‘Do you want to hear a story about a story?’ he asked. ‘A story about a story? Is this a robot thing?’ ‘It’s supposed to tell you something about yourself.’ ‘I’d rather know about the Mound of Eternity.’ ‘This story is about the Mound of Eternity too.’ ‘Then I’d like to hear it.’ She took a drink of champagne, and Wa-Ka-Mo-Do began to speak.
The Story about a Story
‘A long time ago, the robots who built this city ruled the world, or at least all the land that they could see, which in those days was the world. They were proud and clever.
‘They mined this hill for iron and copper, and built the walls from the stone that they excavated. They built forges and presses and foundries, and the city waxed strong. And all would have been well, but for the streak of cruelty woven into the minds of those who led, and they treated those in their charge badly. When they wove their children, they wove a little more cruelty into their minds. And so cruelty deepened with each generation.
‘Now, you need leisure to be truly cruel, and these robots had leisure. Do you want to hear more?’
‘Yes,’ said Rachael.
‘But I warn you, the story of the Mound of Eternity is not a pleasant one.’
‘Go on.’ She took another sip of the champagne. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do was a novice in the ways of humans, but it seemed to him she wasn’t really enjoying her drink.
‘Very well,’ he said. ‘So the metal of this land was twisted into patterns of exquisite cruelty, and the people of this city suffered under the hands of the rulers-’
‘Hold on,’ interrupted Rachael, waving a hand airily in the darkness. ‘It couldn’t be that bad.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do felt disorientated to be put off his flow so.
‘Well… Why not?’
Rachael took hold of the balustrade and looked out over the orange fires, burning in the dark distance. She seemed to be a little uncoordinated, her speech a little slurred.
‘Because robots have it easy. If someone damages your leg or arm you can always build another one. If a human is tortured they can be damaged for life.’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do wore a tolerant expression. ‘That’s why it’s better to be a human.’
‘No way! Really? Why?’
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do gazed at her face. He could barely read human expressions; even so, he got the impression that this wasn’t bravado. Rachael really hadn’t thought this through.
‘It’s better to be a human,’ he repeated, ‘because once a human’s body is destroyed the pain ends. With a robot they just fasten on another limb and start the torture all over again.’
He leaned closer to her; he heard the strange rasping noise she made as she blew wind into and out of her mouth.
‘You know that if you cut the coil of a robot it cannot control its body?’ he said. ‘It’s cast into a world of darkness before it dies?’
‘I had heard that.’
‘Not that long ago, here in Sangrel, they cut the coils of robots. They cut the coils of children. They made mothers watch as their children were brought forward and their coils broken before them. They made mothers weave minds knowing they would be destroyed immediately they were finished.’
The human’s eyes widened. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do saw the intricate patterns woven in the blue circles that acted as focussing mechanisms.
‘But that was awful!’
‘That was just the start,’ said Wa-Ka-Mo-Do. ‘I told you, as the years passed, the cruelty of those robots increased. Cruelty is a sport that must be constantly reinvented lest it grow dull. Look at this.’
He led Rachael to the end of the terrace, to where the exhibits lay.
‘So? It’s a suit of armour. What’s so bad about that?’
‘Not a suit of armour. A robot body. Doesn’t it look odd to you?’
‘A little. Why? What is it really?’
‘I can’t tell you. You’re too young.’
‘Too young? I’m fourteen!’ She picked up her empty glass. ‘I need more champagne,’ she said. Wa-Ka-Mo-Do signalled to another waiter who replaced the glass with a full one.
‘Cruelty was once written throughout this state,’ he said. They moved back to the edge of the terrace and looked back over the lake to the dark shape of the Mound of Eternity. The rhythm of the gamelan had changed, now the slowly ringing gongs spoke of stillness and calm.
‘The robots of this city were tortured and crippled and melted and bent. Voiceboxes were amplified so that the screams of the suffering could be heard across the countryside. Ever more inventive ways were found to torment the populace. Do you want to hear more?’
‘Yes! Go on!’
‘Very well. Know then, that in the end, the robots of Sangrel wove fear directly into the minds of their subjects.’
Rachael frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
She wouldn’t. She was a human.
‘They were made to be afraid. They were, what is the word you use? Born? That’s it, they were born to be afraid of everything. Of the changing of the weather, of patterns in the stone, of the forge and the flame. Even of the very touch of metal itself.’
He gazed down at the mound below.
‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do?’ said Rachael. ‘Wa-Ka-Mo-Do! Speak to me. You still haven’t told me about the mound!’
‘The mound? Oh yes, the mound. It was raised at the very end. Just before Sangrel was made a part of the Empire.’ He lowered his voice. ‘It was there that the last of the old race performed its most unspeakable acts.’
‘Like what?’ She leaned close, concern etched on her face.
Wa-Ka-Mo-Do lowered his voice.
‘I can’t tell you,’ he said, in grave tones. ‘They were unspeakable.’ And then he laughed, loudly.
‘Hey!’ Rachael forgot herself and slapped him on the chest. They both looked at each other in surprise, Rachael sucking at her fingers.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘But don’t tease me like that.’
‘I won’t.’
‘So what’s in the mound now?’
‘No one goes there. It’s the property of the Vestal Virgins.’