The Poetry Machine

Chapter 6

I made an excuse to leave the asylum and made my way to the university where Professor C_ was employed. I was somewhat surprised to find that his office was in the Faculty of Engineering rather than that of English. The porter directed me to his office on the third floor of the faculty building. Professor C_'s door was locked, and there was no answer when I knocked on the glass panel. I decided to sit and wait for him to arrive. My patience was rewarded, when, after half an hour, Professor C_ arrived. I stood up to greet him. "Professor - I have decided to take you up on your invitation."

He looked at me curiously, as if trying to recall the nature of our previous encounters. Then, he smiled at me and extended his right hand. "Dr W_! Of course. Please forgive my lapse in memory. I remember - it was the poetry machine, was it not?"

I nodded. "Would it be convenient?"

Professor C_ paused, his brow furrowed in thought, before replying. "Well, if you have made a special effort to come here just to see my machine, then it would be impolite of me to turn you away. Please, allow me to collect some of my belongings and I will be more than happy to take you."

He unlocked the door to his office and went in. I watched from the threshold as he picked up some papers, before locking up and indicating that I should follow him. Professor C_ led me through the corridors of the faculty and down numerous staircases. I was sure that we were in some nameless basement by the time our journey ended.

The professor stopped by a nondescript door in a long, dimly-lit corridor. He smiled at me as he took a ringfull of keys from his pocket and selected one.

"It is in here - my machine. I am so glad you want to see it. It wants to see you."

If I had been in full possession of my faculties, then I would have realised the import of Professor C_'s words and I would have fled from that place. Instead, all that I knew was that I had to confront this evil and make amends for what had happened to Miss M_. I followed Professor C_ into the room behind the door.

It was a simple storeroom, cleared of the clutter of everyday use. The walls were bare and the floors were covered in scuffmarks: signs that the room had been the location for recent activity. In the centre of the room was a cubical object, shrouded in a spotlessly clean dropcloth. It was obvious that the object beneath the dropcloth was at leat five feet on each side.

Professor C_ approached the object and took a fold of the dropcloth in his hands. Then, he turned to me, smiled with pride and said: "Behold! My machine!" He pulled the dropcloth from the object, tugging at the fabric as it caught on protrusions, until his creation was revealed.

The machine was built inside a box-like frame of metal struts. Wires ran between metal brackets that were studded with electrical parts - valves, relays and suchlike - with no obvious logic to their arrangement. At the front of the machine was an electro-mechanical board, covered with cubes of yellow and black material. These cubes were arranged so that they rotate on one axis, exposing one of four faces to the viewer. As I reached out a hand, the machine seemed to shudder in anticipation of the contact. Professor C_ stayed my approach. "Be careful!"

I looked curiously at him. There was an expression of awe and fear on his face. "Why? It is only a machine."

His eyes shone in the light of the electric bulbs. "This is not just a machine, Dr W_. This machine has a heart. It has a voice! A spirit resides inside it - one that is alien to our understanding, but which will lead us into an era of new perceptions! Think of that, doctor! You, a man of science, should be able to comprehend what this means! What will mankind experience when his mind is opened to the realms of pure creativity?"

As Professor C_'s voice rose, the machine came to life. The valves within it began to glow violet with an unknown current, and the relays clattered in a staccato frenzy. I turned to look at the machine and saw the rotating cubes start to spin and hold and spin again. As I watched, I saw words form and dissolve, forming cryptic patterns of syllables. These were echoed in the rhythm of the machine's operation. A horrifyingly familiar sense of oppression emanated from the mechanism, threatening to consume me. I tore myself from the sight, to see Professor C_'s rictus of triumphant adoration. The urge to rebel against him forced me to action.

"I have seen the consequences of your new mentality! I will not let this foul device corrupt any more!" With that, I turned toward the machine and began to beat my fists against its frame. Professor C_ howled a senseless, animal scream and threw himself upon me. His impact threw me into the mechanism. Instinctively I grabbed at something to steady myself. My hands found metal bars and wiring, both of which came away as our combined weight fell on them. I felt a burning pain in my limbs as they were flooded with the energy that powered the machine. Then, my senses were overwhelmed. As consciousness fled from me, I was only aware of a violet light filling my vision.