Having drained the wine cup, the templar put it down but this time did not refill it. ‘Do you seek ancient knowledge, robot? Then you have come to the right place, because this is the last temple of the world’s first and only true religion—the religion of Zoroaster, founded on an objective knowledge of the real nature of the world.’
‘I would not have attributed “objective knowledge” to any religion,’ Jasperodus said pensively.
‘You would be correct as to the others. They are all corruptions or misunderstandings of some aspect of Zoroastrian teaching.’
‘What, exactly, is the purpose of this temple?’ Jasperodus enquired. ‘Is it a place of instruction? Do you have pupils?’
The other smiled, his parchment-like skin creasing. ‘I was a pupil once. There are no more, except the occasional wayfarer. Come, let me show you my one and only function.’
The man rose, and beckoned. Deeper into the temple they went, to where the light was dim and the passages were of bare stone. Then the templar drew aside a curtain and ushered the hulking robot into the inner sanctum.
They were in a dome-shaped chamber, the concave ceiling painted midnight-blue and pricked with bright points of light to represent stars. The centre of the chamber was occupied by a fan-shaped flame which burned with a hissing sound and threw off an almost overpowering scent, again of roses. Like a peacock’s tail blazed this fan, reaching almost to half the height of the chamber. Yet for all its size its glow was soft. It failed to dispel the dimness of the room.
The flame too contained brighter flecks, like those in the flame of the shrine outside the temple but larger. They soared, danced and gyrated, and vanished as they reached the fire’s fringe.
‘Does the flame inspire you, robot?’ came the templar’s dry voice. ‘It should. It is the symbol of what your kind gropes for and covets. The fire is the fire of consciousness that roars through the universe and brings awareness to transient forms Those sparks you see are individual souls, born of the fire and glowing briefly, only to vanish forever when their course is done. You asked me what is the difference between man and robot. You know very well, I think.’
Jasperodus felt chill at these words. He turned to confront his host. The man stared back at him, eyes of pale blue directly meeting the red eyes of the robot.
‘How would I know?’ Jasperodus demanded.
The templar made no answer but turned and strolled from the chamber.
Back in the living room he took his place as before and resumed drinking heavily. Jasperodus began to get the impression that he drank constantly.
‘Well, now you know my function. I am the last keeper of the sacred flame, the last worshipper of Ahura Mazda. With my death, the light of the world is symbolically quenched.’
‘You live here alone?’ asked Jasperodus.
‘I know of no neighbour within a hundred miles.’
‘How do you provide for yourself?’
‘Ancient science.’ The templar smiled. ‘There is a garden on the other side of the hill, covered with a glass dome. It contains special tanks and trays for growing food quickly and easily. There I also ferment my wine.’
‘I am interested in this teaching of Zoroaster. Tell me something about it.’
‘Indeed, I know you are,’ the templar said, with what Jasperodus thought annoying mysteriousness. He prevaricated, but when Jasperodus pressed him further he proved more than willing to expatiate.
The world, he said, consisted of a cosmic struggle between two opposed and roughly equal powers, personified by the gods Ahura Mazda, prince of light, and Ahriman, prince of darkness. By light was meant the realm of consciousness or spirit. By darkness was meant the realm of unconsciousness, of dense materiality and blind mechanical forces. From the beginning of time the war between the two had gone on without pause, as each sought to subdue the other and make itself ruler of all existence.
Though the conflict took many forms, the surfaces of planets were a front-line of special interest. Here the two principles struggled in a kind of scrum, mixing and mingling. From the unharmonious mixture there arose organic life, compounded of awareness and gross matter both.
When Jasperodus asked with what weapons the gods fought, the templar seemed amused. The angels of Ahura Mazda do not confont the dark directly,’ he said. ‘Insofar as we are concerned, it is through the affairs and hearts of men that they contend with the dark angels of Ahriman. What are the two currents in the human psyche? There is the striving towards the light, that is, for greater consciousness. And there is also submission to the powers of unconsciousness, that is, animal ignorance, coarse cruelty, tyranny, failure to perceive. The struggle between the two is the struggle between Ahura Mazda and Ahriman. And it is there, in the affairs of men, that Ahriman will shortly have his victory.’
‘So you are pessimistic about the future of mankind?’
‘I speak with sure knowledge that we enter the final phase of the struggle here on Earth. You see, the cosmic war is capable of subtle involvements. The aim of pure consciousness is eventually the rule and command matter in all its aspects. What else is the purpose of science? Likewise, the aim of the material principle is to imprison and enslave consciousness. In this the adversary has shown cunning beyond compare. He takes religion, originally a system for kindling new consciousness, and makes of it a system for totally imprisoning human awareness. Now he has a new weapon with which he can outflank, invade and conquer the realm of Ahura Mazda, a weapon that nothing can stop. You know what I speak of, do you not, when I describe this weapon?’
‘No, I do not,’ Jasperodus said.
‘I speak of yourself. I speak of the robot. A complete simulacrum of a man! Able to do anything a man can do, to think and even to feel! But lacking consciousness. The perfect Ahrimanic creature! Intelligent, but without any spark of the sacred flame! Robots are Ahriman’s new servants, and in their millions they will comprise his armies. Mimicking the light, Ahriman will overcome the light.’
In reply, Jasperodus chose his words carefully. ‘It is true that there are now large numbers of free constructs, and that these have begun to design and make a new generation of constructs less tractable to human orders than the old,’ he said. ‘But as for the emergence of a world-system of self-directed constructs to challenge mankind, I do not think this could happen. As you point out, robots are not conscious. When men and robots meet, it is still the robots who become the subordinates before very long.’
‘You do not give me any impression of compliance whatsoever,’ the templar murmured. ‘In any case, the matter does not end there. Did I not say that the darkness seeks to capture the light? The robot hungers for consciousness. And so he moves against the light, to seize the light. Thus will Ahura Mazda be clapped in a steel dungeon, a prisoner of metal, and Ahriman his jailer.’
Jasperodus shook his head. ‘You are quite wrong. Robots do not have any conception of consciousness. For them it is a meaningless word.’
‘Ordinary robots do not,’ the templar said quietly. ‘But there are robots of extreme mental subtlety, and some of them know what is lacking in them. After all, a construct’s level of intelligence is now only a technical issue. There are robots far exceeding the mental capacity possible for a human being.’
A sense of amazement was coming over Jasperodus as he grasped what the man was saying, but again he shook his head. ‘You apparently believe artificial consciousness to be the next step in construct development. I can tell you categorically that artificial consciousness is a scientific impossibility. It has been proved so.’