Barrington Bayley SF Gateway Omnibus: The Soul of the Robot, The Knights of the Limits, The Fall of Chronopolis

‘No, no! This technique is much too dangerous. Think what it would mean! At present constructs are not conscious, but some are intelligent, even shrewd. A few of them already begin to suspect what is missing in them. If my method became known it would lead to robots stealing the souls of men. At worst, one can imagine mankind being enslaved by a super-conscious machine system, kept alive only so that men’s souls could be harvested – as it is, lack of consciousness is all that prevents the potential superiority of the construct from asserting itself. So my technique will die with me, and I implore you never to speak of it to anyone.’

Jasperodus nodded. ‘I understand. You have my promise.’

‘Perhaps we should not have used it at all, but this one desire we could not resist: to have a son.’

‘There is an image that has occurred to me from time to time, often in dreams,’ Jasperodus remarked. ‘It shows a blast furnace melting down all manner of metal artifacts. The vision has been so vivid – so frightening – that I have been convinced it contains some meaning. You, I suppose, put it in my mind.’

‘Quite so. It was the only clue to your true nature I gave you. The fire of the furnace, which melts objects so that the metal may be used anew, is an analogy of a supernal fire – a cosmic fire – that melts the stuff of consciousness ready to be fashioned into new individuals. I discovered this fire.’

‘Supernal fire,’ Jasperodus said slowly. He grunted, and shook his head.

‘I am still puzzled,’ he confessed. ‘Apart from the principles of robotics, certain events and circumstances in my life have convinced me that I lack a soul – for instance I was once dismantled, yet when I was reconstituted my feeling of consciousness returned. How may that be explained?’

His father gave a deep shuddering sigh, as though seeking the last of his strength. ‘Did that really happen to you?’ he whispered. ‘It is not impossible. The soul, being non-material, does not always behave like a substance subject to the laws of space. Within limits one could be dismantled into subassemblies, and provided some degree of biological or robotic integration remained, the soul might well not dissipate.’

‘And when it does dissipate?’

‘The cosmic furnace, into which all souls are thrown at death. From the common pool new individuals are moulded.’

‘So as well as making a conscious construct, you have also solved the mystery of what happens at death,’ Jasperodus remarked in a tone at once flippant and sombre. He cogitated, trying to understand the issue in all its aspects. The old man was clearly taxed by so much talk, but he could not resist asking the questions that came to mind.

‘If I have consciousness, how is it that I cannot locate my “I”? When I enter into my mind I find only thoughts and percepts.’

‘So it is with everyone. The self always remains hidden. You cannot see the seer, the mind cannot grasp the thinker of the thought. That seer, that thinker, is “I”, the soul.’

The senile robotician made an effort to lift his head, but sank back with a defeated, sighing moan.

‘I am sorry,’ Jasperodus said, ‘I have been inconsiderate with so much inquisitiveness. What may I do for you? If it comes to that, may we not reverse the operation that gave me life? I could easily spare some vitality, which might restore your health.’

‘Too late; my condition is irreversible. In any case I would not countenance it. There is only one service you can perform for me, and that is to bury my body in a grave alongside that of your mother.’

‘You may live for some time yet. At least I can stay here to take care of you.’

‘No need for that either.’ With an effort the old man fumbled under his pillow and brought out a little white pill. ‘Well, Jasperodus, you chose to go your own way, but I see you have turned into a person of quality. I would stay to hear how you have fared, but I fear it might make parting too difficult. So farewell – and may the rest of life prove to your satisfaction.’

‘Is that necessary?’ Jasperodus asked, his eyes on the white pill.

‘I prepared this to spare myself an existence without the use of my mind during my last hours – which would not be long now in any case. I have delayed taking it so far – perhaps subconsciously I sensed you would come. Now that I have seen you I feel a sense of completeness. Nothing need delay me further.’

With difficulty he guided the pill to his lips. Jasperodus reached out to snatch it away, then stayed his hand.

His father died peacefully within seconds. Jasperodus drew back the curtains, admitting sunlight into the dusty room. He looked carefully around him, consigning every detail to his memory and recalling that occasion long ago when he had walked out of here, little realising the sacrifice that had been made on his behalf.