Clifford Simak - Project Pope

'I can understand why the Pope might want to see you. If it's about the Heaven incident, you're in it to your knees. But I-

'Mary is our patient. He might have some medical questions about her. I'm not even sure it's about Heaven. It might be just to meet you. Ordinarily a new Vatican staff member will have an audience with the Pope. Certainly he would want to meet the new Vatican physician. I suspect he would have arranged it long before this, but it has been a busy time.

'I have an impression it is always busy here, said Tennyson.

'Well, yes. But sometimes more than others.

They sat drinking their coffee. Hubert kept up his clatter in the kitchen.

'Hubert, said Ecuyer, raising his voice.

'Yes, sir?

'Cut it out, said Ecuyer. 'We have a right to sit here and drink our coffee.

'Why, certainly, said Hubert. The clatter subsided.

'He's spoiled, said Ecuyer. 'I spoiled him myself. I don't know what to do with him.

'There's something I have been meaning to ask you.

'Go ahead. Don't take too long.

'I saw this cube — the one with all the equations and diagrams. I think I told you. Have you seen it too?

'Well, yes, I guess I did. A long time ago. It was taped some years ago. Rather a long time ago.

'You told me the Listener went back several times and could make nothing of it.

'That's right, said Ecuyer. 'Are you hung up on it?

Tennyson nodded. 'There is something there. Something that I miss. Something that it seems to me I almost have and then it eludes me. I have a feeling that if I could stretch my mind just a little farther, I could come to grips with it.

'Any idea of what it might be?

'Not at all. That's the hell of it. I know there is something there, but no idea what it is. I find myself imagining all sorts of things, but I know it's none of them.

'Don't worry about it, counseled Ecuyer. 'I can show you things even worse. I had expected you to do more digging into the files than you have done. You are welcome, you know. Anytime you wish, anything you wish.

'There have been other things to do, said Tennyson. 'And, truth to tell, I might be even a little bit afraid of what I'd find. The equation world bothers me. The autumn world still haunts me. I'd like to go back and see the autumn world again, but something keeps me from it.

Ecuyer finished off his coffee.

'Come, he said. 'Let us see the Pope.

The Pope was a cross-hatched human face — or the suggestion of a face, for to see it clearly required close attention and some imagination — imposed upon a dull metallic plate set into a bare stone wall. It reminded Tennyson of the photo of a sampler from the nineteenth century that he had seen in a book he'd found in a library years ago, and also, in a haphazard sort of way, of the children's game of tic-tac-toe. The face was not entirely and fully apparent at any time, although every now and then he managed to get a fairly comprehensive glimpse of it. No decorative effort was made to soften the bleak starkness of the face, nothing to impart to it any hint of power or glory. And perhaps, he thought, this studied attempt to achieve a dismal plainness made the face all the more impressive.

The small audience room in which they sat was plain as well, with no effort made to conceal the fact that it had been carved out of the granite mass that was the core of the ridge upon which Vatican buildings perched. Just four blank stone walls with a plate set in the center of one of the walls to display the Pope. To reach the room, they had descended a number of stairs, all carved from the solid rock, with galleries running off at the landings of each staircase, burrowing their way deep into the granite. There was no doubt that this computer-Pope was buried deep into the very structure of the hill.

More than likely, Tennyson told himself, there were many other Pope-faces in other audience rooms, some of them undoubtedly much larger than this one, for there must be times when the entire Vatican personnel would be gathered into one group for an audience with the Pope. A multi-Pope, he thought, a mechanism so large and so all-pervading that it could be many places at any given time, attending to any number of tasks at the self-same time.

The Pope spoke now and his voice was flat, while at the same time managing to be smooth and cold. An utterly unhuman voice, and likewise unrobotlike, for while robots did not speak with human intonation, there yet were times when they imparted some human warmth to the words they spoke. But this voice was empty of all emotion; it held no warmth. It was neither a human voice nor a robot voice, nor yet the harsh voice that one might imagine a machine to have. It pronounced its words in precise clarity and the thought behind the words was ruthless and relentless — machine thought, computer thought, naked electronic thought.

'Dr. Tennyson, said the Pope, 'tell me of the Listener, Mary. What is her mental condition?

'I can be of little help, Your Holiness, said Tennyson. 'I can tell you of her physical condition; I would not know about her mind. I am not trained in mental illness.

'Then what good are you? asked the Pope. 'If we had a robot physician, which has been discussed at times, it would know about her mind.

'Then, Tennyson said shortly, 'build your robot physician.

'You are aware, Holiness, said Cardinal Theodosius, 'that the humans of Vatican would have no trust in a robotic doctor. As you say, we have discussed it many times….

'All of this is beside the point, said His Holiness. 'You are using a chance remark of mine to evade my question. How about you, Ecuyer? Have you some insight into her mind?

'No insight into her mind, said Ecuyer. 'Neither am I trained, Holiness, to evaluate a human mind. All that I would be able to do is describe her behavior. Up till now, all the time that she has been with us, she has been gentle and devoted to her job, but since she has found Heaven, or thinks she has found Heaven, her personality has changed. She has assumed a haughty importance that makes it difficult for us to work with her.

'Does that not seem strange to you? asked the Pope. 'To me, it would appear inconsistent. If she really had found Heaven, as she claims, would you not think she might become more devout and humble? The haughtiness you talk of does not appear to be the behavior of one who has acquired evidence of Heaven. As a good Christian, you should know.

'Your Holiness, I am not a good Christian, said Ecuyer. 'I'm not sure I'm a good anything at all. Holiness certainly you know that I am not a Christian. You are baiting me.

'And the Listener, Mary? Is she a Christian?

'Holiness, I am sure she is. You must understand, however, that Search is not concerned with theological matters.

'That is strange, said the Pope. 'I would have thought you would be.

'Holiness, you are being deliberately difficult today, Cardinal Theodosius chimed in, 'and your attitude is not worthy of you. You underestimate our friend of the Search Program. Through the years he has performed outstanding services for us.

'Eminence, said Cardinal Roberts, speaking stiffly, 'I think you presume too far.

'I think not, Theodosius said stubbornly. 'In a deliberative council, such as this, due respect must be paid to every viewpoint raised. The issues must be solemnly and honestly discussed.

'None of you as yet, said the Pope, 'has tried to discuss the issue. The finding of Heaven, or the presumed finding of Heaven, is getting out of hand. Are any of you aware that there is a growing sentiment to canonize the Listener Mary, to make a saint of her? We have never created a saint. We have canonized no one. And if we were about to do so, certainly we would want to wait until she was decently dead.