Eloise

The body was nothing but a receptacle for intelligence. Emotion was to be decried, eliminated by training and surgery; the severance of certain nerves leading to the thalamus when young, the operation which left every cyber the living equivalent of a machine, able to find pleasure only in mental achievement. But none counted it as a loss. Only the mind counted, the sharpening of the intelligence, the cultivation of the pure light of reason and inexorable logic.

Traits which made every cyber able to take a handful of facts and build from them the most probable sequence of events. To extrapolate the result of every action and course of conduct. To make predictions so accurate that, at times, it seemed they could actually read the future. A service for which rulers and worlds were willing to pay far more than they guessed.

"You have worked well," said Nequal in his trained modulation. A voice carefully devoid of all irritating factors. "Your dedication, skill and application have earned you the highest reward it is possible for any of us to know. I shall not keep you from it." He gestured at the attendants. "Go now. Almost I envy you."

But there was no need for envy, even if he could have felt the emotion. He, all of them, every cyber who reached old age or imminent death, all who had proved themselves; all would take the same path as the attendants now prepared for the five.

First they would be shown the great halls, the endless passages and vaulted chambers gouged from the living rock far beneath the planetary surface; the entire complex buttressed and reinforced to withstand even the fury of thermonuclear attack. They would see the serried rows of vats, the laboratories, the hydroponic farms; the whole tremendous installation which was the headquarters of the Cyclan.

And then, assured, their gestalt finned, they would become a part of it.

They would be taken and drugged. Trepans would bite into their skulls and expose the living brains. Attachments would keep them alive, as they were lifted from their natural housings and placed into containers of nutrient and that the intelligences would remain awake and ever aware. And then, finally, the living, thinking brains would be incorporated into the gigantic organic computer which was Central Intelligence.

To live forever. To share in the complete domination of the universe. To solve all the mysteries of creation.

The aim and object of the Cyclan.

* * * * *

Nequal watched them go, wondering if they would have been so eager had they known what he knew; the problem which threatened to overshadow all others. As yet it was a minor incident; but he would not have been a cyber if he had not known where it must invariably lead if unchecked.

A passage led to the laboratories; the office of Cyber Quendis, the papers and graphs lying thick on his desk.

"Master!"

"Report on the decay of the older intelligences."

Quendis was direct. "There is no improvement. The deterioration previously noticed is progressing into all increasing decay."

"Action taken?"

The affected part of the computer has been removed from all contact with the main banks. A totally separate life support and communications system has been installed, and tests made to discover the cause of decay. Results to date show that there is no apparent protoplasmic degeneration, the condition was not induced by defective maintenance and there is no trace of any external infection."

From where he stood at one end of the Desk Yandron said, "How did you arrive at your conclusions?"

"Ten units were detached, dismantled and inspected. I chose those showing most signs of aberration."

Ten brains destroyed. Ten intelligences, the seat and repositories of accumulated knowledge, totally eliminated. Yet, thought Nequal dispassionately, it was a thing which had to be done. Again Yandron anticipated his question.

"Your suggestion as to the cause of the decay?"

"Psychological." Quendis touched a sheet of paper covered with fine markings. "The conclusions of three different lines of investigation. The cause could be based on the necessity for the brains to rid themselves of programming, by the means of paradoxical sleep. The need to dream."

"That is easily arranged," said Nequal. "There are drugs which can achieve the desired effect. Have they been used?"

"Yes, Master. The results were negative. To use the term paradoxical sleep in its widest sense. It could well be that the affected units have lost all touch with reality. This could be due to their extreme age, in which case the maintenance of units is limited by a time factor of which we have been unaware. If this is correct the decay of all units is, in time, inevitable."

"But manageable," said Yandron. "New units can replace the old."