Stanislaw Lem: The Cyberiad

“Whoever heard of such a thing?” Trurl gasped in amazement. “Why, this is mutiny! What do we do now?”

“Wait and watch,” replied the prudent Klapaucius. “We may learn something.”

But there was nothing to be learned just then. The machine had reached firmer ground and was picking up speed. Inside, it whistled, hissed and sputtered.

“Any minute now the signal box will knock loose,” said Trurl under his breath. “That’ll jam the program and stop it…”

“No,” said Klapaucius, “this is a special case. The thing is so stupid, that even if the whole transmission goes, it won’t matter. But—look out!!”

The machine was gathering momentum, clearly bent on running them down, so they fled just as fast as they could, the fearful rhythm of crunching steps in their ears. They ran and ran—what else could they do? They tried to make it back to their native district, but the machine outflanked them, cut them off, forced them deeper and deeper into a wild, uninhabited region. Mountains, dismal and craggy, slowly rose out of the mist. Trurl, panting heavily, shouted to Klapaucius:

“Listen! Let’s turn into some narrow canyon… where it won’t be able to follow us… the cursed thing… what do you say?”

“No… better go straight,” wheezed Klapaucius. “There’s a town up ahead… can’t remember the name… anyway, we can find—oof!—find shelter there…”

So they ran straight and soon saw houses before them. The streets were practically deserted at this time of day, and the constructors had gone a good distance without meeting a living soul, when suddenly an awful crash, like an avalanche at the edge of the town, indicated that the machine was coming after them.

Trurl looked back and groaned.

“Good heavens! It’s tearing down the houses, Klapaucius!!” For the machine, in stubborn pursuit, was plowing through the walls of the buildings like a mountain of steel, and in its wake lay piles of rubble and white clouds of plaster dust. There were dreadful screams, confusion in the streets, and Trurl and Klapaucius, their hearts in their mouths, ran on till they came to a large town hall, darted inside and raced down endless stairs to a deep cellar.

“It won’t get us in here, even if it brings the whole building down on our heads!” panted Klapaucius. “But really, the devil himself had me pay you a visit today.… I was curious to see how your work was going—well, I certainly found out…”

“Quiet,” interrupted Trurl. “Someone’s coming…”

And indeed, the cellar door opened up and the mayor entered, accompanied by several aldermen. Trurl was too embarrassed to explain how this strange and calamitous situation had come about; Klapaucius had to do it. The mayor listened in silence. Suddenly the walls trembled, the ground heaved, and the sound of cracking stone reached them in the cellar.

“It’s here?!” cried Trurl.

“Yes,” said the mayor. “And it demands that we give you up, otherwise it says it will level the entire town…”

Just then they heard, far overhead, words that honked as if from a muffled horn:

“Trul’s here… I smell Trurl…”

“But surely you won’t give us up?” asked in a quavering voice the object of the machine’s obstinate fury.

“The one of you who calls himself Trurl must leave. The other may remain, since surrendering him does not constitute part of the conditions…”

“Have mercy!”

“We are helpless,” said the mayor. “And were you to stay here, Trurl, you would have to answer for all the damage done to this town and its inhabitants, since it was because of you that the machine destroyed sixteen homes and buried beneath their ruins many of our finest citizens. Only the fact that you yourself stand in imminent peril permits me to let you leave unpunished. Go then, and nevermore return.”

Trurl looked at the aldermen and, seeing his sentence written on their stern faces, slowly turned and made for the door.

“Wait! I’ll go with you!” cried Klapaucius impulsively.

“You?” said Trurl, a faint hope in his voice. “But no…” he added after a moment. “Why should you have to perish too?…”

“Nonsense!” rejoined Klapaucius with great energy. “What, us perish at the hands of that iron imbecile? Never! It takes more than that, my friend, to wipe two of the most famous constructors off the face of the globe! Come, Trurl! Chin up!”

Encouraged by these words, Trurl ran up the stairs after Klapaucius. There was not a soul outside in the square. Amid clouds of dust and the gaunt skeletons of demolished homes, stood the machine, higher than the town hall tower itself, puffing steam, covered with the blood of powdered brick and smeared with chalk.

“Careful!” whispered Klapaucius. “It doesn’t see us. Let’s take that first street on the left, then turn right, then straight for those mountains. There we can take refuge and think of how to make the thing give up once and for all its insane… Now !” he yelled, for the machine had just spotted them and was charging, making the pavement buckle.

Breathless, they ran from the town and galloped along for a mile or so, hearing behind them the thunderous stride of the colossus that followed relentlessly.

“I know that ravine!” Klapaucius suddenly cried. “That’s the bed of a dried-out stream and it leads to cliffs and caves —faster, faster, the thing’ll have to stop soon!…”

So they raced uphill, stumbling and waving their arms to keep their balance, but the machine still gained on them. Scrambling up over the gravel of the dried-out riverbed, they reached a crevice in the perpendicular rock and, seeing high above them the murky mouth of a cave, began to climb frantically toward it, no longer caring about the loose stones that flew from under their feet. The opening in the rock breathed chill and darkness. As quickly as they could, they leaped inside, ran a few extra steps, then stopped.

“Well, here at least we’re safe,” said Trurl, calm once again. “I’ll just take a look, to see where it got stuck…”

“Be careful,” cautioned Klapaucius. Trurl inched his way to the edge of the cave, leaned out, and immediately jumped back in fright.

“It’s coming up the mountain!!” he cried.

“Don’t worry, it’ll never be able to get in here,” said Klapaucius, not altogether convinced. “But what’s that? Is it getting dark? Oh no!”

At that moment a great shadow blotted out the bit of sky visible through the mouth of the cave, and in its place appeared a smooth steel wall with rows of rivets. It was the machine slowly closing with the rock, thereby sealing up the cave as if with a mighty metal lid.

“We’re trapped…” whispered Trurl, his voice breaking off when the darkness became absolute.

“That was idiotic on our part!” Klapaucius exclaimed, furious. “To jump into a cave that it could barricade! How could we have done such a thing?”

“What do you think it’s waiting for now?” asked Trurl after a long pause.

“For us to give up—that doesn’t take any great brains.”

Again there was silence. Trurl tiptoed in the darkness, hands outstretched, in the direction of the opening, running his fingers along the stone until he touched the smooth steel, which was warm, as if heated from within…

“I feel Trurl…” boomed the iron voice. Trurl hastily retreated, took a seat alongside his friend, and for some time they sat there, motionless. At last Klapaucius whispered:

“There’s no sense our just sitting here. I’ll try to reason with it…”

“That’s hopeless,” said Trurl. “But go ahead. Perhaps it will at least let you go free…”

“Now, now, none of that!” said Klapaucius, patting him on the back. And he groped his way toward the mouth of the cave and called: “Hello out there, can you hear us?”