The Rod of Light (Soul of the Robot)

Having drained the wine cup, the templar put it down but this time did not refill it. ‘Do you seek ancient knowledge, robot? Then you have come to the right place, because this is the last temple of the world’s first and only true religion—the religion of Zoroaster, founded on an objective knowledge of the real nature of the world.’

‘I would not have attributed “objective knowledge” to any religion,’ Jasperodus said pensively.

‘You would be correct as to the others. They are all corruptions or misunderstandings of some aspect of Zoroastrian teaching.’

‘What, exactly, is the purpose of this temple?’ Jasperodus enquired. ‘Is it a place of instruction? Do you have pupils?’

The other smiled, his parchment-like skin creasing. ‘I was a pupil once. There are no more, except the occasional wayfarer. Come, let me show you my one and only function.’

The man rose, and beckoned. Deeper into the temple they went, to where the light was dim and the passages were of bare stone. Then the templar drew aside a curtain and ushered the hulking robot into the inner sanctum.

They were in a dome-shaped chamber, the concave ceiling painted midnight-blue and pricked with bright points of light to represent stars. The centre of the chamber was occupied by a fan-shaped flame which burned with a hissing sound and threw off an almost overpowering scent, again of roses. Like a peacock’s tail blazed this fan, reaching almost to half the height of the chamber. Yet for all its size its glow was soft. It failed to dispel the dimness of the room.

The flame too contained brighter flecks, like those in the flame of the shrine outside the temple but larger. They soared, danced and gyrated, and vanished as they reached the fire’s fringe.

‘Does the flame inspire you, robot?’ came the templar’s dry voice. ‘It should. It is the symbol of what your kind gropes for and covets. The fire is the fire of consciousness that roars through the universe and brings awareness to transient forms Those sparks you see are individual souls, born of the fire and glowing briefly, only to vanish forever when their course is done. You asked me what is the difference between man and robot. You know very well, I think.’

Jasperodus felt chill at these words. He turned to confront his host. The man stared back at him, eyes of pale blue directly meeting the red eyes of the robot.

‘How would I know?’ Jasperodus demanded.

The templar made no answer but turned and strolled from the chamber.

Back in the living room he took his place as before and resumed drinking heavily. Jasperodus began to get the impression that he drank constantly.

‘Well, now you know my function. I am the last keeper of the sacred flame, the last worshipper of Ahura Mazda. With my death, the light of the world is symbolically quenched.’

‘You live here alone?’ asked Jasperodus.

‘I know of no neighbour within a hundred miles.’

‘How do you provide for yourself?’

‘Ancient science.’ The templar smiled. ‘There is a garden on the other side of the hill, covered with a glass dome. It contains special tanks and trays for growing food quickly and easily. There I also ferment my wine.’

‘I am interested in this teaching of Zoroaster. Tell me something about it.’

‘Indeed, I know you are,’ the templar said, with what Jasperodus thought annoying mysteriousness. He prevaricated, but when Jasperodus pressed him further he proved more than willing to expatiate.

The world, he said, consisted of a cosmic struggle between two opposed and roughly equal powers, personified by the gods Ahura Mazda, prince of light, and Ahriman, prince of darkness. By light was meant the realm of consciousness or spirit. By darkness was meant the realm of unconsciousness, of dense materiality and blind mechanical forces. From the beginning of time the war between the two had gone on without pause, as each sought to subdue the other and make itself ruler of all existence.

Though the conflict took many forms, the surfaces of planets were a front-line of special interest. Here the two principles struggled in a kind of scrum, mixing and mingling. From the unharmonious mixture there arose organic life, compounded of awareness and gross matter both.

When Jasperodus asked with what weapons the gods fought, the templar seemed amused. The angels of Ahura Mazda do not confont the dark directly,’ he said. ‘Insofar as we are concerned, it is through the affairs and hearts of men that they contend with the dark angels of Ahriman. What are the two currents in the human psyche? There is the striving towards the light, that is, for greater consciousness. And there is also submission to the powers of unconsciousness, that is, animal ignorance, coarse cruelty, tyranny, failure to perceive. The struggle between the two is the struggle between Ahura Mazda and Ahriman. And it is there, in the affairs of men, that Ahriman will shortly have his victory.’

‘So you are pessimistic about the future of mankind?’