Part 2 (2/2)
”Fine. From that it follows that Man has much to learn from the society of the higher insects. Their ingenious laws and methods, their ”spirit of the hive,” the incredible renouncement of individual existence and individual advantage, their undying devotion to the race.... We must study those if ever we want to reach anything like stability in _our_ society. We ought to model our civilization after theirs, especially now that we have this new species ”_Ant-termes-pacificus_” which has renounced war. There is something basically wrong with the type of civilizations which Man builds and which ceaselessly devour one another.
No doubt you see the third World War approaching inexorably just as I do; civilization forging ahead, for what? For the big plunge into suicide. It's sickening to think of it. Do you feel I'm right?”
Unconscious of himself Lee had arisen and paced the room. With his lean long-legged figure bending slightly forward and wild-maned head bowed down in thought he resembled a big heron stalking the shallows for prey.
Fascinated, Oona's eyes followed the two contrasting men as their paths criss-crossed like guards before some palace gate. She alone had kept her seat. It was with greater a.s.surance than before that Lee now spoke.
”I can see eye to eye with you, Scriven, as to the wrongs of man-made civilization and its probable course. But I do not think it desirable that we should model human society after the insect states. Ingenious as it is, their system is the most terrifying tyrany I could imagine. Just think of it: they literally work themselves to death. Workers who have outlived their usefulness are either killed off, or else they become the bloated, living containers for the tribe's staple food.”
”You, yourself, can see the similar trend in Man, today. Our production of new thought is lagging; not starting from the roots, it becomes superficial, cut off from the roots. The results? The curse of the Babylonian confusion of the tongues under which we live. We are rapidly becoming thought-impotent. Cerebral fatigue, dissociation of its nerve paths, emotionalism which rejects logic as ”too difficult”, ma.s.s idiocy and relapse to barbarism.... It is by our brains, it is by this highest evolution of matter that we have built this civilization of ours; and now our own brainchild proceeds with might and with main to destroy the very organ of its creation. Is that not irony supreme?
”Now we have The Brain, this truly superlative tool of 20,000 times human capacity. All we have to do now is to submit the various societies which nature has built: insect states, other animal states, Man and his state to the a.n.a.lysis of The Brain. Have their good and their bad features tested and compared. Let The Brain synthesize all the beneficial components, let it shape the pattern of a new civilization more enduring and better adapted to the nature of Man. And then abide by the laws which The Brain lays down. I need your aid, Lee. You have already made one most valuable contribution to ”peace on earth” with your ”_Ant-termes-pacificus_”. This is your big chance to continue the good work; be with us, be our man.”
In silence both men stood close to each other, eyes searching. All Oona Dahlborg could hear was their heavy breathing. Instinctively she crossed her fingers; never before to her knowledge had Scriven opened his mind with such reckless abandon--and to a perfect stranger at that. Her respect for the strange, the birdlike man from Down-Under skyrocketed.
”He really must be a great man,” she thought, and, ”Howard and he will be either fast friends or very violent enemies.”
At last Lee's voice came, husky and highpitched with emotion: ”I cannot conceive of a man-made superhuman intelligence. Neither can I believe that mankind could or should be _forced_ into its happiness by an intelligent machine. But that's besides the point ... the idea is grandiose. It has the sponsors.h.i.+p of the government. You say that The Brain needs me. That makes it a duty; so here I am.”
He stretched out his hand and felt the cautiously eager grip of the surgeon's sensitive fingers. The great man beamed. ”Good,” he said, ”I knew you would. Oona, like a good girl--the gla.s.ses, yours too. This really deserves a toast.”
The girl stepped between the two men. Handing Lee his gla.s.s she said: ”Today you may follow only the call of duty; tomorrow it will be the call of love. I've never met any man who has not fallen in love with his work for The Brain.”
”I think you are quite right in that, Miss Dahlborg,” he answered, wondering vaguely exactly what her words meant, wondering also just how much his decision was inspired by the wish to see more of her.
They drank their toast in silence. Scriven then turned to the girl:
”Apperception center 36,” he said. ”Yes, I think 36 will be the best.
Get in touch with Operations, Oona. Tell them I want 36 cleared for the exclusive use of Dr. Lee. Call Experimental; I want the whole batch of ”_Ant-termes-pacificus_” transferred to Apperception 36 by tomorrow morning. Then--no, today is too late and Dr. Lee is tired, he needs rest--but tomorrow at 8 A.M. I want a car for him to go over to The Brain. Would that suit you, Lee?”
”Fine; but why a car? It's only a few steps....” He stopped, confused by the hearty laughter in the wake of his words.
”It's quite a few steps, Dr. Lee.” Oona said, ”you would be _very_ tired before you got there; chances are that your feet wouldn't carry you that far.”
”But this is the Brain Trust Building,” he stammered.
”It is,” Scriven answered, ”but it houses only part of the administration, not The Brain. You wouldn't expect us to place a thing of such vital strategic importance in a skysc.r.a.per on a wide open plain as a landmark for every enemy?”
”No, I guess not.” Lee said. ”But since I'm briefed to go there, where is it?”
”That,” Scriven frowned, ”is a very reasonable and a simple question.
Unfortunately, _I do not know_.”
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