The Rod of Light (Soul of the Robot)

In this inferior region practical functions lived side by side with archetypal images and stubborn fears. In that respect, it paralleled the human subconscious exactly. There were horrendous dreams of being torn apart by wreckers. There were irresistible voices demanding submission (stemming from the compulsive obedience to humans generally built into robots). There were also looming figures undeniably reminiscent of the robot cult gods. In the fading shapes Jasperodus was fascinated to discern, albeit in disguised form, gigantic Mekkan, dazzling Alumnabrax, Infinite Logic (another construct god)….

Yet apart from these archetypes, no robot personalities confronted him. He was a lone individual here in the turgid waters of the collective mind. Why was that? Why, for other robots, did individuality persist only on the level of attention, the superficial level of self-image …?

The answer was not hard to guess at. Of all the robots in the pile, only he possessed consciousness. His attention was real, not fictive; and due to that, the neural cable had inadvertently directed it from the external world to the inferior mind.

Also due to that, the monstrous octopus that connected together the separate brains was giving him what few humans had ever known: experience of the mind’s functional substructures.

And at the same time he learned the reason why waking consciousness normally was prevented from visiting its own supporting depths. Try as he might, he was unable to regain access to his external senses.

He was trapped. And he began to fear it would be for the rest of his existence….

Time flowed … and then flowed no longer….

… Until, after a measureless interval, the waters of the unconscious receded, leaving the heap of silent, motionless robots high and dry. Disconnected by the neural cable, Jasperodus found himself staring skyward once more.

Judging by the position of the sun and the quality of the light the time was mid-morning. There came a noise of trampling and clashing; someone was climbing the heap, using metal bodies as stepping stones, and by the sound of it dislodging several and sending them slithering down the pile.

Shortly the brute face of one of his captors loomed over him. The robot reached down, and with uncharacteristic gentleness eased the neural cable from the back of his head. Then, seizing him under his arms with large hands, it lugged him awkwardly down the heap, nearly losing its footing more than once.

At the bottom Jasperodus was dragged to where another construct waited, then was dropped. The second robot knelt to finger the back of his skull.

He heard his inspection plate click shut. The two constructs stepped back, and Jasperodus realised that the power of movement had been returned to him.

Tentatively he stirred, feeling unsteady at first although no deterioration had taken place in his motor system. Cautiously he lifted himself on one knee, and after a moment, to his feet.

The two confronting him were probably the same robots that had captured him, though it was not possible to be sure. After a pause, one spoke.

‘We are instructed to apologise for placing you forcibly upon the pile. Gargan was expecting you. He will see you now.’

Jasperodus glanced up the metal slope. ‘How long was I there?’

Twenty days? Thirty? Am I a timekeeper?’

‘Also remove from that heap the construct who conducted me here,’ Jasperodus ordered.

‘No instruction was issued with regard to your guide,’ the robot told him brusquely, and made an impatient gesture. ‘Come. You are to meet Gargan.’

He turned and walked towards the nearest zinc shed, taking the path of the thick trunk-line that snaked thither from the foot of the pile.

With a heightened sense of curiosity and expectation now that his delayed journey was at an end, Jasperodus followed.

8

Seizing a handle, the robot slid aside a panel in the wall of the shed and stepped inside. Jasperodus heard him speak in a low voice.

‘Here is the one you sent for, master.’

Receiving some reply, he stepped back and indicated to Jasperodus that he should enter.

The panel slid shut behind him. Within, harsh white light from wall tubes filled the interior of the shed. There were no internal divisions: it was one large space, sparsely populated by workbenches, storage racks, and apparatuses mounted both on the floor and on benches, most of it unfamiliar to Jasperodus except for the construct assembler and disassembler rigs such as could be found in any robotician’s workshop.

The floor was unusual in being of smooth concrete, not the beaten earth common to robot buildings. Across it there snaked the neural trunkline, ending in a cube-shaped grid-like object six foot or so on the side. Jasperodus guessed it to be a logic junction of huge proportions.

The dozen or more robots in the shed had paused from whatever activity they were engaged upon, and turned to witness Jasperodus’ entry. One, the nearest, Jasperodus knew instantly to be Gargan.