Foundation's Edge - Isaac Asimov [31]
The eyes were no more than sense organs. The brain was no more than a central switchboard, encased in bone and removed from the working surface of the body. It was the hands that were the working surface, the hands that felt and manipulated the Universe.
Human beings thought with their hands. It was their hands that were the answer of curiosity, that felt and pinched and turned and lifted and hefted. There were animals that had brains of respectable size, but they had no hands and that made all the difference.
And as he and the computer held hands, their thinking merged and it no longer mattered whether his eyes were open or closed. Opening them did not improve his vision nor did closing them dim it.
Either way, he saw the room with complete clarity--not just in the direction in which he was looking, but all around and above and below.
He saw every room in the spaceship and he saw outside as well. The sun had risen and its brightness was dimmed in the morning mist, but he could look at it directly without being dazzled, for the computer automatically filtered the light waves.
He felt the gentle wind and its temperature, and the sounds of the world about him. He detected the planet's magnetic field and the tiny electrical charges on the wall of the ship.
He became aware of the controls of the ship, without even knowing what they were in detail. He knew only that if he wanted to lift the ship, or turn it, or accelerate it, or make use of any of its abilities, the process was the same as that of performing the analogous process to his body. He had but to use his will.
Yet his will was not unalloyed. The computer itself could override. At the present moment, there was a formed sentence in his head and he knew exactly when and how the ship would take off. There was no flexibility where that was concerned. Thereafter, he knew just as surely, he would himself be able to decide.
He found--as he cast the net of his computer-enhanced consciousness outward--that he could sense the condition of the upper atmosphere; that he could see the weather patterns; that he could detect the other ships that were swarming upward and the others that were settling downward. All of this had to be taken into account and the computer was taking it into account. If the computer had not been doing so, Trevize realized, he need only desire the computer to do so--and it would be done.
So much for the volumes of programming; there were none. Trevize thought of Technical Sergeant Krasnet and smiled. He had read often enough of the immense revolution that gravitics would make in the world, but the fusion of computer and mind was still a state secret. It would surely produce a still greater revolution.
He was aware of time passing. He knew exactly what time it was by Terminus Local and by Galactic Standard.
How did he let go?
And even as the thought entered his mind, his hands were released and the desk top moved back to its original position--and Trevize was left with his own unaided senses.
He felt blind and helpless as though, for a time, he had been held and protected by a superbeing and now was abandoned. Had he not known that he could make contact again at any time, the feeling might have reduced him to tears.
As it was he merely struggled for re-orientation, for adjustment to limits, then rose uncertainly to his feet and walked out of the room.
Pelorat looked up. He had adjusted his Reader, obviously, and he said, "It works very well. It has an excellent Search Program. --Did you find the controls, my boy?"
"Yes, Professor. All is well."
"In that case, shouldn't we do something about takeoff? I mean, self-protection? Aren't we supposed to strap ourselves in or something? I looked about for instructions, but I didn't find anything and that made me nervous. I had to turn to my library. Somehow when I am at my work--"
Trevize had been pushing his hands at the professor as though to dam and stop the flood of words. Now he had to speak loudly in order to override