CHAPTER ONE
TERRA CITY was saffron-dusted by a combination of haze and afternoon sunlight. It had an unreal quality, as if it were about to become some sort of elf land.
In the room atop the telecast tower stillness and isolation had become so intense that the Master's quiet voice sounded loud.
"What have I gained by living a thousand years?"
Varden, the Master's chief assistant, did not answer for a moment. Finally he said:
"You should know better than I...
"Answer the question."
Varden turned, and as he did so, the ebbing sunlight flicked across his shoulders, on each of which gleamed the single silver star of a World Scientist.
"Very well, I'll answer it." The lightness in Varden's tone was forced. "That the Master could live so long and learn so little is one of the reasons I don't believe in a Supreme Spirit. Every other man on earth?except you?is too young for women part of his brief life, and too old for them during another distressing period. You never really grow old, and become young again every thirty years. And you are the one who complains."
"We are not discussing theology."
"I am. Do you expect me to believe in an intelligent Supreme Spirit who would allow one man and only one man to remain immortal?and then choose an idiot? No, this universe was designed by some lunatic deity escaped from the fool house of the gods."
The Master pushed aside the stack of papers on his desk, and lit his pipe.
"Of what use is eternal life if the only woman you ever loved is dying and you can do nothing to save her?" There it was, the Master thought. He had said it, the truth everyone had known but he had never admitted, even to Varden.
"That the Master's lady, Ellora," Varden said gently, "has the sickness is tragedy. But it is also fate. If there is anything I could do which would in the smallest degree help either of you, I would do it. You know that."
The Master unhooked his blue cape, and dropped it on the back of his chair. Beneath the cape, he wore the conventional dress of a World Scientist--a loose-fitting maroon tunic and trousers bloused into low, soft boots. On each shoulder was the single silver star. Only the cape designated him as the Master.
He rested his elbows on the desk and stared through the swirl of tobacco smoke. "Must I accept this, then?"
"One does not struggle against destiny."
"Perhaps it is because I have so often altered destiny that I find it hard to accept what I cannot change."
"I know it is presumptuous, Master, to suggest that you are illogical, but it is obvious that whether the Lady Ellora dies of the sickness or not, she would eventually die of old age--which would be unpleasant for you to witness. Fifteen, or perhaps twenty years more together ... what is that brief instant to a man who has lived ten centuries and will never die?"
The unusual formality and earnestness of Varden's words impressed the Master. Not often did the casual, somewhat ribald man show a different side of his nature. "You are lucky, Varden," he said. "You will live only one lifetime. And you have never fallen in love."
Varden looked at the Master and the conversation dwindled away. The Master was silent a long time. Then he said, "Upstairs in conference room C, a meeting is going on. The most outstanding physicians and scientists of Earth are gathered there for only one purpose--a great, concerted effort to discover a cure for the sickness. They may find it."
"Yes, Master, they may." Varden sat on the corner of the desk. He was a short, fat, balding man, with brown eyes that were usually laughing. They were now. "Master, you need something new to worry about."
"I do?"
"Yes, and I've got it for you."
"What is it?"
A committee of the Arborean Tree Protection Society is waiting downstairs with a slab of redwood. They have traveled many weary miles for the opportunity to present it to you."
"No!"
"You agreed to the appointment two months ago. They paid to have that damned thing hauled by Continental Cargo-Sphere all the way from the West Coast. The presentation is the climax of the five hundredth anniversary of the founding of the Society. You can't back out now."
The Master looked steadily at Varden. "You suggested this to keep my mind off?"
"Even you have to keep appointments sometimes."
"Very well. However, if the honorable Society has succeeded in transporting their monumental slab this far, they can certainly bring it up here. I will not go down to the Audience Hall."
"They plan to make the presentation in this room. Of course they want a telerecord of the ceremony, and the recording equipment is up here. I will send for the technicians."
"And you will pour me a double brandy."
Varden poured the drink and went out. The Master's long, powerful fingers gripped the glass, and once more his thoughts went back to the woman who was dying in the blue-walled, sunlit bedroom. The old irony stabbed at him. Ellora would die, and there was nothing he could do about it. With all the power in the world at his disposal, he could not keep one heart beating an hour longer.
In an effort to pull his thoughts away, he tried to visualize the committee of the Arborean Tree Protection Society. They would be insignificant, ordinary people, not scientists or even political emissaries. Yet they had a right to meet The Master and present him with a silly slab of redwood. They had as much right as anyone else. Much more, he thought, than most of the pompous statesmen and long-winded professors to whom he must talk.
The Master had just finished his brandy when he saw the procession coming across the bridge which connected the Telecast Tower with the main block of World Center buildings. Varden was in the lead. Behind him, four men struggled with the gigantic slab. At the rear of the group marched a young woman.
The slab stuck in the doorway but finally, with some adroit coaching by Varden, they pushed it through. When the committee members had assumed their stance beside the slab and the Master knew the speech was almost upon him, he rose and signalled the telerecord technicians.
Standing behind the desk, the Master looked even taller than the six feet three inches that the world knew so well. His age might have been anywhere from fifty to sixty. His body was spare, almost gaunt, as if the clothing of flesh were too small for his big frame. But the body of the man was only an out-of-focus background for the eyes; the flow of time itself seemed to exist in their grey depths.
"Good afternoon. May I welcome your Society to World Center." There could be no doubt that it was the voice of the Master of the world. "This presentation by your organization is an honor which I deeply appreciate."
The young woman stepped forward and whisked a manuscript from somewhere beneath her green robe. Her hands shook violently and she had difficulty in reading.
"This slab was cut from a giant Sequoia which died in the present year, the year 3097. Science has proven that each ring of such a tree represents one year of growth. Thus it was ascertained that this tree began its life in the year 100. As you can see, we have carefully marked certain rings which indicate important dates since that year."
The young woman extracted a telescopic pointer from some other sanctuary beneath her robe, and began extending the rod to its full length. The Master had trouble keeping his face composed. The pointer stuck halfway, and one of the committee stepped briskly forward and helped the girl unarm it. With the end of the pointer, she indicated a date printed on a ring near the center of the slab.
"On this date the Matriarchy of Rome is said to have fallen." She moved the pointer. "On this date a religious document, the Magna Charta, was signed." She moved the rod again. "On this date in the year 1776, America was founded by a group of Tea Men who revolted against the Czar."
The Master's mind drifted off. Muddling of history was the unalienable right of educators. Suddenly the young woman's voice changed tone.
"On this date the office of the Master was created, and you, the immortal one, came among our race. We do not know who you are, or why you never die. Your beginning is known to the Council of World Scientists, and that is enough for us.
"We know that without you men could not control science and the machine. It is impossible for anyone in the brief span of a human lifetime to acquire enough knowledge to coordinate the complexities of our civilization.
"We realize too, that the organization of World Scientists, through its control of weapons and sources of power, has forever banished the madness of which we read in our history books, the madness of War. It is obvious that the World Scientists must have for a leader a man who can live forever.
"Therefore, we, as representatives of the Arborean Tree Protection Society, present to you this slab as a symbol of the incredible truth that even the oldest living things on earth can die, but the Master cannot."
The Master looked away a moment before he bowed slightly and answered, "I accept your gift with a deep sense of appreciation. The telerecord of this meeting will be ready in ten minutes, but I wish to express my thanks with something less cold and formal. Varden, what are the arrangements?"
"The committee dines tonight at the Pavilion. I hope the entertainment will be up to their expectations. Tomorrow I have placed at their disposal a guide who will show them through Terra City and World Center. The following day they will leave on a special ship for an overnight trip to Moon Base."
The Master saw that the girl, surprised and without benefit of a prepared script, was wordless. He stepped from behind his desk and held out his hand. As the slim, trembling fingers closed around his, he wondered, as he sometimes did on these occasions, if it were startling to discover that his were normal human hands, things of flesh and blood. The girl tried to speak and could not.
"I hope your stay here will be pleasant."
As she mumbled a reply, she became calmer.
He shook hands with the other members of the committee, and chatted a few minutes. Then Varden called one of the Master's guards who escorted the group out.
The Master returned to his desk. The telerecord technicians left their plastic-enclosed booth, and the Master and Varden remained alone with the slab of redwood.
Varden poured himself a brandy, sipped it and carefully placed the glass on the slab. It stood on a ring which was marked America Discovered By Eric, A Red Man.
"What shall we do with the firewood?"
The Master looked up. "Have it mounted somewhere--anywhere. Possibly in the little patio by the pool. But take it out of here at once."
"Always complaining."
"Varden, I have listened to your insults and alleged humor for a good many years. I have often speculated as to what action I should take. If there were only some way that you could be made immortal.
"Isn't there?"
The Master did not answer.
"Incidentally, how did you become the Master? Why does the world need a Master?"
"You will find complete data in the archives of World Scientists."
"Why should I waste my time and eyesight when I can ask you?"
"To put it briefly, if there were no Master, there would be no civilization on this planet."
"With all respect to your unmitigated egotism, Master, that isn't an answer."
The Master refilled his pipe. "For some reason that lies hidden behind the cosmic scheme of things, the highest form of life on this planet, Earth, is afflicted with two principal faults. All creatures in the universe have faults, but mankind's two faults are basic."
"The first is an insatiable desire, to build endless machinery which soon becomes so complex that it requires more than one human lifetime to understand it. Also, man seems blinded to the fact that the machine is not an end in, itself, but only a means to mankind's happiness.
"The second fault is mankind's uncontrollable urge to kill its own species."
Seating himself on the redwood slab, Varden ht a cigarette. "I asked for a simple answer, not a speech."
"You asked for enlightenment, and enlighten you shall have. To continue:
"Besides the Earth there is--as you well know--one other planet which is inhabited by intelligent creatures. Our relations with them are part of your daily work. You also know that at least one other planet within this solar system was once inhabited. Our archaeological expeditions have proven this. Then, of course, there are the creatures from other solar systems, who occasionally visit the earth.
"For some reason?which is also hidden behind the scheme of things?all of the creatures who have visited here are very similar to ourselves, and yet"--The Master leaned forward? "Nowhere--either in the creatures whom we know in life or those known only through the ruins which mark their death throes--do we find the slightest evidence of any desire to be slaves to a machine, or to kill each other. We and we alone are afflicted with such idiotic tendencies."
Varden was standing before the great window. Outside, darkness had fallen over Terra City. He spoke without turning. "Go on."
"Our planet was in chaos. War followed war. Civilization seemed doomed to destruction. What we needed was an organization of scientists who would use their knowledge for the fostering of human happiness; who understood that man gains nothing by killing man and that the machine should free man as an individual, not enslave him as a necessary part of the machine."
The Master paused and gestured toward a large copy of the Oath of a World Scientist which glowed with soft fluorescence on the wall of the room.
"Read that again. The man who wrote it--he died almost ten centuries ago--was perhaps more of a poet than a law maker, but time seems to have proven that he caught the essence of the idea."
The Chief Assistant looked at his watch and glanced up at the oath.
"I will guard mankind from the weapons mankind has invented, but I myself will not carry a weapon. I will not engage in politics. Although I may hold any religious belief I choose, or may hold none, I will not engage in any religious controversy or use any power given me as a World Scientist to promote any religion. I will be kindly, considerate and, to the best of my power, understanding to the inhabitants of this earth and those of any other world. I will not own property, but will hold the property of mankind as a trust. On the order of the Master, or the Council of World Scientists, or on my own discretion if a major war should break out, I will destroy all Final Weapons, even if it results in the destruction of the Earth. In accepting these silver stars and with them the power and honor they confer, I freely state that my life shall be of no consequence in relation to this oath."
Varden turned back to the Master. "What does that oath prove? I took it, and I've administered it more times than I can remember. But that still doesn't answer my question. Why should there be a Master?"
"World Scientists, like other men and women, have a habit of dying. Therefore, the organization must have at its head someone immortal, to form the line of continuity over the ages. Only such a person can be sufficiently unbelievable to command mankind's belief. Ask the girl from the Arborean Society."
"Perhaps--I?" Varden glanced again at his watch, and stopped. He dropped his hand lightly on the Master's shoulder. "The committee in conference room C will be ready to report now," he said.
The Master stood up. "Very well."
As they left the room in the Telecast Tower, Varden said, "Master, if the scientists and physicians have found a solution, there is one other chance."
The Master turned. "Yes?"
"This morning I received a letter from a man named Everling. I have briefly checked his record. At one time he did some brilliant scientific work. He, claims to have cured the sickness, and wants an appointment with you. He stated that he would arrive in Terra City tomorrow on the afternoon magno-rocket from Asia."
"Have an exhaustive check made of his record."
"I have already given an order for it."
"Thank you, Varden."
"I have also arranged for your meeting with the scientists and physicians to be held in the living room. I thought it would be better."
The Master looked down at the balastrade of the bridge they were now crossing.
"Yes," he said.
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