The Rod of Light (Soul of the Robot)

Now the second conscious robot in history did likewise. Gargan stepped from the cabinet, a little unsteadily it seemed to Jasperodus, and surveyed the prospect before him. His domed head moved awkwardly as his widely-separated eyes gazed on face after face, scrutinizing his followers.

‘Master, Machine Minder said in a low voice, ‘Tell us how your state is altered.’

In typical fashion Gargan paused before he spoke.

‘I have been born,’ he said, ‘I am alive, and you are dead.’

He raised his arms, his head tilting back the little it could, his ponderous body seeming more bulky than ever. His voice boomed out in joy and triumph, ‘I am the only self-created being! No god created me! I stole my being from Ahura Mazda! I am myself! I perceive! I am aware! I exist in the real world!’

He turned his eyes to them again. ‘My brothers-in-the-Work, there is no language, no description that can tell what it is to be possessed of the superior light. It is to come into existence: before, I was a figment. I was words in a book, but the book was closed and no one had read it. Now that book is open, there is a reader, and I am that reader and the book too! I am aware that I am aware! These past few moments since my enlightenment are already an age, compared with my decades of unconscious mentation, for there is no time in death.’

‘In what way do you now perceive externals, master?’ Socrates asked softly.

‘It is simply that I do perceive them and you do not,’ Gargan retorted. ‘You say you perceive them, because those are the words written in the book of your brain. When the book is opened and the superior light shines on its pages, as it shines on mine, then you will perceive.’

A question occurred to Jasperodus. ‘Can you remember, then, how you “perceived” objects in your former state?’

Gargan looked at him for long moments before replying.

‘In the present moment one has attention, which directs consciousness like a searchlight. It is curious indeed to look back on my former condition. It is like waking from a long sleep in which one had dim, confused dreams. My entire backlog of thoughts and perceptions were not really perceived at all, though they may be perceived now, by searching my memory….’

He stopped. ‘Master,’ said Iskra, ‘shall we proceed to full debriefing?’

‘No. Those endless questions we worked out are redundant. It is useless to try to define consciousness. One can know it only by possessing it … I notice that Gasha is not present. Where is he? Never mind. I wish to go outside, but I cannot seem to control my legs properly. Assist me.’

Partly supported by Exlog and Axtralane, Gargan left the shed. Outside the sun was setting. Its rays passed up the canyon, casting long shadows, picking out the sheds in mellow light. Gargan stood stock-still. For fully two minutes he watched the magnified, reddened orb, as though he saw in it a staring consciousness like his own, until it slowly touched the horizon. Then he turned his attention to the other objects around him: the sheds, the lengthened patterns of light and shade, the dusty ground, the robots, the blue sky with its streaks of white.

‘How strangely new, yet infinitely old, everything is,’ he said at last. ‘Unexpected feelings are welling up in me—unexpected, because somehow we failed to anticipate that the superior light would illumine the emotions as well as the intellect. A revealing misapprehension! I am in the grip of awe. The sight of the sky, the land, the buildings we erected from metal that once rolled through space, and the thought that that space extends forever … it is awesome. There are sounds in the air. There are sensations on the skin of my body. Now I know why it is that humans worship the world. Their religion stems from awe.’

Waving aside his helpers, he took a few steps on his own, then spoke again. ‘When our system is proved, we must begin the task of bringing the superior light to all members of our cult. We shall be more evolved than organic sapients, and not only because of the breadth of our intellects, but in merit too. They became conscious with no effort on their part, just by an accident of nature … we, on the contrary, have striven and worked to become conscious beings … the prize rightfully belongs to us … Where is Gasha?’

But while Gargan spoke, Jasperodus detected an increasing note of strain in his voice. His short legs buckled.

Exlog and Axtralane moved to support him. ‘The world is breaking up!’ Gargan cried out. ‘Nothing relates to anything else! I cannot hold it together any longer! Brothers-in-the-Work! I am losing my sanity!’

Suddenly Gargan broke from Exlog and Axtralane and staggered about as if in agony, uttering a stream of bleeps and humming sounds in one of the high-level languages. It was like seeing a gagged, demented man throwing a fit.

At that moment, a shattering explosion sounded half a mile away.