Stanislaw Lem: The Invincible

A glance at his watch helped him decide; it was almost 9:30. He started to climb down. At first his face was turned toward the abyss, then he swung around carefully. The wall became too steep. On all fours, he climbed down backwards step by step. It was not long until he came close to the black thicket which seemed to sear him with its rigid silent heat. His temples were throbbing. He stopped for a breather on a slanting, narrow rocky ledge, jammed his left shoe in a crevice and looked down. Some 120 feet below he saw a broad shelf from which, clearly visible, a barren hummock led downwards, rising above the stiff dead tufts of the black bushes. Unfortunately, there was nothing but air between him and the promising shelf. He looked up. He had traversed some 600 feet, perhaps even more than that. The violent thumping of his heart seemed to shake the air. Several times he blinked his eyes. Slowly, cautiously, he unrolled the rope. You wouldn’t do anything as crazy as that, an inner voice told him. He angled sideways and downwards and reached a shrub nearby. The sharp branches were covered by a fine layer of rust that scattered dust to the touch. Expecting the worst, Rohan grasped the shrub.

Nothing happened. He heard only a dry crackling sound. He pulled the shrub with a firm grip but it did not budge. He slung the rope around its base, tugged hard one more time… then in a sudden burst of courage, he wound the rope around a second and a third shrub, planted his feet firmly against a boulder and tugged at the rope with all his might. The bushes did not give way, but clung to the rocky ground.

Slowly he lowered himself; at first he could shift part of his body weight onto the rocks through the friction of his shoe soles, but soon he slipped and hung suspended in the air. Faster and faster, he let the rope slide through below his bent knee, braked his speed with his right shoulder, looked down attentively and finally landed on the rocky shelf. Then he tried to detach the rope from the shrubs above by pulling at the end nearest to him. But the shrubs would not let go, although he tugged at the rope repeatedly. It was stuck. He sat down on the narrow shelf, straddling it between his legs, and pulled as hard as he could. Suddenly it jerked through the air, hissing like a snake, and hit him on the back of his neck. He jerked back as though struck by lightning. For the next few minutes he stayed where he was, sitting astride the shelf. His knees were shaking too much for him to risk any further descent for a while. But now he could see the figure down below again ambling along. It looked larger already. He wondered why the figure was so bright; and there was something very peculiar about the shape of the man’s head, or rather his head covering.

He was aware that the worst was yet to come. But it surpassed his expectations. The path itself was much smoother now, but the crackling dead rust bushes gave way to a greasy shiny mass. Their wiry tangle was studded with small berry-like characteristic thickenings which he recognized immediately.

Now and then, little smoke clouds swarmed from these growths, softly humming, and circled in the air. Each time, he froze, but not for long; otherwise he would never be able to reach the bottom of the gorge. For a while he pushed forward, straddling the narrow rocky shelf. Then the hump broadened and was not quite so steep, and he was able to climb again, but only on hands and knees, and not without difficulty. He was unaware how much progress he had already made. He had to divide his attention all the while to either side of the narrow path. Occasionally he had to pass so close to the dusty bushes that their tuft-like wires would graze the folds of his protective suit. Yet not once did the little clouds that sailed above him, glittering in the sunlight, advance toward him. Finally he stood at the broad end of the rocky talus, only a few feet removed from the pebble-strewn bottom of the ravine. The stones there were chalky white and as hard as bone. It was shortly before noon. Now he was already below the brushy zone. The upper half of slope he had just climbed down was lit up by the sun high in the sky. Now it was possible to look back and survey the distance he had covered so far, but he did not bother to turn around. He ran downhill, trying to shift his weight alternately from one leg to the other, jumping from rock to rock as fast as he could, but the crumbling rubble of the rock-piles followed him, tumbling and knocking down, and suddenly, just by the dry bed of the little brook, the rock-strewn ground slipped away from under his feet. He was hurled to the ground so violently that his oxygen mask was knocked off his face as he rolled downhill several dozen yards. He jumped to his feet again to continue his pursuit of the man, despite his bruises and cuts, for he was afraid to lose sight of him entirely here where both slopes — especially the opposite wall — were dotted with the dark entrances to a large number of caves. But before he could start up again, something warned him. Even before he fully comprehended what it was, he dropped to the ground and, arms stretched out wide, flattened himself against the sharp-edged stones. A light shadow descended on him from above, and a formless black cloud mass drew near and enveloped him, accompanied by a rising, monotonous roar, encompassing all registers from a high-pitched whistle to a bass booming. Perhaps he should have shut his eyes, but he did not do so. One thought crossed his mind: if only the instrument sewn into his protective suit had not been damaged by his fall… Then, swiftly, he lapsed into self-imposed immobility. Not even his eyeballs moved; and yet he could see the wriggling cloud stop immediately overhead and lazily flick out an arm. From quite close, the very tip of this arm looked like the mouth of an inky-black maelstrom.

On his scalp, on his cheeks, all over his face, he felt a manifold warm breeze, like a breath composed of millions of tiny particles. Something brushed against his suit near his chest. Almost total darkness sourrounded him. In a flash the arm, spiraling like a miniature tornado, receded into the cloud. The constant humming grew to a shrill, piercing sound which hurt his teeth and drilled into his head. Then the sound lessened in intensity. The cloud climbed up almost vertically, turned into a black fog that spread from slope to slope, broke down into separate, globular coils that in turn began to whirl in concentric circles, crept into the stiff pelt of the bushes and finally disappeared. For a long time afterwards he lay there motionless. The thought flashed through his brain that this must be the end, that he no longer knew who he was, or how he had gotten there, or why. At this thought he was overwhelmed by such fear that he suddenly sat bolt upright. Then began to laugh. If he was capable of thinking such things, then obviously he had been spared, the cloud had been unable to harm him, he had outwitted the black insects. He tried to suppress the tickling, idiotic laughter that stuck in his throat and shook his whole body. It’s hysteria, he reprimanded himself, and got to his feet again. He had almost regained his composure — at least so it seemed to him — as he adjusted his oxygen mask and looked around. The man was not there any more. But he had heard the footsteps. Most likely he had already passed by and disappeared behind the boulder jutting out nearly to the middle of the ravine. Rohan started to run after him. The echo of the man’s steps seemed to come closer and closer; it seemed strangely loud, almost as if the man were stomping along in iron boots. As Rohan ran, he felt a sharp pain shooting up from his ankle to his knee. I must have sprained my ankle, he thought, his arms flailing desperately through the air. Once again he could not breathe properly and was nearly choking when he suddenly caught sight of the figure. He walked mechanically, making giant strides, stomping along over the stones. The heavy tread and stomping reverberated from the nearby rock walls with a clapping sound. And then it hit Rohan like a bolt out of a clear blue sky: it was no human being, but a robot! One of the Arctanes… Not for a single moment had he considered what fate might have befallen them after the catastrophe. They had been in the second transporter when the cloud started to attack. Now he noticed the robot’s left arm hanging limply and shattered by its side, its once shining, curved armor was buckled and slashed. Rohan felt bitterly disappointed, and yet he found comfort in the thought that at least he would have some kind of companion in his further search. He was just about to call to the robot when something made him hesitate. Instead he raced ahead of the robot, then stopped and waited for it, blocking its way. But the eight-foot tall giant obviously did not notice him. The dishlike ear of its radar antenna was partially destroyed — Rohan saw this clearly now that he was close to the robot — and where the lens of the left eye had been, a hole with a jagged edge yawned open. Still, the robot held itself steadily on its mighty feet, though it dragged its left leg behind it. When there were only a few feet left between them, Rohan called the robot, but the Arctane pushed blindly ahead, straight toward him, so that Rohan had to jump aside at the last second. He approached the robot a second time and tried to seize its metal paw but the automation jerked its arm away with an indifferent sweeping movement, and continued on its way. Rohan knew that the Arctane, too, had fallen victim to the attacking cloud and that he could no longer count on it. But he found it difficult to simply leave the helpless machine to its fate. Besides, he was curious about the robot’s destination, for it picked its way over the smoothest possible path, as though it were advancing toward a definite goal. Rohan deliberated briefly — the Arctane had meanwhile wandered on for almost fifty feet — and then followed the machine. Soon the robot arrived at a steep boulder formation and started to climb it, without paying the least attention to the steady streams of debris that rolled out from under its broad feet. It had scaled about half of the rubble hillock when it suddenly fell and slid backwards, kicking its legs desperately. Under other circumstances, an observer might have laughed at this funny spectacle. Then the robot got to its feet again and once more started its upward climb.