The volunteer glanced at the corpse, drawing conclusions, then focused his gaze on the Butlerian leader. “I have been summoned by truth and destiny. I am ready.”
“Know that I appreciate your sacrifice,” Manford said. “I had no choice about my legs … but you do. And you still made the right decision, the courageous decision.”
“This is no sacrifice, Leader Torondo. It is one small way that I can help save us all.”
Harian stepped close to the volunteer. “The surgeon is ready. You should undergo the procedure as soon as possible. Your recovery might take a few weeks, and there’s no telling when we might need you.”
“I’m ready now,” the man said.
Manford wanted to apologize in advance for the pain this volunteer was about to suffer, both mental and physical. But pain was a very human thing. Pain separated mankind from the thinking machines. Pain was a blessing. He would have to remind the volunteer of that, after his legs were amputated.
MANFORD’S ANGER FESTERED as they waited for an EsconTran ship that would take them to Salusa. Josef Venport ordered my assassination!
Unable to resist, he dipped into the Erasmus journal again, pondering the nature of evil. The independent robot was fundamentally damned, with no possibility of redemption, but Venport was a human being, and he had chosen his own evil. Manford was still horrified by the robot’s thought patterns, but he learned from the appalling “medical” studies that read like a textbook in sadism. He made notes of certain torture procedures developed by Erasmus that he would like to use on Josef Venport, then locked away the vile journal, afraid someone might find it and become seduced by the evil robot’s thoughts.
But that was distraction and fantasy. He had a more important case to make. Manford took time to outline and write the speech he would deliver to Emperor Salvador Corrino. His threat could be subtle. Everyone at the Imperial Court was aware of how much damage a Butlerian mob could inflict. Manford Torondo could either control them or unleash them. Emperor Salvador couldn’t possibly say no to his demands.
Yes, Venport was going to pay dearly.
At his desk, Manford looked up as Deacon Harian barged in with Anari beside him, her face dark with anger. They hauled a struggling old woman between them — Ellonda, whose modest dress had been torn. Her hair was loose, her eyes wild.
Confused, Manford asked, “What are you doing to her?”
Sister Woodra appeared behind them in the doorway. “I detected dissonant notes in this woman’s voice, flinches in her expression, moisture on her forehead and palms. I watched her, questioned her.” Woodra paused. “She is a spy for Venport Holdings.”
Manford nearly lost his balance on the padded chair. “Impossible! She has been with me for years.”
“It is proven, Leader Torondo,” Harian said. “After we brought back the body of your double, she slipped away to send a transmission to another operative here on Lampadas. She revealed our plans! That’s when we caught her. She has been reporting your moves to Josef Venport for some time now.”
“She has tended me, cooked my meals, been in my house. Venport wants me dead — surely she could have found some opportunity to kill me. This makes no sense.”
Anari lifted her chin. “I taste all your meals for poison, Manford. I watch over you and make certain no assassin would ever have such an opportunity.”
“But you were away on Arrakis with my body double. You are not with me every moment.”
“Perhaps Ellonda simply didn’t have the resolve,” said Harian. “Not everyone has the spine to commit murder.” He made it sound like an insult.
The panicked woman struggled to break free. “None of this is true, sir! I’ve always served you faithfully. I am loyal to the Butlerian cause — you know that!”
Sister Woodra said, “Lies continue to drip from her lips.”
Manford felt gooseflesh on his skin. “Even I can hear it in her voice.” He watched as Ellonda slumped, knowing it was hopeless to say anything more.
Anari said, “Shall I interrogate her, find out why she turned against the truth?”
Manford just shook his head, warring with his emotions, fighting back the rage he wanted to unleash. “What does it matter why? Her reasons would be incomprehensible to us. Did you capture the other operative?”
“Yes,” Deacon Harian said, “but Ellonda transmitted a broad message packet. We don’t know how many others might be involved.”
Manford felt a slow boil. “Interrogation is one thing, punishment something else entirely.” He thought of the exhaustive, sickening records the robot Erasmus had left behind, the myriad experiments and imaginative tortures. Perhaps he should put some of them into practice now. “I will provide instructions, Deacon Harian. I have some … ideas.” He angrily gestured for the wailing woman to be dragged away. Then he drew a deep breath.
“Meanwhile, I need to plan my immediate departure to Salusa Secundus. We must finish this.” He shook his head. “The crisis is upon us, and there can be no further doubts about loyalty to our cause. I have to know who is with me, who is against me. Everyone must choose a side — publicly. No one can be neutral. Our entire population will reaffirm their loyalty to me, or face death.”
“We should require individual oaths, Leader Torondo,” Harian suggested. “Not just communities and planets promising general allegiance. Each person must swear before a trusted official that they believe technology is evil.” His voice gained vehemence. “Any advanced machinery, electronics, or other insidious devices must be discarded on pain of death.”
Worked up by the deacon’s vehemence, Manford took a deep breath. He did not look at the squirming Ellonda as she was pulled out the door. How many more like her were hidden among the faithful? He intended to root them out.
“Agreed. Anari and Sister Woodra will accompany me to Salusa, but while I am gone, Deacon Harian, you will institute a new planet-wide oath to be sworn by all individuals. No exceptions, no excuses on any grounds. Everyone must declare allegiance to me.” He let out a long sigh, looked at Woodra. “If only we had enough Truthsayers to test every person who claims to be my ally.”
Chapter 55 (We are human not because of our physical form)
We are human not because of our physical form, but because of our underlying nature. Even when fitted with a machine body, a man may have a heart and soul … but not always. People made of flesh can be monsters, too.
— PTOLEMY, Laboratory Sketches
Yes, it was time for his Titans.
Ptolemy felt exhilarated by his increasing successes, beginning with the dramatic (though costly) demonstration on Arrakis, followed by the glorious eradication of the cowering savages on Lectaire. Dr. Elchan would have been pleased, he knew it.
Energized by Ptolemy’s work, other Denali researchers redoubled their efforts to create imaginative weapons for use against the Butlerians. In one noteworthy example, Dr. Uli Westpher was ready to ship his first “crickets”—thumb-sized devices programmed to skitter across a landing field. The small machines could slip through the tiniest crannies of external engine ports, where they dismantled fuel lines and spilled volatile chemicals. Then the crickets would scritch their roughened mechanical legs together until they struck a spark and ignited the fuel. The crickets were too small and too fast to be seen, and even a small package of them could cause immense devastation to an EsconTran shipyard.