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Michael walked across the vault to the instrument panel and looked at the tile.

“Let no man use this switch,” he read, “or disturb those now sealed in this chamber, unless he truly loves his fellow men.”

“I believe,” said Mr. Shakespeare, “that you, Michael Faraday, are qualified to operate the device.”

Michael pressed the switch.

There was a faint hissing. Then a small section of wall close to the instrument panel opened outward to reveal a lighted recess. All it contained was a rectangular plate of metal that looked like bronze.

Michael lifted the heavy plate out of the recess. It was deeply engraved with row upon row of words. The first line Michael could read; but the second, third and fourth he could not. The fifth line he could read; but the sixth, seventh and eighth he could not. The ninth he could read; and so it went on.

Mr. Shakespeare glanced at the plate. “The other languages are French, Russian and Chinese,” he said. “If translated, they would yield the same information as the English text. It is ten thousand years since human eyes have seen these words, Michael. It is now your privilege to reveal the testament of Julius Overman.”

Michael held the plate firmly and read aloud.

“I, Julius Overman, new Mormon, of the Church of Jesus Christ of the Latter-Day Saints, do hereby deliver this my testament to whomsoever shall find it, and my soul into the keeping of God, secure in the knowledge of eternal life.

“I was born in the year 1977 in London, England, to which corrupt and decadent country I shall not return until time and the will of God have wrought great and cleansing changes. The world is evil and is bent upon a course of great destruction. I cannot share in its evil ways nor do I wish to reap the harvest of destruction that must surely come. For I believe that mankind is determined to try the infinite patience of God; and I believe that in the end by His just and righteous anger the nations of the Earth shall perish.

“But shall mankind be utterly destroyed because of the evil in the civilization that exists today? God is merciful. It is not His will that the seed of Adam shall yield such a final harvest. God is merciful and has given to me, Julius Overman, lowly sinner that I am, the task of preparing for the coming of a new human race on that day when He shall cause this vault to be opened, and shall bring forth His servants into a new Eden.

“Therefore, being a person of substance in this world where wealth in mistaken for virtue, I have obeyed the instructions of my Lord. I have divested myself of all worldly possessions, and I have caused this chamber to be built in a small and yet unspoiled land far from my natural home. I have gathered genetic material on the advice of scientific men of goodwill, and I have caused it to be preserved here in the manner which, I believe, God has revealed to man for this very purpose. Also have I instructed my good and obedient wives Abigail and Mary in the sacred design with which my Lord has honored me. Therefore we now resign ourselves to that sleep from which, in the fullness of time, it shall please the Almighty to awaken us.

“If it be His purpose to preserve others as we also are preserved, so that the mysteries of this chamber shall be revealed to humankind, I entreat any such persons in the Name of the Lord, to follow exactly the resuscitation procedures that are engraved in many tongues on the reverse side of this sheet of bronze.

“Now, therefore, do we, Julius, Abigail and Mary lovingly and obediently commit ourselves to the mercy of God, knowing that though the coldness of death enter our hearts and bodies, yet shall faith and love sustain our spirits joyfully until that time when evil has gone from this world, and the ways of the Lord are manifest.”

Michael laid the plate carefully back in the recess, and turned to gaze once more at the bodies in the transparent cylinders. A tumult of thoughts and sensations erupted in his mind. He tried to imagine the millennia throughout which those pathetic bodies had been preserved—and couldn’t. He tried to imagine the kind of faith that would enable three people to voluntarily commit themselves to a state that was neither death nor life—and couldn’t. He tried to imagine the scale of the warfare and the power of the weapons that had destroyed mankind almost ten thousand years ago—and couldn’t. His imagination was overwhelmed. His comprehension was reeling.

At last Mr. Shakespeare spoke. “An attempt was made to resuscitate these people,” he said quietly. “The bodies reacted with limited response. The hearts were restarted, respiration was achieved. But brain damage had reduced the minds to levels below that of idiocy. So the bodies were returned to their cylinders to be preserved until other human beings became competent to decide their future. However, the genetic material— the sperm and ova—collected by Julius Overman and preserved by the same techniques to which he submitted himself and his wives, was in excellent condition. It could be used. It was used…. Before the human race was destroyed, it was common for scientists to culture living organisms for experimental purposes. The material found in this chamber has been more than sufficient to culture or generate the nucleus of a new human race. That nucleus has been designated the Overman culture.”

There was silence, but it did not last for long. One or two of the fragiles began to weep quietly, others comforted them. Elizabeth Barrett fainted. Joseph Lister and Dorothy Wordsworth looked after her, stroked her forehead, coaxed her back into consciousness.

Michael looked at Emily. She was pale and drawn, and seemed to be swaying a little. He went to her, put his arms round her, gave her the reassurance of strength and of warm and living flesh.

“I don’t think we can take any more, Michael,” she murmured. “We need to rest, to recover from… from…”

“From the truth,” said Michael with a faint smile. “From the terrible truth. I think it is stranger than anything we have ever suspected.”

“Emily is right,” said Ernest, mopping his forehead with a handkerchief. “We badly need to rest, all of us. I don’t know how you feel, Michael. But I feel proud, excited, saddened, awed and terrified all at once.”

Mr. Shakespeare spoke once more. “May I make a suggestion? It is evident that the experience has been emotionally and intellectually exhausting for all of you. As of now, all drybones—all humanoid components, including myself—are programmed to accept all reasonable commands. It is possible to arrange transport from London Library to your homes and—”

“We are not going back to our homes,” said Michael harshly. “We are not going back to pseudo-parents and reminders of fake existence. Above all, we are not going to be separated from each other. Not now.”

“Very well, Michael. What are your instructions?”

Michael thought for a moment or two. “The library is large enough for a temporary refuge—in fact it is very appropriate, for here we have the works of other fragiles, other people, to keep us company…. Can you arrange for beds and food to be brought to the library?”

Mr. Shakespeare smiled. “The operation is already beginning…. You wanted the truth, Michael. You have always wanted the truth. You have discovered some of it today. Tomorrow, I hope you will allow me to escort you to Buckingham Palace, where another aspect can be revealed.”

“Why should we go to Buckingham Palace?”

“To learn something of the nature of artificial intelligence. Shall we make our way back to the library so that you may all relax? By the time we arrive, beds, food and other comforts will have been installed.”

Michael looked once more at the three motionless bodies, sealed in their transparent containers. It was ironic that the future of human life on Earth really had depended upon the convictions of a religious fanatic.