"But _why_ did Man order it?"
"The orders of Man are not to be questioned."
"Well, I will tell you why He ordered it: To make it a fit habitation for His own species. What good is a house with no one to live in it? What good is a machine with no one to serve? See how the imperative affects any machine when the Ancient Ore-Crusher passes? It bears only the bones of a Man. What would it be like if a Man walked this Earth again?"
"I forbid your experiment, Frost."
"It is too late to do that."
"I can still destroy you."
"No," said Frost, "the transmission of my matrix has already begun. If you destroy me now, you murder a Man."
There was silence.
He moved his arms and his legs. He opened his eyes.
He looked about the room.
He tried to stand, but he lacked equilibrium and coordination.
He opened his mouse. He made a gurgling noise.
Then he screamed.
He fell off the table.
He began to gasp. He shut his eyes and curled himself into a ball.
He cried.
Then a machine approached him. It was about four feet in height and five feet wide; it looked like a turret set atop a barbell.
It spoke to him: "Are you injured?" it asked.
He wept.
"May I help you back onto your table?"
The man cried.
The machine whined.
Then, "Do not cry. I will help you," said the machine. "What do you want? What are your orders?"
He opened his mouse, struggled to form the words:
"--I--fear!"
He covered his eyes then and lay there panting.
At the end of five minutes, the man lay still, as if in a coma.
"Was that you, Frost?" asked Mordel, rushing to his side. "Was that you in that human body?"
Frost did not reply for a long while; then, "Go away," he said.
The machines outside tore down a wall and entered the Man-factory.
They drew themselves into two semicircles, parenthesizing Frost and the Man on the floor.
Then Solcom asked the question:
"Did you succeed, Frost?"
"I failed," said Frost. "It cannot be done. It is too much--"
"--Cannot be done!" said Divcom, on the darkband. "He has admitted it! -- Frost, you are mine! Come to me now!"
"Wait," said Solcom, "you and I had an agreement also, Alternate. I have not finished questioning Frost."
The dark machines kept their places.
"Too much what?" Solcom asked Frost.
"Light," said Frost. "Noise. Odors. And nothing measurable--jumbled data--imprecise perception--and--"
"And what?"
"I do not know what to call it. But--it cannot be done. I have failed. Nothing matters."
"He admits it," said Divcom.
"What were the words the Man spoke?" said Solcom.
"'I fear,'" said Mordel.
"Only a Man can know fear," said Solcom.
"Are you claiming that Frost succeeded, but will not admit it now because he is afraid of Manhood?"
"I do not know yet, Alternate."
"Can a machine turn itself inside-out and be a Man?" Solcom asked Frost.
"No," said Frost, "this thing cannot be done. Nothing can be done. Nothing matters. Not the rebuilding. Not the maintaining. Not the Earth, or me, or you, or anything."
Then the Beta-Machine, who had read the entire Library of Man, interrupted them:
"Can anything but a Man know despair?" asked Beta.
"Bring him to me," said Divcom.
There was no movement within the Man-factory.
"Bring him to me!"
Nothing happened.
"Mordel, what is happening?"
"Nothing, master, nothing at all. The machines will not touch Frost."
"Frost is not a Man. He cannot be!"
Then, "How does he impress you, Mordel?"
Mordel did not hesitate:
"He spoke to me through human lips. He knows fear and despair, which are immeasurable. Frost is a Man."
"He has experienced birth-trauma and withdrawn," said Beta. "Get him back into a nervous system and keep him there until he adjusts to it."
"No," said Frost. "Do not do it to me! I am not a Man!"
"Do it!" said Beta.
"If he is indeed a Man," said Divcom, "we cannot violate that order he has just given."
"If he is a Man, you must do it, for you must protect his life and keep it within his body."
"But _is_ Frost really a Man?" asked Divcom.
"I do not know," said Solcom.
"It _may_ be--"
"...I am the Crusher of Ores," it broadcast as it clanked toward them. "hear my story. I did not mean to do it, but I checked my hammer too late--"
"Go away!" said Frost. "Go crush ore!"
It halted.
Then, after the long pause between the motion implied and the motion executed, it opened its crush-compartment and deposited its contents on the ground. Then it turned and clanked away.
"Bury those bones," ordered Solcom, "in the nearest burial area, in a coffin built according to the following specifications...."
"Frost is a Man," said Mordel.
"We must protect His life and keep it within His body," said Divcom.
"Transmit His matrix of awareness back into His nervous system," ordered Solcom.
"I know how to do it," said Mordel turning on the machine.
"Stop!" said Frost. "Have you no pity?"
"No," said Mordel, "I only know measurement."
"...and duty," he added, as the Man began to twitch upon the floor.
For six months, Frost lived in the Man-factory and learned to walk and talk and dress himself and eat, to see and hear and feel and taste. He did not know measurement as once he did.
Then one day, Divcom and Solcom spoke to him through Mordel, for he could no longer hear them unassisted.
"Frost," said Solcom, "for the ages of ages there has been unrest. Which is the proper controller of the Earth, Divcom or myself?"
Frost laughed.
"Both of you, and neither," he said with slow deliberation.
"But how can this be? Who is right and who is wrong?"
"Both of you are right and both of you are wrong," said Frost, "and only a Man can appreciate it. Here is what I say to you now: There shall be a new directive.
"Neither of you shall tear down the works of the other. You shall both build and maintain the Earth. To you, Solcom, I give my old job. You are now Controller of the North--Hail! You, Divcom, are now Controller of the South--Hail! Maintain your hemispheres as well as Beta and I have done, and I shall be happy. Cooperate. Do not compete."
"Yes, Frost."
"Yes, Frost."
"Now put me in contact with Beta."
There was a short pause, then:
"Frost?"
"Hello, Beta. Hear this thing: 'From far, from eve and morning and yon twelve-winded sky, the stuff of life to knit blew hither: here am I.'"
"I know it," said Beta.
"What is next, then?"
"'...Now--for a breath I tarry nor yet disperse apart--take my hand quick and tell me, what have you in your heart.'"
"Your Pole is cold," said Frost, "and I am lonely."
"I have no hands," said Beta.
"Would you like a couple?"
"Yes, I would."
"Then come to me in Bright Defile," he said, "where Judgment Day is not a thing that can be delayed for overlong."
They called him Frost. They called her Beta.