Tower of Glass

26





January 9, 2219.



The tower is at 940 meters and rising more swiftly than ever. Standing at the base, one cannot easily see the summit; it is lost against the white glare of the winter sky. At this time of year there are only a few hours of daylight at the site, and during those hours the sun’s rays ride fiery tracks down the length of the shimmering shaft

Much of the interior structure now is complete throughout the building’s lower half. Three of the high-capacity communications equipment modules have been hoisted into place: somber black metal containers fifty meters high, within which are the huge kickover units that will amplify the messages as they climb the tower. Viewed from afar, these modules seem to be giant seeds ripening in a great glossy transparent pod.

The accident rate continues to be high. Mortality levels are causing concern. The losses among gammas have been particularly severe. Yet morale is said to be good; the androids are cheerful and appear to be aware that they are playing an essential role in one of humanity’s most ambitious projects. If their attitude remains so positive the tower will be finished well ahead of schedule.





27





After showing them the state of progress at the tower, Krug took his guests that day to dine at the Nemo Club, where a suite was perpetually held in readiness for him. The club was one of Krug’s minor enterprises; he had built it a dozen years back, and for some time it had been Earth’s most fashionable gathering-place, with reservations required at least six months in advance. Situated 10,000 meters under the western Pacific in the Challenger Deep, it consisted of fifteen pressurized bubbles through whose walls, fashioned of the same sturdy glass from which the tower was being constructed, it was possible to view the strange inhabitants of the dark abyss.

Krug’s companions were Senator Henry Fearon and his brother Lou, the lawyer, of Fearon & Doheny; Franz Giudice of European Transmat; Leon Spaulding; and Mordecai Salah al-Din, the Speaker of Congress. To reach the Nemo Club they had journeyed by transmat to the island of Yap in the Caroline group of Micronesia, where they boarded an immersion module of the kind used for the exploration of Jupiter and Saturn. The density of the medium made transmat travel impossible under water. The pressures of the ocean’s depths meant little to the immersion module, however, and at a calm and steady speed of 750 meters a minute it sank to the Pacific floor and entered the Nemo Club’s transit hatch.

Floodlights bathed the abyss. The dwellers of the deep paid no heed to the illumination, and came quite close to the club’s glass walls: fragile, flimsy, unmuscular fishes, loose and flabby of body, their tissues pervaded by water under a compression of ten or twelve tons per square centimeter. Many of them were luminescent; cold pale glows glistened from photophores along their sides or between their eyes or on fleshy dangling lanterns jutting from their foreheads. The wavelength of the club’s floodlights had been carefully chosen in order not to interfere with the luminescence of the fishes, and their little sparkling beacons were plainly visible even in the brightness; Justin Maledetto, the architect of the tower, had also designed the club, and Maledetto was clever in such details. Up to the walls the bizarre little monsters came, black and brown and scarlet and violet in hue. Many of them had jaws that unhinged, so that their mouths could gape down to their chests, ready to swallow enemies two or three times their own size. In the random encounters of the abyss pygmies devoured giants. Diners at the club were treated to visions of miniature gargoyles and horrors, sinister in their radiance, brandishing their savage teeth within their vast mouths, trailing strange appendages and protrusions, bearing eyes that bulged like globes, or eyes on stalked tubes, or no eyes at all. One did not need to travel to distant worlds to behold bizarre beasts; the nightmare creatures were here, on man’s own planet, and one had only to look. Huge spines, curved teeth so long that mouths could never close, branching stems rising from snouts, things that were all jaws and no body, things that were all tail and no head, anglers with twitching rods that danced about, giving off yellow or blue or green pulsations, grotesqueries of a thousand kinds, and no fish as much as half a meter long: the show was extraordinary and altogether unique.


Krug ordered a simple meal—krill cocktail, algae soup, steak, Australian claret. He was no gourmet. The club offered every sort of delicacy, but Krug never took advantage of its bounty. His companions had no such reluctance; cheerfully they called for Swedish oysters, benthic crabs, unborn squid, contrefilets of veal, snail mousse, breast of oryx, shirred euphorbia buds, manta tips, baked cycad hearts, and more, all washed down by the world’s finest golden wines. The waiter looked delighted at their prowess with the menu cubes. All waiters here were alphas; it was unusual to employ alphas in what was essentially menial personal service, but this was an unusual place, and none of the staff at the Nemo Club appeared to be embittered at doing a job normally performed by betas or even gammas.

Yet the waiters could not have been entirely content with their station in life. When the appetizers had been served, Senator Fearon said to Krug, “Did you notice the AEP emblem on our boy’s lapel?”

“Are you serious?”

“A very small one. Sharp eyes are needed.”

Krug glanced at Spaulding. “When we leave, speak to the captain about that. I don’t want any politics here!”

“Especially revolutionary politics,” said Franz Giudice, and laughed. The transmat executive, long and angular, was noted for his bland ironies. Though well past ninety, he had adopted the styles of dress of men half his age, mirror-plates and all, and retained astonishing vigor. “We’d better watch that waiter. With two members of Congress at the table, he’s likely to slip propaganda into our dishes, and well all walk away converted.”

“Do you really think the AEP is a threat?” Lou Fearon asked. “You know, I got a good dose of their Siegfried Fileclerk while I was handling the business of the alpha girl killed at the tower.” He nodded toward Spaulding, who scowled. “I got the impression that Fileclerk and the whole AEP bunch are completely ineffectual,” the attorney said.

“A minority movement,” said Senator Fearon. “Not even commanding the support of the bulk of androids.”

Leon Spaulding nodded. The ectogene said, “Thor Watchman had some stinging words for Fileclerk and his party. Watchman doesn’t seem to feel there’s any value in the AEP whatever.”

“An unusually shrewd and capable android, Thor is,” said Krug.

“I was quite serious, though,” Giudice declared. “You can laugh at the AEP all you like, but I feel its aims are genuinely revolutionary and that as it gains backing it will —”

“Ssss,” Krug said.

Their alpha waiter had returned, bearing a fresh bottle of wine. The men at the table sat tensely while the alpha poured. He went out, closing the hatch tightly behind him.

Mordecai Salah al-Din, the Speaker of Congress, said gently, “I’ve received at least five million petitions from the AEP. I’ve granted three audiences to the party’s leaders. And I must say that they’re a sincere and orderly group, worth taking seriously. I also want to say, though I wouldn’t care to be quoted, that I’m sympathetic to some of their goals.”

“Would you explain that?” Spaulding said, his voice crisp.

“Surely. I feel that the inclusion of a delegation of alphas in Congress is desirable and probably will come about within the next decade. I feel that the selling of alphas without their consent is improper and ought to be made illegal. I think that’ll happen in fifteen to twenty years. I believe that we’ll be extending full civil rights to alphas before 2250, to betas by the end of this century, and to gammas not long afterward.”

“A revolutionary!” cried Franz Giudice in wonder. “The Speaker is a revolutionary!”

“A visionary, rather,” said Senator Fearon. “A man of vaulting insight and splendid compassion. As always, somewhat ahead of his time.”

Spaulding shook his head. “Alphas in Congress, maybe, yes. As a safety valve, to keep them from getting out of control. Toss them a bone, you know? But the rest of it? No. No. Never. Mr. Salah al-Din, we should not forget that androids are mere things, the product of chemogenetic research, created in a factory, manufactured by Krug Enterprises to serve mankind—”

“Softly,” Krug murmured. “You’re getting excited.”

Lou Fearon said, “Possibly the Speaker’s right, Leon. Regardless of how they came into existence, they’re more human than you’re willing to admit. And as we gradually relax all arbitrary barriers of law and custom, as the Witherer ideals gradually take over—as I think you’ll agree is quite subtly happening already—I expect that we’ll go easier on the androids. At least on the alphas. We don’t need to keep them under.”

“What do you say, Simeon?” Franz Giudice demanded of Krug. “After all, they’re your babies. When you decided to produce the first androids, did you ever imagine that they’d be calling for the rights of citizenship, or did you think of them as—”

“Leon put it in the right words,” Krug said. “How was it? Things. Factory-made things. I was building a better kind of robot. I wasn’t building men.”

“The borderline between man and android is so vague,” Senator Fearon said. “Since the androids are genetically identical to us, the fact that they’re synthetic—”

Krug said, “In one of my plants I can make you the Mona Lisa in perfect replica, so that it takes six months laboratory tests to prove it isn’t the original. Yes? And so? Is it the original? The original still came out of Leonardo’s studio. The replica came out of Krug’s factory. I’d pay a billion for the original. I wouldn’t give a brass thumb for the replica.”

“Yet you recognize that Thor Watchman, for example, is an unusually capable and gifted person,” said Lou Fearon, “and you give him wide responsibilities. I’ve heard it said that you trust him more than any man in your organization. Yet you wouldn’t allow Thor to vote? You wouldn’t give Thor a chance to protest if you decided to make him a waiter here? You agree that the law should give you the right to destroy Thor if the whim takes you?”

“I made Thor,” Krug replied heavily. “He’s the finest machine I have. I love and admire him the way I love and admire any superb machine. But I own Thor. Thor isn’t a man, he’s just a clever imitation of a man, a flawless imitation, and if I want to be so wasteful and foolish as to destroy Thor, why, I’ll destroy him.” Krug’s hand began to tremble. He glared at it as if willing it to be still, but the tremor intensified, and a full glass of wine spilled onto the table. Stonily Krug said, “Destroy him. I never had anything else in mind when I brought out the androids. Servants. Tools of man. Cunning machines.”

Sensors in the Nemo dub’s service core announced the spilling of the wine. The waiter entered and efficiently mopped it up. Outside the window, a cluster of giant translucent crustaceans wheeled and danced.

When the alpha was gone again Senator Fearon said to Krug, “I didn’t realize you felt this strongly about android equality. You’ve never spoken out.”

“I’ve never been asked.”

“Would you testify against the AEP,” Salah al-Din asked, “if the matter were to come before Congress?”

Krug shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t know. I stay out of politics. I’m a manufacturer. Businessman. Entrepreneur, you know? Why look for controversies?”


“If androids were granted civil rights,” said Leon Spaulding, “it might have repercussions for Krug Enterprises. What I mean is, if you’re manufacturing actual human beings, you’d come under the scope of the population control laws, which—”

“Enough,” Krug said. “It won’t happen. I make the androids; I know them. There’s a little group of malcontents, yes. Too intelligent for their own good. They think it’s black slavery all over again. But it isn’t. It isn’t. The others know that they’re content. Thor Watchman is content Why don’t all the alphas back the AEP? They oppose it and why? Because they think it’s idiocy. They’re treated well as is. This talk of selling alphas against their will, of killing them on whims, it’s all just theory; no one sells a good alpha, and nobody kills androids for fun, any more than people wreck their own houses for fun. No need for android rights, eh? The alphas realize it. The betas aren’t worried. The gammas can’t possibly care. So you see? Gentlemen, it makes good table talk, no more. The AEP will fade away. My respects, Mr. Speaker: your sweetness of soul leads you astray. You will have no alphas in your Congress.”

Krug’s lengthy speech had left him thirsty. He reached for his wine. Again the tension in his muscles betrayed him; again he knocked the glass over; again a watchful alpha, alerted by hidden eyes, rushed in to tidy up the mess. Beyond the thick glass wall of the Nemo Club, a dark red fish a meter in length, with a gigantic toothy satchel of a mouth and a narrow spiny tail, began to move through the school of crustaceans, gulping them down in a terrible hunger.





28





January 15, 2219.



The tower is 1001 meters high. In celebration, Krug has decreed a holiday tomorrow for all workers. It is now estimated, that the structure will reach its full height before the middle of March.





29





Lilith Meson said, “I had a visitor here yesterday morning, Thor.”

“Manuel Krug?”

“No. Siegfried Fileclerk.”

Watchman uncoiled himself from Lilith’s all-engulfing tesseract-divan. “Fileclerk? Here? Why?”

Lilith laughed. “Are you so human these days that you feel jealousy, Thor?”

“That doesn’t amuse me. How did it happen that he came to you?”

“He was at the office,” Lilith said. “You know, he’s with Property Protection of Buenos Aires, and he came in to discuss some new actuarial pivot clause in their contract Afterward he asked me if he could see me home. All right. I invited him in. He seemed harmless.”

“And?”

“He tried to recruit me for AEP.”

“Is that all?”

“No,” Lilith said. “He wants me to recruit you, too.”

Watchman coughed. “A very slender chance of that.”

“He’s immensely earnest, Thor. Devoted to the cause of equality and liberation, et cetera, et cetera. Two minutes after we walked in he began burying me under arguments for immediate political action. I told him I was religious. He said that didn’t matter, that I could go right on praying for the miraculous intervention of Krug, but meanwhile would I please sign this petition? No, I said. I never sign things. He gave me a stack of propaganda cubes, the whole AEP line. They’re in the kitchen, if you’re interested. He was here more than an hour.” Lilith flashed a dazzling grin. “I didn’t sign his petition.”

“Why did he go after you, though?” Watchman asked. “Does he plan to approach every alpha in the world, one by one, looking for support?”

“I told you. He wants you to sign up. He knows I’m close with you, and he thinks that if he can persuade me, I’ll be able to persuade you. He said so in that many words. And once you’re in his camp, everyone else will follow.” Lilith drew herself up stiffly. “ ‘If Alpha Watchman comes over to our side, Alpha Meson, hell bring scores of influential alphas with him. It could be the turning point of our entire movement. Alpha Watchman may hold the future of every android in his grasp.’ How do you feel about that, Alpha Watchman?”

“Deeply moved, Alpha Meson. I can’t begin to describe the awe that stirs in me at the idea. How did you manage to get rid of him?”

“By trying to seduce him.”

“What?”

“Am I being bitchy, Thor? I won’t talk about it if you’d rather I didn’t.”

“I was not programmed to feel jealousy,” Watchman said stolidly. “Teasing will get you nowhere with me. And I’m not in a mood to play stupid games.”

“Very well. I’m sorry I said anything.”

“Go on. You tried to seduce him. You didn’t succeed?”

“No,” Lilith said. “It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I said to myself, Fileclerk is so stuffy that this will probably drive him away screaming. And if he takes the bait instead, well, it might be fun. So I stripped and then I—what’s the idiom, the old word?—began to make overtures to him. To make overtures. Come on, I said, let’s curl up together, Siggie. Siggie. I put my hands on him. I was very lewd. I jiggled and wiggled. I worked very hard, Thor, even harder than I had to work to seduce you. He wasn’t having any. He asked me to stop.”

“Of course,” Watchman said. “It’s as I was trying to explain. Male alphas don’t really have much interest in sex. It’s irrelevant to their life-pattern.”

“Don’t be so smug about that. Fileclerk wanted me. He was pale. He was shaking.”

“Then why didn’t he go to bed with you? Afraid to compromise himself politically?”

“No,” Lilith said. “It’s because he’s still in mourning.”

“Mourning.”

“For his wife. Cassandra Nucleus. His wife, Thor. The AEP is advocating android marriage. He was married to Alpha Nucleus three years ago. He’s observing a six-month mourning period, during which he doesn’t intend to let wanton young alphas lure him into their arms. He explained it to me and then he left fast. As if he was afraid he might give in if he stayed.”

“His wife,” Watchman muttered.

“The AEP plans to add a clause about android marriage to its petition before Congress. Fileclerk also said that if you and I wanted to get married, Thor, he’d be able to arrange it the day we join the party.”

Watchman laughed harshly. “He talks like a child! What good is marriage? Do we have children who need legally constituted homes? If I wanted to live with you, I’d live with you, Lilith. Or you with me. Should someone say words over us first? Give us a piece of paper?”

“It’s the idea, Thor. Of a permanent union   between man and woman, the way it is among humans. It’s quite touching. He really loved her, Thor.”

“I’m sure he did. I saw him weeping when Spaulding killed her. But did he love her more because they were married? If marriage is so wonderful, why is Manuel Krug here every week? Shouldn’t he be home having a permanent union   with Mrs. Krug?”

“There are good marriages and bad marriages,” Lilith said. “And who you sleep with isn’t necessarily what determines how good your marriage is. In any case, Fileclerk’s marriage was a good one, and I don’t see how it could hurt us to adopt the custom, if we truly believe in our equality.”

“All right,” Watchman snapped. “Do you want to marry me?”


“I was speaking in general terms about adopting the custom.”

“I’m speaking in particular terms. We don’t have to join the AEP to get married. I’ll get hold of Alpha Constructor and Alpha Dispatcher and we’ll write marriage ceremonies into the communion  , and we’ll get married at the chapel tonight. All right?”

“Be serious, Thor.”

“I am!”

“You’re angry, and you don’t know what you’re saying. You told me two minutes ago that you think marriage among androids is absurd. Now you’re willing to write it into the communion  . You can’t mean it, Thor.”

“You don’t want to marry me? Don’t worry, I wouldn’t interfere with your affair with Manuel. I’m not programmed for possessiveness, either. But we could live together, we could—”

“Stop it, Thor.”

“Why?”

“Whatever exists between us can exist without a marriage. You know that. I know that. I wasn’t looking for a proposal. I was just trying to tell you something about Siegfried Fileclerk, about the nature of his emotions, the complexity of his feelings toward Alpha Nucleus, as well as the position of the AEP on—”

“Enough. Enough.” Watchman put his hands over his ears and closed his eyes. “End of conversation. I’m fascinated that you couldn’t seduce Siggie Fileclerk and astounded that the AEP is going in for marrying, and that’s the end. Yes?”

“You’re in foul spirits today, Thor.”

“I am.”

“Why? Can I do anything to help?”

“Leon Spaulding told me something today, Lilith. He says that when the AEP delegation finally gets its turn to address Congress, Krug is going to release a statement denouncing the entire android equality movement and insisting that he never would have created us in the first place if he knew we’d demand civil rights.”

Lilith gasped. Tears in her eyes, she made a Krug-preserve-us sign four times in succession.

“It isn’t possible,” she whispered.

“Spaulding said that Krug told him this about a week ago, at the Nemo Club, in the presence of Speaker Salah al-Din, Senator Fearon, and a couple of other people. You realize that Leon was merely making conversation when he passed the remark along to me, of course. A friendly chat between ectogene and android. He knows I’m anti-AEP; he thought I’d be amused. The bastard!”

“Can it be true?”

“Of course it can. Krug’s never made any sort of statement on what he thinks the android’s role ought to be. I’ve got no idea of his real position myself. I’ve always assumed he was sympathetic, but I might have been only projecting my own hopes. The question isn’t can it be true but is it true.”

“Do you dare ask him?”

“I don’t dare,” Thor said. “I believe that this entire story originated inside Leon Spaulding’s malicious mind, that Krug doesn’t plan to break his no-politics rule, and that if he ever did make a statement, Krug would make the statement that we all hope and pray for. But it frightens me to think that I’m wrong. I’m terrified, Lilith. An anti-equality statement from Krug would undermine every belief we have. Dump us into outer darkness. You see what I’ve been living with all day?”

“Should you rely just on what Spaulding said? Can’t you check with Senator Fearon or the Speaker? Find out what was really said?”

“Ask them for confidential details of Krug’s table talk, you mean? They’d report me to Krug right away.”

“Then what will you do?”

“Force Krug’s hand,” Watchman said. “I want you to take Manuel to a chapel.”

“How soon?”

“As soon as you can. Don’t conceal a thing from him. Let him understand everything. Work on his conscience. Then send him to his father, before Krug makes any statements to Congress. If Krug is going to make a statement”

“I’ll do it,” Lilith said. “Yes.”

Watchman nodded. He looked down, moving his feet idly over the patterned floor. There was a ticking in his brain and a cottony fullness in his throat. He hated the maneuvers he found himself enmeshed in now, these ploys and counter-ploys, this staking of so much on the weak will of Manuel Krug, this assumption that Krug—Krug!—could be manipulated by simple one-to-one intrigues. All this seemed to negate true faith. It was a cynical kind of haggling with destiny, which left Watchman wondering how true his faith had ever been. Was it all a facade, then, the kneeling in chapel, the muttering of codon triplets, the immersion in Krugness, the yielding, the prayer? Just a way of filling time until the moment came to seize control of events? Watchman rejected the thought. But that left him with nothing. He wished he had never begun this. He longed to be back at the tower, jacked into the computer, buoyantly riding the data- tide. Is this what being human is like? These decisions, these doubts, these fears? Why not stay android, then? Accept the divine plan. Serve, and desire no more. Step away from these conspiracies, these knotted emotions, these webs of passion. He found himself envying the gammas, who aspired to nothing. But he could not be a gamma. Krug had given him this mind. Krug had created him to doubt and suffer. Blessed be the Will of Krug! Rising, Watchman walked slowly across the room and, to escape himself, snapped on the holovision. The image of Krug’s tower blossomed in the screen: immense, brilliant, beautiful, flashing in the January light. A hover-camera panned slowly along the entire length of it while the commentator spoke of the attainment of the 1000-meter level, and compared the tower favorably to the Pyramids, the Great Wall of China, the Lighthouse at Alexandria, the Colossus of Rhodes. A magnificent achievement, opening the pathway toward communication with other races on distant stars. A thing of beauty in its own right, shimmering and sleek. Up and down the glass walls the camera leaped. The eye peered into the shaft from the summit Grinning gammas waved back. Watchman caught a glimpse of himself, enmeshed in problems, unaware that he was being holovised. And there was Krug, aglow with pride, pointing out the tower’s features to a crowd of Senators and industrialists. The chill of the tundra seemed to leak from the screen. The camera picked up the refrigeration tapes embedded in the permafrost; mist was rising from them. Unless the ground is kept frozen, the commentator explained, the stability of the tower would be uncertain. An unparalleled feat of environmental engineering. Miraculous. A monument to man’s vision and determination. Yes. Yes. Phenomenal. With sudden ferocity Watchman blanked the screen. The shining tower vanished like an interrupted dream. He stood near the wall, his back to Lilith, trying to comprehend how it had happened that life had become so complex for him. He had wanted to be human. Yes. Had he not prayed to Krug that he and all his kind be granted the privileges of the Womb-born? Yes. Yes. And with the privileges went the responsibilities. Yes. And with the responsibilities went the turmoil. Rivalry. Sex. Love. Scheming. Perhaps, Watchman thought, I wasn’t ready for all this. Perhaps I should have remained a decent hardworking alpha, instead of rising up to challenge the Will of Krug. Perhaps. Perhaps. He went through the rituals of tranquility, without success. You are more human now than you really wished to be, Alpha Watchman, he told himself. He became aware of Lilith close behind him. The tips of her breasts grazed his back; then, as she drew closer, he felt the heavy globes flattening and straining against him.


“Poor Thor,” she murmured. “So tense. So worried. Do you want to make love?”

Could he refuse her? He pretended enthusiasm. He embraced her. Body slid tight against body. She opened to him, and he entered her. He was more skillful this time. But still it remained an empty thing for him, a butting of flesh, an alien ecstasy. He found no pleasure in it for himself, though there was indirect delight in seeing Lilith throb and moan and arch her back as she took pleasure from him. I am not really human enough, despite everything, he saw, and she is much too human. Yes. Yes. He moved more swiftly. Now he felt a tickle of sensation; Krug had designed His people well, and all the proper neural connections were there, damped though they might sometimes be by self-imposed conditioning. As the climax neared, Watchman experienced some instants of genuine passion; he snorted, he clutched Lilith’s buttocks with steely fingers, he bucked and thrust. Then came the spurt of completion, and immediately afterward came, as before, the sadness, the awareness of hollowness. It seemed to him that he stood in a vast subterranean tomb, hundreds of meters long and many meters wide, with nothing in view but pinches of dust and fragments of dried wreaths. He forced himself to remain in Lilith’s embrace, though he wanted nothing more than to roll away and be alone. He opened his eyes. She was weeping. She was smiling. She was flushed and sweat-sticky and aglow.

“I love you,” she said softly.

Watchman hesitated. A response was required here. His silence, expanding into the succeeding seconds, threatened to choke the universe. How could he not reply? It was inhuman to remain silent. He touched her warm flesh. He felt untuned, unstrung.

Finally he said, quickly, getting it over with, “I love you, Lilith.”





30





You may ask, Who was the Maker of the Children of the Womb? Who, indeed, was the Maker of Krug?

And I say to you that these are wise questions, that these questions are properly asked.

For you must understand that in the world there are cycles of all things, a cycle of the Womb and a cycle of the Vat, and the one precedes the other, so that it was necessary first for there to be the Womb-born in order that there might be the Vat-born.

And Krug the man was of the Womb-born, from whom sprang the Children of the Vat.

Yet Krug the man is merely one aspect of Krug the Creator, whose existence precedes all things and whose Will has shaped all things, and who brought forth the Children of the Womb as forerunners of the Children of the Vat. Therefore must you distinguish between the man Krug, who is mortal and was himself born of the Womb, and the Maker Krug, whose Plan all things follow; for if it was Krug the man who brought forth the Children of the Vat, nevertheless he did so by the design of Krug the Maker, from whom all blessings flow, to whom all praise be given.





31





I said to Lilith, You promised to tell me. Why those gammas were using my father’s name. The peace of Krug. Go with Krug. Krug be with you. You never said.

I will.

When?

You’ll have to dress up as an alpha again. It isn’t something I can tell as easily as I can show.

Do we have to go back to Gamma Town?

No, she said, not this time. We can drop in on the betas this time. I wouldn’t take you to the Valhallavagen chapel, because—

Where?

Valhallavagen chapel. Near here. It’s where most of the local alphas worship. You couldn’t fool them, Manuel. But you could fool betas, I think. If you kept quiet and looked dignified.

A chapel. Worship. So it’s a religion?

Yes.

What’s it called? Krugolatry?

It doesn’t have a name. We talk of it just as the communion  . It’s very important to us, Manuel. I think it’s the most important thing in our lives.

Do you want to describe—

Later. Take your clothes off and I’ll spray your skin. We can go right now.

Will it take long?

An hour, she said. You’ll be back home on time, don’t worry. If that’s what’s worrying you.

I have to be fair to Clissa, I said. She gives me freedom. I don’t want to abuse it.

All right. All right.

I took off my clothes. Once again Lilith disguised me as Alpha Leviticus Leaper. She had kept the clothes around from the other time; it surprised me that she hadn’t given them back to Thor Watchman. As though she knew we’d be playing this masquerade again.

She said, Before we go, there are some things you have to know. The first is that it’s absolutely forbidden for any human to enter a chapel. It’s like non-Moslems going to Mecca. For all I know, you may be the first Womb-born who ever went in.

The first what?

Womb-born. You’re a Child of the Womb. We’re Children of the Vat. Yes?

Oh. Oh. If it’s a sacrilege to smuggle me into a chapel, why are you doing it? Don’t you take the rules seriously?

Very seriously.

Then why?

Because I feel I can make an exception for you, Manuel. You’re different. I told you that once, remember? You don’t put androids in some special sub-class of humanity. I think that inwardly you’ve been on our side all along, even without being conscious of it. And so it wouldn’t be sacrilege to let you understand our religion a little.

Well, maybe.

And also you’re Krug’s son.

What does that have to do with it?

You’ll see, she said.

I was flattered. Fascinated. Excited. A little frightened. Am I really that simpatico to android aspirations? Can I be trusted? Why is she breaking the commandment? What is she trying to get from me? Unworthy thought. Unworthy thought. She is doing it because she loves me. Wants to share with me. Her world.

She said, Anyway, keep in mind that it would be very serious if you were found out Therefore pretend that you belong in there, and don’t act nervous or uncertain of yourself. You were fine in Gamma Town. Be that way here.

But aren’t there certain rites I ought to be familiar with? Genuflections or something?

I’m coming to that, Lilith said. You’ll need a couple of gestures. One of them you already know. Like this.

Left hand to crotch, breast, forehead, one two three.

She said, That’s the sign of Krug-be-praised. It’s an act of homage. You make the sign when you first enter the chapel and when you start to join the prayer, silently or aloud. It’s also good to make the sign whenever the name of Krug is mentioned. In fact the Krug-be-praised sign is appropriate in almost any part of the service, or whenever two androids of the communion   meet outside a chapel. Let’s see you make it. Go on.

One two three. Krug be praised.

Faster. One-two-three.

One-two-three.

Good. Good. Now, here’s another important sign. Its meaning is Krug-preserve-us, and it’s specifically a prayer used in time of tension or doubt. Like saying God help us. You’ll use it whenever the text of the service calls for Krug to have mercy on us, Krug to aid us in any way. Whenever we’re imploring Krug.

Krug is really your god, I said, wondering.

This is the sign. She showed me how to make it. Cup one hand over each breast; then turn the palms outward. An act of contrition: see my soul, Krug! My heart is bare to you. She made the sign several times, and I followed her.

One more, Lilith said. The sign of submission to the Will of Krug. You’ll make it only once, when you first get into line of sight with the altar. Like this. Drop to one knee and reach your arms forward, palms turned up.

Does it matter which knee?

Either one. Do it.

I made the sign of submission to the Will of Krug. I was glad to learn it. Somehow I felt that I’d been submitting to the Will of Krug all my life, without even knowing it.


Lilith said, Let’s make sure you have it all clear, now. When you enter the chapel, what?

One-two-three. Krug-be-praised.

Good. Then?

When I can see the altar, I do the submission to the Will. Down on one knee, hands out, palms up.

Yes. And?

When favors are asked of Krug, I do Krug-preserve-us. Hands to breasts, turn hands out. I also do Krug-be-praised from time to time when the name of Krug is mentioned.

Fine. Fine. You won’t have any trouble, Manuel.

There’s another gesture I saw you make in Gamma Town, I said.

Show me.

I held my hands up with the palms facing each other about half a meter apart, and wiggled my hips and flexed my knees, making a kind of spiral.

You did it in Gamma Town, I said, when the mob was getting a little wild.

Lilith laughed. It’s called the Blessing of the Vat, she said. It’s a sign of peace and a sign of departure. We do it over a dead person in the final prayer, and we do it when we’re saying goodbye to one another in a tense situation. It’s one of the holiest signs. And you didn’t do it very well. You see, it’s based on the double helix of the nucleic acid molecule— genetics, yes?—the way the molecules are coiled. We try to duplicate it with our bodies. This way.

She did it. I imitated. She laughed.

I said, I’m sorry. My body just doesn’t bend that way.

It takes practice. You won’t have to do it, though. Stick with Krug-be-praised and Krug-preserve-us and you’ll be fine. Let’s go, now.

She took me to a shabby part of town in what I think once was a commercial section. It didn’t have the nightmare gaudiness of Gamma Town or the stately well-worn look of the part where the alphas live. Just shabby.

Chapel’s over there, she said.

I saw a storefront, windows opaqued. Couple of betas standing out front doing nothing particular. We started to cross the street. I got shaky. What if they find me out? What will they do? To me? To Lilith?

I am Alpha Leviticus Leaper.

The betas stepped aside, making Krug-be-praised, as we came up to them. Eyes lowered, air of respect. The social distances. Lilith would have had a much harder time if I didn’t have an alpha’s long lean build. My confidence rose. I even made Krug-be-praised at one of the betas.

We entered the chapel.

A large circular room. No seats. Carpet of thick soft pseudolife, obviously much knelt-upon in its time. Subdued lighting. I remembered to make Krug-be-praised as I walked in. One-two-three.

A little vestibule. Two steps beyond it I got my first view of the altar. Lilith down on one knee, submission to the Will. I almost didn’t need to kneel. I almost fell, amazed.

The altar: a large square mass of what looked like living flesh, sitting in an ornate plastic tub. Purple fluid in the tub, swirling around and occasionally over this block of pink meat, which is at least a meter high and maybe three meters by two long, wide.

Behind the altar: my father in hologram. A perfect likeness. Full-size replica, looking at us face-on, stern expression, eyes fiery, lips clamped. Not exactly a god of love. Strong. Man of steel. Because it’s a hologram, the eyes follow you; wherever you are in the chapel you’re under the gaze of Krug.

I drop down. I lift the hands. Palms up.

Submission to the Will of Krug!

It stuns me. Even though I knew before, I still am stunned. Is it like this all over the world, I ask? Androids salaaming to my father? Barely audible whisper. Yes, she says. Yes. We pay homage. Krug be praised.

This man whom I have known all my life. This builder of towers, this inventor of androids. A god? I almost laugh. Am I Son of God? I don’t fit the role. Obviously no one worships me here. I am an afterthought; I am outside theology.

We get to our feet. With a tiny gesture of her head Lilith leads me to a place in the back of the chapel, and we kneel. In the darkness I feel comforted. There are perhaps ten, twelve androids in the chapel, all betas except for one male alpha who kneels right before the altar, back to us. I feel less conspicuous with the alpha there. A few more betas come in, making the appropriate gestures. No one pays any attention to us. The social distances.

Everybody seems deep in private prayer.

Is this the service, Lilith?

Not yet. We’re a little early. You’ll see.

The eyes of Krug drill into me. He almost does look godlike up there. I glare back at him. What would he say if he knew? He’d laugh. He’d pound his desk. He’d belch with joy. Krug the god! Jehovah Krug! Simeon Allah! By Christ, that’s a good one! Why in hell shouldn’t they worship me? I made them, no?

As my eyes grow accustomed to the dimness I examine the pattern on the wall more carefully. It is not, as I first suspected, a purely abstract ornamental design. No: I now see the letters of the alphabet repeated over and over and over, covering every centimeter of wall space. Not all the letters. I run from line to line and see only A, U, G, and C in various combinations, like:

AUA AUG AUC AUU GAA GAG GAC GAU GGA GGG GGC GGU

GCA GCG GCC GGU GUA GUG GUC GUU CAA CAG CAC CAU

So on and so on. What is it, Lilith? The design.

The genetic code, she says. The RNA triplets.

Oh. Yes. Suddenly I remember in Gamma Town, the girl slobie addict calling out letters, GAAGAGGAC. I can see them on the wall now. A prayer?

The sacred language. Like Latin was for Catholics.

I see.

But I don’t really see. I just accept.

I say, And what is the altar made of?

Flesh. Synthetic flesh.

Live?

Of course. Straight from the vat, like me or you. Pardon, not like you. Like me. Just a lump of live android flesh.

What keeps it alive? It’s got no organs or anything.

It gets nutrients from the tank. And injections of something from underneath. But it lives. It grows. It has to be trimmed from time to time. It symbolizes our origin. Not yours. Ours. There’s one in every chapel. Smuggled out of the factory.

Like the rejects.

Like the rejects, yes.

And I thought security arrangements were so tight at the android plants, I say.

Lilith winks at me. I begin to feel like a member of the conspiracy.

Three androids now enter from the rear of the chapel. Two betas and an alpha, wearing brocaded stoles on which the letters of the genetic code are inscribed. They have a priestly look about them. The service is about to begin. As the three kneel by the altar, everyone else makes Krug-be-praised, and then Krug-preserve-us. I do as they do.

Are they priests?

They’re celebrants, Lilith says. We don’t exactly have a priesthood. We have various castes that play different roles in different ceremonies, according to structure and texture of the ritual. The alpha’s a Preserver. He enters a trance that places him in direct communion   with Krug. The two betas are Projectors. They amplify his emotional state. At other times you might see Engulfers, Transcenders, or Protectors officiating, with the help of Yielders or Sacrificers or Re- sponders.

Which caste are you?

Responder.

And Thor Watchman?

Preserver.

The alpha by the altar began to chant: CAU, UUC, UCA, CGA. CCG, GCC, GAG, AUC.

Is the whole thing going to be in code?

No. This is just to establish the texture.

What’s he saying?

Two betas not far in front of us turn around to glare. Shushing us. They see we are alphas and bite their lips.

Lilith whispers, more faintly than before, He’s saying, Krug brings us into the world and to Krug we return.

GGC, GUU, UUC, GAG.

Krug is our creator and our protector and our deliverer.

UUC, CUG, CUC, UAC.

Krug, we beseech Thee to lead us toward the light.

I can’t comprehend the code. The symbols don’t match the sense. Which symbol is Krug? How does the grammar work? I can’t ask Lilith that here. Others are turning to stare. Those noisy alphas back there. Don’t they have any respect?


The Projectors hum deep resonant chords. The Preserver continues to chant code. Lilith now begins to function as a Responder, echoing what is chanted. The lights dim and grow bright. The fluid over the altar bubbles more fiercely. The image of Krug seems to glow; the eyes reach into my soul.

Now I can understand about half the words of the service. Interspersed with the code, they are asking Krug to redeem the Children of the Vat, to give them freedom, to lift them to the level of the Children of the Womb. They sing about the day when Womb and Vat and Vat and Womb are one. With an infinity of Krug-preserve-us gestures they beg the mercy of Krug. Krug! Krug! Krug! Krug! Everything here orbits around the idea of a merciful Krug!

I start to see the picture. This is an equality movement! This is an android liberation front!

Krug our master, lead us to our rightful place beside our brothers and sisters of the flesh.

Krug bring redemption.

Krug end our suffering.

Praise be to Krug.

Glory be to Krug.

The service gains intensity. Everyone is singing, chanting, making signs, including several that Lilith never showed me. Lilith herself is wholly absorbed in prayer. I feel isolated, an infidel, an intruder, as I listen to them pray to their creator, my father, who is their god. For long spells the service is conducted entirely in the code-language, but familiar words keep bursting through. Krug descend and redeem us. Krug give your blessing. Krug end this time of testing. Krug we need you. Krug Krug Krug Krug Krug. With each Krug I jump minutely, I twitch in the shoulderblades. I never suspected any of this. How did they keep it so secret? Krug the god. My father the god. And I am Krug too. If Krug dies, what will they worship? How can a god die? Do they preach the resurrection of Krug? Or is Krug on Earth only a transient manifestation of the true Krug on high? From some of the lines of the service, I get that idea.

Now they are all singing at once, a booming unison:

AAA AAG AAC AAU be to Krug.

AGA AGG AGC AGU be to Krug.

ACA ACG ACC ACU be to Krug.

They are offering him the whole genetic code, line by line. I follow from a column on the wall. Suddenly I hear my own voice joining the chant:

GAA GAG GAC GAU be to Krug.

GGA GGG GGC GGU be to Krug.

Lilith turns and smiles at me. Her face is flushed and bright, excited, exalted, almost a sexual rapture on it. She nods, encouraging me.

I sing louder.

GCA GCG GCC GCU be to Krug.

GUA GUG GUC GUU be to Krug.

On and on it goes, the pitch strange, no one hitting any note squarely yet everyone keeping together perfectly, as though androids tune themselves to different intervals on some different scale. I have little trouble adapting, though, and stay with them right to the end, UUA UUG UUC UUU be to Krug.

We rise. We approach the altar. Standing shoulder to shoulder, Lilith to my left and some beta pressing against my right, we put our hands on that block of living flesh. It is warm and slippery; it quivers as we touch it. Vibrations pass through us. Krug, we chant, Krug, Krug, Krug, Krug.

The service is over.

Some of the androids file out. Others remain, looking too exhausted by the experience to leave just yet. I feel that way myself, and I have hardly taken part. An intense religious communion  . Religion is said to be dead, a quaint olden custom now lapsed into disuse, but no, not among these people. They believe in higher powers and the efficacy of prayer. They think Krug listens. Does Krug listen? Has Krug ever listened? But they think so. If he does not listen now, they say, he will listen. And will lift them up out of bondage. The opiate of the masses, what? But the alphas also believe.

To Lilith I say, How long has this been happening, this religion?

Since before I was born.

Who invented it?

It started here in Stockholm. A group of alphas. It spread rapidly. Now there are believers all over the world.

Every android believes?

Not every. The AEP people don’t. We ask for miracles and divine grace; they stand for direct political agitation. But we outnumber them. Most of us believe. More than half. Just about every gamma, and most betas, and many alphas.

And you think that if you keep asking Krug to redeem you, he will?

Lilith smiles. What else can we hope for?

Have you ever approached Krug directly?

Never. You see, we distinguish between Krug the man and Krug the Creator, and we feel— She shakes her head. Let’s not talk in here. Someone might listen.

We start to go out. Halfway to the door she halts, goes back, takes something from a box at the base of the altar. She hands it to me. It is a data cube. She turns it on and I read the words that appear:

In the beginning there was Krug, and He said, Let there be Vats, and there were Vats.

And Krug looked upon the Vats and found them good.

And Krug said, Let there be high-energy nucleotides in the Vats. And the nucleotides were poured, and Krug mixed them until they were bonded one to another.

And the nucleotides formed the great molecules, and Krug said, Let there be the father and the mother both in the Vats, and let the cells divide, and let there be life brought forth within the Vats.

And there was life, for there was Replication.

And Krug presided over the Replication, and touched the fluids with His own hands, and gave them shape and essence.

Let men come forth from the Vats, said Krug, and let women come forth, and let them live and go among us and be sturdy and useful, and we shall call them Androids.

I thumb the cube. More of the same. Much more. An android bible. Well, why not?

Fascinating, I tell Lilith. When was this written?

They started it years ago. They still add sections now. About the nature of Krug, and the relation of man to Krug.

The relation of man to Krug. Beautiful.

She says, Keep it, if you find it interesting. It’s for you.

We leave the chapel. I hide the android bible under my clothes. It bulges.

At Lilith’s flat again. She said, Now you know. Our great secret. Our great hope.

What exactly do you expect my father to do for you?

Someday, she said, he will go before all the world and reveal his feelings about us. He will say, These androids have been treated unfairly, and now it is time to make amends. Let us give them citizenship. Let us give them full rights. Let us stop treating them as articles of property. And because he is Krug, because he is the one who gave the world androids, people will listen. He alone will sway them all. And things will change for us.

You really think this is going to happen?

I hope and pray it will, she said.

When? Soon?

That’s not for me to say. Five years—twenty years—forty years—maybe next month. Read the cube I gave you. It explains how we think Krug is just testing us, seeing how tough we are. Eventually the test will be over.

I wish I shared your optimism, I said. But I’m afraid you may wait a long, long time.

Why do you say that?

My father isn’t the humanitarian you think he is. He’s no villain, no, but he doesn’t think much about other people and their problems. He’s totally absorbed by his own projects.

Yet basically he’s an honorable person, Lilith said. I mean Krug the man, now. Not the divine figure we pray to. Just your father.

Yes, he’s honorable.

Then he’ll see the merits of our cause.

Maybe. Maybe not. I took her in my arms. Lilith, I wish there was something I could do to help!

There is.

What?

Speak to your father about us, she said.