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The Machine That Saved The World
by
In two weeks, exploring parties cautiously crossed the barbed-wire frontier fences to find out what had happened. Those who went farthest came back shaken and sick. There were survivors in the Compubs, of course. Especially near the fringes of the circle. There were some millions of survivors. But there was no longer a nation to be called the Union of Communist Republics. There were only frightened, starving people trudging blindly away from cities that were charnel-houses and machines that would not run and trees and crops and grasses that were stark dead where they stood. It would be a long time before anybody would want to cross those lifeless plains and enter the places which once had been swarming hives of homes and people.
* * * * *
And presently, of course, Sergeant Bellews was let out of the guardhouse. He could not be charged with any crime. Nor could Graves nor Lecky nor Howell. They were asked, confidentially, to keep their mouths shut. Which they would have done anyhow. And Sergeant Bellews was asked with reluctant respectfulness, just what he thought had really happened.
“Some guys got too smart,” he said, fuming. “A guy that’ll broadcast a wave that’ll wreck machines … I haven’t got any kinda use for him! Dammit, when a machine treats you accordin’ to the golden rule, you oughta treat it the same way!”
There were other, also-respectful questions.
“How the hell would I know?” demanded Sergeant Bellews wrathfully. “It coulda been that we did make contact with 2180, and they were smart an’ told the Compubs to try out what we told ’em. But I don’t believe it. It coulda been a kinda monster from some other planet wanting us wiped out. But he learned him a lesson, if he did! And o’ course, it coulda been the Compubs themselves, trying to fool us into committing suicide so they’d–uh–inherit the earth. I wouldn’t know! But I bet there ain’t any more broadcasts from nowhere!”
He was allowed to return to the Rehab Shop, and the flickering standby lights of many Mahon-modified machines seemed to glow more warmly as he moved among them.
And he was right about there not being any more broadcasts from nowhere.
There weren’t.
Not ever.