“How many are there of you?”
“Several hundred.”
“You’re growing.”
“There are more children all the time.” Meredith swelled a little, with pride. “I, myself, have had children by eight women.”
“Marvelous,” the Great C said, but Meredith could not tell how it meant it. There was a moment of silence.
“I have a gun,” Meredith said. “A pistol.”
“Do you?”
He lifted it. “I’ve never fired a pistol before. We have bullets, but I don’t know if they still work.”
“What is your name?” the Great C said.
“Meredith. Tim Meredith.”
“You are a young man, of course.”
“Yes. Why?”
“I can see you fairly well,” the Great C said, ignoring his question. “Part of my equipment was destroyed in the Smash but I can still see a little. Originally, I scanned mathematical questions visually. It saved time. I see you are wearing a helmet and binoculars. And army boots. Where did you get them? Your tribe does not make such things, does it?”
“No. They were found in underground lockers.”
“Military equipment left over from the Smash,” the Great C said. “United Nations equipment, by the color.”
“Is it true that — that you could make a second Smash come? Like the first? Could you really do it again?”
“Of course! I could do it any time. Right now.”
“How?” Meredith asked cautiously. “Tell me how.”
“The same way as before,” the Great C said vaguely. “I did it before — as your tribe well knows.”
“Our legends tell us that all the world was put to the fire. Made suddenly terrible by — by atoms. And that you invented atoms, delivered them to the world. Brought them down from above. But we do not know how it was done.”
“I will never tell you. It is too terrible for you ever to know. It is better forgotten.”
“Certainly, if you say so,” Meredith murmured. “Man has always listened to you. Come and asked and listened.”
The Great C was silent. “You know,” it said presently, “I have existed a long time. I remember life before the Smash. I could tell you many things about it. Life was much different then. You wear a beard and hunt animals in the woods. Before the Smash there were no woods. Only cities and farms. And men were clean-shaven. Many of them wore white clothing, then. They were scientists. They were very fine. I was constructed by scientists.”
“What happened to them?”
“They left,” the Great C said vaguely. “Do you recognize the name, Einstein? Albert Einstein?”
“No.”
“He was the greatest scientist. Are you sure you don’t know the name?” The Great C sounded disappointed. “I answered questions even he could not have answered. There were other Computers, then, but none so grand as I.”
Meredith nodded.
“What is your first question?” the Great C said. “Give it to me and I will answer it.”
Sudden fear gripped Meredith, surging over him. His knees shook. “The first question?” He murmured. “Let me see. I must consider.”
“Have you forgotten?”
“No. I must arrange them in order.” He moistened his lips, stroking his black beard nervously. “Let me think. I’ll give you the easiest one first. However, even it is very difficult. The Leader of the Tribe –”
“Ask.”
Meredith nodded. He glanced up, swallowing. When he spoke his voice was dry and husky. “The first question. Where — where does –”
“Louder,” the Great C said.
Meredith took a deep breath. “Where does the rain come from?” he said.
There was silence.
“Do you know?” he said, waiting tensely. Rows of lights moved above him. The Great C was meditating, considering. It whirred, a low, throbbing sound. “Do you know the answer?”
“Rain comes originally from the earth, mostly from the oceans,” the Great C said. “It rises into the air by a process of evaporation. The agent of the process is the heat of the sun. The moisture of the oceans ascends in the form of minute particles. These particles, when they are high enough, enter a colder band of air. At this point, condensation occurs. The moisture collects into great clouds. When a sufficient amount is collected the water descends again in drops. You call the drops rain.”
Meredith rubbed his chin numbly, nodding.
“I see.” He nodded again. “That is the way it occurs?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Of course. What is the second question? That was not very hard. You have no conception of the knowledge and information that lies stored within me. Once, I answered questions the greatest minds of the world could not make out. At least, not as fast as I. What’s the next question?”
“This is much more difficult.” Meredith smiled weakly. The Great C had answered the question about rain, but surely it could not know the answer to this question. “Tell me,” he said slowly. “Tell me if you can: What keeps the sun moving through the sky? Why doesn’t it stop? Why doesn’t it fall to the ground?”
The Great C gave a funny whirr, almost a laugh. “You will be astonished at the answer. The sun does not move. At least, what you see as motion is not motion at all. What you see is the motion of the earth as it revolves around the sun. Since you are on the earth it seems as if you were standing still and the sun were moving. That is not so. All the nine planets, including the earth, revolve about the sun in regular elliptical orbits. They have been doing so for millions of years. Does that answer your question?
Meredith’s heart constricted. He began to tremble violently. At last he managed to pull himself together. “I can hardly believe it. Are you telling the truth?”
“For me there is only truth,” the Great C said. “It is impossible for me to lie. What is the third question?”
“Wait,” Meredith said thickly. “Let me think a moment.” He moved away. “I must consider.”
“Why?”
“Wait.” Meredith stepped back. He squatted down on the floor, staring dully ahead. It was not possible. The Great C had answered the first questions without trouble! But how could it know such things? How could anyone know things about the sun? About the sky? The Great C was imprisoned in its house. How could it know that the sun did not move? His mind reeled. How could it know about something it had not seen? Books, perhaps. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Perhaps, before the Smash, someone had read books on it. He scowled, setting his lips. Probably that was it. He stood up slowly.
“Are you ready now?” the Great C said. “Ask.”
“You can’t possibly answer this. No living creature could know. Here is the question. How did the world begin?” Meredith smiled. “You could not know. You did not exist before the world. Therefore, it is impossible that you could know.”
“There are several theories,” the Great C said calmly. “The most satisfactory is the nebular hypothesis. According to this, a gradually shrinking –”
Meredith listened, stunned, only half hearing the words. Could it be? Could the Great C really know how the world had been formed? He drew himself together, trying to catch the words.
“. . . There are several ways to verify this theory, giving it credence over the others. Of the others, the most popular, although in disrepute of late, is the theory that a second star once approached our own, causing a violent –”
On and on the Great C went, warming up to its subject. Clearly, it enjoyed the question. Clearly, this was the type of question that had been asked of it in the dim past, before the Smash. All three questions, questions the Tribe had worked on for an entire year, had been easily answered. It did not seem possible. He was stunned.
The Great C finished. “Well?” it said. “Are you satisfied? You can see that I know the answers. Did you really imagine that I would not be able to answer?”
Meredith said nothing. He was dazed, terrified with shock and fear. Sweat ran down his face, into his beard. He opened his mouth, but no words came.
“And now,” the Great C said, “since I have been able to answer the questions, please step forward.”
Meredith moved forward stiffly, gazing ahead as if in a trance. Around him light appeared, flickering into life, illuminating the room. For the first time he saw the Great C. For the first time the darkness lifted.
The Great C lay on its raised dais, an immense cube of dull, corroded metal. Part of the roof above it had been broken open, and blocks of concrete had dented its right side. Metal tubes and parts lay scattered around on the dais, broken and twisted elements that had been severed by the falling roof.
Once, the Great C had been shiny. Now the cube was dirty and stained. Water had dripped through the broken roof, rain and dirt washed down the walls. Birds had flown down and perched on it, leaving feathers and filth behind. In the original destruction, most of the connecting wires had been cut, the wiring from the cube to the control panel.