The Gods Look Down (18 page)

‘There we have it,' Dagon said, his voice sounding distant and soft in the electro-synthetic larynx, activated by the respiratory implant. ‘You were able to program the system to interpret the text into technical data. I could not have done that.'

‘Is it of value to you?'

‘You don't know how much, Queghan.' His blank dead eyes moved like marbles in their sockets. ‘Sit down, I have something to show you. You too, Blake.' He operated the parachair and returned to the desk with a dark green vinyl folder. Queghan saw the title and it gave him an odd twinge of apprehension. It read:
THE DAGON FILE
.

Dr Francis Dagon opened the cover and glanced at the first page. He suddenly reached down and adjusted one of the controls in the base of the chair and there was an answering gurgle of fluid in one of the pipes. He said, ‘This is an account taken from the First Book of Samuel in the Old Testament of the Judaeo-Christian Bible. You're both aware that my namesake, Dagon ben Shem Tov, lived in the 13th century, but you probably don't know of a god called Dagon who lived several hundred years before the birth of Christ. If we look at I Samuel Chapter 5 we read: “And the Dagonites took the Ark of God and brought it from Eben-ezer unto Ashdod. When the Dagonites took the Ark of God they brought it into the house of Dagon, and set it by Dagon”. Since I came across that reference – I've been researching the various texts which deal with that period of history and the degree of similarity between them is remarkable. It seems that between 1000 and 800 years
BC
 – it's difficult to be more precise – a nomadic tribe of the desert was visited by a physical manifestation of God. There are several versions of this but they all refer to “a pillar of fire” and “a pillar of cloud” which appeared suddenly before them in the desert. At about this time the tribe established a settlement and it was ruled over by a man named Kish who became known as
the First of the Prophets. A temple was built and it was in the temple that we first hear of the “Ark of the Covenant of the Lord”. The Biblical accounts never specify precisely what the Ark is or where it came from, and it wasn't until I came across a reference to the Ark in
The Book of Splendours
 – where it's known as the “Ancient of Days” – that I was able to build up a more complete picture.

‘The tribe lived peacefully for several generations and gradually a city was constructed with the temple as its focal point. They were a deeply religious people and worshipped the Ark as a symbol of God. About three to four hundred years after the time of Kish, when the city was well-established, the tribe was threatened by the Dagonites. It seems they sent an emissary who demanded that the High Priest should give up the Ark and deliver it to Dagon in his temple at Ashdod. The High Priest, called Eli, refused, and the Dagonites declared war. It was then, according to the Book of Samuel, that the Lord appeared in a vision. This is the actual text:

‘There was a battle and the tribe was defeated. The people were at a loss to understand this because they believed the Lord to be on their side. Again, if we refer to I Samuel Chapter 4:

‘It has always been something of a mystery as to where the Dagonites originated from; according to the texts they had no direct antecedents but seem to have suddenly materialized from nowhere. The information provided by the neuron processing technique was extremely valuable in that it confirmed what I already suspected – that the Dagonites were a species of genetic mutations who had, for want of a better word, been “manufactured”. Their creator was Dagon ben Shem Tov and the prototype of the new species was the figure you called Angel. The species had been placed on Old Earth at that time and in that place with one objective: to subvert the natural process of history. It was Dagon ben Shem Tov's intention to create a Saviour in his own likeness but he was faced with an obstacle, an enigma – the Ark of the Lord. Another intelligence, from somewhere in time and space, knew of his plan and had chosen a people to oppose him and his followers, and the Ark was the symbol of power of that intelligence. It was imperative that Dagon capture the Ark and he could then destroy it or use it for his own purposes. He succeeded. The Book of Samuel tells us:

‘Afterwards, as I have said, the Ark was taken to the temple at Ashdod and set before the god Dagon. What has always seemed strange is that Dagon ben Shem Tov, in transcribing the history of those times, didn't know the purpose of the Ark or where it had come from.'

He lifted his head and they saw for the first time that his dead ceramic eyes were capable of expression. The light sensing arrays in each artificial pupil glittered malignantly, tiny specks of silicate scanning their electromagnetic spectra and feeding the data to Dagon's brain.

All the time he had been speaking Queghan had begun to understand – slowly at first and then with gathering momentum – the implications of Dagon's mad idea that the future could affect the past; and in the mythological sense he was perfectly right. In an instant of absolute clear-sighted prescience the Myth Technologist saw what the dream had been intended to show him and he marvelled at his own stupidity.' Karve too had been just as obtuse – so near the truth with his theory of protoplasmic mutation – because it was now evident that Dr Francis Dagon wasn't human at all but the result of a long tortuous process of genetic malformation.

He himself was a mutant.

And what disturbed Queghan even more was the realization of Dagon's ultimate purpose: the disruption of Judaeo-Christian history to the extent that the tribe which was destined to bring forth Christ would be wiped from the face of the planet
and in His place a new ‘Saviour' would arise – a mutant Anti-Christ spawned by the line of Dagon.

From the very beginning it had been Dr Francis Dagon's mission to discover the purpose of the Ark of God and to communicate the information back through time. Dagon now possessed that information and the irony was that Queghan had helped him get it: he and Blake had unwittingly provided the means – both technical and mytho-logical – to enable him to complete the dossier which lay on the desk:
THE DAGON FILE
.

Milton Blake, it seemed, still hadn't grasped the implications of the story, for he said, ‘If Dagon ben Shem Tov didn't discover the purpose of the Ark he couldn't have subverted the natural process of history. Isn't that so?'

‘Oh yes,' Dagon said in his sighing whisper. ‘But now we do know.'

Blake frowned and glanced at Queghan, apparently mystified. ‘Chris?'

‘Dr Dagon believes his cause is not yetlost.'

‘What I have described to you is history according to the Judaeo-Christian Bible. It is one version of what may or may not have taken place. We know that a Saviour was born but do we know which Saviour it was?'

‘Yes of course,' Blake said uncertainly.

‘Do you know?' Dagon asked the mythographer.

Queghan was staring at the smooth thermoplastic shape of Dagon's head and remembering his dream of the mutant girl who had come to pieces in front of his eyes. He remembered also the machine in the chamber and the beam of pure light searching the desert, scorching a path through living flesh.

He couldn't answer.

Karla Ritblat was a formidable woman and she ran Psycho-Med on military lines. At MyTT she was regarded as an ogress with a fearsome appetite for work and a reputation for driving her staff until they collapsed of brain fatigue; and yet those who knew her well – nobody knew her intimately – recognized this as an elaborate subterfuge which had been erected over the years as a form of self-defence. Her bark was worse than her bite though her bark was quite enough to frighten most people.

She had silver hair cut into a square rigid shape which framed her rather heavy-looking face whose main feature was a bulbous nose that cosmetics could do little to disguise or improve. Physical appearance often dictates character and in the case of Karla Ritblat it had been the overriding influence. Somewhere inside that stocky frame supported by cumbersome legs and thick ankles there was a pleasant and sympathetic woman struggling to get out.

She stood four-square in the Psycho-Med Laboratory on Level 23, her bulk outlined against the triangular tinted window, and said in her flat no-nonsense voice, ‘You know my professional opinion. If the Director thinks it can be done let him take the responsibility.'

‘We need your support, Karla,' the mythographer said patiently. ‘And your co-operation. We require more than just tacit approval.'

‘You want me to say what I don't think so you can proceed with a clear conscience. I've said and will say again: you're tempting fate, Queghan. To start meddling with the past is an extremely dangerous business.' She leaned against the balustrade and folded her arms in a movement that was firm, abrupt, almost masculine.

Queghan said, ‘All right, we know we have the injection technique all sewn up but do we have the psycho-medical backup? The responsibility is mine and the Director's but if we can't sustain adequate life-support during the term of injection there's no point in making the attempt. Can it be done – yes or no?'

Karla Ritblat debated a moment or two, enjoying the taste of decisive power. She wasn't a vainglorious woman, neither was she in the habit of wallowing in the shallow sensual pleasures of the ego, but it was true that her profession was the only opportunity she had of expressing her individuality and gaining the respect of other people. She was good at her job and knew it.

‘The Director has no reservations about making the attempt?'

‘He knows there's a risk but the risk is inherent in any form of mythic projection. The probability of success as against failure is fifty per cent: it always has been and always will be, we can't alter that whatever we do. The only thing we
can
do is to ensure that all systems are functioning properly and at optimum efficiency.' Queghan sat forward in the chair and said earnestly, ‘Karla, I want to know if you can keep me alive during injection.'

‘If I say yes you'll go ahead and make the attempt. If I say no, then you won't – so effectively the responsibility has devolved to me and this department. The Director will only agree
providing
he has my assurance that from a psycho-medical point of view injection is feasible.'

‘As head of Psycho-Med you are only required to give your unbiased professional opinion based on the facts available to you. And that's all I'm after. Ethical considerations don't enter into it.'

Karla Ritblat lowered her head to gaze at the floor and a sheen of light moved across the silver helmet of hair. When she spoke again her voice had a thinner edge to it. ‘I can't recall any other project at MyTT in which we've planned, quite deliberately, to interfere with the past.'

‘It hasn't been necessary before,' Queghan answered shortly. He had been afraid of becoming embroiled in such a discussion; Karla wanted to see him jump through hoops.

‘And is it necessary now?'

‘I think so. And so does Karve.' He concealed his irritation and said reasonably, ‘We haven't made the decision lightly or for the fun of it, we've discussed the whole thing at length and in considerable detail. Karve thought we should make the attempt and I agree with him.'