The Time Axis

When I investigated Belem’s disappearance I was much disturbed to learn how many other Mechandroids had vanished at the same time. I immediately assigned an all-out search, Galaxywide. But I was not too hopeful.

The race moves on. It has its human limitations. The tools we make have no limitations at all. When we educate ourselves to learn to handle those tools most efficiently we can go on to the next step, whatever it may be. Meanwhile there must be check and balance—rigid control.

I assigned to the Mechandroid Belem a problem involving the opening of the Betelgeuse system. I had worked with Belem before. While Mechandroid knowledge and experience goes into a common pool Belem’s reactions would be a shade quicker since he had once opened a similar system before, so I asked him. At that time I was on the Antares base. When I checked later on Belem he had vanished.

We went through the automatic routine. We studied the records and traced Belem’s movements up to the moment of his disappearance. We learned several interesting things. Obviously Belem had thought it necessary to disappear in order to solve his assigned problem. So we checked on the problem. The Andromeda system was involved and we discovered that there was something odd, hitherto undiscovered, about the Andromeda sector.

First of all there was a potential nova involved. Secondly, a new type of matter existed on one of the planets revolving about the star that was preparing to explode. It seemed to be a neutral matter, in absolute stasis. We quarantined the system immediately, pending farther investigation.

You never know into what queer bypaths a Mechandroid’s investigation will lead. The creatures see factors involved that no human mind would bother with. They’re never content with ten decimals but always work down to the absolute quantity. It didn’t surprise me a great deal to find recording-tapes in Belem’s laboratory which described and localized a terrestrial time-axis.

We went to the point charted. Belem had already worked out a system for displacing the special atomic structure involved and waking the subjects. What subjects? I learned that soon enough.

At the time-axis, which existed not far from the ancient bed of the St. Lawrence River, we found a shell of matter. R-type radiations showed us there were four living beings within that shell. They were in drugged hypnotic sleep. One of them was the Mechandroid Belem. The second was myself. The others were an unknown man and woman.

My Director discussed the situation with me.

“Belem has been located?” I asked.

“We thought so,” the Director said, “but you’re in the time-axis chamber too. You’re apparently in two places at once—so Belem may be as well. You know how dangerous a Mechandroid on an unorthodox problem can be. Don’t forget what happened to Titan twenty years ago. Well, obviously four people have, in the past, used drags and hypnosis to free their minds from time-consciousness as their bodies were freed by the atomic displacement their device has set up around them.”

“And I’m with them, it seems.”

“You have no memory of it? But they came out of the past—all three of them.”

“Circular time? Spiral time?”

“I don’t know,” the Director said. “It’s theoretical so far. The empirical method obviously is to waken these four and find out what happened to them. How they came to be in this time-axis. Certainly a Mechandroid loose in time is too dangerous to be permitted. As for you—”

We had no answer to that, either of us. I was standing here, solid and real. But my double, my other self, was in the time-axis.

“Waken them,” the Director said.

That was obviously the next step. The only possible step.

“Very well,” I said. It was my job. A job must be completed at any cost. Men are expendable. Mankind is not.

Then I was Jeremy Cortland again.

We were in the Swan Garden, Paynter and I, looking at each other across far distances. The shadows of a dozen other selves faded and wavered through my mind—and simultaneously I felt a strange sort of mental withdrawal. With the dying remnant of Paynter’s memory, I knew the reason. As I had been reading—living in—other minds, so he had been reading my own.

But he did not know that the Mechandroid Belem—De Kalb—was spying through my brain. I felt certain of that, as certain as though—De Kalb—Belem had told me in so many words. No, Paynter might have stripped my mind clean of its memories, but there was one memory of the Mechandroid’s curious powers had kept from his grasp—the brief adventure I had had, via matter-transmitter, on another planet among Mechandroids.

Abruptly full realization came to me. I remembered the “autopsy” I had glimpsed—the Mechandroids clustered about a long table on which a body lay and above which a shining web quivered. Once, twenty years ago, a boy had seen a similar sight on Titan—the creation of a super-Mechandroid, the experiment utterly forbidden through all the Galaxy. A city had been blasted into dust to stop that danger. I remembered, strangely, with another man’s memory.

Now it was happening again. A second stage man-machine was being constructed somewhere on some far planet—and Paynter did not know that, and I could not tell him. The post-hypnotic command was too strong for me. I could not betray the secret to Paynter even if I tried.

Which reminded me that Paynter now had my memories. His face was grayish as he watched me.

“That new type of matter we’ve just found in the Andromeda system,” he said. “I know what it is now. You called it the nekron.”

Then he must know as well that I was infected with the—the thing, that I was a carrier, a culture for that swift, slaying thing that no grip could hold.

But he did not mention it. Instead, in a troubled way, he began to talk about Belem.

“Belem was set the problem of opening the Betelgeuse system. Which is simple enough. But the Mechandroids are thorough. I suspect that Belem checked all the possible influential factors, and saw that nekronic matter exists in Andromeda on a planet of a sun ready to become a nova. “When that happens the violent explosion will carry the nekronic atoms, on light radiations, far into interstellar space—far enough to reach and infect Betelgeuse. For some reason I don’t know yet Belem decided the time-axis should be—” He paused, scowling. “Did he leave those notes purposely? Did he want us to open the time-axis chamber, Cortland?”

“How should I know?” I asked. “You’ve got all my memories now, haven’t you?”

“I think he did. But where is Belem now?” I knew that—but I couldn’t tell him.

“Why did Belem disappear? Why have a dozen other Mechandroids disappeared? Why didn’t they a

He had forgotten he was still wearing the helmet. Now he lifted it slowly from his head and I followed his example. “Because they had to work in secret,” he said tentatively. “Now what could they do in secret that they couldn’t do with all the science of the Galaxy to help them? There’s only one thing. The Mechandroids must solve the problems set them—

“They are making a second-stage Mechandroid,” Paynter said flatly. “That must be what’s happening. Scylla and Charybdis then. For a super-Mechandroid is as certain a menace as the nekron itself.”

“But why?” I asked, prompted by a conviction that the devil I knew—the nekronic infection—was far worse than any manlike machine, no matter how perfected.

“Because the Mechandroids would probably obey it instead of us,” Paynter told me. “The Mechandroids are vulnerable because they’re partially human. A second-stage type probably wouldn’t be. When you consider the knowledge and skills the Mechandroids already have—and if they’re applying them to the creation of a mutation of their own—why, such a monster could easily be invulnerable. Suppose it worked on absolute logic? That might call for the extinction of all life-forms! I don’t know. No one knows. How can anyone think like a mutation from the Mechandroid type?”