Read Clarke, Arthur C - Fall of Night 02 Online
Authors: Beyond the Fall of Night
"Doesn't that take a lot of time?"
"Very often.
I
have sometimes had to wait twenty years for an answer. So won't you sit
down?" he added, the crinkles round his eyes belying his solemn voice.
Alvin
had never met anyone quite like the Keeper
of the Records, and he decided that he liked him. He was tired of being
reminded that he was a boy, and it was pleasant to be treated as a real person.
Once again the synthesizer field flickered,
and Rorden bent down to read the slip. The message must have been a long one,
for it took him several minutes to finish it. Finally he sat down on one of the
room's couches, looking at his visitor with eyes which, as
Alvin
noticed for the first time, were of a most
disconcerting shrewdness.
"What does it say?" he burst out at
last, unable to contain his curiosity any longer.
Rorden did not reply. Instead, he was the one
to ask for information.
"Why do you want to leave Diaspar?"
he said quietly.
If Jeserac or his father had asked him that
question,
Alvin
would have found himself floundering in a
morass of half-truths or downright lies. But with this man, whom he had met for
only a few minutes, there seemed none of the barriers that had cut him off from
those he had known all his life.
"I'm not sure," he said, speaking
slowly but readily. "I've always felt like this. There's nothing outside
Diaspar, I know—but I want to go there all the same."
He looked shyly at Rorden, as if expecting
encouragement, but the Keeper's eyes were far away. When at last he again
turned to
Alvin
, there was an expression on his face that
the boy could not fully understand, but it held a tinge of sadness that was
somewhat disturbing.
No one could have told that Rorden had come to
the greatest crisis in his life. For thousands of years he had carried out his
duties as the interpreter of the machines, duties requiring little initiative
or enterprise. Somewhat apart from the tumult of the city, rather aloof from
his fellows, Rorden had lived a happy and contented life. And now this boy had
come, disturbing the ghosts of an age that had been dead for millions of
centuries, and threatening to shatter his cherished peace of mind.
A few words of discouragement would be enough
to destroy the threat, but looking into the anxious, unhappy eyes, Rorden knew
that he could never take the easy way. Even without the message from Alaine,
his conscience would have forbidden it.
"
Alvin
," he began, "I know there are
many things that have been puzzling you. Most of all, I expect, you have
wondered why we now live here in Diaspar when once the whole world was not
enough for us."
Alvin
nodded, wondering how the other could have
read his mind so accurately.
"Well, I'm afraid I cannot answer that
question completely. Don't look so disappointed: I haven't finished yet. It all
started when Man was fighting the Invaders—whoever or whatever they were.
Before that, he had been expanding through the stars, but he was driven back to
Earth in wars of which we have no conception.
Perhaps that defeat changed his character, and
made him content to pass the rest of his existence on Earth. Or perhaps the
Invaders promised to leave him in peace if he would remain on his own planet:
we don't know. All that is certain is that he started to develop an intensely
centralized culture, of which Diaspar was the final expression.
"At first there were many of the great
cities, but in the end Diaspar absorbed them all, for there seems to be some
force driving men together as once it drove them to the stars. Few people ever
recognize its presence, but we all have a fear of the outer world, and a
longing for what is known and understood. That fear may be irrational, or it
may have some foundation in history, but it is one of the strongest forces in
our lives."
"Then why don't I feel that way?"
"You mean that the thought of leaving
Diaspar, where you have everything you need and are among all your friends,
doesn't fill you with something like horror?"
"No."
The Keeper smiled wryly.
"I'm afraid I cannot say the same. But at
least I can appreciate your point of view, even if I cannot share it. Once I
might have felt doubtful about helping you, but not now that I've seen Alaine's
message."
"You still haven't told me what it
was!"
Rorden laughed.
"I don't intend to do so until you're a
good deal older. But I'll tell you what it was about.
"Alaine foresaw that people like you
would be born in future ages: he realized that they might attempt to leave
Diaspar and he set out to help them. I imagine that whatever way you tried to
leave the city, you would meet an inscription directing you to the Keeper of
the Records. Knowing that the Keeper would then question his machines, Alaine
left a message, buried safely among the thousands and millions of records that
exist. It could only be found if the Associator was deliberately looking for
it. That message directs any Keeper to assist the inquirer, even if he
disapproves of his quest. Alaine believed that the human race was becoming
decadent, and he wanted to help anyone who might regenerate it. Do you follow
all this?"
Alvin
nodded gravely and Rorden continued.
"I hope he was wrong. I don't believe
that humanity is decadent—it's simply altered. You, of course, will agree with
Alaine— but don't do so simply because you think
it's
fine to be different from everyone else! We are happy: if we have lost
anything, we're not aware of it.
"Alaine wrote a good deal in his message,
but the important part is this. There are three ways out of Diaspar. He does
not say where they lead, nor does he give any clues as to how they can be
found, though there are some very obscure references I'll have to think about.
But even if what he says is true, you are far too young to leave the city.
Tomorrow I must speak to your people. No, I won't give you away! But leave me
now—I have a good deal to think about."
Rorden felt a little embarrassed by the boy's
gratitude. When
Alvin
had gone, he sat for a while wondering if, after all, he had acted
rightly.
There was no doubt that the boy was an
atavism—a throwback to the great ages. Every few generations there still
appeared minds that were the equal of any the ancient days had known. Born out
of their time, they could have little influence on the peacefully dreaming
world of Diaspar. The long, slow decline of the human will was too far advanced
to be checked by an individual genius, however brilliant. After a few centuries
of restlessness, the variants accepted their fate and ceased to struggle
against it. When
Alvin
understood his position, would he too realize that his only hope of
happiness lay in conforming
with
the world? Rorden
wondered if, after all, it might not have been kinder in the long run to
discourage him. But it was too late now: Alaine had seen to that.
The ancient Keeper of the Records must have
been a remarkable man, perhaps an atavism himself. How many times down the ages
had other Keepers read that message of his and acted upon it for better or
worse? Surely, if there had been any earlier cases, some record would have been
made.
Rorden thought intently for a moment: then,
slowly at first, but soon with mounting confidence, he began to put question
after question to the machines, until every Associator in the room was running
at full capacity. By means now beyond the understanding of man, billions upon
billions of facts were racing through the scrutinizers. There was nothing to do
but wait. . . .
In after years,
Alvin
was often to marvel at his good fortune.
Had the Keeper of the Records been unfriendly, his quest could never have
begun. But Rorden, in spite of the years between them, shared something of his
own curiosity. In Rorden's case, there was only the desire to uncover lost
knowledge: he would never have used it, for he shared with the rest of Diaspar
that dread of the outer world which
Alvin
found so strange. Close though their
friendship became, that barrier was always to lie between them.
Alvin
's life was now divided into two quite
distinct portions. He continued his studies with Jeserac, acquiring the immense
and intricate knowledge of people, places and customs without which no one
could play any part in the life of the city. Jeserac was a conscientious but a
leisurely tutor, and with so many centuries before him he felt no urgency in
completing his task. He was, in fact, rather pleased that
Alvin
should have made friends with Rorden. The
Keeper of the Records was regarded with some awe by the rest of Diaspar, for he
alone had direct access to all the knowledge of the past.
How enormous and yet how incomplete that
knowledge was,
Alvin
was slowly learning. In spite of the self-canceling circuits which
obliterated all information as soon as it was obsolete, the main registers
contained a hundred trillion facts at the smallest estimate. Whether there was
any limit to the capacity of the machines, Rorden did not know: that knowledge
was lost with the secret of their operation.
The Associators were a source of endless
wonder to Alvin, who would spend hours setting up questions of their keyboards.
It was amusing to discover that people whose names began with "S" had
a tendency to live in the eastern part of the city—though the machines hastened
to add that the fact had no statistical significance.
Alvin
quickly accumulated a vast array of similar
useless facts which he employed to impress his friends. At the same time, under
Rorden's guidance, he was learning all that was known of the Dawn Ages, for
Rorden had insisted that it would take years of preparation before he could
begin his quest.
Alvin
had recognized the truth of this, though he sometimes rebelled against
it. But after a single attempt, he abandoned any hope of acquiring knowledge
prematurely.
He had been alone one day when Rorden was
paying one of his rare visits to the administrative center of the city. The
temptation had been too strong, and he had ordered the Associators to hunt for
Alaine's message.
When Rorden returned, he found a very scared
boy trying to discover why all the machines were paralyzed. To
Alvin
's immense relief, Rorden had only laughed
and punched a series of combinations that had cleared the jam. Then he turned
to culprit and tried to address him severely.