Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [187]
The man’s lips quirked in a faint smile. “If you truly understand honor, robot, I won’t need to. You will do what’s right and pay your debt.”
Erasmus was genuinely delighted. “What else do you wish from me? Isn’t it enough that I eliminated all Face Dancers?”
“You and Omnius were responsible for far more mischief than those shape-shifters.”
“Mischief? It was rather more than mischief, wasn’t it?”
“And to atone for it, there’s something you need to do.” Duncan’s attention was entirely focused on the robot, not on the dead Face Dancers, not on the destructive sounds of sandworms outside in the city. Paul, Chani, Jessica, and Yueh all remained quiet in the chamber, watching him.
“I am the final Kwisatz Haderach,” Duncan said, feeling the nascent abilities embedded within him all the way down to his DNA, “yet I need to comprehend so much more. I already understand humans—maybe better than anyone else—but not thinking machines. Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t just eliminate you all, now that the thinking machines are weakened. It’s what the evermind would have done to us.”
“Yes, it is. And you are the final Kwisatz Haderach. The decision is yours.” Erasmus seemed to be waiting for something, his optic threads gleaming like a cluster of stars.
“And is there a way that doesn’t require the annihilation of one or the other? A fundamental change in the universe—Kralizec.” Duncan stroked his chin, thinking. “Omnius’s fleet contains millions of thinking machines. They’re not destroyed, but simply without guidance, correct? And I believe your empire contains hundreds of planets, many of which would never be habitable to humans.”
With his robes flowing around him, the platinum robot began to stroll through the great vaulted hall, stepping over Face Dancer corpses that lay strewn everywhere like marionettes with their strings cut. “That is an accurate assessment. Do you want to find them all, destroy them all, hoping you never miss one? Now that they are without the evermind, it’s even possible that some of the more sophisticated machines could develop independent personalities during a time of long deprivation, as I did. How confident are you in your abilities?”
Duncan followed him closely. Several times, Erasmus glanced back at him, and made an odd series of expressions, from inquisitive scowls to tentative smiles. Did he see a bit of fear there, or was it feigned? “You’re asking me if I want victory . . . or peace.” It was not a question.
“You are the superhuman. I say it again—decide for yourself.”
“Through more lifetimes than I can count, I’ve learned patience.” Duncan took a long, deep breath, using an old Swordmaster technique to center his thoughts. “I’m in a unique position to draw both sides together. Humans and machines are both battered and weakened. Do I choose extermination for one side as the solution?”
“Or recovery for both?” Erasmus stopped, and with a blank expression faced the man. “Tell me, what precisely is that dilemma? Omnius has been ripped from the universe, and the rest of the thinking machines have no leadership. In one swift blow I have expunged the entire Face Dancer threat. I fail to see anything left to solve. Hasn’t the prophecy come true?”
Duncan smiled. “As is the case with so many prophecies, the details are vague enough to convince any gullible mind that everything was ‘foretold.’ The Bene Gesserit and their Missionaria Protectiva were masters at that.” He looked closely at the robot. “And so, I think, are you.”
Erasmus seemed both surprised and impressed. “What are you suggesting?”
“Since you were in charge of the ‘mathematical projections’ and the ‘prophecies’ based on them, you were in a position to write predictions however you wished. Omnius believed everything.”
“Are you saying I made up the prophecies?” Erasmus asked. “Perhaps as a way to guide an evermind stubbornly intent on a narrowminded course of action? Perhaps to bring us precisely to this juncture? A very interesting hypothesis. One worthy of a true