Stanislaw Lem: Memoirs of a Space Traveler

“Then the Plenum Moronicum summoned the constructor of the New Machines before Its August Presence and addressed him as follows:

“‘Learned man! Great danger threatens our state, for rebellious, criminal ideas are arising among the masses of Drudgelings. They strive to abolish our splendid freedoms and the law of Civic Initiative! We must make every effort to defend our liberty. After careful consideration of the whole problem, we have reached the conclusion that we are unequal to the task. Even the most virtuous, capable, and model Phool can be swayed by feelings, and is often vacillating, biased, and fallible, and thus unfit to reach a decision in so complicated and important a matter. Therefore, within six months you are to build us a purely rational, strictly logical, and completely objective Governing Machine that does not know the hesitation, emotion, and fear that befuddle living minds. Let this machine be as impartial as the light of the Sun and stars. When you have built and activated it, we shall hand over to it the burden of power, which grows too heavy for our weary shoulders.’

“‘So be it,’ said the constructor, ‘but what is to be the machine’s basic motivation?’

“‘Obviously, the freedom of Civic Initiative. The machine must not command or forbid the citizens anything; it may, of course, change the conditions of our existence, but it must do so always in the form of a proposal, leaving us alternatives between which we can freely choose.’

“‘So be it,’ replied the constructor, ‘but this injunction concerns mainly the mode of operation. What of the ultimate goal? What is this machine’s purpose?’

“‘Our state is threatened by chaos; disorder and disregard for the law are spreading. Let the Machine bring supreme harmony to the planet, let it institute, consolidate, and establish perfect and absolute order.’

“‘Let it be as you have said!’ replied the constructor. ‘Within six months I shall build the Voluntary Universalizer of Absolute Order. With this task ahead of me, I bid you farewell…’

“‘Wait!’ said one of the Eminents. ‘The Machine you create should operate not only in a perfect but also in a pleasant manner; that is, its activity should produce an agreeable impression, one that would satisfy the most refined aesthetic sensibility…’

“The constructor bowed and left in silence. Working arduously and aided by a troop of nimble assistants, he erected the Governing Machine — the very one you see on the horizon as a small dark spot, alien traveler. It is a conglomeration of iron cylinders in which something constantly shakes and burns. The day it was switched on was a great state holiday; the eldest Archspiritor blessed it solemnly, and the Plenum Moronicum gave it complete power over the country. Then the Voluntary Universalizer of Absolute Order emitted a long whistle and set to work.

“For six days the Machine labored, around the clock; in the daytime clouds of smoke hung over it, and at night it was surrounded by a bright glow. The ground shook for a radius of one hundred and sixty miles. Then the double doors of its cylinders opened, and out spilled hosts of small black robots, which, waddling like ducks, scattered over the whole planet, even to its remotest corners. Wherever they went, they assembled by the factory warehouses and, speaking in a charming and lucid manner, requested various items, for which they paid at once. Within a week the warehouses were empty, and the Eminent factory owners sighed with relief: ‘Truly the constructor has built us a splendid machine!’ Indeed, it was marvelous to see the robots use the objects they had purchased: they dressed in brocades and satins, oiled their axles with cosmetics, smoked tobacco, read books — shedding synthetic tears over the sad ones; they even managed to consume the most varied delicacies (with no benefit to themselves, of course, since they ran on electricity, but to the great benefit of the manufacturers). It was only the masses who were not satisfied; on the contrary, they murmured more and more among themselves. The Eminents, however, hopefully awaited the Machine’s next move, which was not long in coming.

“It assembled large quantities of marble, alabaster, granite, rock crystal, and copper; sacks of gold and silver, and slabs of jasper; after which, making a terrible din, it raised an edifice no Phoolian eye had ever beheld — this Rainbow Palace, traveler, which stands before you!”

I looked. The sun had just emerged from behind a cloud and its beams played on the polished walls, splitting into flames of sapphire and ruby red; rainbow stripes shimmered around the angle towers and bastions; the roof, adorned with slender turrets and covered with gold leaf, was all aglow. I feasted my eye on this magnificence while the Phool went on:

“News of the wondrous building spread over the whole planet. Veritable pilgrimages began arriving here from the most distant lands. When crowds had filled the commons, the Machine parted its metal lips and spoke thus:

“‘On the first day of the month of Huskings I shall throw open the jasper portal of the Rainbow Palace, and then any Phool, be he famous or obscure, will be able to go inside and enjoy what awaits him there. Until then, restrain your curiosity, for you will satisfy it amply later on.’

“And, verily, on the morning of the first day of Huskings there was a sounding of silver trumpets, and the palace portal opened with a dull groan. The crowds began to pour inside in a torrent three times wider than the highway that connects our two capitals, Debilia and Cretinia. All day long, masses of Phools streamed in, but their numbers on the commons did not diminish, for new ones arrived continually from the interior of the country. The Machine extended hospitality to all: the black robots distributed refreshing beverages and hearty food. This went on for a fortnight. Thousands, tens of thousands, finally millions of Phools had thronged into the Rainbow Palace, but of those who entered, not one returned.

“Some wondered about this and asked where such great numbers of people were disappearing, but these solitary voices were drowned out by the blaring rhythm of marching bands. Robots scurried here and there feeding the hungry and thirsty; the silver clocks on the palace towers chimed; and when night fell, the crystal windows shone with many lights. Finally, as several hundred persons were patiently waiting their turn on the marble staircase, a shrill cry rang out over the lively beat of the drums; ‘Treachery! Listen! The palace is a diabolical trap! Run for your lives! All is lost!’

“‘All is lost!” the crowd on the staircase cried back, then turned and scattered. No one tried to stop them.

“The following night, several bold Drudgelings stole up to the palace. When they returned, they said that the back wall of the palace had opened slowly and innumerable piles of shiny disks had tumbled out. Black robots had carried the disks into the fields and arranged them in various designs.

“Upon hearing this, the Spiritors and Eminents, who had been meeting in the Plenum (they had not gone to the palace, it being awkward for them to mingle with the crowd), convened immediately, and, wishing to solve the enigma, summoned the learned constructor. Instead his son appeared, downcast, and rolling a large, transparent disk.

“The Eminents, beside themselves with impatience and indignation, reviled the absent scientist and called down curses on his head. They questioned the youth, ordered him to explain the mystery of the Rainbow Palace and tell them what the Machine had done with the Phools who entered it.

“‘Besmirch not my father’s memory!’ the youth exclaimed. ‘In building the Machine he faithfully abided by your requirements; once he put it into operation, however, he knew no more than any of us how it would act — the best proof of which is the fact that he himself was among the first to enter the Rainbow Palace.’