Fantastic Stories Present the Galaxy Science Fiction Super Pack #1. Edgar PangbornЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Scholars used to live in this building, they tell me,” said one of their guides, gesturing casually. “They used to come here to learn from the Oracle. But there’s no sense in learning a lot of stuff when the Oracle has always got all the answers anyway. So now the building is empty. The big palace was built back in the days when we used to travel among the stars, as you do now.”
“How long ago was that?” asked Farnum.
“Oh, I don’t know. A few thousand years—a few hundred years—the Oracle can tell you if you really want to know.”
Bates raised an eyebrow. “And how do you know you’ll always be given the straight dope?”
The guide looked indignant. “The Oracle always tells the truth.”
“Yes,” Bates persisted, “but how do you know?”
“The Oracle told us so, of course. Now why don’t you go in and find out for yourselves? We’ll wait out here. We don’t have anything to ask him.”
*
Bates and Farnum went into the building and found themselves in a small, pleasant room furnished with comfortable chairs and sofas.
“Good morning,” said a well-modulated voice. “I have been expecting you.”
“You are the Oracle?” asked Farnum, looking around curiously.
“The name that the people of this planet have given me translates most accurately as ‘Oracle’,” said the voice.
“But are you actually an Oracle?”
“My principal function, insofar as human beings—that is, Homo sapiens—are concerned, is to give accurate answers to all questions propounded me. Therefore, insofar as humans are concerned, I am actually an Oracle.”
“Then you have another function?”
“My principal function, insofar as the race that made me is concerned, is to act as a weapon.”
“Oh,” said Bates. “Then you are a machine?”
“I am a machine,” agreed the voice.
“The people who brought us here said that you always tell them the truth. I suppose that applies when you are acting as an Oracle, instead of as a weapon?”
“On the contrary,” said the voice blandly. “I function as a weapon by telling the truth.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” protested Bates.
The machine paused for a moment before replying. “This will take a little time, gentlemen,” it said, “but I am sure that I can convince you. Why don’t you sit down and be comfortable? If you want refreshments, just ask for them.”
“Might as well,” said Bates, sitting down in an easy chair. “How about giving us some Korite God-food?”
“If you really want that bad a brew of coffee, I can make it for you, of course,” said the voice, “but I am sure you would prefer some of better quality.”
Farnum laughed. “Yes, please. Some good coffee, if you don’t mind.”
*
“Now,” said the Oracle, after excellent coffee had been produced, “it is necessary for me to go back into history a few hundred thousand of your years. At that time, the people who made me entered this galaxy on one of their periodic visits of routine exploration, and contacted your ancestors. The race that constructed me populates now, as it did then, the Greater Magellanic Cloud.
“Frankly, the Magellanic race was appalled at what they found. In the time since their preceding visit, your race had risen from the slime of your mother planet and was on its way toward stars. The speed of your development was unprecedented in millions of years of history. By their standards, your race was incredibly energetic, incredibly fecund, incredibly intelligent, unbelievably warlike, and almost completely depraved.
“Extrapolation revealed that within another fifty thousand of your years, you would complete the population of this galaxy and would be totally unstoppable.
“Something had to be done, fast. There were two obvious solutions but both were unacceptable to my Makers. The first was to assume direct control over your race and to maintain that rule indefinitely, until such time as you changed your natures sufficiently to become civilizable. The expenditure of energy would be enormous and the results probably catastrophic to your race. No truly civilized people could long contemplate such a solution.
“The second obvious answer was to attempt to extirpate you from this universe as if you were a disease—as, in a sense, you are. Because your depravity was not total or necessarily permanent, this solution was also abhorrent to my Makers and was rejected.
“What was needed was a weapon that would keep operating without direct control by my People, which would not result in any greater destruction or harm to humans than was absolutely necessary; and one which would cease entirely to operate against you if you changed sufficiently to become civilizable—to become good neighbors to my Makers.
“The final solution of the Magellanic race was to construct several thousand spaceships, each containing an elaborate computer, constructed so as to give accurate answers throughout your galaxy. I am one of those ships. We have performed our function in a satisfactory manner and will continue to do so as long as we are needed.”
“And that makes you a weapon?” asked Bates incredulously. “I don’t get it.”
*
Farnum felt a shiver go through him. “I see it. The concept is completely diabolical.”
“It’s not diabolical at all,” answered the Oracle. “When you become capable of civilization, we can do you no further harm at all. We will cease to be a weapon at that time.”
“You mean you’ll stop telling the truth at that time?” asked Bates.
“We will continue to function in accordance with our design,” answered the voice, “but it will no longer do you harm. Incidentally, your phrase ‘telling the truth’ is almost meaningless. We answer all questions in the manner most completely understandable to you, within the framework of your language and your understanding, and of the understanding and knowledge of our Makers. In the objective sense, what we answer is not necessarily the Truth; it is merely the truest form of the answer that we can state in a manner that you can understand.”
“And you’ll answer any question at all?” asked Bates in some excitement.
“With one or two exceptions. We will not, for example, tell you how we may be destroyed.”
Bates stood up and began pacing the floor. “Then whoever possesses you can be the most powerful man in the Universe!”
“No. Only in this galaxy.”
“That’s good enough for me!”
“Jack,” said Farnum urgently, “let’s get out of here. I want to talk to you.”
“In a minute, in a minute,” said Bates impatiently. “I’ve got one more question.” He turned to face the wall from which the disembodied voice appeared to emanate. “Is it possible to arrange it so that you would answer only one man’s questions—mine, for example?”
“I can tell you how to arrange it so that I will respond to only your questions—for so long as you are alive.”
“Come on,” pleaded Farnum. “I’ve got to talk to you right now.”
“Okay,” said Bates, smiling. “Let’s go.”
*
When they were back in their ship, Farnum turned desperately to Bates. “Can’t you see what a deadly danger that machine is to us all? We’ve got to warn Earth as fast as we can and get them to quarantine this