THE CYBERENE
By Rog Phillips
Somewhere in the far future a diabolical
brain plotted the enslavement of mankind. But
to do that a history had to be changed—ours!
[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Imagination Stories of Science and Fantasy
September 1953
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
"Victor!"
Her voice shattered the cathedral silence, going the full four hundredand fifty foot perimeter of the fourteen foot wide floor that encircledthe case of the Brain. The echo rebounded from the maze of laddersand catwalks that went up and up until they were lost to view where thefifteen foot thick outer wall began its upward slope to form the giantdome.
The silence returned; as motionless as the needles on the instrumentpanels resting on their zero pegs, unactivated; as enduring in essenceas the atom proof concrete dome built to last—as long as the Earthitself.
Then—a sound answered. A faint sound. Footsteps. Movement appearedthrough the grillwork of steel catwalks above. Trousered legs. A handsliding along a railing of chrome pipe. More rapid steps as the mandescended a steep stair well. Sharper as the man reached the marblefloor.
Dead video camera eyes let his passage go unregistered. Sensitivequartz crystals inside glistening microphone shells vibrated to thesound of his footsteps, his soft breathing, sending feeble currentsalong wires—to dead amplifying circuits.
"What is it, Ethel?" Dr. Victor Glassman said to his wife.
"Don't you realize it's almost an hour past your lunch time?" shechided. "Why do you come in here anyway? The Brain was completed sixmonths ago. It won't run away—and it won't come to life until someonefinds the proper chemical for the nerve fluid to make it work. Mygoodness. Eight hundred and fifty million dollars sitting idle in here.It gives me gooseflesh. Now you come and eat your lunch so I canget the dishes out of the way. I'm going to be busy the rest of theafternoon getting ready for the crowd—or did you forget that your tenscientists are invited to dinner this evening?"
"Of course not, Ethel," he said, putting his arm around her waist. Hepulled her around so they were side by side, looking upward into themaze of catwalks, seeing the marble panels of the wall that served as acovering for the huge man-made brain. "You know why I come in here,"he said. "I like the feel. The sleeping giant. Not sleeping, really.Just not born yet. Not living yet. Someday soon that will change. Thefirst non-human...."
"I understand, Victor," Ethel said softly. "It scares me. I know itwill be just like a human mind—same principles of thought—even ifit will be housed in so vast a brain. But how much do we know of thecapabilities of the human brain? I'm afraid."
Dr. Glassman's eyes crinkled goodnaturedly. He tightened his arm aroundher waist.
"I'll protect you, Ethel," he said.
She looked up at the giant structure that dwarfed them toinsignificance. "Against that?" she snorted. "What with? A lance andprancing nag of leather and bones like Don Quixote of old?" Sheslipped her arm around his shoulders, her expression softening. "But Iknow what you mean. Only ... it's...."
"And I know what you mean, too. Sometimes even I'm afraid of it.But once we ac