Sandworms of Dune - Brian Herbert [66]
Displays jabbed into Erasmus’s mind, regardless of whether he wanted to see them or not. In bygone days the independent robot had been able to decide what he wanted to download from the evermind, and what he didn’t. Increasingly, however, Omnius had found ways to override the robot’s decision-making abilities, forcing data into his internal systems, sliding it past multiple firewalls.
“Those are mere symbolic victories,” Erasmus said, intentionally shifting to his disguise of the wrinkled old woman in gardening clothes. “I am pleased that we have made it to the edge of the Old Empire, but we still have not won this war. I have spent millennia studying these stubborn, resourceful humans. Do not assume victory until we actually have it in our hands. Remember what happened last time.”
Omnius’s snort of disbelief echoed through the entire city of Synchrony. “We are by definition better than flawed humanity.” From a thousand watcheyes, he looked down upon Erasmus and his matronly disguise. “Why do you persist in wearing that embarrassing shape? It makes you look weak.”
“My physical body does not determine my strength. My mind makes me what I am.”
“I am not interested in your mind either. I simply wish to win this war. I must win. I need to win. Where is the no-ship? Where is my Kwisatz Haderach?”
“You sound as demanding as Baron Harkonnen. Are you unconsciously imitating him?”
“You gave me the mathematical projections, Erasmus. Where is the superhuman? Answer me.”
The robot chuckled. “You already have Paolo.”
“Your prophecy also guaranteed a Kwisatz Haderach aboard the no-ship. I want both versions—redundancy to assure victory. And I do not want the humans to have one. I must control them both.”
“We will find the no-ship. We already know there are many intriguing things aboard, including a Tleilaxu Master. He may be the only one left alive, and I would very much like to speak with him—as would you. The Master needs to see how all those Face Dancers have shaped us, built us, so that we could become closer to gods. Closer than humans, at any rate.”
“We will keep sending out our net. And we will find that ship.”
All around the city, in a dramatic statement of the evermind’s impatience, towering buildings collapsed, full metal structures fell in upon themselves. Hearing the thundering sounds and feeling the floor shake beneath him, the independent robot was not impressed. Too many times he had witnessed such overblown theatrics. Omnius certainly enjoyed running the show, for better and often for worse, though Erasmus continually tried to control the evermind’s excesses. The future depended on it—the future that Erasmus had ordained.
He dug through the projections that he’d digested from trillions of datapoints. All of his results were colored to fit precisely the prophecies he had formulated himself. Omnius believed them all. The gullible evermind relied too much on filtered information, and the robot played him well.
Given the proper parameters, Erasmus was absolutely certain the millennia ahead would turn out properly.
Those who see do not always understand. Those who claim to understand can be the blindest of all.
—the Oracle of Time
What remained of Norma Cenva’s ancient corporeal form was confined inside a chamber that had been built and modified around her during thousands of years. But her mind knew no physical boundaries. She was only tenuously connected to flesh, a biological generator of pure thought. The Oracle of Time.
Her mental links to the fabric of the universe gave her the ability to travel anywhere along infinite possibilities. She could see the future and the past, but not always with perfect clarity. Her brain was such that she could touch the Infinite and almost—almost—comprehend it.
Her nemesis, the evermind, had laid down a vast electronic network throughout