Sisterhood of Dune (53 page)

But even more came rushing to her. The distant sound of the other memories again increased to a roar. She met generations and generations of women who had lived across the thousand years of thinking-machine rule, the depredations of independent robots and combat meks, the enslavement of whole populations. For years, Dorotea had lived on Lampadas, assigned to observe the Butlerians and coolly analyze their movement. There she had heard the truth and the passion, and she had come to believe in the dangers of unchecked progress. As she had improved herself with Sisterhood techniques, Dorotea had become more and more convinced that human beings did not
need
the crutch of computers and advanced technology, because every person had the innate abilities they required.

So many lives were inside her mind now, so much suffering in the time preceding her … it only reinforced what she already believed. The female voices all shouted to her at once in a tumult that gradually faded until one voice emerged: Raquella Berto-Anirul, at a much younger age more than eight decades ago, just before the Battle of Corrin.

Now Dorotea saw horrific memories, the painful epidemic that had raged across Parmentier, how Raquella and Mohandas Suk had fought to save as many people as they could … how she had come to Rossak to help the surviving Sorceresses against the spreading disease. In a snapshot inside her head, Dorotea saw bodies in white robes and black, stacked inside the cave cities. Dorotea saw what Raquella had seen as she walked up the switchback cliffside trail, ascending toward the high caves where the Sorceresses kept their breeding records.

Raquella’s memories were Dorotea’s own memories now. She saw through her grandmother’s eyes as she studied the comprehensive catalogs of billions of bloodlines the Sorceresses had compiled for generations, records taken from a swath across the human race.

And preserved in banks of forbidden computers!
Collecting and processing data, making projections and completing reports for the women to read.

Dorotea wanted to scream out in protest, but she could only watch in horror. For all the years she had served on Lampadas, accompanying Manford Torondo as he gave impassioned speeches to restless crowds, she had felt the truth of the man’s crusade. She had been proud of the Sisterhood, how the women used
their own abilities
to achieve physical and mental superiority.

And now Dorotea knew that the Sisters relied on the crutch of thinking machines after all—exactly the insidious temptation against which Manford so passionately warned. The Sisterhood touted itself as a champion of human potential, but now, having seen through the eyes of her grandmother, her idealistic beliefs were dashed.

There were indeed illegal computers hidden somewhere in the cave city.

Fully awake now, Dorotea caught her breath, numbed by the avalanche of revelations. Lying on her back, returning to herself, she stared up at the white ceiling of the infirmary and let the ramifications sink in.

The Sisterhood possessed forbidden computers.

Reverend Mother Raquella was her grandmother.

And I am a Reverend Mother now!
Dorotea had survived the agony that had killed so many of her Sisters. That understanding was the most potent of all.

She was also much younger and stronger than her grandmother. Dorotea decided that she must do something to bring about a major shift in the Sisterhood. She could challenge Raquella and force her to reveal the computers, but not until she had enough allies. Knowing that the thinking machines were hidden somewhere up in the restricted caves, and that Sister Ingrid had fallen from the steep trail, she could guess what must have happened.

Her new knowledge was dangerous, and she was weak and vulnerable. With Reverend Mother Raquella gone to the Suk School, Dorotea still had a little time to plan.

She concentrated on the quiet room, listening to the faint sounds around her and attuned to the new awareness inside her head, a focus that also allowed her to travel into the microscopic cellular building blocks of her body. Her pumping heart, the alveolar exchange of oxygen inside her lungs, the chemical processes within her organs, the transfer of nerve impulses in her brain. She was living in a universe of herself. No wonder the Reverend Mother wanted other Sisters to experience this.

As she assessed her internal cells, her metabolism, her muscle fibers, Dorotea studied her body like a starship pilot completing a thorough rundown, making adjustments as needed. When she had completed the task, pronouncing herself healthy and whole, she finally opened her eyes again and sat up.

She looked around the quiet infirmary, blinking. What had happened to Valya? She did not see her nearby, but she had watched the other Sister take the pill. So many volunteers had died in attempting the chemical passage—had Valya failed? She hoped not.

On the other side of the infirmary, the two medical Sisters saw her move, and turned to stare at her in astonishment. They ran to Dorotea, calling out for help. Dorotea just sat there and smiled, letting them fuss over her and ask countless questions. So far, she felt fine.

To play the game of life well, compare it to chess, considering the second- and third-level consequences of every action.

—
GILBERTUS ALBANS,
Reflections in the Mirror of the Mind

The Discussion Chamber was one of the Mentat School’s largest classrooms, an auditorium with dark-stained walls covered in statesmanlike images of the greatest debaters in human history, ranging from famous ancient orators of Old Earth, such as Marcus Cicero and Abraham Lincoln, to Tlaloc who had instigated the Time of Titans, to speakers from recent centuries, such as Renata Thew and the unparalleled Novan al-Jones. When educating Gilbertus on Corrin, Erasmus had made sure his young protégé was familiar with the very best.

In an anteroom, Gilbertus reviewed his notes for the risky discussion he intended to lead, then made his way out onto the stage. With fifteen of his best students already undergoing battlefield tactical training—in accordance with Manford Torondo’s request—Gilbertus felt obligated to provide at least some level of mitigation, a voice of reason. He wanted the students to ponder the implications … but would they listen?

As he reached the podium, the classroom fell silent out of respect for the Headmaster. “Today’s lesson deviates from our usual form of tactical training. We will be taking a different approach, a change of pace.”

These were the best of his current class of Mentat trainees, hand-selected for their analytical prowess—and Manford was demanding their services for his crusade. Gilbertus never voiced his resentment at being forced to sacrifice such talented students in a cause to which he was fundamentally, and secretly, opposed.

“A crucial component of designing a successful strategy is learning to think like your enemy. This is not a natural goal: It must be practiced, and some of you may find it a difficult and extremely uncomfortable challenge. Therefore, we will debate the merits of both sides of a key issue, to help you explore the mindset of the opposing side. We will discuss the
merits
of thinking machines.” After an audible gasp or two, the students seemed to hold their breath. He paused, noting their intent expressions, then spoke in a clear voice. “Consider the postulation that thinking machines, in some properly restricted forms, may play a safe and useful role in human society.”

This elicited some murmurs of surprise, and angry glances from the students that Manford Torondo had sent to the school.

Gilbertus gave a slight smile. “With so many of you about to join the Butlerian ships, it is appropriate to think about what you’re fighting for, and what you’re fighting against. Out there, you will clash with the Machine Apologists, planetary leaders who sincerely believe they can put thinking machines to good use and keep them under control.” All the students were interested, though their uneasiness was palpable in the air.

He made his own choice, a redheaded young woman seated in the middle; he had planned this debate with her in mind. “Alys Carroll, you will be my opponent. I look forward to a skilled, spirited discussion.”

She rose to her feet and walked toward the stage, straight-backed and determined. Gilbertus said to the entire class, “I will argue one side of the issue, and Alys Carroll will support the opposite point of view.” He removed a bright, gold Imperial coin from his pocket. One side bore the image of Serena Butler, and the other the open hand of the Landsraad League. “Heads, and Alys will argue on the side of the thinking machines as a Machine Apologist. Tails, and I will take that side instead.”

The angry young woman looked uncertain, but before she could say anything, he flipped the coin into the air, caught it, and opened his palm. Gilbertus glanced at the coin and covered it without displaying the result to the students. While Erasmus had difficulty with the concept of lying, a Mentat had no such handicap, especially not in a case such as this. The exercise should be quite fruitful, and the single-minded Butlerian woman needed to grapple with objectivity.

“Heads,” he said. “Alys, you shall argue on behalf of the thinking machines.”

The young woman’s eyes widened. Gilbertus was amazed at how quickly the blood drained from her face.

“I open the matter for debate,” he continued, smiling. “Your objective in the discussion will be to highlight the benefits that computers and robots might bring to humankind. Convince us all that this point of view has merit. I will defend the Butlerian position.”

Alys hesitated. “I beg of you, please don’t ask me to do this.”

Gilbertus, having projected that he might encounter initial resistance, gave the answer he had prepared. “Mentats must discipline themselves to examine a problem from all angles, not just from the point of view that matches their own belief systems. As your instructor, I have given you an assignment. As the student, you will complete that assignment. You know the facts, Alys, and I want you to make a projection. Tell me the good that thinking machines
could
accomplish.”

Alys turned to face the audience, fumbling for words. Finally, she said, “Machines can be used in training Swordmasters to fight more effectively against machines. They have their uses, but the danger…” She opened and closed her mouth, and a flare of indignation replaced her hesitancy. “No. There can
be
no benefits to thinking machines. They are anathema.”

“Alys Carroll, I did not ask you to argue
my
side of the issue. Please complete your assignment.”

Alys bristled. “Advanced technology is destructive. Therefore I forfeit the debate. The point cannot be won!”

“It
can
be done.” Hoping to salvage this potentially valuable lesson, Gilbertus said, “Very well, I will take the Machine Apologists’ position, and you may make the Butlerian argument. Does that suit you better?”

She nodded, and Gilbertus realized he was looking forward to the opportunity. The audience seemed intrigued by this turn of events.

Alys plunged in. “This is a frivolous exercise, Headmaster. Everyone here knows the machines’ history of brutality and slavery—centuries of domination, first by the cymek Titans and then by the evermind Omnius. Trillions killed, the human spirit crushed.” She flushed with outrage, then tried to calm herself. “It must never happen again. There is no counterargument.” Several of the Butlerian students grumbled their agreement.

Gilbertus sighed. “I disagree—as I must for the sake of debate. The Machine Apologists assert that we can tame thinking machines and have them serve humanity. They contend that we should not discard all machines just because of the excesses of Omnius. What of agricultural harvesting machinery, they ask, and construction machinery to erect shelters for the homeless? And medical devices to cure the sick? There are legitimate humanitarian uses, they assert, for automated machines and computer systems.”

“I doubt if the downtrodden human populations who suffered and died on the countless Synchronized Worlds would agree!” Alys sniffed. “But those victims cannot speak for themselves.”

Gilbertus regarded her with a mild expression. “That might seem a legitimate basis for outlawing thinking machines—if it weren’t for the fact that
humans
prosecuted the atomic purges across the Synchronized Worlds. Humans killed billions or trillions of captives on those planets, not thinking machines.”

“It was necessary. Even though those enslaved populations are dead, they are still better off.”

Gilbertus seized the opening. “And how can we be certain they would agree? The assumption that they would choose death over life under the rule of Omnius is insupportable. A Mentat cannot make valid projections without accurate data.” He turned to look at her. “Have you ever spoken directly with any human who lived on the Synchronized Worlds under the efficiency of machine rule? As you point out, they are all dead.”

“This is absurd! We know what life was truly like under machine domination—many firsthand accounts have been published.”

“Ah, yes, the damning histories written by Iblis Ginjo, Serena Butler, and Vorian Atreides—but those accounts were
designed
to inspire hatred of machines and to incite League humans to violence. Even the stories of slaves rescued from the Bridge of Hrethgir were skewed and used as propaganda in the writing of history.”

He realized that his voice was rising, and he calmed himself. Through his hidden spyeyes, Erasmus would be listening in with great interest, and he hoped to make his mentor proud of him.

“But let us step back and consider the general principles of how properly tamed technology should serve mankind. Robots have the capability of performing repetitious, time-consuming, or complex tasks such as collecting data, harvesting crops, or calculating safe navigational routes. Accepting limited machine assistance would free humans to make new advances.”

“When Omnius enslaved the human race, we had little time to advance and improve,” Alys pointed out, to a satisfied muttering from her supporters.