Niall shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“That is why they built this tower — so the men of the future would understand.”
Niall said sadly: “I am afraid I am too stupid.”
“That is untrue. Your intelligence is equal to that of the man who built this machine — Torwald Steeg. But Steeg died a long time ago, and you find his language difficult to understand.”
“But you said your name was Steeg.”
The old man smiled. “I have a right to the name. I am all that remains of Steeg’s mind.” He pointed to the black box. “You see, I am not really here. I am inside that computer. And you are not really speaking to me — you are speaking to that computer.”
“What is a. . . computer?”
“All your questions will be answered. But it will take a long time. Are you willing to stay here until you are satisfied?”
“Yes. . . of course. But. . .”
“But you are worried about your mother and brother.”
Niall experienced a flash of superstitious fear; it was unnerving to feel that not even his thoughts were private.
“How did you know?”
“I became aware of you — or rather, the Steegmaster became aware of you –” he pointed to the computer — “when you activated the flying machine in the desert. Ever since then, we have been observing you. It was the Steegmaster that summoned you here tonight.”
“Why?”
“That question will also be answered. But first, there are many other things you must know. Are you ready to begin now? Or would you prefer to sleep?”
“I don’t feel like sleep. And besides. . .”
“You are worried about your mother and brother.”
“Yes. I am afraid of what Kazak will do to them when he finds I am gone.”
“He will do nothing to them. He will not dare to tell the Spider Lord that he allowed you to walk out. So he will pretend that he is keeping you under observation in his palace. And he will treat your mother and brother like honoured guests, because he knows that as long as he holds them in his palace, you will want to return.”
“How do you know this? Can you read his mind?”
“No, not as you can. But we have also been observing Kazak for a long time. We can predict how he will react. For all his cunning, he is not a difficult man to understand.”
“And the Spider Lord? Can you understand his mind?”
“Very easily. You see, he has only one desire — to remain master of the earth. At the moment, his chief desire is to persuade you to help him.”
“Why?”
“Because he is afraid there are others of your kind. He wants to find them all, to destroy them. When he has done that, he will destroy you and all your family.”
This was something that Niall had suspected; but to hear it expressed so bluntly made his heart sink.
“Can he be defeated?” he asked.
“If he could not be defeated, he would not be afraid of you.”
He asked quickly: “How can it be done?”
The old man shook his head. “You are trying to learn too fast. We must begin at the beginning. Come with me.”
As he passed Niall, his clothing brushed Niall’s bare arm, but Niall felt nothing; yet he observed that the garments made rustling noises, and that his footfalls were audible on the carpet.
He followed the old man into the column, and was again surrounded by white mist. His body sank gently, as if it had become a feather.
As soon as he stepped into the room, he knew it was one of Steeg’s magical illusions; it was far too large to be accommodated in the tower. It was a broad gallery, about a hundred feet long, whose walls were covered with a rich brocade of blue and gold and with many pictures. At regular intervals there were pedestals with busts and statues. Crystal chandeliers hung from the decorated ceiling.
Through the windows, Niall caught glimpses of an unknown city. It was smaller than the spider city — hardly more than a small town — and the houses were only two or three storeys high. It was divided by a river — the tower stood on its bank — crossed by several bridges of arched stone, and seemed to be surrounded by a wall with square towers at regular intervals. Beyond the city there were green hills with terraces. People in bright coloured clothes were going about their business through the streets and squares.
Niall was fascinated by the pictures on the walls. It was the first time he had ever seen a painting, and he was astounded that human faces could be rendered with such accuracy. He found the art of perspective even more incredible. He could see clearly that he was looking at a flat surface, yet streets and landscapes looked as if they were part of a view from a window.
“Where are we?”
“In a city that no longer exists. It was called Florence, and it was once the intellectual centre of the western world.”
Niall shook his head. “I cannot understand your words. What is an intellectual centre? And what is the western world?”
“You will soon understand all these things. But first, your mind has to be prepared to receive the knowledge. I want you to lie down here.”
In the centre of the gallery there was a machine of blue coloured metal; its lower part consisted of a bed or couch above which was suspended a metal canopy whose lower face was covered by opaque glass.
“What is it for?”
“We call it the peace machine. Its purpose is to remove all tensions from the body and mind. After that, you will be ready to begin the process of absorption.”
“Absorption?”
“The real name for learning. What you learn is absorbed by your mind as food is absorbed by the body, and becomes a part of you.”
The surface of the bed was so soft that Niall sank into it as if it had been made of eiderdown. As soon as he did so, a light came on behind the glass above him and there was a faint humming sound. He immediately experienced a sense of relaxation so deep that it was almost painful. Aches and tensions of which he had not even been aware now became apparent as they were in the process of dissolving away. His head throbbed as a slight headache intensified for a moment, then vanished. It was as if gentle, unseen fingers were penetrating his body and untying knots of frustration. As he sighed deeply, he felt as if he was expelling all the miseries of a lifetime. The peace was like the total security of a baby falling asleep at the breast. Images floated lazily through his brain, like voices from another world. With no attempt to resist, he sank into the warm depths of unconsciousness.
As awareness returned, there were brief memories of dreams and strange events which vanished as he opened his eyes. For a moment, he struggled to remember where he was; it was as if he was awakening from one dream to another. The real world seemed strangely simple and obvious when compared with the complexity of the world of dreams. He turned his head sideways and found himself looking at the bust of a full-bearded man with a strong nose and firm mouth. The inscription underneath it said: Plato. It took him a moment to realise that he was able to read the word carved into the pedestal. Then he sat up in excitement. He was alone in the gallery; the sun streamed in through the windows. He struggled off the bed and stood in front of the bust. Underneath the inscription there was a printed notice under glass. With a delight that made him feel drunk, he read it aloud: “Plato — real name Aristocles — was born in Athens in 427 BC. His nickname, Plato, means the Broad, and referred to his broad shoulders. Frustrated in his political ambitions, Plato founded the Academy, perhaps the first university. . .” What amazed Niall was that he understood the meaning of the words. He knew that Athens was a city in ancient Greece, that political ambitions meant an attempt to become a statesman, that a university was a school for advanced learning. When he looked out of the window, he knew that he was looking at a town that rose to prominence in mediaeval Italy, that the river was called the Arno, that the tall white building with the red dome was the cathedral, the square, dark building nearby the old palace of the Medicis, in front of which Savonarola had been burned. . .
He sat down on a chair near the window and stared down at the river. It was difficult to know precisely how much he knew, for he had to formulate a mental question before he knew whether he knew the answer. It was as if he had inherited somebody else’s library, and was not sure exactly what books it contained.