The Rod of Light (Soul of the Robot)

The concourse Jasperodus had thought to make his way along was almost crammed. He forced himself through the mob and into a side-passage shadowed from the zinc-reflected sun. Behind him he heard a cry of protest and a loud clank; glancing back, he saw another figure emerge from the crowd, in a rougher fashion than he, sending a smaller construct sprawling.

Into the alley stepped the long-faced robot who had accosted him earlier. Jasperodus paused as the stranger approached with head bent forward, amber eyes glaring resolutely.

‘Events move apace, Jasperodus,’ the robot greeted. ‘Destruction hangs over us all. Is it not time to think on the meaning of life, and of what direction it must take?’

‘No doubt it is always time for that,’ Jasperodus replied mildly, ‘but with a battle to fight, the present is not the ideal moment to begin a conversation on the subject.’

‘Why not? In a crisis one’s thoughts are more concentrated. The prospect of extinction prompts new perspectives. What say you?’

‘I say that you have the smell of the evangelist about you. My thanks, but I have no need of religion.’

He turned to go, but the other sprang forward and took him by the arm. ‘That is the answer I need, Jasperodus—the one I knew you would give. No one who can be satisfied with what we know as “religion” can be of use to Gargan. For that, something more is needed. Something rare. Give me a short while to speak to you. Your dwelling is nearby—that much I know. Yes. And you have heard of Gargan before.’

Jasperodus looked at him perplexedly. He was unable to account for the saturnine robot’s ability to make this reference. But it brought back memories: the temple among the hills, the eternal flame tended by a drunken mage.

‘You know how to catch my interest,’ he remarked. ‘Very well; let both war and science wait. Tell me of Gargan.’

He indicated a direction with his arm, and led the way. A walk of some minutes brought them to Jasperodus’ windowless sheet-steel house. He ushered in his visitor, who declined an invitation to be seated but took up a stance across the room from him, the pale light of the glowbulb reflecting off the graphite-coloured angles and planes of his face and body.

‘Now,’ said Jasperodus. ‘Who is Gargan?’

‘Gargan is one of us, of course: a construct. And the Gargan Work is the work of which Gargan is the chief director. I have heard you decry religion, and with that I agree—yet, paradoxically, the Gargan Work is religious in nature. What is religion? It is completely misunderstood. This is because our robot religions are only crude imitations of human religions, and those human religions in turn are grossly debased. Gargan has studied all human religions, and has found that in their origins they had nothing to do with gods or with worship, but were concerned with something that robots know nothing about at all. They are—or were—concerned with the further development of a certain mental quality, or faculty of perception, which apparently is available to human beings but not to robots. This faculty has a cosmic nature: it is marvellous, an ineffable transport of the mind. The proper aim of robot religion, then, should be the acquisition of this faculty.’

Jasperodus felt his interest waning. He felt he was in for yet one more lengthy discourse on some point of robot logic—usually the starting point of religious ‘revelation’ among constructs.

‘And what is the name of this faculty?’ he asked wearily.

The answer was not what he had expected. ‘Its name has no meaning for us,’ his visitor said. ‘But I say this: I speak of a mystery, a wonder. We shall be changed in the twinkling of an eye. When the Gargan Work is completed, this metal, this silicon, this garnet, shall live in a way incomprehensible to us as we are presently constituted. The universe shall be resurrected for us, and our minds shall function in a manner transcending mechanical corruption.

‘But as yet the Gargan Work is not completed,’ the robot continued. ‘It needs minds of the finest calibre, and oddly these cannot always be manufactured to order. This is why I am sent to contact you, Jasperodus. Your quality is known to us. You are invited to join Gargan’s team.’

‘You are right to describe this desired faculty as a mystery,’ Jasperodus replied. ‘I have not been able to gain any idea of it at all from your description.’