On Dave's world, the cardinal rule of logic was that the
symbol was not the thing--and work done on symbols had to be translated
by hard work into reality. Maybe things were really more logical here
where the symbol was the thing, and all the steps in between thought and
result were saved.
"So we are all at fault," Sather Karf said finally. "We should have
studied you more deeply and you should have been more honest with us.
Then we could have obtained a computer for you and you could have
simulated our sky as it should be within your computer and forced it to
be repaired long ago. But there's no time for regrets now. We cannot
help you, so you must help yourself. Build a computer, Dave Hanson!"
"It's impossible."
Sudden rage burned on the old man's face, and he came to his feet. His
arm jerked back and snapped forward. Nothing happened. He grimaced at
the ruined sky. "Dave Hanson," he cried sharply, "by the unfailing power
of your name which is all of you, I hold you in my mind and your throat
is in my hand--"
The old hands squeezed suddenly, and Hanson felt a vise clamp down
around his throat. He tried to break free, but there was no escape. The
old man mumbled, and the vise was gone, but something clawed at Hanson's
liver. Something else rasped across his sciatic nerve. His kidneys
seemed to be wrenched out of him.
"You will build a computer," Sather Karf ordered.
Pages:
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
115
116
117
118