work. My goodness. Eight hundred and fifty million dollars sitting idle in here. It gives me gooseflesh. Now you come and eat your lunch so I can get the dishes out of the way. I'm going to be busy the rest of the afternoon getting ready for the crowd--or did you forget that your ten scientists are invited to dinner this evening?" "Of course not, Ethel," he said, putting his arm around her waist. He pulled her around so they were side by side, looking upward into the maze of catwalks, seeing the marble panels of the wall that served as a covering for the huge man-made brain. "_You_ know why I come in here," he said. "I like the feel. The sleeping giant. Not sleeping, really. Just not born yet. Not living yet. Someday soon that will change. The first non-human...." "I understand, Victor," Ethel said softly. "It scares me. I know it will be just like a human mind--same principles of thought--even if it will be housed in so vast a brain. But how much do we know of the capabilities of the _human_ brain? I'm afraid."