‘You know that if you cut the coil of a robot it cannot control its body?’ he said. ‘It’s cast into a world of darkness before it dies?’
‘I had heard that.’
‘Not that long ago, here in Sangrel, they cut the coils of robots. They cut the coils of children. They made mothers watch as their children were brought forward and their coils broken before them. They made mothers weave minds knowing they would be destroyed immediately they were finished.’
The human’s eyes widened. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do saw the intricate patterns woven in the blue circles that acted as focussing mechanisms.
‘But that was awful!’
‘That was just the start,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘I told you, as the years passed, the cruelty of those robots increased. Cruelty is a sport that must be constantly reinvented lest it grow dull. Look at this.’
He led Rachael to the end of the terrace, to where the exhibits lay.
‘So? It’s a suit of armour. What’s so bad about that?’
‘Not a suit of armour. A robot body. Doesn’t it look odd to you?’
‘A little. Why? What is it really?’
‘I can’t tell you. You’re too young.’
‘Too young? I’m fourteen!’ She picked up her empty glass. ‘I need more champagne,’ she said. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do signalled to another waiter who replaced the glass with a full one.
‘Cruelty was once written throughout this state,’ he said. They moved back to the edge of the terrace and looked back over the lake to the dark shape of the Mound of Eternity. The rhythm of the gamelan had changed, now the slowly ringing gongs spoke of stillness and calm.
‘The robots of this city were tortured and crippled and melted and bent. Voiceboxes were amplified so that the screams of the suffering could be heard across the countryside. Ever more inventive ways were found to torment the populace. Do you want to hear more?’
‘Yes! Go on!’
‘Very well. Know then, that in the end, the robots of Sangrel wove fear directly into the minds of their subjects.’
Rachael frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
She wouldn’t. She was a human.
‘They were made to be afraid. They were, what is the word you use? Born? That’s it, they were born to be afraid of everything. Of the changing of the weather, of patterns in the stone, of the forge and the flame. Even of the very touch of metal itself.’
He gazed down at the mound below.
‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do?’ said Rachael. ‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do! Speak to me. You still haven’t told me about the mound!’
‘The mound? Oh yes, the mound. It was raised at the very end. Just before Sangrel was made a part of the Empire.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It was there that the last of the old race performed its most unspeakable acts.’
‘Like what?’ She leaned close, concern etched on her face.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do lowered his voice.
‘I can’t tell you,’ he said, in grave tones. ‘They were unspeakable.’ And then he laughed, loudly.
‘Hey!’ Rachael forgot herself and slapped him on the chest. They both looked at each other in surprise, Rachael sucking at her fingers.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘But don’t tease me like that.’
‘I won’t.’
‘So what’s in the mound now?’
‘No one goes there. It’s the property of the Vestal Virgins.’
‘What are the Vestal Virgins?’ asked Rachael, eyes wide. ‘They’re mentioned in Earth stories.’
‘Have you heard of Oneill?’
‘Yes! He’s the mythical creator who’s supposed to have made the first robots, isn’t he?’
‘Sort of. Well, the Vestal Virgins were supposed to have tended the fire of the first forge where Oneill made all the robots. One night, when Oneill was out searching for more iron ore, they took one of the men that Oneill had made that day and they began to twist his wire. You understand what I mean? They were making a new mind.’
‘I understand,’ giggled Rachael.
‘Good. But Oneill returned and found them and was angry, so he declared that the Vestal Virgins would never twist fresh metal, but rather would only be able to work on minds that had already been made by other women.’
Rachael was nodding. ‘The Vestal Virgins were keepers of the sacred flame on Earth,’ she said. ‘This translator is a clever piece of kit. It seems to understand stories as well as individual words. But what do you mean, they can only work on minds already made?’
‘They twist the metal of other creatures to their own ends. They form the lengthening caterpillars, for example. The Emperors keep them as pets and for sport. In the wild caterpillars have ten segments. The Vestal Virgins twisted them so that they fight. The winning caterpillar takes the segments of the loser. There are pictures of them hanging in the Great Hall.’
She nodded. ‘I think I’ve seen them. I wondered what they were.’
‘It’s not my favourite of the royal sports. The longer a caterpillar, the more power it has to stun the weaker competitors. The Emperor has caterpillars more than a mile in length. They have trouble moving…’
They weren’t the only ones. Rachael had drained her second glass of champagne. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do saw she was having real trouble standing up straight. She swayed as if her gyros were incorrectly tuned.
‘Anyway, enough about caterpillars. You said you were going to tell me a story!
‘I said I was going to tell you a story about a story, and I did.’
‘When?’
‘Just now. The story of a story is the story of a robot, or a human, I should say, wanting to hear about cruelty.’
She shook her head.
‘I don’t get it.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do laughed.
‘This is a game that is played on young robots. Asking them if they want to hear about cruelty, in order to reveal the fascination with cruelty that’s woven into their own minds. What pure person would wish to hear about such evil?’
‘But you told me you were telling me a story! You tricked me!’
‘I didn’t trick you, I asked you repeatedly if I should go on, and I warned you each time that the next step held worse cruelties, and yet still you wanted to know more. Humans are like robots: they have a fascination with evil woven into their minds.’
‘Humans can’t help the way they are made. Robots must be worse because they chose to put such things into the weave.’
‘Minds need a mix of emotions. Or so the women say. This is something that men can never understand.’
‘Yeah! You never do understand!’ She swayed as she spoke. She seemed angry and more uncoordinated than ever. Did champagne affect all humans in this manner? Then if so, why drink it?
‘I’m sorry, Rachael, I didn’t mean to offend. The point of the story is to show that cruelty is everywhere, and it’s in you. Weren’t you aware of this?’
‘Weren’t you aware of this?’ she mimicked. ‘Look at you, so smug. Think you know everything. And yet, you’re the ones who don’t realize
…’
‘What?’
She raised herself up. ‘You don’t realize, do you?’
‘Realize what?’
‘The way you make yourselves. Like humans. Two arms and two legs and five fingers. You have a head and two eyes. You even have mouths to smile with. You’re just like us!’
‘Or you could say that you are like robots,’ replied Wa-Ka-Mo-Do.
‘Don’t try and be clever. You’re not thinking. Why do you need mouths, anyway? Why not just communicate by radio?’
‘There’s all the different frequencies, and the trouble with metal and-’
‘No, you’re not listening to me, are you? I stand here in front of you, breathing the air of an alien planet unaided and you don’t think that’s strange?’
‘Should I?’
‘Of course! Look at me. What about -- and --’.
There they were again, those strange discontinuities. She was speaking, he could hear it, but the device that she wore wasn’t translating her words.
‘Rachael, I really don’t understand.’
‘Look!’ she said, and she pointed up into the sky. ‘Look at that!’
He looked up. Zuse, the night moon was there, a perfect metal sphere, reflecting the sunlight down upon the world.