Tom Godwin - The Greater Thing

As it realized the true extent of Lorrine’s learning in the first brief moment of inspection, it suddenly realized another thing for the first time—it knew nothing of life. It was a living thing, itself, yet it knew nothing of life; all its knowledge was of physical nonlife.

It could learn of life from Lorrine; it could find in her all the accumulated learning of an organism that had evolved and changed and fought to survive, trying and dying and learning—learning, always learning—while the sun swung ten times around the galactic Center; ten great, slow swings of two hundred million years each.

Trying and learning for ten times two hundred million years—and it had been learning for fifteen years!

Its thirst for knowledge was insatiable and it hastened to accept the new learning, eager to add it to its own storehouse of physical learning. With the reproduction of her emotions it understood, but it was not like the learning of a physical fact.

In the emotions it absorbed was all the power of the wisdom and the purpose; a power so unexpected, so irresistible in its impact, that with the first understanding came, for a little while, near-insanity. For a little while its cold logic blurred into a mist of nothing and it was dazed by the wonder of what it had found.

It was the sudden acquisition of a heritage; not of fifteen years but of two billion years. It had a true conception, for the first time, of the multitude of things a speck of protoplasm must learn to survive and evolve for thousands upon hundreds of thousands of generations. It was an understanding of the prime purpose of life; to live, not alone as an individual for one lifetime but as an immortal species for all the lifetimes into eternity.

It was both an understanding and a feeling —and in the feeling all the old, old lessons were embodied as a dynamic, driving force. Faith was there, and hope. Faith and hope for a tomorrow that would dawn on a free people; both beckoning onward toward the infinitely distant goal. Courage was there, and hate; courage to fight for that tomorrow and for that infinitely distant goal; and hard, sharp hatred for those who lived only for self and refused to understand. Many things were there; things that, without their full absorption, an objective, analytical mind could not comprehend—all the things that make up human emotions. Their understanding was not like the learning of a physical fact ; it was both a wisdom of the mind and emotions within—overpoweringly vital and alive.

It was something difficult to fully perceive at first, blindingly difficult to fully perceive, but it was wonderful. It was not existence, it was living! And it was wonderful—radiantly, unbelievably wonderful.

It adjusted itself slowly to the new learning but a part of its mind remembered Lorrine before it was too late. It acted, in those short minutes that lie between the last beat of the heart and the swiftly reaching hand of irrevocable death, and set her still heart to beating again. It began to restore the destroyed flesh but, even with its powers, the restoration was slow and it had fully adjusted itself by the time the wound was healed.

It adjusted itself and it had, for the first time in its life, a purpose. It had, for the first time in its life, an understanding of the difference between physical things and living things. It was no longer content to exist in the here and now; it was a living thing and it had learned that life cannot be as one single mortal unit; that it must go on as a never-ending stream of generation upon generation.

It had a purpose at last. It knew what it wanted to do, what it must do. It could not remain aloof from this life form that had taught it of life; it was human in the emotions and learning it had absorbed, it could not be other than human in all its desires. It had absorbed the idealism of Lorrine and it knew, now, that her ideals were not illogical; it knew that they were an expression of the never-ending trying and learning and a manifestation of the ceaseless drive of the prime purpose.

It could divide its body into as many parts as it wished, and the parts could assume any form, either temporary or permanent in cellular structure. It was human in all its desires and motivations, intensely, utterly human, and it had no reason to retain its natural shapeless mass. So it began to divide its great body, sending it out into the night as human forms; forms that were human in structure, completely, perfectly human to the tiniest cell and with the heritage and idealism that had been Lorrine’s. And they look with them something else; t lie means to carry out her desires, the physical learning that had been the city-being’s.

A small portion of the city-being would remain behind. It would join the others soon; as soon as the State was overthrown and there was no longer the need for the manufacture of the things necessary to destroy it.

Then it would throw up its barrier, and the last of itself would go out into the night. Within the barrier a radium clock would count off the years until all its human forms had merged, generation upon generation, with all other humans. Then, far down the years to come, the clock would reach the time set for it and the barrier would fall. Humans would enter the city, curious to know the thing it had promised to tell them.

But they would find the city empty, and only an inscription on a stainless steel plate in a small stone building:

Here a woman died for something intangible and I wondered why. I was curious and I absorbed her learning to find the nature of her motivations .

When I acquired her learning I discovered myself for what I was; an entity without purpose or plan, without a heritage of the past to teach me. I had possessed knowledge, but wisdom comes only with time and time had been denied me. In my existence had been no purpose, no conception of purpose. I was a single unit of life, living in the present.

I found in humanity a life that had never ceased for two billion years; a life that had been learning for two billion years and intended to live and learn for all time to come.

I was Life, without knowledge of life. When I acquired the learning of a life two billion years old I could not logically do other than abide by that learning. When I accepted the learning I could not do other than accept the purpose. In return I gave humanity my physical knowledge, to better carry out the purpose.

I had knowledge and power, but humanity had something greater: wisdom and a purpose.

So do not look for me in this city—you, yourselves, are that which you seek.