Road to Dune (53 page)

Is It More Human to Be Good? Or Evil
?

That sign, next to the new one, had posed a conundrum for some time. Many of the humans he had studied in detail, such as Serena Butler and his own ward Gilbertus Albans, demonstrated an innate human goodness filled with compassion and caring for other creatures. But Erasmus had studied history and knew about traitors and sociopaths who caused incredible damage and suffering in order to gain advantages for themselves.

No set of conclusions made sense.

After thirty-six years of Serena Butler’s Jihad, the machines were far from victory, despite computer projections that said they should have crushed the feral humans long ago. Fanaticism kept the League of Nobles strong, and they continued to fight when any reasoned consideration should have led them to surrender. Their inspirational leader had been martyred … by her own choice. An inexplicable act.

Now, he finally had a fresh opportunity, an unexpected new subject that might shed light on hitherto unexplored aspects of humanity. Perhaps when he arrived, the Tlulaxa captive would provide some answers. After all, the foolish man had fallen into their laps …

Rekur Van had brashly flown into Synchronized space controlled by the thinking machines, and transmitted his demand to see Omnius. The Tlulaxa’s bold arrival was either part of a complicated trick … or he genuinely believed he had a worthwhile bargaining chip. Erasmus was curious as to which it was.

Omnius wanted to destroy the Tlulaxa ship outright; most humans trespassing in Synchronized space were either killed or captured, but Erasmus intervened, eager to hear what the well-known genetics researcher had to say.

After surrounding the small vessel, robotic warships escorted it to Corrin, center of the Synchronized Worlds. Without delay, armored sentinel robots marched the captive directly into Erasmus’s laboratory.

Rekur Van’s angular gray-skinned face was pinched into a scowl that flickered between haughtiness and fear. His dark, close-set eyes blinked rapidly. He wore a braid down to his shoulder and tried to look confident and nonplused, but failed completely.

Facing him, the autonomous robot preened in his plush, regal robe, which he wore to make himself impressive in the eyes of his human slaves and test subjects. He fashioned a nonthreatening smile on his flowmetal face, then glowered, trying out another expression. “When you were captured, you demanded to see Omnius. It is strange for the great computer evermind to receive commands from such a diminutive human—a man both small in stature and in importance.”

Van lifted his chin and sniffed haughtily. “You underestimate me.” Reaching into the folds of his stained and rumpled tunic, the Tlulaxa withdrew a small vial. “I have brought you something precious. These are samples of vital cells, the raw materials of my genetic research.”

“I have done a great deal of my own research,” Erasmus said. “And I have many samples to draw from. Why should yours interest me?”

“Because these are original cells from
Serena Butler
herself. And you have no technology or techniques to grow an accelerated clone of her, as I do. I can create a perfect duplicate of the leader of the Jihad against thinking machines—I’m sure you can think of a use for that.”

Erasmus was indeed impressed. “Serena Butler? You can recreate her?”

“Down to her exact DNA, and I can accelerate her maturity to whatever point you wish. But I have planted certain … inhibitors … in these cells. Little locks that only I can open.” He continued to hold the vial tantalizingly in the laboratory’s light, where Erasmus could see it. “Just imagine how valuable such a pawn could be in your war against humans.”

“And why would you offer us such a treasure?”

“Because I hate the League of Nobles. They turned against my people, are hunting us down at every turn. If the thinking machines grant me sanctuary, I will reward you with a brandnew Serena Butler, to do with as you wish.”

Possibilities flooded Erasmus’s mental core. Serena had been his most fascinating human subject ever, but his experiments and tests on her had come to a grinding halt once he’d killed her unruly baby. After that, she was no longer cooperative. For decades, the robot had wished for a second opportunity with her—and now he could have it.

He imagined the dialogues they might have, the exchanges of ideas, the
answers
to all his pressing questions. He studied another slogan on the wall.
If I Can Think of the Ultimate Question, Will It Have an Answer
?

Fascinated, Eramus clasped Van’s shoulder, causing the Tlulaxa to grimace in pain. “I agree to your terms.”

THE GRAND PATRIARCH’S widow sent him a formal invitation, and Vorian Atreides knew it was not an idle request.

The message was delivered by a captain of the Jihad Police, which in itself carried an implied threat. But Vor chose not to be intimidated. He donned many of the medals, ribbons, and decorations he’d been awarded over the course of his long and illustrious career. Although he’d grown up among thinking machines as a trustee, Vor had later become a Hero of the Jihad. He didn’t want Iblis Ginjo’s pretentious wife to forget for one second who she was dealing with.

Camie Boro-Ginjo had married Ginjo for the prestige his name offered, but it had been a loveless union between loveless people. Camie had every intention of turning her husband’s spectacular death to her own political gain. Now, inside the same offices where the Grand Patriarch had formulated so many of his nefarious schemes, she sat beside the bald, olive-skinned Jipol commandant, Yorek Thurr. Vor steeled himself for whatever this dangerous pair might be planning.

Smiling prettily, Camie directed Vor’s attention to a model on a display platform, a small-scale rendition of a grandiose monument. “This will be our shrine to the Three Martyrs. Anyone who glimpses it cannot help but be filled with fervor for the Jihad.”

Vor eyed the arches, the huge braziers to carry eternal flames, and the three colossal figures inside, stylized representations of a man, woman, and child. “Three Martyrs?”

“Serena Butler and her child, murdered by the thinking machines, and my husband Iblis Ginjo, slain by the treachery of humans.”

Vor could barely suppress his anger. He turned to leave. “I will have no part in this.”

“Primero, please hear us out.” Camie raised her hands in a placating gesture. “We must address the extreme turmoil in the League, the horrible murder of Serena Butler by the thinking machines, and the tragic death of my husband due to the plot hatched by Xavier Harkonnen and his Tlulaxa cohorts.”

“There are no facts to prove Xavier’s culpability,” Vor said, his voice brittle. Camie had been primarily responsible for the blame-shifting and mudslinging. He was not afraid of her, or of her henchman. “Your assumptions are false, and you have stopped looking for the truth.”

“It has been proven to my satisfaction.”

Thurr rose to his feet. Though shorter in stature than Camie, he had the coiled strength of a cobra. “More to the point, Primero, it has been proven to the satisfaction of the League citizens. They need their heroes and martyrs.”

“Apparently they need their villains as well. And, if you cannot find the correct culprit, you create one—as you did with Xavier.”

Thurr meshed his fingers together. “We don’t wish to engage in an acrimonious debate, Primero. You are a great military strategist, and we owe many of our victories to you.”

“And to Xavier,” Vor said.

The Jipol commandant continued without responding to the comment. “We three important leaders must work together to accomplish important goals. None of us can be mired down by bruised feelings and traditional grieving. We must keep the populace focused on winning our Holy Jihad and cannot afford arguments that divert us from the real enemy. You persist in raising questions about what happened between Xavier Harkonnen and the Grand Patriarch, but you do not realize the damage you’re doing.”

“The truth is the truth.”

“The truth is relative, and must be taken in the context of our larger struggle. Even Serena and Xavier would agree that unpleasant sacrifices are warranted if they help to achieve the goals of the Jihad. You must stop this personal crusade, Primero. Stop casting doubts. You only harm our cause if you don’t keep your feelings to yourself.”

Though Thurr’s words were spoken calmly, Vor read the implied threat in them and suppressed a fleeting urge to strike the man; this Jipol commandant had no comprehension of honor or truth. No doubt, Thurr had the power to see that the Primero was quietly assassinated … and Vor knew he would do it if he considered it necessary.

Still, the Jipol commandant had struck a solid blow, reminding him of his friends’ intentional sacrifices. If Vor destroyed the public confidence in the Jihad Council and the League government as a whole, the political repercussions and social turmoil could be considerable. Scandals, resignations, and the general uproar would severely weaken the solidarity the human race needed in order to face the thinking machines.

Omnius was the only enemy that mattered.

Vor crossed his arms over his heavily medaled and ribboned chest. “For now, I will keep my opinions to myself,” he said. “But I don’t do it for you and your power plays. I’m doing it for Serena’s Jihad, and for Xavier.”

“Just so long as you do it,” Camie said.

Vor turned to leave, but paused at the door. “I don’t want to be anywhere around when you unveil your Three Martyrs farce, so I’m heading for the front lines.” Shaking his head, he hurried away. “Battles I can understand.”

ON THE MAIN machine world of Corrin, years passed, and a female child grew rapidly into adulthood, her cloned life accelerated by Rekur Van. Erasmus regularly visited his laboratories full of moaning experimental subjects, where his new Serena Butler was taking shape nicely.

Among the tormented human subjects, the Tlulaxa researcher seemed quite at home. Van was himself an interesting person, with opinions and attitudes dramatically different from those Erasmus had observed in the original Serena or in Gilbertus Albans. Even so, the intense scientist had an unusual perspective: entirely self-centered, twisted by irrational hatred and spite toward the feral humans. In addition, he was intelligent and well trained. A good mental sparring partner for Erasmus … but the robot pinned his hopes on the return of Serena.

During her prolonged development, Van used advanced machine instructional technology to fill her head with misinformation, false memories mixed with details of the real Serena’s life. Some of the data took hold; some of it needed to be implanted again and again.

When he had the opportunity, the robot engaged his new Serena in tentative conversation, anxious for the forthcoming days when he could debate with her, provoking her ire and her fascinating responses—just as it had once been. But though she looked like an adult, Rekur Van insisted that the clone’s preparation was not complete.

And after all this time, Erasmus was growing impatient.

At first, he had assumed the discrepancies from the Serena he had known were inconsequential, the difference between a juvenile and the woman she would ultimately become. But as the clone approached the equivalent age at which he had known Serena, Erasmus became increasingly disturbed. This wasn’t at all what he had expected.

Sensing that he could no longer justify further delays, the Tlulaxa researcher rushed his final preparations. Dressed again in his regal robe, Erasmus arrived to observe as the Serena clone completed several days of immersion in an experimental cellular deceleration chamber, to slow the aging process. Her development had been stretched and pushed, and her weak biological body had endured incredible rigors.

The Tlulaxa had been anxious to prove his claims, but Erasmus reconsidered now. Thinking machines could wait for centuries, if necessary. Perhaps, if he decided to make another clone, he would allow that one to grow normally, since this experimental acceleration might have introduced flaws. The independent robot had extremely high expectations for his renewed interactions with Serena Butler. He did not want anything to get in the way.

As the gummy fluids drained and the female clone stood naked and dripping before him, Erasmus scrutinized her through several spectral regimes, using his full complement of optic threads. A long time ago, through his many surveillance systems, the robot had seen the original Serena naked many times; he had been present when she’d given birth to her frustrating infant, and he had personally performed the sterilization surgery on her so that the pregnancy problem could never occur again.

Now Rekur Van came forward, leering unpleasantly, to give her a physical examination, but Erasmus lifted the little Tlulaxa out of the way. He did not want Van to interfere with what should have been a special moment.

Still dripping from the tank, Serena didn’t seem to care about her nudity, though the original would no doubt have been offended : just one of many personality variations that the robot noticed.

“Do I please you now?” Serena asked, blinking her lavender eyes. She stood seductively, as if trying to lure a potential mate. “I want you to like me.”

An artificial scowl formed on Erasmus’s flowmetal face, and his optic threads gleamed dangerously. Serena Butler had been haughty, independent, intelligent. Hating her captivity among the thinking machines, she had debated with Erasmus, searching for any chance to hurt him. She had
never
tried to please him.

“What did you do to her?” Erasmus turned to the Tlulaxa. “Why did she say that?”

Van smiled uncertainly. “Because of the acceleration, I had to guide her personality. I shaped it with standard female attitudes.”

“Standard female attitudes?” Erasmus wondered if this unpleasant, isolated Tlulaxa man understood human women even less than
he
did. “There was nothing ‘standard’ about Serena Butler.”

Van appeared increasingly uneasy, and he fell silent, deciding not to attempt further excuses. Erasmus remained more interested in the clone. This woman looked like Serena, in her soft, classically beautiful face and form, in her amber-brown hair, and in her unusual eyes.