The Computer Connection

“You don’t understand, Guig.”

“Make me understand.”

“You’ve changed. Tough and hard.”

“I said make me understand.”

“I’ve changed too. I’ve lost my pride. So much has happened to me. It’s a challenge, I know, and I think I’m failing to meet it. So many variables and unknowns.”

“Yes and yes. You’ve been in the habit of linear thinking in a straight line. Now you have to think in bunches.”

“That’s most perceptive, Guig.”

“You may have lost your pride, but you haven’t lost your arrogance. The son of the great Sachem.”

“I’d rather call it ambition. And why not? When I was a kid my idols were Galileo, Newton, Einstein, all the great discoverers. And now I’ve discovered something. Can you blame me for fighting for it, tooth and nail? Have you seen my cryonauts?”

“I’ve seen you and the Extro network. Is that your discovery?”

“It’s part of the bunch, as you put it. You must have seen my cryos. I know you, brother.”

“Cut the blood schmaltz. Y, I’ve seen them.”

“And?”

“You want me to be frank?”

“Y.”

“They’re beautiful. They’re fascinating. They capture instant affection. They inspire instant horror.”

“You have no idea of their potential. They think and communicate on the alpha wavelength. That’s why they can’t talk. They’re brilliant. In a few months they’ve reached the university level. They’re incredibly gentle — not an ounce of hostility. And they have a remarkable quality I’ve never heard of before — I don’t think the concept has ever existed — they have electronic valence. You know how people respond to weather. They respond to the upper levels of the electromagnetic spectrum, above the visual level. Run a current through a wire and they’re elated or depressed, depending on watts and amperes. Guig, they’re wonderful. Why horror?”

“Because they belong on another planet.”

“We are all on another planet; everyone, everywhere.”

“Well said. You’re astromorphic.”

“Then?”

“Sequoya Edward, we’re the Group. We owe loyalty and love to each other. Y?”

“Y.”

“Sequoya Edward, we’re of humanity. We owe loyalty and love to every man. Y?”

“Edward Sequoya, what about your kills?”

“Ah. You hit hard. I’m ashamed, now.”

“How many?”

“I’ve lost count.”

“This is loyalty and love?”

“To the Group, yes. I wanted everyone to become us, no matter what the price.”

“And I have loyalty and love for my three cryos. I want everyone to become them.”

“By killing off humanity? I’m biomorphic.”

“It’s that damned Extro,” he growled. “It’s the killer.”

“Why can’t you dump it?”

“Guig, you know about multiple personality?”

“Y.”

“I’m suffering from multimultiple personality. I’ve got the entire electronic network in my head. That’s why I’m hiding down here. It’s another remarkable phenomenon which must be investigated, but not until I’ve finished with my cryos. I have time.”

“So the Extro is ru

“Y. N.”

“You’re ru

“Y. N.”

“Make up your mind.”

“Which mind? I have thousands.”

“Brother, I love you.”

“I love you, brother.”

“And I’m going to kill you.”

“Cain and Abel?”

“Goe and catche a falling starre.”

“Get with child a mandrake roote,” he picked it up.

“Tell me, where all past yeares are,” I went on.

“Or who cleft the Divel’s foot.”

“If thou beest borne to strange sights.”

“You’ve skipped, Guig.”

“I know. Go ahead anyway. I want to get to the point.”

“Things invisible to see.”

“Ride ten thousand dales and nights.”

“Till age snow white haires on thee.”

“Thou, when thou retorn’st, wilt tell mee.”

“All strange wonders that befell thee…”

That was enough for my argument, so I made it.

“The point, Chief. Strange wonders have befallen thee, brother. I envy you. I want to be part of it. I’m sure the entire Group will. But you start a massacre. W? Are you still fighting the ancient Indian wars?”

“No. No. No. That’s gone with the past years. Is there a war? Yes. Yes. Yes. Now listen carefully, Guig. Ten thousand years ago we lived within our environment. We took only what we needed. We returned what we couldn’t use. We were all one organism. We did not destroy the balance. Now what? We’ve destroyed, destroyed, destroyed. Where is the fossil fuel? All going. The fish and animals? All going. The woods and jungles? Going. The soil? Going. Everything? Going, going, gone.

“You’re quoting verse, are you? Do you know this? ‘You have brought down the firmament and yet no heaven is more near. You shape huge deeds without event, and half-made men believe and fear.’ By God, Guig, we are all half-made men, a failed species, believing and fearing and destroying, and I’ll replace us. You said I was astromorphic. D’you think I want the plague of man to pollute the stars? We poison the cosmos at her roots.”

“When you say replace you mean kill.”

“No, we’ll merely crowd the failed breed out with the new. The killing is the Extro. It’s monstrous.”

“And you can’t dump it?”

“How? It’s moved in on me forever.”

“You don’t want to anyway.”

“No, I don’t. It’s too valuable a tool to throw away. The trouble is, I can’t control it yet.”

“Y. It’s like a Battle of Giants, but you’re outnumbered, brother, two-to-one.”

“How do you mean?”

“There’s another giant joined up with the Extro, and you’re being used by them, you damned dizzard switchboard. You’ll never control them.”

“Maybe you’d better kill me, brother,” he said wearily.

Now what answer could an angry man make to that? Thank God, at the moment a hover whispered up from the GM end, stopped, and the Hebe eased out. (Hilly doesn’t hop.) He came up to us and said, “So we’ve got you surrounded. Dr. Guess, I presume. I’m Hillel, the Jew, and were there ever any British Guiana one-cents or was it all a paper chase? V clumsy. My dear Guess, you must learn to consult the Group when you want to swing a swindle. You can’t depend on a computer.”

Either Hilly’s unexpected appearance or his aplomb left the redskin speechless.

“Supplies, I see,” Hilly chatted. “Suppose you take them to wherever it is and Guig and I will help you off-load. I must have a look at your cryonauts.”

The Chief got back into his hover, still wordless, and turned up Capsulestrasse. Hillel and I followed. Long Lance came out of the stonework and hissed. I shook my head and he melted again. Hilly nodded in approval. Nothing escapes him. He surveyed the extraction chamber with one sweep, and X-rayed the cryonauts with another. “They only speak music,” I murmured. Hilly nodded and gave them “Hatikvah” while he helped the Chief unload. They loved it. The Chief was silent, probably trying to cope with the unexpected by thinking in bunches. I was silent, too, because I was in a damnable dilemma.

At one point Hilly whispered to me, “Look at this, Guig,” and opened a small box. It contained a dozen steel sewing needles.

“So he’s going to make clothes for them,” I said.

“Not my point. Watch.”

He put the box on the flagged floor. It swung around by itself and aimed at the power cables. Hilly turned it back, let go, and it swung around again.

“That answers the question,” he said.

“What question?”

“The question you haven’t asked yourself yet.”

He saw I wasn’t interested, dropped it, and turned to the Chief. “May we speak words without upsetting your most remarkable creatures?” he asked pleasantly.

“It depends on the music of your voice,” Sequoya answered. “Apparently yours pleases them.”

“Yes. A racial legacy. So does yours, evidently. So we can talk.”

“About what?”

“An appeal. You and your cryonauts are about to make history. You will be remembered forever. Don’t hide down here. Come out into the open and let us help and protect you. You know you can depend on us.”