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[Illustration]




THE ULTIMATE EXPERIMENT

by

THORNTON DeKY




                   _No living soul breathed upon the
                  earth. Only robots, carrying on the
                           last great order._


"They were all gone now, The Masters, all dead and their atoms scattered
to the never ceasing winds that swept the great crysolite city towers in
ever increasing fury. That had been the last wish of each as he had
passed away, dying from sheer old age. True they had fought on as long
as they could to save their kind from utter extinction but the comet
that had trailed its poisoning wake across space to leave behind it,
upon Earth, a noxious, lethal gas vapor, had done its work too well."

No living soul breathed upon the Earth. No one lived here now, but Kiron
and his kind.

"And," so thought Kiron to himself, "he might as well be a great
unthinking robot able to do only one thing instead of the mental giant
he was, so obsessed had he become with the task he had set himself to
do."

Yet, in spite of a great loneliness and a strong fear of a final
frustration, he worked on with the others of his people, hardly stopping
for anything except the very necessities needed to keep his big body
working in perfect coordination.

Tirelessly he worked, for The Masters had bred, if that is the word to
use, fatigue and the need for restoration out of his race long decades
ago.

Sometimes, though, he would stop his work when the great red dying sun
began to fade into the west and his round eyes would grow wistful as he
looked out over the great city that stretched in towering minarets and
lofty spires of purest crystal blue for miles on every side. A fairy
city of rarest hue and beauty. A city for the Gods and the Gods were
dead. Kiron felt, at such times, the great loneliness that the last
Master must have known.

They had been kind, The Masters, and Kiron knew that his people, as they
went about their eternal tasks of keeping the great city in perfect
shape for The Masters who no longer needed it, must miss them as he did.

Never to hear their voices ringing, never to see them again gathered in
groups to witness some game or to play amid the silver fountains and
flowery gardens of the wondrous city, made him infinitely saddened. It
would always be like this, unless....

But thinking, dreaming, reminiscing would not bring it all back for
there was only one answer to still the longing: work. The others worked
and did not dream, but instead kept busy tending to the thousand and one
tasks The Masters had set them to do--had left them doing when the last
Master perished. He too must remember the trust they had placed in his
hands and fulfill it as best he could.

From the time the great red eye of the sun opened itself in the East
until it disappeared in the blue haze beyond the crysolite city, Kiron
labored with his fellows. Then, at the appointed hour, the musical
signals would peal forth their sweet, sad chimes, whispering goodnight
to ears that would hear them no more and all operations would halt for
the night, just as it had done when The Masters were here to supervise
it.

Then when morning came he would start once more trying, testing,
experimenting with his chemicals and plastics, forever following
labyrinth of knowledge, seeking for the great triumph that would make
the work of the others of some real use.

His hands molded the materials carefully, lovingly to a pattern that was
set in his mind as a thing to cherish. Day by day his experiments in
their liquid baths took form under his careful modeling. He mixed his
chemicals with the same loving touch, the same careful concentration and
painstaking thoroughness, studying often his notes and analysis charts.

Everything must be just so lest his experiment not turn out perfectly.
He never became exasperated at a failure or a defect that proved to be
the only reward for his faithful endeavors but worked patiently on
toward a goal that he knew would ultimately be his.

Then one day, as the great red sun glowed like an immense red eye
overhead, Kiron stepped back to admire his handiwork. In that instant
the entire wondrous city seemed to breathe a silent prayer as he stood
transfixed by the sight before him. Then it went on as usual, hurrying
noiselessly about its business. The surface cars, empty though they
were, fled swiftly about supported only by the rings of magnetic force
that held them to their designated paths. The gravoships raised from the
tower-dromes to speed silently into the eye of the red sun that was
dying.

"No one now," Kiron thought to himself as he studied his handiwork. Then
he walked unhurriedly to the cabinet in the laboratory corner and took
from it a pair of earphones resembling those of a long forgotten radio
set. Just as unhurriedly, though his mind was filled with turmoil and
his being with excitement, he walked back and connected the earphones to
the box upon his bench. The phones dangled into the liquid bath before
him as he adjusted them to suit his requirements.

Slowly he checked over every step of his experiments before he went
farther. Then, as he proved them for the last time, his hand went slowly
to the small knife switch upon the box at his elbow. Next he threw into
connection the larger switch upon his laboratory wall bringing into his
laboratory the broadcast power of the crysolite city.

The laboratory generators hummed softly, drowning out the quiet hum of
the city outside. As they built up, sending tiny living electrical
impulses over the wires like minute currents that come from the brain,
Kiron sat breathless; his eyes intent.

Closer to his work he bent, watching lovingly, fearful least all might
not be quite right. Then his eyes took on a brighter light as he began
to see the reaction. He knew the messages that he had sent out were
being received and coordinated into a unit that would stir and grow into
intellect.

Suddenly the machine flashed its little warning red light and
automatically snapped off. Kiron twisted quickly in his seat and threw
home the final switch. This, he knew, was the ultimate test. On the
results of the flood of energy impulses that he had set in motion rested
the fulfillment of his success--_or failure_.

He watched with slight misgivings. This had never been accomplished
before. How could it possibly be a success now? Even The Masters had
never quite succeeded at this final test, how could he, only a servant?
Yet it must work for he had no desire in life but to make it work.

Then, suddenly, he was on his feet, eyes wide. From the two long,
coffin-like liquid baths, there arose two perfect specimens of the _Homo
sapiens_. Man and woman, they were, and they blinked their eyes in the
light of the noonday sun, raised themselves dripping from the baths of
their creation and stepped to the floor before Kiron.

The man spoke, the woman remained silent.

"I am Adam Two," he said. "Created, by you Kiron from a formula they
left, in their image. I was created to be a Master and she whom you also
have created is to be my wife. We shall mate and the race of Man shall
be reborn through us and others whom I shall help you create."

The Man halted at the last declaration he intoned and walked smilingly
toward the woman who stepped into his open arms returning his smile.

Kiron smiled too within his pumping heart. The words the Man had intoned
had been placed in his still pregnable mind by the tele-teach phones and
record that the last Master had prepared before death had halted his
experiments. The actions of the Man toward the Woman, Kiron knew, was
caused by the natural constituents that went to form his chemical body
and govern his humanness.

He, Kiron, had created a living man and woman. The Masters lived again
because of him. They would sing and play and again people the
magnificent crysolite city because he loved them and had kept on until
success had been his. But then why not such a turnabout? Hadn't they,
The Masters, created him a superb, thinking _robot_?




Transcriber's Note:

This etext was produced from _Comet_ July 1941. Extensive research did
not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was
renewed. Minor spelling and typographical errors have been corrected
without note.





End of Project Gutenberg's The Ultimate Experiment, by Thornton DeKy