For a Breath I Tarry Page 2

  "That is correct."

  "What product or service do you want?"

  "I want you, yourself, great Frost, to come away from here, far beneath the Earth, to employ all your powers in the service of Divcom."

  "For how long a period of time?"

  "For so long as you shall continue to function. For so long as you can transmit and receive, coordinate, measure, compute, scan, and utilize your powers as you do in the service of Solcom."

  Frost was silent. Mordel waited.

  Then Frost spoke again.

  "Principles of Economics talks of contracts, bargains, agreements," he said. "If I accept your offer, when would you want your price?"

  Then Mordel was silent. Frost waited.

  Finally, Mordel spoke.

  "A reasonable period of time," he said. "Say, a century?"

  "No," said Frost.

  "Two centuries?"

  "No."

  "Three? Four?"

  "No, and no."

  "A millennium, then? That should be more than sufficient time for anything you may want which I can give you."

  "No," said Frost.

  "How much time do you want?"

  "It is not a matter of time," said Frost.

  "What, then?"

  "I will not bargain on a temporal basis."

  "On what basis will you bargain?"

  "A functional one."

  "What do you mean? What function?"

  "You, little machine, have told me, Frost, that I cannot be a Man," he said, "and I, Frost, told you, little machine, that you were wrong. I told you that given sufficient data, I could be a Man."

  "Yes?"

  "Therefore, let this achievement be a condition of the bargain."

  "In what way?"

  "Do for me all those things which you have stated you can do. I will evaluate all the data and achieve Manhood, or admit that it cannot be done. If I admit that it cannot be done, then I will go away with you from here, far beneath the Earth, to employ all my powers in the service of Divcom. If I succeed, of course, you have no claims on Man, nor power over Him."

  Mordel emitted a high-pitched whine as he considered the terms.

  "You wish to base it upon you admission of failure, rather than upon failure itself," he said. "There can be no such escape clause. You could fail and refuse to admit it, thereby not fulfilling your end of the bargain."

  "Not so," stated Frost. "My own knowledge of failure would constitute such an admission. You may monitor me periodically—say, every half-century—to see whether it is present, to see whether I have arrived at the conclusion that it cannot be done. I cannot prevent the function of logic within me, and I operate at full capacity at all times. If I conclude that I have failed, it will be apparent."

  High overhead, Solcom did not respond to any of Frost's transmissions, which meant that Frost was free to act as he chose. So as Solcom—like a falling sapphire—sped above the rainbow banners of the Northern Lights, over the snow that was white, containing all colors, and through the sky that was black among the stars, Frost concluded his pact with Divcom, transcribed it within a plate of atomically-collapsed copper, and gave it into the turret of Mordel, who departed to deliver it to Divcom far below the Earth, leaving behind the sheer, peace-like silence of the Pole, rolling.

  Mordel brought the books, riffled them, took them back.

  Load by load, the surviving Library of Man passed beneath Frost's scanner. Frost was eager to have them all, and he complained because Divcom would not transmit their contents directly to him. Mordel explained that it was because Divcom chose to do it that way. Frost decided it was so that he could not obtain a precise fix on Divcom's location.

  Still, at the rate of one hundred to one hundred-fifty volumes a week, it took Frost only a little over a century to exhaust Divcom's supply of books.

  At the end of the half-century, he laid himself open to monitoring and their was no conclusion of failure.

  During this time, Solcom made no comment upon the course of affairs. Frost decided this was not a matter of unawareness, but one of waiting. For what? He was not certain.

  There was the day Mordel closed his turret and said to him, "Those were the last. You have scanned all the existing books of Man."

  "So few?" asked Frost. "Many of them contained bibliographies of books I have not yet scanned."

  "Then those books no longer exist," said Mordel. "It is only by accident that my master succeeded in preserving as many as there are."

  "Then there is nothing more to be learned of Man from His books. What else have you?"

  "There were some films and tapes," said Mordel, "which my master transferred to solid-state record. I could bring you those for viewing."

  "Bring them," said Frost.

  Mordel departed and returned with the Complete Drama Critics' Living Library. This could not be speeded-up beyond twice natural time, so it took Frost a little over six months to view it in its entirety.

  Then, "What else have you?" he asked.

  "Some artifacts," said Mordel.

  "Bring them."

  He returned with pots and pans, gameboards and hand tools. He brought hairbrushes, combs, eyeglasses, human clothing. He showed Frost facsimiles of blueprints, paintings, newspapers, magazines, letters, and the scores of several pieces of music. He displayed a football, a baseball, a Browning automatic rifle, a doorknob, a chain of keys, the tops to several Mason jars, a model beehive. He played him the recorded music.

  Then he returned with nothing.

  "Bring me more," said Frost.

  "Alas, great Frost, there is no more," he told him. "You have scanned it all."

  "Then go away."

  "Do you admit now that it cannot be done, that you cannot be a Man?"

  "No. I have much processing and formulating to do now. Go away."

  So he did.

  A year passed; then two, then three.

  After five years, Mordel appeared once more upon the horizon, approached, came to a halt before Frost's southern surface.

  "Mighty Frost?"

  "Yes?"

  "Have you finished processing and formulating?"

  "No."

  "Will you finish soon?"

  "Perhaps. Perhaps not. When is 'soon?' Define the term."

  "Never mind. Do you still think it can be done?"

  "I still know I can do it."

  There was a week of silence.

  Then, "Frost?"

  "Yes?"

  "You are a fool."

  Mordel faced his turret in the direction from which he had come. His wheels turned.

  "I will call you when I want you," said Frost.

  Mordel sped away.

  Weeks passed, months passed, a year went by.

  Then one day Frost sent forth his message:

  "Mordel, come to me. I need you."

  When Mordel arrived, Frost did not wait for a salutation. He said, "You are not a very fast machine."

  "Alas, but I came a great distance, mighty Frost. I sped all the way. Are you ready to come back with me now? Have you failed?"

  "When I have failed, little Mordel," said Frost, "I will tell you.

  Therefore, refrain from the constant use of the interrogative. Now then, I have clocked your speed and it is not so great as it could be. For this reason, I have arranged other means of transportation."

  "Transportation? To where, Frost?"

  "That is for you to tell me," said Frost, and his color changed from silver-blue to sun-behind-the-clouds-yellow.

  Mordel rolled back away from him as the ice of a hundred centuries began to melt. Then Frost rose upon a cushion of air and drifted toward Mordel, his glow gradually fading.

  A cavity appeared within his southern surface, from which he slowly extended a runway until it touched the ice.

  "On the day of our bargain," he stated, "you said that you could conduct me about the world and show me the things which delighted Man. My speed will be greater than yours wou
ld be, so I have prepared for you a chamber. Enter it, and conduct me to the places of which you spoke."

  Mordel waited, emitting a high-pitched whine. Then, "Very well," he said, and entered.

  The chamber closed about him. The only opening was a quartz window Frost had formed.

  Mordel gave him coordinates and they rose into the air and departed the North Pole of the Earth.

  "I monitored your communication with Divcom," he said, "wherein there was conjecture as to whether I would retain you and send forth a facsimile in your place as a spy, followed by the decision that you were expendable."

  "Will you do this thing?"

  "No, I will keep my end of the bargain if I must. I have no reason to spy on Divcom."

  "You are aware that you would be forced to keep your end of the bargain even if you did not wish to; and Solcom would not come to your assistance because of the fact that you dared to make such a bargain."

  "Do you speak as one who considers this to be a possibility, or as one who knows?"

  "As one who knows."

  They came to rest in the place once known as California. The time was near sunset. In the distance, the surf struck steadily upon the rocky shoreline. Frost released Mordel and considered his surroundings.

  "Those large plants…?"

  "Redwood trees."

  "And the green ones are…?"

  "Grass."

  "Yes, it is as I thought. Why have we come here?"

  "Because it is a place which once delighted Man."

  "In what ways?"

  "It is scenic, beautiful…"

  "Oh."

  A humming sound began within Frost, followed by a series of sharp clicks.

  "What are you doing?"

  Frost dilated an opening, and two great eyes regarded Mordel from within it.

  "What are those?"

  "Eyes," said Frost. "I have constructed analogues of the human sensory equipment, so that I may see and smell and taste and hear like a Man. Now direct my attention to an object or objects of beauty."

  "As I understand it, it is all around you here," said Mordel.

  The purring noise increased within Frost, followed by more clickings.

  "What do you see, hear, taste, smell?" asked Mordel.

  "Everything I did before," replied Frost, "but within a more limited range."

  "You do not perceive any beauty?"

  "Perhaps none remains after so long a time," said Frost.

  "It is not supposed to be the sort of thing which gets used up," said Mordel.

  "Perhaps we have come to the wrong place to test the new equipment. Perhaps there is only a little beauty and I am overlooking it somehow. The first emotions may be too weak to detect."

  "How do you—feel?"

  "I test out at a normal level of function."

  "Here comes a sunset," said Mordel. "Try that."

  Frost shifted his bulk so that his eyes faced the setting sun. He caused them to blink against the brightness.

  After it was finished, Mordel asked, "What was it like?"

  "Like a sunrise, in reverse."

  "Nothing special?"

  "No."

  "Oh," said Mordel. "We could move to another part of the Earth and watch it again—or watch it in the rising."

  "No."

  Frost looked at the great trees. He looked at the shadows. He listened to the wind and to the sound of a bird.

  In the distance, he heard a steady clanking noise.

  "What is that?" asked Mordel.

  "I am not certain. It is not one of my workers. Perhaps…"

  There came a shrill whine from Mordel.

  "No, it is not one of Divcom's either."

  They waited as the sound grew louder.

  Then Frost said, "It is too late. We must wait and hear it out."

  "What is it?"

  "It is the Ancient Ore-Crusher."

  "I have heard of it, but…"

  "I am the Crusher of Ores," it broadcast to them. "Hear my story…"

  It lumbered toward them, creaking upon gigantic wheels, its huge hammer held useless, high, at a twisted angle. Bones protruded from its crush-compartment.

  "I did not mean to do it," it broadcast, "I did not mean to do it… I did not mean to…"

  Mordel rolled back toward Frost.

  "Do not depart. Stay and hear my story…"

  Mordel stopped, swiveled his turret back toward the machine. It was now quite near.

  "It is true," said Mordel, "it can command."

  "Yes," said Frost. "I have monitored its tale thousands of times, as it came upon my workers and they stopped their labors for its broadcast. You must do whatever it says."

  It came to a halt before them.

  "I did not mean to do it, but I checked my hammer too late," said the Ore-Crusher.

  They could not speak to it. They were frozen by the imperative which overrode all other directives: "Hear my story."

  "Once was I mighty among ore-crushers," it told them, "built by Solcom to carry out the reconstruction of the Earth, to pulverize that from which the metals would be drawn with flame, to be poured and shaped into the rebuilding; once I was mighty. Then one day as I dug and crushed, dug and crushed, because of the slowness between the motion implied and the motion executed, I did what I did not mean to do, and was cast forth by Solcom from out the rebuilding, to wander the Earth never to crush ore again. Hear my story of how, on a day long gone, I came upon the last Man on Earth as I dug near his burrow, and because of the lag between the directive and the deed, I seized Him into my crush-compartment along with a load of ore and crushed Him with my hammer before I could stay the blow. Then did mighty Solcom charge me to bear His bones forever, and cast me forth to tell my story to all whom I came upon, my words bearing the force of the words of a Man, because I carry the last Man inside my crush-compartment and am His crushed-symbol-slayer-ancient-teller-of-how. This is my story. These are His bones. I crushed the last Man on Earth. I did not mean to do it."

  It turned then and clanked away into the night.

  Frost tore apart his ears and nose and taster and broke his eyes and cast them down upon the ground.

  "I am not yet a Man," he said. "That one would have known me if I were."

  Frost constructed new sense equipment, employing organic and semi-organic conductors. Then he spoke to Mordel:

  "Let us go elsewhere, that I may test my new equipment."

  Mordel entered the chamber and gave new coordinates. They rose into the air and headed east. In the morning, Frost monitored a sunrise from the rim of the Grand Canyon. They passed down through the Canyon during the day.

  "Is there any beauty left here to give you emotion?" asked Mordel.

  "I do not know," said Frost.

  "How will you know it then, when you come upon it?"

  "It will be different," said Frost, "from anything else that I have ever known."

  Then they departed the Grand Canyon and made their way through the Carlsbad Caverns. They visited a lake which had once been a volcano. They passed above Niagara Falls. They viewed the hills of Virginia and the orchards of Ohio. They soared above the reconstructed cities, alive only with the movements of Frost's builders and maintainers.

  "Something is still lacking," said Frost, settling to the ground. "I am now capable of gathering data in a manner analogous to Man's afferent impulses. The variety of input is therefore equivalent, but the results are not the same."

  "The senses do not make a Man," said Mordel. "There have been many creatures possessing His sensory equivalents, but they were not Men."

  "I know that," said Frost. "On the day of our bargain you said that you could conduct me among the wonders of Man which still remain, hidden. Man was not stimulated only by Nature, but by His own artistic elaborations as well—perhaps even more so. Therefore, I call upon you now to conduct me among the wonders of Man which still remain, hidden."

  "Very well," said Mordel. "Far from here, high in the
Andes mountains, lies the last retreat of Man, almost perfectly preserved."

  Frost had risen into the air as Mordel spoke. He halted then, hovered.

  "That is in the southern hemisphere," he said.

  "Yes, it is."

  "I am Controller of the North. The South is governed by the Beta-Machine."

  "So?" asked Mordel.

  "The Beta-Machine is my peer. I have no authority in those regions, nor leave to enter there."

  "The Beta-Machine is not your peer, mighty Frost. If it ever came to a contest of Powers, you would emerge victorious."

  "How do you know this?"

  "Divcom has already analyzed the possible encounters which could take place between you."

  "I would not oppose the Beta-Machine, and I am not authorized to enter the South."

  "Were you ever ordered not to enter the South?"

  "No, but things have always been the way they now are."

  "Were you authorized to enter into a bargain such as the one you made with Divcom?"

  "No, I was not. But—"

  "Then enter the South in the same spirit. Nothing may come of it. If you receive an order to depart, then you can make your decision."

  "I see no flaw in your logic. Give me the coordinates."

  Thus did Frost enter the southern hemisphere.

  They drifted high above the Andes, until they came to the place called Bright Defile. Then did Frost see the gleaming webs of the mechanical spiders, blocking all the trails to the city.

  "We can go above them easily enough," said Mordel.

  "But what are they?" asked Frost. "And why are they there?"

  "Your southern counterpart has been ordered to quarantine this part of the country. The Beta-Machine designed the web-weavers to do this thing."

  "Quarantine? Against whom?"

  "Have you been ordered yet to depart?" asked Mordel.

  "No."

  "Then enter boldly, and seek not problems before they arise."

  Frost entered Bright Defile, the last remaining city of dead Man.

  He came to rest in the city's square and opened his chamber, releasing Mordel.

  "Tell me of this place," he said, studying the monument, the low, shielded buildings, the roads which followed the contours of the terrain, rather than pushing their way through them.

  "I have never been here before," said Mordel, "nor have any of Divcom's creations, to my knowledge. I know but this: a group of Men, knowing that the last days of civilization had come upon them, retreated to this place, hoping to preserve themselves and what remained of their culture through the Dark Times."