The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Genius, by Con Pederson and Paul Orban
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: The Genius
Author: Con Pederson
Paul Orban
Release Date: June 17, 2010 [EBook #32861]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENIUS ***
Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
[Transcriber Note: This etext was produced from IF Worlds of Science Fiction May 1954. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
Sethos entered the park. Brown autumn leaves crumpled sharply beneath his feet, the green grass sank. The sun was nearly gone, and the last of the children passed him, chattering as they faded into the twilight. Only one other person remained in the park, and she was waiting for Sethos.
"Ela," he said. "Have you been here long?"
She touched his cheek with hers in greeting.
"Not at all. I'm in no hurry." She handed him a cigarette as they walked together, then lit her own and breathed deeply of the scented fumes. "Nothing special about Matya's parties—unless she has that intriguing man there again. What's his name? You know—"
"You must mean Andian, the sculptor. The man who built North Square, to hear him talk. What about him?"
Ela laughed. "He'd never heard of my fluid porcelain. Isn't that silly? After everyone in West has been overwhelmed with the color effects, he turns up, a perfect innocent. I showed him pliables."
Smiling, Sethos recalled it was Ela's enthusiasm that had first attracted him, as it had most of the males in their clique. Then too, she was beautiful, with startling gold hair and a delicate round face that always aroused flattery. Tonight he felt especially aware of her beside him, and the quick beat of her sandals on the pavement.
The lights of Matya's hillhouse gleamed before them, enticing all who wandered through West Park this evening. The party had started, as parties always did, at that unknown instant shortly before the first guest's arrival. It was thriving now, for the colors behind the contoured glass facade throbbed as though underwater, and people sat along the terraced hillside, talking and inhaling the elegant smoke from smoldering chalices that stood around the entrance.
They climbed the flagstone path toward the low, pale yellow building. Luxuriant plants grew thick along the walls, creating a jungle that extended even to the inner rooms of the house.
"Sethos, my friend!" said an unsteady voice.
The old man was seated in shadow by the house, a glass of sparkling liquor on the arm of his chair. Against the green background of giant plants, his frail, pink face resembled a huge bud that would open when daylight came.
"How are you, Paton?" Sethos asked warmly. "I remember you from somewhere in East. It must be years.... Weren't you gardening with Ana? Of course—developing a perfect Lyocanthia. What a welcome sight you are among these woodcutters!"
"You're a fellow greensman now, they say," beamed Paton happily, seizing his glass and leaning forward. "Such an honor to us. You work with succulents—right?"
Sethos smiled. He watched Ela disappear into the interior of the sprawling hillhouse, heard her distant laugh become part of the machinery of voices. People drifted to and fro across the broad lawns.
"Yes," answered Sethos, drawing up a chair. "Succulents are my latest joy. One must specialize. I like to work with growing things, yet I'd feel like a mechanoid if I got involved in crystal sculpture, like my charming Ela there."
"Perhaps—but who else gets such color, starts so many new directions as she? My flowers blush before her crystals." Paton's glass was empty, and with an automatic gesture, Sethos refilled it from a tall flask standing nearby, and poured one for himself.
"Speaking of mechanoids," Paton continued genially, "I had a most stimulating conversation with Mr. First himself a few days ago. He came to see me."
Sethos blinked. That was unusual—mechanoids seldom mingled with humans, especially those of the primary levels.
"He's very intelligent about flowers," Paton went on, waving his glass in animation. "We talked about common hedge roses. Did you know he raises them?"
"Amazing!" Sethos drank deeply of the fiery liquor. Now the drifting plumes of smoke from the chalices performed fantasies with his vision, and his body felt light again, as it had so often in the evenings of the past few years.
"Of course I was flattered, having a visit from the most prime mechanoid. He could have called me, but they are somewhat conscious of being mechanical as it is, and try to be cordial as possible."
Sethos leaned forward eagerly. "Did he say anything about—their activities?"
"Well, that's not too interesting to me, because it's always just one change after another outside. He did say there is a new earth-bridge between the continents. Doesn't it seem incredible that they should want to go to all that trouble? But then, that's a mechanoid for you. Always making things bigger. That's why I enjoy seeing Mr. First take up flowers. Maybe he sees things our way himself."
"I don't suppose you've ever been out there, have you?"
"Out there? You mean, where the mechanoids live? Why, now that you mention it, I believe I was, once. But a long time ago—I must have been still living with my elders. It's not very enjoyable. Too big to call home, after all." With a short laugh, Paton emptied his glass again.
Sethos frowned. The idea that the world was so large fascinated him. As his contemporaries and their ancestors for unknown generations, Sethos had passed from dreamy childhood directly into the dream of adult life. He could barely recall the days of education, when drugged smoke and liquor were withheld, and life consisted of a different fairy world. How he had loved the gay mechanoid nurses, with their tinkling arms and bright colors! But of their world, the vast reaches of the planet outside the tiny circle of men, he knew very little. One fact was plain to him: it was unthinkably huge.
Sudden music poured from the house, gay and fast.
"Ha! The dancers!" exclaimed Paton, seeing the rows of gyrating figures beyond a pink translucent wall. "You must excuse me. I promised Matya I would watch her dance tonight."
Paton hurried away, leaving Sethos to wander along the dimly lighted terrace. The party had lightened his senses as expected, yet his thoughts were heavy. He remembered the library, and the strange legends in the books. Legends of ancient cities of men, over all the earth, and of the prehistoric machines used by men to travel great distances. And always in the old legends men were very much like the industrious mechanoids—ever building, ever moving....
How he wished he might live in those days! He knew the pleasure of creating, for he had been acclaimed a genius in music before he was twenty, and his mastery of painting and architecture had won the admiration of all the human zone. Still, he was not satisfied, and often lay awake in the early hours of morning after a stirring party, dreaming of those long-gone days of empire, when he could have ridden with the ancients through the sky on their winged craft, see their cities rise toward the clouds, experience the exciting pace of that life. What remarkable ambitions they must have had!
As Sethos reached the end of the terrace, he was hailed by a garmenter named Brin, standing with a group of men around a light projector. The colors sprayed up about their faces, matching the gaudy orange of Brin's trousers and the blue of his little plumed hat.
"Greetings, Sethos! How are the crops up North? Still live with Ela?"
"They're fine, Brin. Live with Ela? No more than anyone else these days."
Brin chuckled. "A neat remark, Seth—I must remember it to your true love the next time I have reason to see her."
The men laughed appreciatively, the colors wheeling in rhythm across their grinning faces.
Suddenly three young women converged on the group, having spied Sethos from inside.
"Oh, Sethos!" one cried. "How wonderful you're here!"
"Are you still composing that magnificent diphonic music?" asked another breathlessly.
Grimly, he realized he was trapped again. Every party brought on something like this. How could he explain to these well-meaning girls that he was trying to forget the past, that it bored him, that his music was trite and his painting insipid? Still they would clamor for it.
"Excuse me," muttered Sethos, walking away. His ears rang with their adulation, but it always sickened him. Efforts he considered nothing at all were worshiped by the others. It was demoralizing.
Following the path around the corner, he descended from the noise of the house, opening his mouth and inhaling the cool night air as though to cleanse his lungs. He was growing extremely weary of the people at parties.
From here he could see the town laid out below, the four directions of it, and he tried to guess how many times he had walked each street one end to the other, then turned around and walked back, simply because no one ever considered going straight on.
At that moment a tall, lean man approached him. He was a stranger, with a bearing Sethos did not recognize.
"How do you do, Sethos," he said softly. "I understand you are the most accomplished of your group. May I ask a few questions?"
Someone from across town, obviously. He knew the type—they traveled between the cliques, learning of new trends and ideas to pirate. He had done it once himself.
"I'm sorry. I don't have any new goodies for your side of town. Why don't you go in and pester Brin? He's always easy to tap."
"You misjudge me. I'm not interested in stealing ideas."
"I know, I know. But I'm not for sale anyway."
Angered, Sethos turned and strode down the hill. The nerve of these apprentices, he thought. Some day they'll ask for autographed samples.
He stopped. A small autocar had caught his attention. On a wild impulse, he opened the door. "Good evening, little servant," he said gently.
The desire to move came on him more strongly now. Stooping, he got in, the seat cushions adjusting automatically to his posture, and a voice somewhere in the drive panel said, "Direction, please."
Yes—where to? He didn't know. But he had to get away.
"Straight ahead," he ordered, hoping the machine would make the best of it.
As he rode, he wondered desperately what was wrong with him. He was easily the most talented of men, yet he was unhappy. Perhaps it was because they all treated him so adoringly that he was tired of them. He saw nowhere that drive which was so strong in him, the urge to go on to bigger things. He had sought it in his friends many times before, but gave up when no one knew what he meant. Even as a child his elders said he should have been born a mechanoid. It was a jest that was deathly true.
Trees flashed by, but as Sethos watched, they slowed in their flight, and he realized the car was stopping.
"I'm sorry, this is zone," said the car. "I can go no further. Redirection, or shall I cruise at random?"
He started to affirm, but something stopped him.
Barely visible ahead were the first low, dark buildings of the mechanoid world.
"No," he answered. "I'm getting out here."
He left the car, walking forward rapidly until the headlights no longer lighted his path. The trees began to thin out, and his feet struck concrete. He knew he was beyond the general limits of human activity.
Fear came, now that he was in that land where men never walked. The buildings loomed around him, forbidding and dark. Further down the street the lights began, spaced at intervals on the walls.
"Your attention, please," said a voice at his shoulder. He recoiled, noticing for the first time a small yellow mechanoid rolling silently beside him. Its face screen watched him steadily.
"May I remind you that this is no longer the human zone? I can whistle an autocar for you, if you wish."
Sethos felt a twinge of terror as he said, "No, thank you," and continued to walk.
Now it will begin, he thought. They'll be on me every block. Turn back. No, don't give up now. What can I lose? They won't hurt me—it's just a matter of regulation. They can't do anything to me for disobedience.
Looking up, he saw stars between the clouds. For a moment he could imagine that perhaps, once upon a time, men must have longed to reach out in some way across the tremendous distance to the stars. It was a strange sensation, this longing for something obviously unattainable.
"Hello," said another voice. "Are you lost?"
Sethos glanced at the new figure that accompanied him. It was human in shape, but the fact that it skated on rollers betrayed its nature.
"No. I'm ... just walking." His voice sounded small and guilty in the strange city.
"I see. For exercise?"
"No—I mean, not exactly. Well, I wanted to see what things were like outside our zone."
"Our course."
He won't stop me, Sethos thought with determination.
"Are you someone I should know?" he asked.
"Tenth level," the mechanoid replied, whirring sedately along beside him. "I was notified five minutes ago by a circuit walker. He said he offered to radio for a vehicle, but you did not wish to return."
"That's right." Sethos was nervous now, but maintained his even step. They had gone three blocks together, and still he would not slow down.
"Tell me, Mr. Tenth," Sethos said, trying to appear calm, "do people—often walk as I'm doing?"
"No, not often." Mr. Tenth took a step across a small puddle, then resumed skating.
"What happens if I get tired of walking?"
"I can direct you to Mr. Third's office, if you won't mind. He handles such things."
"And suppose I keep going?"
"You'll be followed by an autocar that will pick you up whenever you get tired."
"I intend to keep going," Sethos said, his teeth clenched.
"Very well." The mechanoid rolled away.
Sethos was entering the heart of the city. As far as he could see, the streets led off into the distance, with the gleaming lights that lined the buildings on either side diminishing until they merged at a far vanishing point.
How far does it go? he wondered, overwhelmed. Maybe if I go far enough, I'll find another community like our own, with men living in it! What a discovery that would be!
The low hanging clouds threw back the city's glow as far as he could see.
In the streets there were now several mechanoids, and their number increased as he went. Some were prime mechanoids, and resembled humans, rolling along the slower traffic lanes. Others were specialized workers, with longer arms or a number of arms, or with a truck body instead of legs. In fact, he saw every gradation between prime mechanoid and service vehicle. A bizarre parade!
A strange little apparatus with three wheels stopped before Sethos. "Your attention, please," it said. "You are now one-half mile from zone. The time is eleven-twenty p.m."
It occurred to him to watch for more tenth level mechanoids, and he saw three immediately, moving with him several yards away. An autocar cruised patiently.
"You are heading due west, on Street 751 West, at a speed of three and eight tenths miles per hour."
He saw the mechanoid with three wheels again, clocking him helpfully.
"Go away," he said.
His breath came hard; he was not used to walking such a distance.
How long can I last? If I keep going, I'll get hungry, and there won't be any food. They don't serve food out here. I can go until I drop from exhaustion. Then they'll take me back ... ask me if I want therapy.
He would refuse, then try it again later. He would try it day after day, probably, maybe getting a little further each time, and each time the mechanoids would patiently bring him back. On and on ... until he requested therapy....
"You are now one mile from zone," said his clocker. "The time is eleven-twenty-eight p.m."
The lights burned on into the distance. His legs were beginning to ache, but still the urge to cross the city was intense.
Maybe I'll go till I come to the ocean, he thought, sucking his breath. He had seen pictures of the ocean, that featureless blue with its concrete wall stretching away for thousands of miles.
A mechanoid stood on a corner, pointing back. So that was the next trick! Helpful, hinting.... He saw another, showing the way home.
He grew angry. It'll be a battle of nerves. They'll get nicer and nicer to me, until I can't stand it any more.
He concentrated on the lights, watching them pass one by one. That helped.
"Please note your return route."
He wondered if they had missed him at the party.
"There is an autocar at your service."
They would be preparing to eat the midnight meal, now, he remembered. The foodmakers would emerge from the kitchens and steal the show in their performance of taste appeal, warm odors, rare dishes....
"You are heading due west, on Street 751 West, at a speed of three and six tenths miles per hour."
It seemed cold. The mechanoids did not have thermostat stations, for they did not need them. He shivered slightly.
"You are now two miles from zone. The time is eleven-forty-five p.m."
The lights. Watch the lights.
"Please submit any request for information here."
He was panting, and his legs felt weak.
"There is an autocar...."
It was useless. Shutting his eyes tight, he stopped.
"All right. Let's go."
"Good evening," said Mr. Third.
Sethos seated himself in a contour chair in the center of the softly lighted office. From behind a curving desk, the brain of a slender metal cylinder observed the young man before it, checked by radio with five Mr. Tenths in the space of three and one fifth seconds as to the incident's details. Then Mr. Third folded his plastic arms and studied the short brown hair and dark eyes, the lean face and straight nose. Human features always fascinated him.
"I'm the human coordinator, Sethos. You know why you're here, don't you?"
Sethos nodded.
"Everyone learns that sometime," Mr. Third remarked. "In a certain number of births there is a percentage who are of higher intelligence. These are the restless ones whom we cannot discourage developmentally as easily as the others. They usually have to request therapy to adjust. So your case is not new."
Sethos lit a cigarette. He knew the story, but coming from a third level prime mechanoid it was all the more impressive.
"All right, I'm inquisitive. Why must we have therapy? Why do we have to stay in our zone?"
Mr. Third paused. He recognized challenge in the young man before him, and tried to estimate his will power.
"Did you know that there was on the earth, long ago, lower forms of life called animals? And that man once specified these and contained them in cages, from which they were denied exit?"
"I have read of their place in our biological evolution, but of course they are before the time of records."
"Well, we know very little about this practice or its use, but it's similar to what we have here, I believe. We mechanoids are not concerned with history, having only one structural law which was built into us by your ancestors, and it cannot be superseded. We must preserve man in the state he existed when we were created. We cannot impede his activities—unless they peril his stability, which we maintain precisely, as you know. It is impossible, you see, for us to allow man to change or expand. We have fulfilled that obligation, and continue to fulfill it. There are no alternatives whatever."
"I can't see what they had in mind when they made you that way. It sounds insane."
"Don't ask why—that is no longer important. We cannot question what is fundamental to all our operations, the factor present in every formula we must work. Our mechanoid civilization is gigantic, by your standards, but it is flawless. Once set in motion, such a system is impenetrable. All individuals are their allotted part of the entirety, no more, no less. It is beautiful concept, you'll agree?"
"You must get terribly bored," Sethos said humorlessly.
"That word has no meaning for us. Now—do you request therapy?"
Sethos was startled. He had expected the question, and knew there was little point in refusing. Yet he hesitated. The desire to learn was strong.
Before he could reply, a door opened and another mechanoid rolled in.
"You didn't whistle, Mr. First," said Mr. Third to the newcomer. "Something on your mind?"
Sethos noted that they spoke aloud for his benefit. He inhaled reflectively of his cigarette.
"A mutual friend of ours is here," said the first level prime.
"The one we've been expecting?" asked Mr. Third.
"That's right. I see you have a young fellow here—out walking?"
Sethos nodded, wondering what visitor they could have. Perhaps a mechanoid from another continent—but still such a mechanoid would be in perpetual contact anyway.
"Good—come along. It'll save the gentleman some time. He's looking for this sort of thing."
"Save him some time! He's in a hurry?" interrupted Sethos.
"For this man, time is very important," said Mr. First gravely.
"Where is he now?" asked Third.
"In my office, studying the vocabulary. Shall we go over?"
More curious than ever, Sethos followed the mechanoids down the corridor to a slide. Holding the rail, he felt the car surge through its shaft at a tremendous speed.
They emerged into the first level office. Two other first level mechanoids sat reading formulated material, while near the center stood a tall man, his eyes on a page of printed matter in his hands. He had no hair, and wore only a simple gray cloak over a white, loose-fitting one-piece suit. Sethos regarded his graceful appearance and sophisticated demeanor.
"Hello," he said, looking up. "I am Hol."
Sethos nodded cautiously. "My name is Sethos."
For a moment, Hol looked at the two Mr. Firsts reading, then at the one standing. There seemed to be some sort of communication between them. Then he spoke again.
"Are you discontented with your culture?"
"Of course. I don't believe man's curiosity should be restricted."
"I see. What do you propose in this case?"
Sethos was perplexed. He had not dreamed of a possible solution. But perhaps there was one!
"I don't know. If mechanoid control could be removed, I think humans would expand over all the planet. Then they could progress by themselves."
"Do you think they can?"
"What do you mean?"
"Do you think humans can progress further—without mechanoids?"
Further—so that was it. The creation of mechanoids must represent the height of human development. Which meant they were necessary to going on, reaching the stars....
"You mean, if humans could work with mechanoids, we could even travel to other worlds and spread throughout the universe?"
"He's getting close to the 'matter masters matter' principle," mused Mr. Third. "It's growth through extension, Sethos, a universal. Not just 'human'—man isn't alone in the universe."
Sethos did not understand. But another thought struck him.
"Just a moment, Hol. I've never seen you before. Where are you from?"
"From Antares System. I am an ethnographer, making a survey of the planets of man's early history."
Sethos was stunned.
"You—you are from out in space? From the stars?"
"That is correct. Man lives everywhere in the universe. But as Mr. Third said, that may be misleading."
Sethos disregarded the comment. It didn't matter if he were alone or not, at least he was there—man in the universe!
"I have completed a section of my work here. It is necessary to speak with the first level alone, if possible," said Hol.
"Of course," said Mr. Third. "Sethos, there is a vehicle in the hall. Will you return home until you wish to contact us about therapy? You have clearance to come in directly when you decide."
"Yes—yes, certainly."
In his shock he was barely conscious of an autocar hurtling through the dark streets, the familiar trees of West Park looming above him. Then, once more he saw the lights at Matya's, heard the noise and laughter.
Stepping from the autocar, Sethos felt the night breeze on his face. He looked upward at the sky, saw the stars like fierce eyes that had been watching all along. The revelation was too much to take, he thought. Suddenly Earth itself, so vastly greater than the small reservation of men, and short hours ago a veritable infinity, seemed tiny and insignificant.
"Why, Sethos! Where have you been?"
It was Paton's voice. The old man stood alone on the path.
"Paton, you couldn't guess what has happened. It's incredible!"
"Come up and get a drink, boy. You look exhausted. I was alarmed when I found you'd left."
Sethos took his arm and faced him squarely.
"Paton—I left the zone, and was taken to Mr. First's office. And do you know who I met? I met a man from the stars! Think of it! A man from other worlds, Paton. Do you realize that human beings have already traveled those fantastic distances, long ago? They must have forgotten about us on Earth!"
"Why, that is amazing. It just goes to show you, there's nothing new under the sun. Come along, and get that drink. I found some exquisite wine."
Sethos stopped. His hand slipped from Paton's arm.
"Paton.... Did you hear what I said? Didn't it penetrate? I said man has reached the stars! We already own the universe...."
"Of course. But I must say I don't know what we want with it all. Won't you join us now? Say, Ela has been looking for you."
"Ela? Yes, Ela. I want to see Ela...."
She came down the walk, and took him by the hands.
"There you are, you elusive boy! I want to go home now. I simply have to adjust my crystals or they'll overflow the bedroom. Oh, Matya! Thank you for a splendid time. I'll be having you over next week, don't forget."
Then they were down from the hill and in the park, and the party flowed on behind them, forgetting.
They were home again, and Ela hurried off to add nutrients to the huge crystal sculpture that was growing in the bedroom. It glowed and vibrated in every color of the spectrum, and strange textures developed at those edges where Ela hovered with a glass dropper and her chemicals, touching, wiping, smoothing....
"Oh, it nearly got away from me over here. I must get these reds to balance, or the whole thing will never refract properly at all. Did you know, Seth—they want to erect it in Central Plaza when I'm finished! Isn't that wonderful?" Her pleased face sparkled as she worked.
Sethos sat on the bed, folding his hands in his lap. Still stunned by Paton's reaction, he gazed absently at the floor.
"Ela, I met a man tonight. He is a very important man."
"Yes, there were so many dolls there. I only wish I had met Andian again. He'd be so jealous if he knew I was acclaimed for exhibition in the Plaza."
"I don't mean at the party."
Ela turned. "Really, dear? Where was he?"
"In the office of Mr. First. He wanted to talk to me."
"You went outside zone? Whatever for?"
Sethos rose and took her shoulders firmly in his hands.
"This man is from another planet, Ela. He told me that people live all over the universe!"
"You don't say!"
"They left the earth a long time ago. They've traveled between the stars for centuries and centuries!"
"That's wonderful, dear. Help me with this pot of dye, will you, Seth?"
Sethos drew back, unbelieving.
"Ela.... The stars are trillions of miles apart. Men have learned to fly between them somehow!"
"It's breathtaking. The dye?"
"Quintillions, some of them! Think of it, Ela!" Sethos was shaking with agitation.
"Dearest," said Ela, moving away from him, "do you think we might move closer to Center after my Plaza crystal is finished? I'd like to be able to look out and see it every morning in the sun...."
She wasn't listening! She didn't care!
"Ela. Ela, love—listen to me! What's wrong with you? Can't you see?" His voice shrank to a whisper.
She smiled tolerantly. "Of course, dear."
"I'm telling you something no one has dreamed of before and you fuss about your crystals! Don't you ever get sick of this little cage? Don't you ever feel like getting out and running away?"
"Cage?"
"I'm telling you the earth can be ours! People can live like mechanoids if they'll only wake up and stop their childish play!"
"But why, dear?"
"Why? We were meant to, that's why. Because we've already done it, or someone has. But we're still here, left behind. We've got to catch up!"
"How silly." She returned to her chemicals.
Sethos felt a burning rage seize him. This woman he had loved—she was only a shell, a stick of wood, with no ideas of her own—no curiosity. Nothing! And she didn't have the faintest notion what he was talking about. She didn't care!
Furious, he grasped a heavy bronze ash tray and hurled it, hard as he could, into the mass of shining crystal that filled the room. With an explosive rainbow of color and a reverberating crash, it collapsed under the heavy blow into a million tiny fragments.
He stood, glaring at the scattered shards, waiting for Ela to leap at him, screaming and clawing him for the ruin he had made of her masterpiece.
But she only smiled weakly, and shrugged.
"Dear, that was very irrational. I think you had better request therapy one of these days. Now I shall have to start all over again. But don't fret, sweet. I had a much better idea anyway. I can get sensational results using fluorides."
She wouldn't fight him—she couldn't think of such an act, raised in a world where coercion and violence did not exist. She didn't care about anything!
Calm now, he knew what to do. Striding swiftly from the house, he went straight to the vehicle space. He got into an autocar and slammed the door.
"Direction, please."
"Contact Dispatching. Ask for permission to go directly to first level primary. Tell them it's Sethos."
Pause. "Permission granted."
"Come in, Sethos. What can I do for you?"
Sethos looked around the room anxiously.
"I want to make a request, Mr. First, if it isn't too late."
"Too late?"
"I would like to see Hol before he leaves. Is he still here?"
"Perhaps I can arrange it. His time is budgeted, you understand."
"I must see him."
Mr. First was silent for a moment, and Sethos realized he was contacting someone. Then, he announced, "Yes, he's willing to see you. Go through this door. His compartment is the second down the corridor."
Sethos thanked him and hurried out. Finding the door, he hesitated an instant, then went in.
"Good morning," said Hol.
There was a second man standing beside him, dressed in the same manner and of the same stature as Hol.
"I had to see you," Sethos began hastily, not expecting to encounter two men.
"I see. This is Bek, a field observer. He was at your party last night."
Sethos remembered the stranger he had taken for a spying apprentice on the hillside. He felt embarrassed, but brushed it aside.
"I ... want you to take me with you."
Hol looked at his companion.
"I don't fit here," Sethos went on. "Mr. Third himself said I'm more intelligent than the others—I'm the only one who knows what your visit means. I want to go where people are interested in learning and progress. If I stay here I'll have to fool around with a hobby the rest of my life. There's no work, no expansion. You can see why I have to leave, can't you? I'm the curious type."
"You don't know what you're asking."
"Why? Can't you take me with you? What harm would it do?"
"Well, there are rules."
"But—I'm not just anybody. I'm an exception to the rule. I qualify as a genius—you mean there isn't a place for me somewhere in the universe? Surely you can use a smart man!"
"You are a genius, that's true," said Bek, in a deep, serious voice. "As long as you remain here. Hundreds of centuries ago, your ancestors discovered principles that are not even expressible in your language, and learned to apply them to matter. Soon they knew no boundaries. The earth was not forgotten, but it was no longer important. It still is only a statistic. And we are here to examine it briefly. We have many others to visit.
"You see, Sethos, man changed out in space. He is a long way from your ancestors who started all this. But before those ancient men left, they established Earth as a control planet, to maintain forever a specimen of the original stock. It may have been done out of his egocentric ideas at the time, but it proved wise, for such a specimen is valuable in our research."
"Sethos," said Hol, seeing the bewilderment on the young man's face, "the mechanoids who attend your little community are more than one hundred thousand years old. That is how long your little culture has been faithfully preserved, just as it was then. You would not be capable of living elsewhere in the universe now. You could survive, perhaps, bright as you are, for a century or so, and then die, unhappy, maladjusted, never finding another of your own level. You are, after all, a savage."
Sethos was dazed.
He—an atavism, a prehistoric man! No wonder his people behaved as they did—they were merely a docile herd of caged animals, kept complacent and well-fed by the keepers outside. An extinct beast, left to be tended until the earth reached the end of its course as a flaming speck in the infinite cavern of space!
"You—you must take me! I couldn't stand it now. How can I go back, knowing we're just a miserable experiment? Please—I'll go crazy!"
"Even now you exhibit one of your primitive traits—pride of being a man. But you will adjust to life. It is as it should be."
"But—"
"I'm sorry. There's nothing we can do."
"No, wait—I...."
The two men were gone.
Sethos stared. He was alone in the room. A constriction grew in his throat, and he felt weak. Indeed, man had changed.
"Sethos?"
Mr. First stood in the door.
"Yes...."
Now the pattern was clear. Sethos—the curious man, the genius—was doomed. He had lost a battle in which he never had a chance. Still, he had fought.
But walking down the corridor with the mechanoid, he knew that no one lost completely. He knew that Sethos, the human, the adjusted hobbyist, would soon look back on this night as though it were an ordinary phase of life.
Then, on the table, with the gently humming mechanism lowered to his head, the knot in his throat softened.
"All yours," said Mr. First to Mr. Third.
"A remarkable case," said Mr. Third. "Sometimes I wish we kept a record of his kind. It might be very interesting."
"Someday, perhaps. When our work grows dull."
End of Project Gutenberg's The Genius, by Con Pederson and Paul Orban
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GENIUS ***
***** This file should be named 32861-h.htm or 32861-h.zip *****
This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
https://www.gutenberg.org/3/2/8/6/32861/
Produced by Greg Weeks, Mary Meehan and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
will be renamed.
Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules,
set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project
Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you
do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is
subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
redistribution.
*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
https://gutenberg.org/license).
Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic works
1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all
the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be
used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few
things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See
paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works. See paragraph 1.E below.
1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the
collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an
individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in
a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check
the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning
the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
States.
1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
copied or distributed:
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
1.E.9.
1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked
to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
Gutenberg-tm License.
1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or
distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
that
- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is
owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments
must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
License. You must require such a user to return or
destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
Project Gutenberg-tm works.
- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
of receipt of the work.
- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the
Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
1.F.
1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
your equipment.
1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
DAMAGE.
1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you
received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with
the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy
is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
opportunities to fix the problem.
1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any
provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists
because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
people in all walks of life.
Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project
Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org.
Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
Foundation
The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at
809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact
information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
page at https://pglaf.org
For additional contact information:
Dr. Gregory B. Newby
Chief Executive and Director
gbnewby@pglaf.org
Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
Literary Archive Foundation
Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations
($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
status with the IRS.
The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations
where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To
SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
particular state visit https://pglaf.org
While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
approach us with offers to donate.
International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other
ways including including checks, online payments and credit card
donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate
Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
works.
Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
https://www.gutenberg.org
This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.