After a moment it stopped being an image, and Havoc found himself standing in the scene. It was a beach with surging waves. He even smelled the spume. This was more than mere imagery; it was an avenue to first hand experience.
"They lie here feeding and the entertainment is brought to them," Weft said. "All day? All their lives?"
"Correct," Caterpillar agreed.
"And it is this way across the planet?" Havoc asked as he emerged from the cell.
"Correct."
"But why import laborers who do no labor?"
"Unable to answer."
Neither their clairvoyance nor their future seeing provided any answer either. All they saw was a vast extent of walls containing the big bugs being served by the little machines.
"Why do the machines do it?" Weft asked.
"It is our nature to serve."
"Who told you to do this?"
"The Makers."
Now was the crux. "What happened to the Makers?" Havoc asked. Would the machine repeat the information that they had been destroyed by the machines?
"Unable to answer."
"This is the problem with a low level machine," Weft said. "It can't appreciate context."
"We may simply be asking the wrong questions," he said. "Caterpillar, where are the Makers?"
"They are here."
"Where?"
"In the cells."
Havoc exchanged a look with Weft. "These—creatures—are the Makers?"
"Correct."
"They didn't die!" Weft said, amazed.
"That's why it couldn't say what happened to them," Havoc said. "Because nothing happened to them."
"Then what about the revolt? The machines' inexorable pursuit of the Makers?"
"We may have misconstrued a detail," he said wryly.
"But how could these indolent slugs ever accomplish anything? They can't be the Makers."
"Another detail."
She turned to Iolo. "Input?"
"Something must have happened fifty thousand years ago," he said. "That may be the key."
"So we need to learn what happened then. How do we do that?"
"Archives," Havoc said. "There must be records." He turned to the machine. "Caterpillar, where are the records?"
"Here."
"The video cells!" Weft said. "We can summon and play the relevant records!"
"By lying in the cells just like the slugs?" Havoc asked distastefully.
"Verify with your wider awareness. This is the way to find out."
He saw that it was so. "Stay alert, Iolo."
The ifrit nodded and started to vaporize. He would watch the whole area, and send them a telepathic warning if it was warranted.
Then Havoc and Weft climbed into adjacent cells and lay on their backs, staring into the screens. "The key event," he said. "For both of us."
There was a brief flicker. Then a scene formed. It was an obscure den with confusing equipment. A millipede—a Maker—was sprawled across a pile of sticks, several of its forelegs moving them about as its antenna touched them passingly.
And then it morphed into a more familiar scene, as the cell adapted to Havoc's nature. He was sitting in an Earth style office chair behind a desk, processing papers stamped CONFIDENTIAL, SECRET and TOP SECRET. He was the governor of the district, which included half a planet.
Things were difficult. A power supply had broken down, and he had to assign machines to fix it while he saw to the rerouting of power from another source. It was a somewhat delicate balancing act, because it was important not to divert too much power from its original destination, lest people suffer. Of course he could have let the machines supervise, but as a matter of principle he preferred to do it himself.
Secret documents to manage an ongoing power crisis? This did not makes sense.
The papers morphed into dials and other indicators set into his desk, making it a console. Now he was tracking the lines leading to the sectors, seeing their power levels. The animation had responded to his thought.
Actually the worst was over. He had sent the necessary directives, and now had merely to monitor the lines to be sure no further foul-ups occurred. It was dull but essential. Once he was certain the crisis was over, he would be able to relax completely.
At least he could let his support staff go home and catch up on lost sleep. He touched the intercom. "Ennui, send them home, and go home yourself. I have it under control."
"I will send them home, but will remain until you are through," she replied.
He sighed inwardly. Ennui was the finest and most loyal of staff, and he could not have run the government without her, but she did have an independent streak that was annoying at times. He would have to let her be. The truth was, he did appreciate her support. If he fell asleep, or made a mistake, she would be on it, courteously reminding him, so as to preserve his efficiency and his reputation. The intercom was mainly a formality; she could monitor him at any time, but would not intrude unless asked. "Appreciation."
Then he became aware of a new presence. Someone else was in the office, though the doorway had not been accessed. He twitched his right arm and a laser pistol dropped into his hand. He aimed it at the spot. "Intruder, show yourself."
A figure formed. It was a remarkably lovely woman, with long blond hair and a provocative outline. "You are alert, Governor Havoc," she said.
"And you are illicit. Who are you and what are you doing here?"
She smiled, brightening the day. "I am Weft, a representative of Escape. I am here to recruit you to our cause."
He was familiar with Escape. It was an organization dedicated to abolishing the machines, one of a number of lunatic fringe movements. He practiced tolerance in his territory, so he allowed them freedom as long as they did not impinge on the rights or convenience of others. "I regret you are wasting your time. I have a government to run, and it would collapse without the services of the machines."
"It will collapse with their services," she said. "I must satisfy you about that." She adjusted her décolletage.
He glanced at the indicators on the console. All were in order. He could afford some diversion of attention, and the Escape woman was quite interesting to observe. He tried to remember when he had seen a lovelier woman, and was drawing a blank.
"Escape sent you to attract my attention," he said. "So I would listen to your spiel."
Weft took a breath that briefly emphasized her breasts. "You object, Governor?"
"Call me Havoc." That was answer enough.
She laughed. That really emphasized her breasts, which seemed about to jump out of her halter.
"We are desperate. We do what we must. First I will try to persuade you by reason. Will you listen?"
"First tell me how you got in here without alerting the sensors. It's a matter of security."
She leaned forward, causing his eyes to be drawn involuntarily to her cleavage. He knew the exposure was intentional, but didn't mind. "Passkey. It cost us half a fortune in bribery to buy it, and it's only good for this hour. Your security has not been breached by any hostile agency."
"Good to know. Interesting qualification."
"Escape is not hostile, Havoc. I am not hostile. We merely have a job to do, as do you."
"This project of yours, to get rid of the machines. It is totally unrealistic. They are the core of our system. Without them we would be in instant anarchy."
"Conceded. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that we don't want to completely destroy them. We want to control them."
"We do control them. They serve us completely."
"They do, in a manner. That is the problem. They will inevitably destroy us."
"There seems to be an ellipsis in your logic."