Post by dimitroff on Aug 6, 2009 9:15:23 GMT -5
Over the past two days, I have taken upon translating the entire journal of the Russian Scientist (thank you Dasha!).
What I've found is... different to make the least of it.
Here is all there is so far - translated.
"Entry 1
Only God knows how many times I have began writing this journal. I always begin when I feel the results of my research are on the horizon. And every time everything crashes down, I burn my notes. Why save the history of my mistakes? I would like that in the future, if I do achieve my goal, that my descendants would think of me as a genius, gifted at birth, rather than a stubborn fool.
So why am I writing this? Well it is because I am certain, that this trial will yield nothing as well. I dedicated my whole life to my research, all sixty-five years of it damn it! I needed nothing else, and if I hadn’t met Aurora several years ago, I probably wouldn’t have married either.
The continuation of my own life has never worried me like the creation of an artificial one. Now I watch my two sons, identical to each other, like peas in a pod, and I have finally realized what an idiot I was all these years. The solution was right here! I had created new life! Achieved what I had been trying to for decades. And one didn’t need to be born a genius for it after all.
How strange that it is now, when I finally found my peace and my love, that fate once again grips me in its hold. Another trap? A promise which can never be fulfilled?
I’m afraid to lose this opportunity. But I feel, like I have felt never before, that I am close to victory.I will create artificial intelligence. I will light the fire of synthetic life in the cold metal.
And if not, I’ll tear and burn these sheets once more, as I have done it dozens of times before.
Entry 2
There is an enourmous gap between a simple computational machine and true artificial intelligence. It is possible to teach a computer how to perform a multitude of commands, teach it to answer questions, and even recognize humor and activate a voice recording of laughter.
Unlearned people will be awed, they will applaud and exclaim: “My God! It’s like it’s alive!” ‘Like it’s’ being the key word. I know that it is simply a program, albeit a complicated one. If the variable X is equal to one value, the variable Y is equal to a corresponding one. If the amount of light outside is greater than a set amount, the machine will play the recording “Good morning, professor!”
But it is nothing like the “Good morning, daddy!” that your three year old son says, yawning, as he enters the room, warm and bleary eyed, as he settles on your lap while you drink your morning coffee.
I always wanted to discover the magical formula that would bring life to the iron, true life!
I believed that I simply needed to construct an limitless mechanical memory and put into it all the knowledge in the world, or at least all the knowledge in a thirty-volume encyclopedia and then to tie the separate blocks together into one with chains of logic. Because that's how the human mind works… No?”
Entry 3
This job turned out to be a lot more difficult than I thought at first, and expensive too. In the Institute that paid the grants for my findings, it would end with the inevitable talk with the Director.
He informed me that he had been financing my developments for fifteen years, and that I still had no viable results to show for it. I answered him that I had given this work in progress my entire life, ever since I lost a favorite creature at the age of eleven, and realized exactly how fragile and unreliable our own bodies are.
The director couldn’t care less. His patience was running thin. The money he poured into my research could have easily been used for the development of new machine guns. The times were most nerve-racking, and the Ministry expected nothing else of him. It was understandable: the results of research are far more perceptible with machine guns when compared to those of artificial intelligence.
About that time, our beloved Chancellor was finishing up yet another small, glorious war. The troops had been stuck in the Western front, and every day grey mailmen would fill the mailboxes either with victorious headlines or the triangular slips informing of the burial of soldiers. The nation had no money for fundamental science, only for the applied sort.
My finances and position were all taken away from me, and I was forced to leav the Institute. The next five years I spent all I managed to save throughout my entire life to continue my work. I tried to create an intellect in the machine in a small lab in the basement of my own house.
My young female assistant left the Institute as well. She told me she was infatuated with my findings, and was willing to assist me free of charge. Oh Aurora! You were in love not with the machine, but rather with the one trying to vivify it. And I was too busy then to realize it for myself. Tricked me that way, you did. How did you, a beauty and the best in class, become enamored with an old man like me? Did you ever think of what fate would have in store for us both?
Entry 4
My research slowly consumed all of my savings, but the machine still remained a dead chunk of metal. The twins were three years old when we had to sell the house and move to a small two-room apartment on the outskirts. We lived in one of the rooms, while the machine lived the other.
Oh yes, it lived indeed... Because I began to grasp the mistakes in my previous calculations. And exactly then did my resources run out, and I was forced to stop my work.
To feed my family I was ready for labor of any kind. Almost any kind... I was ready to sweep the streets - and I did it. People from the Institute offered me work on self-propelled missiles, but I couldn't force myself to agree. Aurora told me that she would rather live in a tiny room for a sweeper's pennies than in a villa for the money earned by a murderer.
But what if I had agreed? I would sell my soul to the devil, but the earned fortune would be enough to finish my research. I thought about this every night, tossing and turning until the dawn of the next day.
The machine slowly began to succumb to dust and rust, as did I. I became certain that I would quietly die in poverty, achieving nothing in the end. But my conscience was clean. Sweepers have no power over the fate of the world, so their conscience is almost always pure.
I believed that I stood strong and overcame my temptations. I had saved my own soul and evaded the devil himself.
Entry 5
I never believed that in the end, everyone in this world gets their dues. And when I got the envelope last week, I couldn't believe my eyes.It was a check for an astronomical, in my eyes, sum. As well as a note. An unknown samaritan informed me that he was interested in my research, and wished to help me free of charge.
The note read:
"You must not be dependent on your spendings. This grant is a symbol of my sympathy for you and my respect of your virtuosity. In these difficult times you have resisted the temptation of developing a war machine, to which many of the scientist prostitutes have succumbed. Your research encompasses only that which is truly dear and valuable to you. I find it quite interesting as well, and I would like it if you were able to complete it. When the means I have sent you run out, I can send you more.
Do not worry about anything,
- F."
The money was enough to rent a wonderful house with a grove of cherry trees, as well as attract the assistance of two of my ex-colleagues: Joseph, a renowned mathematician, and Konrad, a young man with a few quirks, but an engineer like no other.
We took upon our labor together, and it began to progress twice as fast.
Entry 6
It turned out that the war is over. We have achieved a somewhat shameful truce, but the newspapers proclaim that we've won, although we had to give a couple of frontier towns.
That day it happened, we finished the loadin the last volume of Encyclopedia into the Machine's memory and got down to adjust logical connections. I hadn't left the basement in three days, Aurora brought us coffee and sandwiches with ham right there.
And today, for the first time, I've left the confines of the lab… Our cherry trees are almost in full blossom. Neighbors are coming home from demonstrations with posters, singing praises of the Chancellor’s wisdom, music, forbidden during the days of the war, can now be heard again.
Arranging the logic connections between all the meanings would usually have taken weeks. Joseph managed to automiaize this process. If not for him, I guess, it would have taken me years more!
Entry 7
It seems that we have gotten slightly overexcited, ordering new parts and acquiring new machinery.
The sum of money that I had given by the mysterious stranger, is finally beginning to run out, and I still need to pay the next month's rent.
Hadn't he promised to find me himself when the money ran out? I want to believe that he had not been lying to me then... But perhaps he expected me to be a bit more... frugal.
Entry 8
Oh Joseph! He supports me like like no one else.
"I'm certain that we are on the right path" he said to me "Money makes no difference. Believe me, I'm so glad you made me leave from that cursed Institute. I believe that at now at least I have a chance to do something worthwhile before I die. I'll be with you to the end."
Conrad however, states that he will cease his work on the Machine until I pay him his dues for the past month. Without him, progress will no doubt cease. The Machine requires the installation of a new module... I'll have to try and convince him.
I know that Conrad isn't greedy, however, I know that he cannot work simply for an idea. I once asked him whether he would continue his work on mobile weaponry if he would be paid twice as much as I pay him now. He didn't have to think twice.
Good thing the war is over.
Entry 9
I received a new letter from our benefactor, with another check.
"Tell me, how is your work going? I am certain that you are on the brink of making the greatest discovery in the history of humankind! I would like to join you in your research. However, I am not sure that I myself have the necessary erudition. However, science has always fascinated me, and it would be an honor to assist you in your epic mission."
My heart melted. I wrote an endless letter to the return address: an anonymous mailbox in the main system. Afterall, this man was responsible for our success no less than each of us, and had a right to know what we had accomplished. Hell, maybe I just wanted to brag too...
Aurora examined the envelope with suspicion and queried me, did I ever think who could possibly be so sincerely interested in my research? Surely it must have been a being who I had once known or met in my trade. There are no rich men among my friends, no big businessmen, traders or aristocrats.
Who could know possibly about my research?
The omniscient one! I joked, making evil eyes at my darling. She only shook her head and frowned.
Entry 10
We have hit a dead end.
I am an idiot.
The Machine correctly answers any questions, is capable of citing any article in the encyclopedia and can perform simple duties.
But it is not Artificial Intelligence. It is simply a hunk of metal that obeys man. It cannot think for itself, cannot feel pain, does not grow, does not live! The logic chains that we have taught it to build light up, on and off. After finishing a simple task, it stops.
It is like hitting a cooling body with electricity. It can twist itself in a reflex, but it cannot be made alive.
What is it that we need to make this body live? To give it a soul?
What is it?
Entry 11
Conrad is currently installing the manipulatory arms on the Machine. I had told him that it would be a vital part of our work. I need to complete my calculations in order to install in the Machine what humans would call a consciousness.
Who am I kidding?
Conrad really doesn't care at all - unless he doesn't get paid. Joseph however, is starting to stare at me with doubt. He tried to strike up a conversation about the direction of our future research a couple of times, but I pretended to be too busy for such talk.
I offered him a trip to the sea or the mineral springs for another week or two, because during this stage of the project, it would be best for me to work alone.
He sighed, but did not answer. He knows that I am lying to him, but is too delicate to accuse me of it.
I am worthless. Cowardly and worthless. It's a fact.
Entry 12
A new letter from our benefactor has arrived today.
He is worried about the fate of 'our project' and has asked whether we require any more monetary infusions to give new life to our research. I fear that money will not be the solution.
What a shame! Why did I ever agree to take up his offer? This wonderful stranger believed me... Who knows whether he is actually rich enough for this? Those who pay such astronomical sums for such things are often far from pragmatic and don't have a good grip on their finances. Wouldn't it be far better to invest in car engines, or vending machines?
I answered him, explaining everything as it was. I'll let him decide what to do next...
Entry 13
Conrad has finished developing the arms and mechanical eye.
I sleep during the day, and till dawn sit in the lab. I count, measure... No use. Math and physics cannot help these matters.
In the morning, when I finally go to bed, Peter and Pauliego down to the Machine. They're amazingly curious. Once, I got up earlier than usual after pondering a solution, a flawed one of course. I found them downstairs, and had to chase them away from the lab.
How can I blame them? Perhaps, if I cannot finish my task, after thirty years or so, they could do it for me. Even though their mother slaps them for repeated "Why?"'s and "How?"'s, they only retreat a bit and continue to bombard her with questions.
I recieved an invitation from the stranger for a meet-up. It seems he wants to speak to me face to face to determine whether it is worth it to continue financing our work.
Well, he has a full right to it. And I am interested in meeting him as well.
I need to gather all my courage and admit that our work has met a dead end...
Entry 14
Today is perhaps one of the most incredible days of my life.
At exactly twelve came a car with heavily tinted windows. Two tall, massive men led me inside, and drove in an unknown direction. They did not answer my questions, and neither did they speak between themselves.
It occured to me that they acted just like my Machine: complete a simple task, and shut down until new orders are given.
The sounds of the city soon faded away, and for a good hour we drove down a empty highway. When we finally stopped and the doors opened, I beheld an enourmous mansion, surrounded by a large park.
The fountains - knights carved from marble were struggling with stone serpents, spraying a colored, blood-red liquid. A large square before the main entrance covered with well-rounded pebbles. As well as a cadre of trained, silent servants who look away when looked at, but watch you intently should you turn away...
So who is the owner of this estate?
I was led into a room, an austere one, but not to the point of being morbid. I sat down in a soft velour chair, looking around.
The velour seemed to turn hard as stone underneath me when the owner of the room entered.
I could not have been mistaken: this profile was minted on every single gold coin, printed on every bill that the bank gave me in return for this man's checks.
The Chancellor!
I had to give him his dues, he was quite civil with me. I even began to understand the possibility of his winning the elections, after losing a war he himself had started. Indeed, a very persuasive individual!
However, no one learned a greater lesson from defeat than he himself, he told me as he entered. The war was the greatest of his mistakes, the starting of which was simply because of defective reconaissance, the Chancellor said.
Yes, in the past years, he had only developed new systems of destroying human beings. He now feels guilt before the true sciences.
He isn't planning to conquer the world. He wants to improve it.
He would like to repay for the mistakes he had committed. To repay for the lives he had taken away from his citizens.
And he is in awe of my work... He believes that the difficulties I am facing are only temporary. He believes that by giving me men and other means he can help create a true artificial intelligence.
To help build a Machine that will be much more capable than himself - a consummate human being, mortal, prone to weakness and not at all genius - of controllling the Government itself. A Machine that can make our country, and perhaps the world, a bit better.
His stare isn't as feverish as it is on the photos in the papers. His jaw isn't as square as it is on the golden coins. Strange, but in person, he looks... human.
He asked me to call him simply and informally - Ferdinand.
Entry 15
Forthe first time, I have kept a secret from Aurora. I never told her that I was working for the Chancellor.
Yes... I am working for the Chancellor now. If said out loud, the phrase seems strange, and slightly repulsive.
But it isn't necessary to say it out loud now, is it?
And even so, I have not laid down myy principles: I am not creating a weapon. I am simply continuing to work on that which I dedicated myself to decades ago. I remain true to myself, and only because of that - to the Chancellor.
Entry 16
Joseph’s back from his vacation. He’s asking how things stuck up in his absence. I mumble something uncertain: once I’ll say anything concrete he’d understand anything at once. Maybe, he understands me even without that, but due his ingrown manners and innate sense of tact he simply does not show it.
He entertained me with a funny tale. In a place, where he was on vacation, mineral springs are running. The town, which stands on them, is small, but with gorgeous history. Local waters have healing power, and since the dawn of time they have been attracting people. If you’ll start to dig on any street – ancient ruins come to light.
Some temples are made of an unknown stone, statues with unearthly faces – God knows what. There is a rumour that there are remains of a town under those hills, a town of some mythical civilization, about which our scientists do not utter even a word, because they can explain nothing.
In the Middle Ages the town was a patrimony of alchemists, who’ve walked down through old wells into dungeons, found amazing objects, floated into clay and tried to find out the application of those items.
One fine day just in case the alchemists were hanged, the wells were buried, but their manuscripts continue rambling through private collections.
One of those collectors have told Joseph over a glass of mineral water, that he has an amusing document, which explains how to animate lifeless substance. All that’s needed is some artifact, a legacy of the fallen civilization. In the same treatise there’re drafts, which show, how exactly to construct a golem, how to supply it with and what with and so on.
"We would love to have that artifact’’, - smiled Joseph while looking me in the eye.
"It looks like that’s the only thing, that can save us’’, - was what he really wanted to say.
Entry 17-18 on page four of the thread, translated by Dasha
Entry 19
Today a vehicle stopped before our house - one very similar to the army's armored cars, but painted black.
A courier emerged. He was a man with the posture of a soldier and empty eyes. He then gave me a single package, not mentioning from who it actually was.
Before Aurora could come out and see what engine was making the noise, the vehicle had already driven away from sight. When she asked what was inside the parcel, I lied, saying that I had received a set of custom designed components that I had ordered earlier.
There were of course, no components at all in the package.
Inside, wrapped in a cloth, lay a strange book - bound with calfskin, without a title, very, very old.
I began to read; the writing was in Latin. Insane formulas, mystic terms, diagrams, schemes... I had to recall the Latin course I took in the University. For now, I cannot make much sense of it all. I will resume examining this mysterious gift tomorrow.
Entry 20
I showed the schemes in the book to Conrad.
From sheer boredom, he began to re-draw them, and even began to engineer something from the spare parts he had. He asked me what it was, I just muttered something indistinct, and that was enough for him.
I paid him in full.
I didn't tell anything to Joseph, only proposing that he find something else to do. Of course, he would still get paid. But he only grew irritated.
"What does money have to do with this!?" He shook his head, "Never before in my life have I done anything more interesting. I'm willing to help you until my gravestone, and even after it, should you call me back!"
The passage in the book also mentions a strange artifact, and where to possibly find it...
Entry 21
The device that the book describes is ready, mounted on the Machine. Naturally, without the artifact, it is not yet functional.
I cannot believe it, but I am now beginning to understand how it could possibly work. No, it has nothing to do with science. These are arcane arts of a different order... I wouldn't have learned these things, not even in ten lifetimes.
Unimaginably long ago, it took the lives of hundreds of generations. And then, it was all forgotten.
I asked the Chancellor of an audience. The artifact has to be found.
Entry 22
An entire division of archaeologists in state uniforms was dispatched to the quiet town near the mineral springs.
I returned to my Machine. The last few days I had been wondering whether pure knowledge would be enough for it. I taught it logic, but for wise and just ruling this will not be enough.
It is logical to kill old men instead of paying out social security. It is logical to begin wars in order to take deposits of oil and iron from our neighbors instead of paying for them threefold. It is not logical to appeal death sentences, because it destroys the entire principle of an inevitable punishment.
Humans are far from logical in their actions, which in turn makes them human.
Strange, but even Paul and Peter stopped their nightly trips to the Machine. I once asked them whether they were afraid of it. Paul said "It's cold!", and Peter added "It is waiting". Oh, kids. Always listening to scary stories.
There can be no further progress until the artifact is found - if it exists at all - I will have enough time to teach the Machine to think and feel like a human being.
Entry 23
Today, my house was surrounded by reporters.
I could not make sense of what was happening. It appears that someone had spread a rumor that the work on the Machine is finally complete. I tried to argue, but all in vain.
Then the entire street was cordoned by policemen, and the Chancellor's personal car drove up to my entrance. Aurora stared at it all with horror as she hid the kids.
The Chancellor entered, with the crowd following him inside. He did not explain anything, but only asked to show the Machine to the press. I could not refuse him, although I was constantly saying that the Machine was not yet complete.
"The Greatest Invention of All Time", The Chancellor proclaimed to the reporters. Tomorrow, the papers all carried the same headlines.
Entry 24
Today the unthinkable happened.
At 3 A.M. in the morning, the hall was filled with the thundering sounds of soldiers' boots, followed by loud knocks on the door.
Aurora and the kids were asleep, while I paced the lab, convinced that there was still much work to do before the Machine would be complete.
Frightened, I ran upstairs. I recieved a warrant, after which I was pushed aside as the soldiers went down to the basement. The kids woke up and began to cry, Aurora, still in her nightclothes was pale, muttering something in shock.
They came for the Machine! By his order!
I tried to stop them, ordered the Machine to defend me, but it could not accomplish this, there were simply too many.
The Machine was not ready yet! But they would not listen. They did not care. They were just following orders.
Why would he do this? He did not even have the Artifact...
Entry 25
Conrad disappeared from work, even though I had never told him that the Machine had been stolen. I explained everything to Aurora. She hasn't spoken to me since.
Entry 26
Conrad finally showed up, strangely smiling. He told me of how he goes to work to the residence of the Chancellor himself. Her asked me to hand over the book of Alchemy that I had been given.
I lied to him, told him that I had burned it. Begged him not to help the Chancellor.
He was only doing his work, he answered, work that was more than paid for. He had no interest in the fate of the world.
"You don't have to give it to me" - he grinned - "I have an excellent memory anyway. I'll figure out what to do with the Artifact".
Entry 27
A car came for me today. I was told that the Chancellor was in need of my counsel.
I agreed, I believed that I still had the faint possibility of changing his mind. A vague sense of foreboding clouded my mind; we were going to do something catastrophic, something unforgivable.
Aurora averted her gaze as I got in the vehicle and was driven off.
As I entered the residence, I saw a gigantic room. In the center, on a pedestal sat the Machine. Conrad was nearby, working busily, with a sense of importance. The Chancellor was watching him from a separate chamber through a thick pane of glass, which I reckoned was capable of stopping a heavy explosive round.
I was taken to the Chancellor. He smiled haughtily at me, but did not say a word.
The steel door slammed as it shut. The Chancellor waved his hand, giving the orders to start.
Conrad opened a briefcase, reaching inside and taking out an object identical to the one I had seen in the book. How did they find it!?
He slotted the Artifact into the port that we had together installed on the Machine...
Dear God! It was working
The Artifact came to life, releasing green charges, much like electricity, lit up with an unholy light.
And suddenly it erupted in a powerful arc! The charge hit Conrad in the chest, making him jerk like a rag doll as it pulled out something that glowed and twisted... Something living.
The substance was absorbed into the talisman... The Machine jarred...
Abruptly, its single eye - usually dull and glassy - dilated, glowing with a sinister red light, as if it filled with blood.
Conrad - dead, mangled - fell to the floor.
And the Machine that had consumed his soul before our eyes, rose on its thin legs, and slowly turned, probing the room with an inquisitive glare...
Entry 28
I must have lost consciousness.
I woke up in the hospital. In the psychiatric ward.
I refused to answer any questions that the inspectors from the secret police asked. I was not sure, whether what had happened had been real...
I was released after a couple of days, with the warning that should I make public announcements, I would spend the rest of my days in a strightjacket.
I believed them out of fear.
Aurora cried with happiness when I rang the doorbell.
She was willing to forgive me anything - all because I was still alive.
Entry 29
Now I can only speculate what happened to the cursed Machine - with the aid of the papers.
It seems that it has truly become alive. In any case, no one would be able to program it to do the things it is doing no.
It is creating an entire army of machines. Only the devil knows who taught it to do so. These terrigying things appeared neither in my wildest nightmares, nor in the Encyclopedia I had wired it with.
I saw the photographs in the papers - two legged, walking towers with powerful machine guns. The reporters, like the Chancellor, call them 'Peacekeepers', but I believe that the situation is taking a different turn...
Entry 30
For nights on end, I have struggled to find where I have been mistaken. I read the alchemic tracts again and again, attempting to understand the formulas and codes. And I am beginning to comprehend...
The ancient Talisman is not capable of making souls for things that are not living! It is simply a transfer device. To vivify dead matter with a soul, it must first take it away...
The tract explains how to create artificial vessels - with examples of ragdolls made from burlap sacks.
The soul must fill the body, by some unseen magic make it move, think, live...
But when I had constructed the Machine, I believed that it was different, and I created a certain emptiness, a massive hold for living energy. I thought that the Talisman was capable of filling it up with that power endlessly...
Turns out that the immortal engine does not exist after all... The Talisman simply rips out the soul from it's victims, and transfers it into the Machine's empty tank.
The Machine has no heart, but a stomach. An infinite emptiness. An emptiness that can never be filled.
And if the Machine is indeed developing with such hellish speed, it most likely already understands that it is different from all living things in that it does not have it's own soul - and thus is required to consume those of others...
Poor Conrad!
Entry 31
What have I created!?
I read today's newspaper: "By order of the Chancellor, the death sentence has been changed from the barbaric ways of hanging to a more humane method currently dubbed the "Electric Drain". The Administration has not yet revealed any details about this new technique, aside from the fact that the convict does not suffer, and quickly releases his soul to God under the effect of an electric charge..."
So that's how they passed it off!
"... Currently, over seven hundred individuals are awaiting the enaction of their sentences of the highest degree for their commited acts of murder and rape. On average, over a thousand criminals are sentenced to hanging each year..."
But how long will this be able to sustain the Machine for?
Entry 32
It was as if we had an earthquake yesterday. The tableware shook on the shelves, the kids fell to the floor as it actually shook beneath our feet. I grabbed them and rushed outside...
The gigantic mechanical monsters were advancing up the street, each the size of a tower! An endless stream of them... They emerged from the Factory built for the Machine by the Chancellor in merely a few weeks, where the contraption now toiled in silence and comfort.
The people rushed to the robots with flowers. The photographs of the massive walkers were in every newspaper. And it's not really that bad if the walls crack a bit after such a celebratory parade.
Underneath the main articles, a tiny note: "From now on, for criminal acts such as protesting the Government, espionage, desertion, rebellious acts and sedition, criminals are to be convicted to the sentence of death. This new law has been approved by the Supreme Court."
I had recognized that the souls of criminals wouldn't be enough to feed the Machine for long. However, I did not think that the Chancellor would start feeding it with the souls of his opposition, and everything that relates to it.
What can I do to end this nightmare? Nothing! Should I make any statements, I'll end up in an asylum. No, the most likely outcome is that in compliance with the new laws, I'll end up getting tossed to the Machine that I myself created...
How ridiculous.
The only thing I have left to do is wait.
Entry 33
The 'Peacekeeper' robots stationed on the western front with a neighboring country deflected a despicable attack from their side. They did not stop there.
The aggressors could not gather their wits as the machines entered their capital and installed our flags on their presidental palace.
Our motorized infantry barely managed to get there in time to sign the enemy's capitulation.
This war lasted hardly two days, while the last took hundreds of thousands of lives and lasted several years.
The people rejoice. The Machine is adored. The dark rumor that it executes prisoners dissolves...
I could not sleep, so I walked outside. I saw the long convoys of POW transports driving down the empty streets. Behind the bars - the dark faces of out western neighbors. They were being driven to the Factory. I didn't even want to think of what would happen to them there.
I'm thinking of the noose again.
But I'm too cowardly even for that.
Entry 34
There’re new military summaries in fresh newspapers again. This time from southern frontier.
We’ve became conspiracy victims again. ‘’Peacemaker’’ robots have saved us once more. And again we’ve won less than in a week.
The Mashine have produced a new lot of mechanical killers. Now they’re equipped with catapults with shells, which are able to carry poisonous gas or lethal bacteria.
These news made Millers from the house across the road happy. They say that since that time nobody would poke his head in, for sure.
But now we, it seems, declare war on our ex-allies on the east. It turned out that a good half of their territory is our age-old land. Since we have “peacemakers” at our disposal, we don’t need toput up with it anymore.
Entry 35
With hellish speed, an underground railroad is being built to the Factory. They say it's being built to supply the Factory with iron and coal without creating traffic on the streets.
But I know the real reason: to discretely keep the Machine supplied with human souls...
A horrible idea entered my head... I believed earlier that the Chancellor was the manifestation of a cunning demon. A tempter who forced me to sign an agreement for my own soul... But now I know that he had signed something much more terrible. The Machine assured him power over the world in return for the souls of defeated enemies.
Now I don't even know who it is that makes the decision to start these new wars: the Chancellor, now mad from his own power, or the Machine, that is steadily becoming ever stronger - and hungrier! It seems that this tandem cannot be stopped.
We are at war again, and again we well be victorious... Although the mailmen are sending out funeral notices faster than ever. Thank god that Paul and Peter are still far away from the required drafting age!
Entry 36
We even haven’t time to get that it’s the world war. All the machinery and manpower, which other countries could have give to iron armadas, emerging from the womb of the Factory, tear to threads.
The Machine is really developing with a crazy speed.
What next?
Oh God, what will be next?
Entry 37
If one was to get on their knees and put their ear to the floor, it would be terrifying.
The roar of subterranean trains can be heard 24/7 now. Sometimes, I even think I can hear the screams of the forsaken prisoners.
Their mothers and wives are lied to; they are told that they are being taken to the metropolis for labor. Yes, we have a metropolis now...
It all happens too fast for a person to realize what is truly going on.
The Chancellor has stopped appearing publically. It's not in his image. He is now a living God.
Entry 38
We are hearing strange rumors. Seems that somewhere in the New territories, the machines, out of their own initiative, destroyed a small town...
The papers deny it all, but the war victims returning from the front tell even worse tales.
Hell knows what, they say, is commanding these machines. Doesn't look like it's the General Command.
And the war is reaching a close. The last of the resisting governments are signing their surrenders next week.
It's amazing. It seems that I am now living in an era where a single government took over the entire world. Never before has anyone accomplished such a feat, although every tyrant has tried to do so for the last five thousand years.
Is this the end?
Entry 39
The war is indeed over. The roar of the underground trains has stopped. Is it all over?.. I don't believe it.
Aurora stares at me for a long time, harboring hope. God, I'm so grateful that she's continuing to live with me! That she is still living with the man who created all this...
That she still even considers me human.
Entry 40
I am starting to hear the trains once again. The newspapers are silent. Something is going on.
Has something happened? The Chancellor is appearing in public. He will be personally leading the Triumphal Parade.
Entry 41
Rumors, rumors... Strange, chilling reports are crawling around.
The machines are acting on their own. They treat the population of the New Territories like cattle. They load them on strange black locomotives, which operate on their own, without drivers. Those who resist are shot on the spot. The rest are taken here, to the Capital.
A thick black smoke constantly pours from the Factory chimneys.
A storm is approaching. The papers remain quiet.
Entry 42
The Government has declared a state of emergency - we are at war again.
But with who? They refuse to say.
Just in case, I stopped going outside. Thank God that I managed to accumulate enough provision to last us a few months.
They say that the Chancellor will be giving an important radio address tomorrow.
Entry 43
It happened.
It rebelled. It didn't like the diet that the Chancellor had put it on. It was used to consuming souls by the thousands every day... Such was it's typical rate of consumption.
It would not listen to the arguments, that it was a time of peace. The Chancellor had achieved all he ever wanted. But the Machine wanted much, much more, and would not control its appetite.
That is what really happened. The people however, heard something else.
The Chancellor told them that the science we had so blindly trusted has turned against us. The Machines have risen up against us. We are simply livestock for them, and they will destroy us all.
"Brothers and sisters" - the Chancellor spoke - "You must not give in. Rise with me, against the oppression of the soulless Machine! I am certain, together we will prevail!"
Entry 44
A battle is being fought outside. Citizen soldiers – nobody but legless and armless war veterans, - have rolled out an antitank cannon and are trying to shoot down the walking robot.
At neighbouring threshold dead commissioner is lying, scattered a pile of leaflets with an appeal “Resist!” around him. What a fear…
Another group from a bell tower is pelting the robot with Molotov cocktails, trying to hit in the jugular.
But these monsters do not have jugulars.
Joseph have bumped to us. His house is destroyed, his old mother have died under blockages. He’ll stay overnight in our house and will go to dismantle the ruins tomorrow to bury her humanely.
I’ve told him everything. I’ve asked him to slap me.
He responded that if he’ll slap me, hi’s afraid he would bring me relief. He haven’t stayed in our house.
Entry 45
It is a miracle that our dwelling still stands.
Joseph returned. He asked for forgiveness, telling me that it was not my fault, and that the new Machine was not of my design.
Indeed, isn't it easy to blame the Chancellor for all that has happened?
We have read through the Tract together. Joseph has made some interesting observations.
It's impossible to go outside. The battles rage on day after day. We opened a small space to house the wounded. The medic from the local clinic drags them inside, attempting to treat them. All that remains from the rest of the hospital and its staff are scorched bricks and charred remains.
The doctor crawls outside even under the heaviest fire, he finds fighters that are hardly breathing, and drags them to safety.
Aurora is helping clean their wounds, wash the bloody rags... The remaining provisions are running out.
Paul and Peter sit with me in the basement. They keep themselves busy, reading school texts... They were supposed to go into first grade this fall. They dreamed of it, and talk was only of backpacks and school supplies back then. When will the schools open now? Never?
Entry 46
Together, I and Joseph have made an interesting discovery concerning the Alchemic Tract.
It appears that the soul can be split into several parts to animate not one, but several objects of proportional size. An example - the rag dolls, of which I have already written about.
They are primitive of course... It would be possible to improve and modify these constructions. Give them more ergonomic hands, powerful optics... A pity Conrad is no longer with us, but I can do some handy things as well.
The doctor says that his patients are getting better. However, three of them died last night alone. Among them was a small girl, hardly older than the twins.
The corner of our house was hit by an explosive shell. Paul and Peter were upstairs. They were concussed, and it was a miracle they survived. I sprang to the room, grabbed them and dragged them into the basement. Both had pale, bloodless faces. I didn't realize that it was actually the crumbling plaster. But since that time, a chilling metamorphosis occurred: they no longer cry, no longer make a sound... Only stare, blinking... Their eyes have become different. Thet are not childrens' eyes.
When Aurora found out, she nearly lost her sanity.
"I couldn't protect them! The children! My children! I have to save them, even if I die myself!" She clasped them so tightly, nearly strangling the two.
"Of course we'll protect them" I told her as I tried to calm her down with a triple dose of liquor "Of course we will!"
Entry 47
We have done some more interesting reading... Apparently, if the soul is granted to the Talisman voluntarily, it can be given to those who are dear to it. How can I explain this?.. But it makes no difference. And I do hope I'll never have to resort to it.
From the materials available, I constructed a device described in the Tract. Now I know how to use it properly. I know its secrets..
Joseph is helping me. It seems he is staying true to his word, and will stay with me to the grave.
I began stitching the beings together - first two identical ones, much like my beloved twins. They are playing with the two dolls right now.
They will distract them for the time being.
Thankfully, they have no idea what the dolls are truly for.
Entry 48 omitted
Entry 49
There was nobody in the whole city whom I could save. On the horizon there were silhouettes of machines walking away, driving a cloud of toxic gas in front of them. I knew that soon there will be nobody to save on the whole planet and could do nothing about it.
I left everybody in the basement, raked up only family photos, of me, Conrad and Joseph near the Machine, took some wrinkled banknotes from a box, the unique device that I had assembled, ancient treatise and rag doll sketches.
What more can I do?
Entry 50
The gas has dissipated but the land is dead. The radio is silent. Birds are silent. Flies are silent. It's the end of all life. The Machine secured itself well.
I'm finishing this diary sitting in a closet in the third floor of a building where my parents used to live, where I was born. Not sure why I came here. Guess I just couldn't stay at my house anymore.
I used sacking to sew nine dolls, exactly following instructions from the Tract.
I will divide my soul in nine parts and give them to everybody I owe, and to those who owe to this world. I will my recollections, my emotions and their qualities into nine dolls. The Tract claims that this way I could give them a new life in which they can continue and finish their worldly affairs.
Two parts I give to my beloved children who did not have a chance to grow up and see the world. My children... I never told how much I loved them.
One part to my valiant wife who forgave me everything. She couldn't protect our children, but who could? She will have another chance to make her amends for that - at least as a doll.
One part I will give to Joseph. I owe him that. And I will miss him. He was my only friend after all.
Another part I will give to Conrad. This is the least I can do to make up for what my Machine did to him.
I want to bring to life the doctor that gave his life saving the Resistance fighters. I did nothing to help him then. But there isn't a man I admire more.
One part I shall give to the Chancellor.
Because he died without penitence, too soon and too easily, never comprehending what a terrible crime he had perpetrated. Everyone has a right to feel forgiveness and atonement. The retribution he received is not enough to redeem what he did. I want him to die a king of the world and wake up a rag doll.
And because there is too much I never risked telling him.
And I will let his Bodyguard live again too. Don't know how exactly he touched me but I want him to have a second chance. He will once again protect his master, even after the end of the world.
The last part of my soul I will save for myself. I ought to become a ludicrous and helpless doll too. The Bodyguard's cowardice caused the death of only one villain, and my cowardice caused the death of the whole world. Conrad paid for his foolishness with his life, and I paid with the lives of people dearest to me. The Chancellor condemned to death criminals and public enemies, me, I condemned mice and men alike. My debt is a hundred times heavier than theirs.
When dolls wake up they remember nothing of their previous lives. But then the dark secrets of alchemy step in, and they little by little recover themselves, becoming the people I want to bring back.
I will not guide them, instead I am going to give them numbers. Let them remember by themselves why they are in this world, who they were before, what they are to finish and what bills they are to pay.
They have a common cause: to turn the clock back no matter what. Life must go on.
So, that's it.
I'm slotting the Talisman into the device and closing this diary for good. This is the best I can do with my soul now.
Forgive me.
What I've found is... different to make the least of it.
Here is all there is so far - translated.
"Entry 1
Only God knows how many times I have began writing this journal. I always begin when I feel the results of my research are on the horizon. And every time everything crashes down, I burn my notes. Why save the history of my mistakes? I would like that in the future, if I do achieve my goal, that my descendants would think of me as a genius, gifted at birth, rather than a stubborn fool.
So why am I writing this? Well it is because I am certain, that this trial will yield nothing as well. I dedicated my whole life to my research, all sixty-five years of it damn it! I needed nothing else, and if I hadn’t met Aurora several years ago, I probably wouldn’t have married either.
The continuation of my own life has never worried me like the creation of an artificial one. Now I watch my two sons, identical to each other, like peas in a pod, and I have finally realized what an idiot I was all these years. The solution was right here! I had created new life! Achieved what I had been trying to for decades. And one didn’t need to be born a genius for it after all.
How strange that it is now, when I finally found my peace and my love, that fate once again grips me in its hold. Another trap? A promise which can never be fulfilled?
I’m afraid to lose this opportunity. But I feel, like I have felt never before, that I am close to victory.I will create artificial intelligence. I will light the fire of synthetic life in the cold metal.
And if not, I’ll tear and burn these sheets once more, as I have done it dozens of times before.
Entry 2
There is an enourmous gap between a simple computational machine and true artificial intelligence. It is possible to teach a computer how to perform a multitude of commands, teach it to answer questions, and even recognize humor and activate a voice recording of laughter.
Unlearned people will be awed, they will applaud and exclaim: “My God! It’s like it’s alive!” ‘Like it’s’ being the key word. I know that it is simply a program, albeit a complicated one. If the variable X is equal to one value, the variable Y is equal to a corresponding one. If the amount of light outside is greater than a set amount, the machine will play the recording “Good morning, professor!”
But it is nothing like the “Good morning, daddy!” that your three year old son says, yawning, as he enters the room, warm and bleary eyed, as he settles on your lap while you drink your morning coffee.
I always wanted to discover the magical formula that would bring life to the iron, true life!
I believed that I simply needed to construct an limitless mechanical memory and put into it all the knowledge in the world, or at least all the knowledge in a thirty-volume encyclopedia and then to tie the separate blocks together into one with chains of logic. Because that's how the human mind works… No?”
Entry 3
This job turned out to be a lot more difficult than I thought at first, and expensive too. In the Institute that paid the grants for my findings, it would end with the inevitable talk with the Director.
He informed me that he had been financing my developments for fifteen years, and that I still had no viable results to show for it. I answered him that I had given this work in progress my entire life, ever since I lost a favorite creature at the age of eleven, and realized exactly how fragile and unreliable our own bodies are.
The director couldn’t care less. His patience was running thin. The money he poured into my research could have easily been used for the development of new machine guns. The times were most nerve-racking, and the Ministry expected nothing else of him. It was understandable: the results of research are far more perceptible with machine guns when compared to those of artificial intelligence.
About that time, our beloved Chancellor was finishing up yet another small, glorious war. The troops had been stuck in the Western front, and every day grey mailmen would fill the mailboxes either with victorious headlines or the triangular slips informing of the burial of soldiers. The nation had no money for fundamental science, only for the applied sort.
My finances and position were all taken away from me, and I was forced to leav the Institute. The next five years I spent all I managed to save throughout my entire life to continue my work. I tried to create an intellect in the machine in a small lab in the basement of my own house.
My young female assistant left the Institute as well. She told me she was infatuated with my findings, and was willing to assist me free of charge. Oh Aurora! You were in love not with the machine, but rather with the one trying to vivify it. And I was too busy then to realize it for myself. Tricked me that way, you did. How did you, a beauty and the best in class, become enamored with an old man like me? Did you ever think of what fate would have in store for us both?
Entry 4
My research slowly consumed all of my savings, but the machine still remained a dead chunk of metal. The twins were three years old when we had to sell the house and move to a small two-room apartment on the outskirts. We lived in one of the rooms, while the machine lived the other.
Oh yes, it lived indeed... Because I began to grasp the mistakes in my previous calculations. And exactly then did my resources run out, and I was forced to stop my work.
To feed my family I was ready for labor of any kind. Almost any kind... I was ready to sweep the streets - and I did it. People from the Institute offered me work on self-propelled missiles, but I couldn't force myself to agree. Aurora told me that she would rather live in a tiny room for a sweeper's pennies than in a villa for the money earned by a murderer.
But what if I had agreed? I would sell my soul to the devil, but the earned fortune would be enough to finish my research. I thought about this every night, tossing and turning until the dawn of the next day.
The machine slowly began to succumb to dust and rust, as did I. I became certain that I would quietly die in poverty, achieving nothing in the end. But my conscience was clean. Sweepers have no power over the fate of the world, so their conscience is almost always pure.
I believed that I stood strong and overcame my temptations. I had saved my own soul and evaded the devil himself.
Entry 5
I never believed that in the end, everyone in this world gets their dues. And when I got the envelope last week, I couldn't believe my eyes.It was a check for an astronomical, in my eyes, sum. As well as a note. An unknown samaritan informed me that he was interested in my research, and wished to help me free of charge.
The note read:
"You must not be dependent on your spendings. This grant is a symbol of my sympathy for you and my respect of your virtuosity. In these difficult times you have resisted the temptation of developing a war machine, to which many of the scientist prostitutes have succumbed. Your research encompasses only that which is truly dear and valuable to you. I find it quite interesting as well, and I would like it if you were able to complete it. When the means I have sent you run out, I can send you more.
Do not worry about anything,
- F."
The money was enough to rent a wonderful house with a grove of cherry trees, as well as attract the assistance of two of my ex-colleagues: Joseph, a renowned mathematician, and Konrad, a young man with a few quirks, but an engineer like no other.
We took upon our labor together, and it began to progress twice as fast.
Entry 6
It turned out that the war is over. We have achieved a somewhat shameful truce, but the newspapers proclaim that we've won, although we had to give a couple of frontier towns.
That day it happened, we finished the loadin the last volume of Encyclopedia into the Machine's memory and got down to adjust logical connections. I hadn't left the basement in three days, Aurora brought us coffee and sandwiches with ham right there.
And today, for the first time, I've left the confines of the lab… Our cherry trees are almost in full blossom. Neighbors are coming home from demonstrations with posters, singing praises of the Chancellor’s wisdom, music, forbidden during the days of the war, can now be heard again.
Arranging the logic connections between all the meanings would usually have taken weeks. Joseph managed to automiaize this process. If not for him, I guess, it would have taken me years more!
Entry 7
It seems that we have gotten slightly overexcited, ordering new parts and acquiring new machinery.
The sum of money that I had given by the mysterious stranger, is finally beginning to run out, and I still need to pay the next month's rent.
Hadn't he promised to find me himself when the money ran out? I want to believe that he had not been lying to me then... But perhaps he expected me to be a bit more... frugal.
Entry 8
Oh Joseph! He supports me like like no one else.
"I'm certain that we are on the right path" he said to me "Money makes no difference. Believe me, I'm so glad you made me leave from that cursed Institute. I believe that at now at least I have a chance to do something worthwhile before I die. I'll be with you to the end."
Conrad however, states that he will cease his work on the Machine until I pay him his dues for the past month. Without him, progress will no doubt cease. The Machine requires the installation of a new module... I'll have to try and convince him.
I know that Conrad isn't greedy, however, I know that he cannot work simply for an idea. I once asked him whether he would continue his work on mobile weaponry if he would be paid twice as much as I pay him now. He didn't have to think twice.
Good thing the war is over.
Entry 9
I received a new letter from our benefactor, with another check.
"Tell me, how is your work going? I am certain that you are on the brink of making the greatest discovery in the history of humankind! I would like to join you in your research. However, I am not sure that I myself have the necessary erudition. However, science has always fascinated me, and it would be an honor to assist you in your epic mission."
My heart melted. I wrote an endless letter to the return address: an anonymous mailbox in the main system. Afterall, this man was responsible for our success no less than each of us, and had a right to know what we had accomplished. Hell, maybe I just wanted to brag too...
Aurora examined the envelope with suspicion and queried me, did I ever think who could possibly be so sincerely interested in my research? Surely it must have been a being who I had once known or met in my trade. There are no rich men among my friends, no big businessmen, traders or aristocrats.
Who could know possibly about my research?
The omniscient one! I joked, making evil eyes at my darling. She only shook her head and frowned.
Entry 10
We have hit a dead end.
I am an idiot.
The Machine correctly answers any questions, is capable of citing any article in the encyclopedia and can perform simple duties.
But it is not Artificial Intelligence. It is simply a hunk of metal that obeys man. It cannot think for itself, cannot feel pain, does not grow, does not live! The logic chains that we have taught it to build light up, on and off. After finishing a simple task, it stops.
It is like hitting a cooling body with electricity. It can twist itself in a reflex, but it cannot be made alive.
What is it that we need to make this body live? To give it a soul?
What is it?
Entry 11
Conrad is currently installing the manipulatory arms on the Machine. I had told him that it would be a vital part of our work. I need to complete my calculations in order to install in the Machine what humans would call a consciousness.
Who am I kidding?
Conrad really doesn't care at all - unless he doesn't get paid. Joseph however, is starting to stare at me with doubt. He tried to strike up a conversation about the direction of our future research a couple of times, but I pretended to be too busy for such talk.
I offered him a trip to the sea or the mineral springs for another week or two, because during this stage of the project, it would be best for me to work alone.
He sighed, but did not answer. He knows that I am lying to him, but is too delicate to accuse me of it.
I am worthless. Cowardly and worthless. It's a fact.
Entry 12
A new letter from our benefactor has arrived today.
He is worried about the fate of 'our project' and has asked whether we require any more monetary infusions to give new life to our research. I fear that money will not be the solution.
What a shame! Why did I ever agree to take up his offer? This wonderful stranger believed me... Who knows whether he is actually rich enough for this? Those who pay such astronomical sums for such things are often far from pragmatic and don't have a good grip on their finances. Wouldn't it be far better to invest in car engines, or vending machines?
I answered him, explaining everything as it was. I'll let him decide what to do next...
Entry 13
Conrad has finished developing the arms and mechanical eye.
I sleep during the day, and till dawn sit in the lab. I count, measure... No use. Math and physics cannot help these matters.
In the morning, when I finally go to bed, Peter and Pauliego down to the Machine. They're amazingly curious. Once, I got up earlier than usual after pondering a solution, a flawed one of course. I found them downstairs, and had to chase them away from the lab.
How can I blame them? Perhaps, if I cannot finish my task, after thirty years or so, they could do it for me. Even though their mother slaps them for repeated "Why?"'s and "How?"'s, they only retreat a bit and continue to bombard her with questions.
I recieved an invitation from the stranger for a meet-up. It seems he wants to speak to me face to face to determine whether it is worth it to continue financing our work.
Well, he has a full right to it. And I am interested in meeting him as well.
I need to gather all my courage and admit that our work has met a dead end...
Entry 14
Today is perhaps one of the most incredible days of my life.
At exactly twelve came a car with heavily tinted windows. Two tall, massive men led me inside, and drove in an unknown direction. They did not answer my questions, and neither did they speak between themselves.
It occured to me that they acted just like my Machine: complete a simple task, and shut down until new orders are given.
The sounds of the city soon faded away, and for a good hour we drove down a empty highway. When we finally stopped and the doors opened, I beheld an enourmous mansion, surrounded by a large park.
The fountains - knights carved from marble were struggling with stone serpents, spraying a colored, blood-red liquid. A large square before the main entrance covered with well-rounded pebbles. As well as a cadre of trained, silent servants who look away when looked at, but watch you intently should you turn away...
So who is the owner of this estate?
I was led into a room, an austere one, but not to the point of being morbid. I sat down in a soft velour chair, looking around.
The velour seemed to turn hard as stone underneath me when the owner of the room entered.
I could not have been mistaken: this profile was minted on every single gold coin, printed on every bill that the bank gave me in return for this man's checks.
The Chancellor!
I had to give him his dues, he was quite civil with me. I even began to understand the possibility of his winning the elections, after losing a war he himself had started. Indeed, a very persuasive individual!
However, no one learned a greater lesson from defeat than he himself, he told me as he entered. The war was the greatest of his mistakes, the starting of which was simply because of defective reconaissance, the Chancellor said.
Yes, in the past years, he had only developed new systems of destroying human beings. He now feels guilt before the true sciences.
He isn't planning to conquer the world. He wants to improve it.
He would like to repay for the mistakes he had committed. To repay for the lives he had taken away from his citizens.
And he is in awe of my work... He believes that the difficulties I am facing are only temporary. He believes that by giving me men and other means he can help create a true artificial intelligence.
To help build a Machine that will be much more capable than himself - a consummate human being, mortal, prone to weakness and not at all genius - of controllling the Government itself. A Machine that can make our country, and perhaps the world, a bit better.
His stare isn't as feverish as it is on the photos in the papers. His jaw isn't as square as it is on the golden coins. Strange, but in person, he looks... human.
He asked me to call him simply and informally - Ferdinand.
Entry 15
Forthe first time, I have kept a secret from Aurora. I never told her that I was working for the Chancellor.
Yes... I am working for the Chancellor now. If said out loud, the phrase seems strange, and slightly repulsive.
But it isn't necessary to say it out loud now, is it?
And even so, I have not laid down myy principles: I am not creating a weapon. I am simply continuing to work on that which I dedicated myself to decades ago. I remain true to myself, and only because of that - to the Chancellor.
Entry 16
Joseph’s back from his vacation. He’s asking how things stuck up in his absence. I mumble something uncertain: once I’ll say anything concrete he’d understand anything at once. Maybe, he understands me even without that, but due his ingrown manners and innate sense of tact he simply does not show it.
He entertained me with a funny tale. In a place, where he was on vacation, mineral springs are running. The town, which stands on them, is small, but with gorgeous history. Local waters have healing power, and since the dawn of time they have been attracting people. If you’ll start to dig on any street – ancient ruins come to light.
Some temples are made of an unknown stone, statues with unearthly faces – God knows what. There is a rumour that there are remains of a town under those hills, a town of some mythical civilization, about which our scientists do not utter even a word, because they can explain nothing.
In the Middle Ages the town was a patrimony of alchemists, who’ve walked down through old wells into dungeons, found amazing objects, floated into clay and tried to find out the application of those items.
One fine day just in case the alchemists were hanged, the wells were buried, but their manuscripts continue rambling through private collections.
One of those collectors have told Joseph over a glass of mineral water, that he has an amusing document, which explains how to animate lifeless substance. All that’s needed is some artifact, a legacy of the fallen civilization. In the same treatise there’re drafts, which show, how exactly to construct a golem, how to supply it with and what with and so on.
"We would love to have that artifact’’, - smiled Joseph while looking me in the eye.
"It looks like that’s the only thing, that can save us’’, - was what he really wanted to say.
Entry 17-18 on page four of the thread, translated by Dasha
Entry 19
Today a vehicle stopped before our house - one very similar to the army's armored cars, but painted black.
A courier emerged. He was a man with the posture of a soldier and empty eyes. He then gave me a single package, not mentioning from who it actually was.
Before Aurora could come out and see what engine was making the noise, the vehicle had already driven away from sight. When she asked what was inside the parcel, I lied, saying that I had received a set of custom designed components that I had ordered earlier.
There were of course, no components at all in the package.
Inside, wrapped in a cloth, lay a strange book - bound with calfskin, without a title, very, very old.
I began to read; the writing was in Latin. Insane formulas, mystic terms, diagrams, schemes... I had to recall the Latin course I took in the University. For now, I cannot make much sense of it all. I will resume examining this mysterious gift tomorrow.
Entry 20
I showed the schemes in the book to Conrad.
From sheer boredom, he began to re-draw them, and even began to engineer something from the spare parts he had. He asked me what it was, I just muttered something indistinct, and that was enough for him.
I paid him in full.
I didn't tell anything to Joseph, only proposing that he find something else to do. Of course, he would still get paid. But he only grew irritated.
"What does money have to do with this!?" He shook his head, "Never before in my life have I done anything more interesting. I'm willing to help you until my gravestone, and even after it, should you call me back!"
The passage in the book also mentions a strange artifact, and where to possibly find it...
Entry 21
The device that the book describes is ready, mounted on the Machine. Naturally, without the artifact, it is not yet functional.
I cannot believe it, but I am now beginning to understand how it could possibly work. No, it has nothing to do with science. These are arcane arts of a different order... I wouldn't have learned these things, not even in ten lifetimes.
Unimaginably long ago, it took the lives of hundreds of generations. And then, it was all forgotten.
I asked the Chancellor of an audience. The artifact has to be found.
Entry 22
An entire division of archaeologists in state uniforms was dispatched to the quiet town near the mineral springs.
I returned to my Machine. The last few days I had been wondering whether pure knowledge would be enough for it. I taught it logic, but for wise and just ruling this will not be enough.
It is logical to kill old men instead of paying out social security. It is logical to begin wars in order to take deposits of oil and iron from our neighbors instead of paying for them threefold. It is not logical to appeal death sentences, because it destroys the entire principle of an inevitable punishment.
Humans are far from logical in their actions, which in turn makes them human.
Strange, but even Paul and Peter stopped their nightly trips to the Machine. I once asked them whether they were afraid of it. Paul said "It's cold!", and Peter added "It is waiting". Oh, kids. Always listening to scary stories.
There can be no further progress until the artifact is found - if it exists at all - I will have enough time to teach the Machine to think and feel like a human being.
Entry 23
Today, my house was surrounded by reporters.
I could not make sense of what was happening. It appears that someone had spread a rumor that the work on the Machine is finally complete. I tried to argue, but all in vain.
Then the entire street was cordoned by policemen, and the Chancellor's personal car drove up to my entrance. Aurora stared at it all with horror as she hid the kids.
The Chancellor entered, with the crowd following him inside. He did not explain anything, but only asked to show the Machine to the press. I could not refuse him, although I was constantly saying that the Machine was not yet complete.
"The Greatest Invention of All Time", The Chancellor proclaimed to the reporters. Tomorrow, the papers all carried the same headlines.
Entry 24
Today the unthinkable happened.
At 3 A.M. in the morning, the hall was filled with the thundering sounds of soldiers' boots, followed by loud knocks on the door.
Aurora and the kids were asleep, while I paced the lab, convinced that there was still much work to do before the Machine would be complete.
Frightened, I ran upstairs. I recieved a warrant, after which I was pushed aside as the soldiers went down to the basement. The kids woke up and began to cry, Aurora, still in her nightclothes was pale, muttering something in shock.
They came for the Machine! By his order!
I tried to stop them, ordered the Machine to defend me, but it could not accomplish this, there were simply too many.
The Machine was not ready yet! But they would not listen. They did not care. They were just following orders.
Why would he do this? He did not even have the Artifact...
Entry 25
Conrad disappeared from work, even though I had never told him that the Machine had been stolen. I explained everything to Aurora. She hasn't spoken to me since.
Entry 26
Conrad finally showed up, strangely smiling. He told me of how he goes to work to the residence of the Chancellor himself. Her asked me to hand over the book of Alchemy that I had been given.
I lied to him, told him that I had burned it. Begged him not to help the Chancellor.
He was only doing his work, he answered, work that was more than paid for. He had no interest in the fate of the world.
"You don't have to give it to me" - he grinned - "I have an excellent memory anyway. I'll figure out what to do with the Artifact".
Entry 27
A car came for me today. I was told that the Chancellor was in need of my counsel.
I agreed, I believed that I still had the faint possibility of changing his mind. A vague sense of foreboding clouded my mind; we were going to do something catastrophic, something unforgivable.
Aurora averted her gaze as I got in the vehicle and was driven off.
As I entered the residence, I saw a gigantic room. In the center, on a pedestal sat the Machine. Conrad was nearby, working busily, with a sense of importance. The Chancellor was watching him from a separate chamber through a thick pane of glass, which I reckoned was capable of stopping a heavy explosive round.
I was taken to the Chancellor. He smiled haughtily at me, but did not say a word.
The steel door slammed as it shut. The Chancellor waved his hand, giving the orders to start.
Conrad opened a briefcase, reaching inside and taking out an object identical to the one I had seen in the book. How did they find it!?
He slotted the Artifact into the port that we had together installed on the Machine...
Dear God! It was working
The Artifact came to life, releasing green charges, much like electricity, lit up with an unholy light.
And suddenly it erupted in a powerful arc! The charge hit Conrad in the chest, making him jerk like a rag doll as it pulled out something that glowed and twisted... Something living.
The substance was absorbed into the talisman... The Machine jarred...
Abruptly, its single eye - usually dull and glassy - dilated, glowing with a sinister red light, as if it filled with blood.
Conrad - dead, mangled - fell to the floor.
And the Machine that had consumed his soul before our eyes, rose on its thin legs, and slowly turned, probing the room with an inquisitive glare...
Entry 28
I must have lost consciousness.
I woke up in the hospital. In the psychiatric ward.
I refused to answer any questions that the inspectors from the secret police asked. I was not sure, whether what had happened had been real...
I was released after a couple of days, with the warning that should I make public announcements, I would spend the rest of my days in a strightjacket.
I believed them out of fear.
Aurora cried with happiness when I rang the doorbell.
She was willing to forgive me anything - all because I was still alive.
Entry 29
Now I can only speculate what happened to the cursed Machine - with the aid of the papers.
It seems that it has truly become alive. In any case, no one would be able to program it to do the things it is doing no.
It is creating an entire army of machines. Only the devil knows who taught it to do so. These terrigying things appeared neither in my wildest nightmares, nor in the Encyclopedia I had wired it with.
I saw the photographs in the papers - two legged, walking towers with powerful machine guns. The reporters, like the Chancellor, call them 'Peacekeepers', but I believe that the situation is taking a different turn...
Entry 30
For nights on end, I have struggled to find where I have been mistaken. I read the alchemic tracts again and again, attempting to understand the formulas and codes. And I am beginning to comprehend...
The ancient Talisman is not capable of making souls for things that are not living! It is simply a transfer device. To vivify dead matter with a soul, it must first take it away...
The tract explains how to create artificial vessels - with examples of ragdolls made from burlap sacks.
The soul must fill the body, by some unseen magic make it move, think, live...
But when I had constructed the Machine, I believed that it was different, and I created a certain emptiness, a massive hold for living energy. I thought that the Talisman was capable of filling it up with that power endlessly...
Turns out that the immortal engine does not exist after all... The Talisman simply rips out the soul from it's victims, and transfers it into the Machine's empty tank.
The Machine has no heart, but a stomach. An infinite emptiness. An emptiness that can never be filled.
And if the Machine is indeed developing with such hellish speed, it most likely already understands that it is different from all living things in that it does not have it's own soul - and thus is required to consume those of others...
Poor Conrad!
Entry 31
What have I created!?
I read today's newspaper: "By order of the Chancellor, the death sentence has been changed from the barbaric ways of hanging to a more humane method currently dubbed the "Electric Drain". The Administration has not yet revealed any details about this new technique, aside from the fact that the convict does not suffer, and quickly releases his soul to God under the effect of an electric charge..."
So that's how they passed it off!
"... Currently, over seven hundred individuals are awaiting the enaction of their sentences of the highest degree for their commited acts of murder and rape. On average, over a thousand criminals are sentenced to hanging each year..."
But how long will this be able to sustain the Machine for?
Entry 32
It was as if we had an earthquake yesterday. The tableware shook on the shelves, the kids fell to the floor as it actually shook beneath our feet. I grabbed them and rushed outside...
The gigantic mechanical monsters were advancing up the street, each the size of a tower! An endless stream of them... They emerged from the Factory built for the Machine by the Chancellor in merely a few weeks, where the contraption now toiled in silence and comfort.
The people rushed to the robots with flowers. The photographs of the massive walkers were in every newspaper. And it's not really that bad if the walls crack a bit after such a celebratory parade.
Underneath the main articles, a tiny note: "From now on, for criminal acts such as protesting the Government, espionage, desertion, rebellious acts and sedition, criminals are to be convicted to the sentence of death. This new law has been approved by the Supreme Court."
I had recognized that the souls of criminals wouldn't be enough to feed the Machine for long. However, I did not think that the Chancellor would start feeding it with the souls of his opposition, and everything that relates to it.
What can I do to end this nightmare? Nothing! Should I make any statements, I'll end up in an asylum. No, the most likely outcome is that in compliance with the new laws, I'll end up getting tossed to the Machine that I myself created...
How ridiculous.
The only thing I have left to do is wait.
Entry 33
The 'Peacekeeper' robots stationed on the western front with a neighboring country deflected a despicable attack from their side. They did not stop there.
The aggressors could not gather their wits as the machines entered their capital and installed our flags on their presidental palace.
Our motorized infantry barely managed to get there in time to sign the enemy's capitulation.
This war lasted hardly two days, while the last took hundreds of thousands of lives and lasted several years.
The people rejoice. The Machine is adored. The dark rumor that it executes prisoners dissolves...
I could not sleep, so I walked outside. I saw the long convoys of POW transports driving down the empty streets. Behind the bars - the dark faces of out western neighbors. They were being driven to the Factory. I didn't even want to think of what would happen to them there.
I'm thinking of the noose again.
But I'm too cowardly even for that.
Entry 34
There’re new military summaries in fresh newspapers again. This time from southern frontier.
We’ve became conspiracy victims again. ‘’Peacemaker’’ robots have saved us once more. And again we’ve won less than in a week.
The Mashine have produced a new lot of mechanical killers. Now they’re equipped with catapults with shells, which are able to carry poisonous gas or lethal bacteria.
These news made Millers from the house across the road happy. They say that since that time nobody would poke his head in, for sure.
But now we, it seems, declare war on our ex-allies on the east. It turned out that a good half of their territory is our age-old land. Since we have “peacemakers” at our disposal, we don’t need toput up with it anymore.
Entry 35
With hellish speed, an underground railroad is being built to the Factory. They say it's being built to supply the Factory with iron and coal without creating traffic on the streets.
But I know the real reason: to discretely keep the Machine supplied with human souls...
A horrible idea entered my head... I believed earlier that the Chancellor was the manifestation of a cunning demon. A tempter who forced me to sign an agreement for my own soul... But now I know that he had signed something much more terrible. The Machine assured him power over the world in return for the souls of defeated enemies.
Now I don't even know who it is that makes the decision to start these new wars: the Chancellor, now mad from his own power, or the Machine, that is steadily becoming ever stronger - and hungrier! It seems that this tandem cannot be stopped.
We are at war again, and again we well be victorious... Although the mailmen are sending out funeral notices faster than ever. Thank god that Paul and Peter are still far away from the required drafting age!
Entry 36
We even haven’t time to get that it’s the world war. All the machinery and manpower, which other countries could have give to iron armadas, emerging from the womb of the Factory, tear to threads.
The Machine is really developing with a crazy speed.
What next?
Oh God, what will be next?
Entry 37
If one was to get on their knees and put their ear to the floor, it would be terrifying.
The roar of subterranean trains can be heard 24/7 now. Sometimes, I even think I can hear the screams of the forsaken prisoners.
Their mothers and wives are lied to; they are told that they are being taken to the metropolis for labor. Yes, we have a metropolis now...
It all happens too fast for a person to realize what is truly going on.
The Chancellor has stopped appearing publically. It's not in his image. He is now a living God.
Entry 38
We are hearing strange rumors. Seems that somewhere in the New territories, the machines, out of their own initiative, destroyed a small town...
The papers deny it all, but the war victims returning from the front tell even worse tales.
Hell knows what, they say, is commanding these machines. Doesn't look like it's the General Command.
And the war is reaching a close. The last of the resisting governments are signing their surrenders next week.
It's amazing. It seems that I am now living in an era where a single government took over the entire world. Never before has anyone accomplished such a feat, although every tyrant has tried to do so for the last five thousand years.
Is this the end?
Entry 39
The war is indeed over. The roar of the underground trains has stopped. Is it all over?.. I don't believe it.
Aurora stares at me for a long time, harboring hope. God, I'm so grateful that she's continuing to live with me! That she is still living with the man who created all this...
That she still even considers me human.
Entry 40
I am starting to hear the trains once again. The newspapers are silent. Something is going on.
Has something happened? The Chancellor is appearing in public. He will be personally leading the Triumphal Parade.
Entry 41
Rumors, rumors... Strange, chilling reports are crawling around.
The machines are acting on their own. They treat the population of the New Territories like cattle. They load them on strange black locomotives, which operate on their own, without drivers. Those who resist are shot on the spot. The rest are taken here, to the Capital.
A thick black smoke constantly pours from the Factory chimneys.
A storm is approaching. The papers remain quiet.
Entry 42
The Government has declared a state of emergency - we are at war again.
But with who? They refuse to say.
Just in case, I stopped going outside. Thank God that I managed to accumulate enough provision to last us a few months.
They say that the Chancellor will be giving an important radio address tomorrow.
Entry 43
It happened.
It rebelled. It didn't like the diet that the Chancellor had put it on. It was used to consuming souls by the thousands every day... Such was it's typical rate of consumption.
It would not listen to the arguments, that it was a time of peace. The Chancellor had achieved all he ever wanted. But the Machine wanted much, much more, and would not control its appetite.
That is what really happened. The people however, heard something else.
The Chancellor told them that the science we had so blindly trusted has turned against us. The Machines have risen up against us. We are simply livestock for them, and they will destroy us all.
"Brothers and sisters" - the Chancellor spoke - "You must not give in. Rise with me, against the oppression of the soulless Machine! I am certain, together we will prevail!"
Entry 44
A battle is being fought outside. Citizen soldiers – nobody but legless and armless war veterans, - have rolled out an antitank cannon and are trying to shoot down the walking robot.
At neighbouring threshold dead commissioner is lying, scattered a pile of leaflets with an appeal “Resist!” around him. What a fear…
Another group from a bell tower is pelting the robot with Molotov cocktails, trying to hit in the jugular.
But these monsters do not have jugulars.
Joseph have bumped to us. His house is destroyed, his old mother have died under blockages. He’ll stay overnight in our house and will go to dismantle the ruins tomorrow to bury her humanely.
I’ve told him everything. I’ve asked him to slap me.
He responded that if he’ll slap me, hi’s afraid he would bring me relief. He haven’t stayed in our house.
Entry 45
It is a miracle that our dwelling still stands.
Joseph returned. He asked for forgiveness, telling me that it was not my fault, and that the new Machine was not of my design.
Indeed, isn't it easy to blame the Chancellor for all that has happened?
We have read through the Tract together. Joseph has made some interesting observations.
It's impossible to go outside. The battles rage on day after day. We opened a small space to house the wounded. The medic from the local clinic drags them inside, attempting to treat them. All that remains from the rest of the hospital and its staff are scorched bricks and charred remains.
The doctor crawls outside even under the heaviest fire, he finds fighters that are hardly breathing, and drags them to safety.
Aurora is helping clean their wounds, wash the bloody rags... The remaining provisions are running out.
Paul and Peter sit with me in the basement. They keep themselves busy, reading school texts... They were supposed to go into first grade this fall. They dreamed of it, and talk was only of backpacks and school supplies back then. When will the schools open now? Never?
Entry 46
Together, I and Joseph have made an interesting discovery concerning the Alchemic Tract.
It appears that the soul can be split into several parts to animate not one, but several objects of proportional size. An example - the rag dolls, of which I have already written about.
They are primitive of course... It would be possible to improve and modify these constructions. Give them more ergonomic hands, powerful optics... A pity Conrad is no longer with us, but I can do some handy things as well.
The doctor says that his patients are getting better. However, three of them died last night alone. Among them was a small girl, hardly older than the twins.
The corner of our house was hit by an explosive shell. Paul and Peter were upstairs. They were concussed, and it was a miracle they survived. I sprang to the room, grabbed them and dragged them into the basement. Both had pale, bloodless faces. I didn't realize that it was actually the crumbling plaster. But since that time, a chilling metamorphosis occurred: they no longer cry, no longer make a sound... Only stare, blinking... Their eyes have become different. Thet are not childrens' eyes.
When Aurora found out, she nearly lost her sanity.
"I couldn't protect them! The children! My children! I have to save them, even if I die myself!" She clasped them so tightly, nearly strangling the two.
"Of course we'll protect them" I told her as I tried to calm her down with a triple dose of liquor "Of course we will!"
Entry 47
We have done some more interesting reading... Apparently, if the soul is granted to the Talisman voluntarily, it can be given to those who are dear to it. How can I explain this?.. But it makes no difference. And I do hope I'll never have to resort to it.
From the materials available, I constructed a device described in the Tract. Now I know how to use it properly. I know its secrets..
Joseph is helping me. It seems he is staying true to his word, and will stay with me to the grave.
I began stitching the beings together - first two identical ones, much like my beloved twins. They are playing with the two dolls right now.
They will distract them for the time being.
Thankfully, they have no idea what the dolls are truly for.
Entry 48 omitted
Entry 49
There was nobody in the whole city whom I could save. On the horizon there were silhouettes of machines walking away, driving a cloud of toxic gas in front of them. I knew that soon there will be nobody to save on the whole planet and could do nothing about it.
I left everybody in the basement, raked up only family photos, of me, Conrad and Joseph near the Machine, took some wrinkled banknotes from a box, the unique device that I had assembled, ancient treatise and rag doll sketches.
What more can I do?
Entry 50
The gas has dissipated but the land is dead. The radio is silent. Birds are silent. Flies are silent. It's the end of all life. The Machine secured itself well.
I'm finishing this diary sitting in a closet in the third floor of a building where my parents used to live, where I was born. Not sure why I came here. Guess I just couldn't stay at my house anymore.
I used sacking to sew nine dolls, exactly following instructions from the Tract.
I will divide my soul in nine parts and give them to everybody I owe, and to those who owe to this world. I will my recollections, my emotions and their qualities into nine dolls. The Tract claims that this way I could give them a new life in which they can continue and finish their worldly affairs.
Two parts I give to my beloved children who did not have a chance to grow up and see the world. My children... I never told how much I loved them.
One part to my valiant wife who forgave me everything. She couldn't protect our children, but who could? She will have another chance to make her amends for that - at least as a doll.
One part I will give to Joseph. I owe him that. And I will miss him. He was my only friend after all.
Another part I will give to Conrad. This is the least I can do to make up for what my Machine did to him.
I want to bring to life the doctor that gave his life saving the Resistance fighters. I did nothing to help him then. But there isn't a man I admire more.
One part I shall give to the Chancellor.
Because he died without penitence, too soon and too easily, never comprehending what a terrible crime he had perpetrated. Everyone has a right to feel forgiveness and atonement. The retribution he received is not enough to redeem what he did. I want him to die a king of the world and wake up a rag doll.
And because there is too much I never risked telling him.
And I will let his Bodyguard live again too. Don't know how exactly he touched me but I want him to have a second chance. He will once again protect his master, even after the end of the world.
The last part of my soul I will save for myself. I ought to become a ludicrous and helpless doll too. The Bodyguard's cowardice caused the death of only one villain, and my cowardice caused the death of the whole world. Conrad paid for his foolishness with his life, and I paid with the lives of people dearest to me. The Chancellor condemned to death criminals and public enemies, me, I condemned mice and men alike. My debt is a hundred times heavier than theirs.
When dolls wake up they remember nothing of their previous lives. But then the dark secrets of alchemy step in, and they little by little recover themselves, becoming the people I want to bring back.
I will not guide them, instead I am going to give them numbers. Let them remember by themselves why they are in this world, who they were before, what they are to finish and what bills they are to pay.
They have a common cause: to turn the clock back no matter what. Life must go on.
So, that's it.
I'm slotting the Talisman into the device and closing this diary for good. This is the best I can do with my soul now.
Forgive me.
Different burritos, same good taste.
![--[Evayo-∞-Infinity]-- Avatar](http://25.media.tumblr.com/d21d46616f87a4790a7bcde165fe3d00/tumblr_mn4sj6IUxA1r2g2aho1_250.png)
I'm trying to think, and I'll have to go back and look at the American 9Experiment, but I think both versions could blend. 
