Theor watched intently, ‘I want you to place certain facts before the Board. Will you promise that?’
Brand hedged, ‘Even if I help you along, Theor, I’ll have to remind you that I’m junior member of the Psychological Board. I haven’t much influence.’
‘You must do your best. The facts will speak for themselves.’ The albino’s hands were trembling.
‘Go ahead.’ Brand resigned himself. The man was an old school fellow. You couldn’t be too arbitrary about things.
Brand Gorla leaned back and relaxed. The light of Arcturus shone through the ceiling-high windows, diffused and mellowed by the polarizing glass. Even this diluted version of sunlight was too much for the pink eyes of the other, and he shaded his eyes as he spoke.
‘I’ve lived on Dorlis twenty-five years, Brand,’ he said, ‘I’ve poked into places no one today knew existed, and I’ve found things. Dorlis was the scientific and cultural capital of a civilization greater than ours. Yes it was, and particularly in psychology.’
‘Things in the past always seem greater.’ Brand condescended a smile. ‘There is a theorem to that effect which you’ll find in any elementary text. Freshmen invariably call it the ‘GOD Theorem.’ Stands for ‘Good-Old-Days,’ you know. But go on.’’
Theor frowned at the digression. He hid the beginning of a sneer, ‘You can always dismiss an uncomfortable fact by pinning a dowdy label to it. But tell me this. What do you know of Psychological Engineering?’
Brand shrugged, ‘No such thing. Anyway, not in the strict mathematical sense. All propaganda and advertising is a crude form of hit-and-miss Psych Engineering – and pretty effective sometimes. Maybe that’s what you mean.’
‘Not at all. I mean actual experimentation, with masses of people, under controlled conditions, and over a period of years.’
‘Such things have been discussed. It’s not feasible in practice. Our social structure couldn’t stand much of it, and we don’t know enough to set up effective controls.’
Theor suppressed excitement, ‘But the ancients did know enough. And they did set up controls.’’
Brand considered phlegmatically, ‘Startling and interesting, but how do you know?’
‘Because I found the documents relating to it.’ He paused breathlessly. ‘An entire planet, Brand. A complete world picked to suit, peopled with beings under strict control from every angle. Studied, and charted, and experimented upon. Don’t you get the picture?’
Brand noted none of the usual stigmata of mental uncontrol. A closer investigation, perhaps –
He said evenly, ‘You must have been misled. It’s thoroughly impossible. You can’t control humans like that. Too many variables.’
‘And that’s the point, Brand. They weren’t humans.’
‘What?’
‘They were robots, positronic robots. A whole world of them, Brand, with nothing to do but live and react and be observed by a set of psychologists that were real psychologists.’
‘That’s mad!’
‘I have proof – because that robot world still exists. The First Confederation went to pieces, but that robot world kept on going. It still exists.’
‘And how do you know?’
Theor Realo stood up. ‘Because I’ve been there these last twenty-five years!’
The Board Master threw his formal red-edged gown aside and reached into a pocket for a long, gnarled and decidedly unofficial cigar.
‘Preposterous,’ he grunted, ‘and thoroughly insane.’
‘Exactly,’ said Brand, ‘and I can’t spring it on the Board just like that. They wouldn’t listen. I’ve got to get this across to you first, and then, if you can put your authority behind it – ‘
‘Oh, nuts! I never heard anything as – Who is the fellow?’
Brand sighed, ‘A crank, I’ll admit that. He was in my class at Arcturus U. and a crack-pot albino even then. Maladjusted as the devil, hipped on ancient history, and just the kind that gets an idea and goes through with it by plain, dumb plugging. He’s poked about in Dorlis for twenty-five years, he says. He’s got the complete records of practically an entire civilization.’
The Board Master puffed furiously. ‘Yeah, I know. In the telestat serials, the brilliant amateur always uncovers the great things. The free lance. The lone wolf. Nuts! Have you consulted the Department of Archaeology?’
‘Certainly. And the result was interesting. No one bothers with Dorlis. This isn’t just ancient history, you see. It’s a matter of fifteen thousand years. It’s practically myth. Reputable archaeologists don’t waste too much time with it. It’s just the thing a book-struck layman with a single-track mind would uncover. After this, of course, if the business turns out right, Dorlis will become an archaeologist’s paradise.’
The Board Master screwed his homely face into an appalling grimace. ‘It’s very unflattering to the ego. If there’s any truth in all this, the so-called First Confederation must have had a grasp of psychology so far past ours, as to make us out to be blithering imbeciles. Too, they’d have to build positronic robots that would be about seventy-five orders of magnitude above anything we’ve even blueprinted. Galaxy! Think of the mathematics involved.’
‘Look, sir, I’ve consulted just about everybody. I wouldn’t bring this thing to you if I weren’t certain that I had every angle checked. I went to Blak just about the first thing, and he’s consultant mat ematicia? to United Robots. He says there’s no limit to these things. Given t e time, the money, and the advance in psychology – get that – robots hke that could be built right now.’
‘What proof has he?’ ‘Who, Blak?’
‘No, no! Your friend. The albino. You said he had papers.’
‘He has. I’ve got them here. He’s got documents – and there’s no denying their antiquity. I’ve had that checked every way from Sunday. I can’t read them, of course. I don’t know if anyone can, except Theor Realo.’
‘That’s stacking the deck, isn’t it? We have to take his say-so.’
‘Yes, in a way. But he doesn’t clai to be able t decipher, more than portions. He says it is related to ancient C nt unan, an? I e put lmguists to work on it. It can be cracked and 1f his translation 1sn t accurate, we’ll know about it.’
‘All right. Let’s see it.’
Brand Gorla brought out the plastic-mounted documents. The Board Master tossed them aside and reached for the translation. Smoke billowed as he read.
‘Humph,’ was his comment. ‘Further details are on Dorlis, I suppose.’
