Though still fascinated by the spreading discoloration, which had reached the other openings by now, he decided he had been here long enough. He turned and made for the stairs.
Then the hairs on the back of his neck prickled. There came a slamming sound, together with a rushing, sloshing noise.
He whirled. The oval vats, really openings of a single tank, had slid to the extreme ends of the gallery, revealing the full extent of the ochre slime.
That slime was surging towards the middle of the tank. The air crackled. A dramatic transformation was taking place, a tumultuous rising, a gushing spout which formed itself into a tall figure.
And stepped from the tank.
The figure resembled ‘Klystar’, complete with the long spindly legs, the four spindly arms and the turreted, swiftly rotating head. But it was much more invigorated, with an integument of brilliant shining yellow in place of the pale pastel of the older body.
Laedo stared, transfixed.
Klystar had returned.
Here at last was the creator of the Erspia worlds: Klystar the ancient, the polymath, who held in a single consciousness more knowledge than was possessed by the whole of mankind.
It was stupefying to think of his achievements. His method of travel meant that he could take no instruments with him, yet unaided he had shaped planetoids, built machines, worked wonders. Such feats were impossible except with the aid of supreme knowledge.
Drops and gobs of life-substance dripped from Klystar as he stood before Laedo, bending his head to regard him. The turret was rotating back and forth with rapidity. The five separately functioning eyes flashed with fiendish intelligence.
Laedo became absolutely certain that here was a being who never slept or rested, and who never paused from ceaseless mentation.
He wished he had brought his gun with him. What subconscious impulse had prompted him to leave it behind? Was it to avoid the possibility, always a horror to him, of having to kill a sentient being while in that being’s presence?
Perhaps he had accomplished the act already. Purple discoloration was appearing on Klystar’s body, creating a mottling effect. Klystar appeared to flinch. A vibrant voice issued from the turreted head.
“Is it you who has poisoned this body? Everything is disrupted.”
A click sounded. The tall door through which ‘Klystar’ had earlier exited opened. The previous body of the polymath strode through, walked a short distance, then stopped, facing its replacement.
Modulated sounds passed between the two: some sort of high-speed language. The newly arrived Klystar sagged and staggered. Its paler, older counterpart started, as if in shock, eyes briefly becoming a thousand times more alive than before, flashing fire. Then, in the same moment that the new Klystar collapsed to the floor, they waned into dullness once more.
“What has happened?” Laedo whimpered.
‘Klystar’ rotated his head to regard him with a single middle eye. He spoke in a reedy voice which was much weaker than before. “You have successfully sabotaged Klystar’s body replacement. It is defunct.
He was forced to take refuge in this body temporarily.”
“Then do I now address the real Klystar?”
“No, you do not. Klystar lingered only long enough to obtain the Erspia data from me, though he would have preferred to review the results for himself. He has already left for a new destination.” With no change of tone, ‘Klystar’ added, “It may please you to hear that inadvertently you have forestalled the imminent destruction of the specimens. Klystar is meticulous in his actions. He would have closed down the experiment on completion, reducing the Erspia worlds to the rubble from which they were formed.”
To realize that he had emptied his bucket into the tank in the nick of time gave Laedo a sense of destiny.
“Then will you do that yourself? Or continue in charge as before?”
“I am unable to do either. You have killed not only the new body, but the old one as well. In a few minutes both will lie dead on the floor of this chamber.”
“I don’t understand,” puzzled Laedo.
“It is simple enough. Immediacy of Thought is like stretching a piece of elastic and letting one end go. It snaps forward and stings the fingers. The longer the stretch, the greater the violence of contraction. A transfer from galaxy to galaxy delivers a shock so great it is lethal to an aged body such as speaks to you now.”
“But that doesn’t make sense,” protested Laedo. “You did not receive Klystar from another galaxy, only from across the room!”
‘Klystar’ made no immediate answer. He appeared to be gathering his remaining strength. When he responded, it was in a dry voice. “Are you hungry for knowledge, or merely argumentative?” Again his head rotated slowly, dim eyes staring in turn. “Immediacy of Thought, though described as instantaneous, in practice takes several minutes to accomplish in full. The essence of the traveller is projected in a wave train stretching the length of the distance to be traversed. That is the ‘elastic band’. It is the leading end which makes instant contact with the target. The rear end is then released, and the wave train contracts into its new location in a non-zero time interval. The Klystar who spoke to you was not the whole Klystar but a partial representation, the vanguard of the wave train. On finding that the new body was poisoned he switched the target to me in order to collect the Erspia data. I-Klystar received the full force of the remaining wave train.”
Now Laedo understood. He had frustrated Klystar, denying him a receptacle. The polymath had been forced to depart and could not have remained. It was to be hoped he had no further reason to return.
‘Klystar’s’ voice was growing weaker. He slumped. The lack of rancour on his part was a striking element. Laedo had wreaked considerable inconvenience on Klystar, yet there was no hint of seeking revenge. And why should there be? Such attitudes were part of the social dimension, which in Klystar was absent.
Also curious was the readiness to spend one’s last moments explaining technical matters to a near-stranger and proven enemy. It was the dying reflex of one dominated by the compulsive hunt for knowledge.
The next words, however, were far from reassuring. “It took Klystar only seconds to evaluate the data and render a judgment. It is this. Your species is unstable in evolutionary terms. Its survival index is low.
True intelligence will begin its appearance in this galaxy in about two billion years time. Klystar may well be still alive then. But homo sapiens , as you term yourselves, will have devolved back to the simian level in less then half a million years from now, your spurious intelligence evaporated…”
‘Klystar’ was losing his ability to stand upright. Slowly he toppled. As he lay on the floor Laedo made a hurried, if impudent, request.
“Can you release control of the projector station to me?”
‘Klystar’ was still. “Projector station…” he whispered.
And then was silent.
Laedo stepped to the inert body and kicked it. “Speak!”
There was no response.
At the other end of the gallery the extra-tall door clicked open. Half a dozen men and women, all clad the same, in loose blue trousers and blouses patterned in silver-and-gold, entered. On seeing the two dead Klystar bodies they halted.
“What has happened?”
The shocked question came from a man somewhat older than the others, with streaks of grey in his hair.
These would be the body servitors referred to by ‘Klystar’, a team charged with maintaining the flesh tank.
“Klystar has returned, and gone away again,” Laedo announced. “You can close the project down now.