From the Ocean from teh Stars (88 page)

they were waiting in the anteroom of the Council Chamber. It was impossible not to compare his present situation with that in Lys, when Seranis and her colleagues had tried to bend him to their wills. He hoped that there would be no need for another conflict, but if one should arise he was now far better prepared for it.

His first glance at the faces of the Council members told Alvin what their decision had been. He was neither surprised nor particularly disappointed, and he showed none of the emotion the Councilors might have expected as he listened to the President's summing-up.

"Alvin," began the President, "we have considered with great care the situation which your discovery has brought about, and we have reached this unanimous decision. Because no one wishes any change in our way of life, and because only once in many millions of years is anyone born who is capable of leaving Diaspar even if the means exists, the tunnel system to Lys is unnecessary and may well be a danger. The entrance to the chamber of the moving ways has therefore been sealed.

"Moreover, since it is possible that there may be other ways of leaving the city, a search will be made of the monitor memory units. That search has already begun.

"We have also considered what action, if any, need be taken with regard to you. In view of your youth, and the peculiar circumstances of your origin, it is felt that you cannot be censured for what you have done. Indeed, by disclosing a potential danger to our way of life, you have done the city a service, and we record our appreciation of that fact."

There was a murmur of applause, and expressions of satisfaction spread across the faces of the Councilors. A difficult situation had been speedily dealt with, they had avoided the necessity of reprimanding Alvin, and now they could go their ways again feeling that they, the chief citizens of Diaspar, had done their duty. With reasonably good fortune, it might be centuries before the need arose again.

The President looked expectantly at Alvin; perhaps he hoped that Alvin would reciprocate and express his appreciation of the Council for letting him off so lightly. He was disappointed.

"May I ask one question?" said Alvin politely.

"Of course."

"The Central Computer, I take it, approved of your action?"

In the ordinary way, this would have been an impertinent question to ask. The Council was not supposed to justify its decisions or explain how it had arrived at them. But Alvin himself had been taken into the confidence of the Central Computer, for some strange reason of its own. He was in a privileged position.

The question clearly caused some embarrassment, and the reply came
rather reluctantly.

"Naturally we consulted with the Central Computer. It told us to use
our own judgment."

Alvin had expected as much. The Central Computer would have been
conferring with the Council at the same moment as it was talking to him—
at the same moment, in fact, as it was attending to a million other tasks
in Diaspar. It knew, as did Alvin, that any decision the Council now
made was of no importance. The future had passed utterly beyond its
control at the very moment when, in happy ignorance, it had decided
that the crisis had been safely dealt with.

Alvin felt no sense of superiority, none of the sweet anticipation of
impending triumph, as he looked at these foolish old men who thought
themselves the rulers of Diaspar. He had seen the real ruler of the city,
and had spoken to it in the grave silence of its brilliant, buried world. That was an encounter which had burned most of the arrogance out of his soul, but enough was left for a final venture that would surpass all
that had gone before.

As he took leave of the Council, he wondered if they were surprised
at his quiet acquiescence, his lack of indignation at the closing of the path
to Lys. The proctors did not accompany him; he was no longer under
observation, at least in so open a manner. Only Jeserac followed him
out of the Council Chamber and into the colored, crowded streets.

"Well, Alvin," he said. "You were on your best behavior, but you
cannot deceive me. What are you planning?"

Alvin smiled.

"I knew that you would suspect something; if you will come with
me, I will show you why the subway to Lys is no longer important. And
there is another experiment I want to try; it will not harm you, but you
may not like it."

"Very well, I am still supposed to be your tutor, but it seems that the
roles are now reversed. Where are you taking me?"

"We are going to the Tower of Loranne, and I am going to show you the world outside Diaspar."

Jeserac paled, but he stood his ground. Then, as if not trusting
himself with words, he gave a stiff little nod and followed Alvin out onto
the smoothly gliding surface of the moving way.

Jeserac showed no fear as they walked along the tunnel through which
that cold wind blew forever into Diaspar. The tunnel had changed now; the stone grille that had blocked access to the outer world was gone. It
served no structural purpose, and the Central Computer had removed

it without comment at Alvin's request. Later, it might instruct the monitors
to remember the grille again and bring it back into existence. But for the
moment the tunnel gaped unfenced and unguarded in the sheer outer
wall of the city.

Not until Jeserac had almost reached the end of the air shaft did he
realize that the outer world was now upon him. He looked at the widening
circle of sky, and his steps became more and more uncertain until they
finally slowed to a halt. Alvin remembered how Alystra had turned and fled from this same spot, and he wondered if he could induce Jeserac to
go any further.

"I am only asking you to
look"
he begged, "not to leave the city.
Surely you can manage to do that!"

In Airlee, during his brief stay, Alvin had seen a mother teaching
her child to walk. He was irresistibly reminded of this as he coaxed Jeserac
along the corridor, making encouraging remarks as his tutor advanced
foot by reluctant foot. Jeserac, unlike Khedron, was no coward. He was
prepared to fight against his compulsion, but it was a desperate struggle. Alvin was almost as exhausted as the older man by the time he had suc
ceeded in getting Jeserac to a point where he could see the whole, unin
terrupted sweep of the desert.

Once there, the interest and strange beauty of the scene, so alien
to all that Jeserac had ever known in this or any previous existence,
seemed to overcome his fears. He was clearly fascinated by the immense
vista of the rolling sand dunes and the far-off, ancient hills. It was late
afternoon, and in a little while all this land would be visited by the night
that never came to Diaspar.

"I asked you to come here," said Alvin, speaking quickly as if he
could hardly control his impatience, "because I realize that you have
earned more right than anyone to see where my travels have led me.
I wanted you to see the desert, and I also want you to be a witness, so
that the Council will know what I have done.

"As I told the Council, I brought this robot home from Lys in the hope that the Central Computer would be able to break the block that
had been imposed on its memories by the man known as the Master. By
a trick which I still don't fully understand, the Computer did that. Now
I have access to all the memories of this machine, as well as to the special
skills that had been designed into it. I'm going to use one of those skills
now. Watch."

On a soundless order which Jeserac could only guess, the robot floated
out of the tunnel entrance, picked up speed, and within seconds was no more than a distant metallic gleam in the sunhght. It was flying low over

the desert, across the sand dunes that lay crisscrossed like frozen waves.
Jeserac had the unmistakable impression that it was searching—though
for what, he could not imagine.

Then, abruptly, the glittering speck soared away from the desert and
came to rest a thousand feet above the ground. At the same moment,
Alvin gave an explosive sigh of satisfaction and relief. He glanced quickly
at Jeserac, as if to say: "This is it!"

At first, not knowing what to expect, Jeserac could see no change.
Then, scarcely believing his eyes, he saw that a cloud of dust was slowly
rising from the desert.

Nothing is more terrible than movement where no movement should
ever be again, but Jeserac was beyond surprise or fear as the sand dunes
began to slide apart. Beneath the desert something was stirring like a
giant awakening from its sleep, and presently there came to Jeserac's
ears the rumble of falling earth and the shriek of rock split asunder by
irresistible force. Then, suddenly, a great geyser of sand erupted hun
dreds of feet into the air and the ground was hidden from sight.

Slowly the dust began to settle back into a jagged wound torn across
the face of the desert. But Jeserac and Alvin still kept their eyes fixed
steadfastly upon the open sky, which a little while ago had held only the waiting robot. Now at last Jeserac knew why Alvin had seemed so indif
ferent to the decision of the Council, why he had shown no emotion
when he was told that the subway to Lys had been closed.

The covering of earth and rock could blur but could not conceal the proud lines of the ship still ascending from the riven desert. As
Jeserac watched, it slowly turned toward them until it had foreshortened
to a circle. Then, very leisurely, the circle started to expand.

Alvin began to speak, rather quickly, as if the time were short.

"This robot was designed to be the Master's companion and servant —and, above all, the pilot of his ship. Before he came to Lys, he landed
at the Port of Diaspar, which now lies out there beneath those sands. Even in his day, it must have been largely deserted; I think that the
Master's ship was one of the last ever to reach Earth. He lived for a while
in Diaspar before he went to Shalmirane; the way must still have been
open in those days. But he never needed the ship again, and all these
ages it has been waiting out there beneath the sands. Like Diaspar itself, like this robot—like everything that the builders of the past considered
really important—it was preserved by its own eternity circuits. As long
as it had a source of power, it could never wear out or be destroyed; the
image carried in its memory cells would never fade, and that image con
trolled its physical structure."

The ship was now very close, as the controlling robot guided it toward the tower. Jeserac could see that it was about a hundred feet long and sharply pointed at both ends. There appeared to be no windows or other openings, though the thick layer of earth made it impossible to be certain of this.

Suddenly they were spattered with dirt as a section of the hull opened outward, and Jeserac caught a glimpse of a small, bare room with a second door at its far end. The ship was hanging only a foot away from the mouth of the air vent, which it had approached very cautiously like a sensitive, living thing.

"Good-by, Jeserac," said Alvin. "I cannot go back into Diaspar to say farewell to my friends: please do that for me. Tell Eriston and Etania that I hope to return soon; if I do not, I am grateful for all that they did. And I am grateful to you, even though you may not approve of the way I have applied your lessons.

"And as for the Council—tell it that a road that has once been opened cannot be closed again merely by passing a resolution."

The ship was now only a dark stain against the sky, and of a sudden Jeserac lost it altogether. He never saw its going, but presently there echoed down from the heavens the most awe-inspiring of all the sounds that Man had ever made—the long-drawn thunder of air falling, mile after mile, into a tunnel of vacuum drilled suddenly across the sky.

Even when the last echoes had died away into the desert, Jeserac never moved. He was thinking of the boy who had gone—for to Jeserac, Alvin would always be a child, the only one to come into Diaspar since the cycle of birth and death had been broken, so long ago. Alvin would never grow up; to him the whole Universe was a plaything, a puzzle to be unraveled for his own amusement. In his play he had now found the ultimate, deadly toy which might wreck what was left of human civilization—but whatever the outcome, to him it would still be a game.

The sun was now low on the horizon, and a chill wind was blowing from the desert. But Jeserac still waited, conquering his fears; and presently for the first time in his life he saw the stars.

☆
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Even in Diaspar, Alvin had seldom seen such luxury as that which lay before him when the inner door of the air lock slid aside. Whatever else he had been, at least the Master was no ascetic. Not