Transcriber's Note:
This etext was produced from If Worlds of Science Fiction November 1953. Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.
TURNING POINT
By Alfred Coppel
Illustrated by Philip Parsons
The man is rare who will give his life for what is merelythe lesser of two evils. Merrick's decision was eventougher: to save human beings at the expense of humanity, orvice versa?
This, then, was the Creche, Anno Domini 2500. A great, mile-squareblind cube topping a ragged mountain; bare escarpments falling away toa turbulent sea. For five centuries the Creche had stood so, and theAndroids had come forth in an unending stream to labor for Man, theMaster....
—Quintus Bland, The Romance of Genus Homo.
irector Han Merrick paced the floor nervously. His thin, almostascetic face was pale and drawn.
"We can't allow it, Virginia," he said, "Prying of this sort can onlyprecipitate a pogrom or worse. Erikson is a bigot of the worst kind.The danger—" He broke off helplessly.
His wife shook her head slowly. "It cannot be prevented, Han. Someonewas bound to start asking questions sooner or later. History shouldhave taught us that. And five hundred years of secrecy was more thananyone had a right to expect. Nothing lasts forever."
The trouble is, Merrick told himself, simply that I am the wrongman for this job. I should never have taken it. There's a wrongness inwhat we are doing here that colors my every reaction and makes meincapable of acting on my own. Always the doubts and secretquestioning. If the social structure of our world weren't moribund, Iwouldn't be here at all....
"History, Virginia," he said, "can't explain what there is noprecedent for. The Creche is unique in human experience."
"The Creche may be, Han, but Sweyn Erikson is not. Consider hisbackground and tell me if there hasn't been an Erikson in every eraof recorded history. He is merely another obstacle in the path ofprogress that must be overcome. The job is yours, Han."
"A pleasant prospect," Merrick replied bleakly. "I am an organizer,not a psychotechnician. How am I supposed to protect the Creche fromthe likes of Erikson? What insanity bore this fruit, Virginia? TheProphet, the number one Fanatic, coming here as an investigator inthe name of the Council of Ten! I realize the Council turns pale atthe thought of the vote the Fanatics control, but surely somethingcould have been done! Have those idiots forgotten what we do here? Isthat possible?"
Virginia Merrick shook her head. "The stone got too hot for them tohandle, so they've thrown it to you."
"But Erikson, himself! The very man who organized the Human SupremacyParty and the Antirobot League! If he sets foot within the Creche itwill mean an end to everything!"
The woman lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply. "We can't keep him outand you know it. There's an army of Fanatics gathering out there inthe hills this very minute. Armed with cortical-stimulant projectors,Han. That isn't a pleasant way to die—"
Merrick studied his wife carefully. There was fear under her ironcontrol. She was thinking of the shattering pain of death under theproject