Arriving on Poritrin at the conclusion of her first long space voyage, Norma Cenva felt out of place. Her diminutive form drew glances, but was not so unusual that people turned pitying stares upon her. On the Unallied Planets there was a variety of races, some with stunted statures. She didn’t care about the opinions of others anyway. She only wanted to impress Tio Holtzman.

Before Norma’s departure from Rossak, her aloof mother had looked down at her with dismissive puzzlement. Zufa chose to believe that the brilliant Savant had made a mistake or had misread one of Norma’s theoretical papers. She expected her daughter to return home before long.

Aurelius Venport had made all of the arrangements, used his own profits to pay for a nicer cabin than Holtzman had offered. While her mother continued to work with the Sorceress trainees, Venport had accompanied Norma to the docking-transfer stations in Rossak orbit. He had given her a gift of delicately petrified flowers and a chaste hug before she’d climbed aboard the vessel. With a wry smile, he told her, “All of us disappointments need to stick together.”

Norma held onto that warm but troubling comment during the long journey to Poritrin. . . .

When the shuttle landed in the river-delta city of Starda, Norma carefully inserted Venport’s petrified flowers into her mousy brown hair, a sprig of beauty that contrasted with the plainness of her wide face, large head, and rounded nose. She wore a loose blouse and comfortable hose, both woven from fernfibers.

Jostled by other passengers crowded at the shuttle hatch, the girl carried only a small travel pack. Climbing down the ramp, Norma felt flushed and eager to meet the scientist she admired, a thinker who took her seriously. She had heard many stories of Savant Holtzman’s mathematical prowess, and she would be hard pressed to contribute anything the great man hadn’t already developed. She hoped she would not let him down.

Scanning the waiting crowd, she immediately recognized the eminent scientist. A clean-shaven man with shoulder-length gray hair, Holtzman appeared to be in his late middle years. His hands and fingernails were clean, his clothing impeccable and ornamented with stylish designs and badges.

He greeted her with a broad smile and open arms that let the sleeves of his white robe droop. “Welcome to Poritrin, Miss Cenva.” Holtzman placed both hands on her shoulders in formal greeting. If he experienced any disappointment upon seeing Norma’s stature and coarse, unattractive features, he did not show it. “I certainly hope you’ve brought your imagination with you.” He gestured toward a doorway. “We have a lot of work to do together.”

He steered her through the spaceport crowds, away from their curious stares, then took her away from Starda Spaceport in a private limo-barge that floated high above the graceful Isana River.

“Poritrin is a peaceful world, where I can let my mind wander and think of things that might save the human race.” Holtzman smiled proudly at her. “I’m expecting that of you, too.”

“I will do my best, Savant Holtzman.”

“What more could any person ask?”

The skies of Poritrin held a gauze of clouds painted citrus yellow with afternoon sunlight. The barge drifted above the multifingered streamlets that wrapped around shifting islands and sandbars. Traditional boats rode the current of the broad river, loaded with grains and cargo for distribution in the port city and export offworld. Fertile Poritrin fed many less-fortunate planets, in return for which they received raw materials, equipment, manufactured goods, and human slaves to add to their labor force.

Some of the largest buildings in the spaceport were actually boats on pontoons, anchored to the bases of sandstone bluffs. The roofs were composed of layered shingles of silver-blue metal, smelted in mines far to the north.

He gestured to a bluff overlooking the crowded portions of blue-roofed Starda, where she could recognize the influences of classic Navachristian architecture. “My laboratories are up there. Buildings and supply sheds, quarters for my slaves and solvers, as well as my own home— everything built into that double spire of rock.”

The floating transport circled toward two sections of stone, like adjacent fingers rising above the riverbed. She could see sheetplaz windows, awning-covered balconies, and a walkway that linked a dome on one spire with a conical stone tower and outbuildings on the other.

Holtzman was pleased to note the amazement on her face. “We have quarters for you, Norma, in addition to private lab facilities and a team of assistants to perform calculations based upon your theories. I expect you to keep them all very busy.”

Norma looked at him, puzzled. “Someone else to do the mathematics?”

“Of course!” Holtzman brushed iron-gray hair away from his face and adjusted his white robe. “You’re an idea person, like me. We want you to develop concepts, not bother with full-fledged implementation. You should not waste time performing tedious arithmetic. Any halfway-trained person can do that. It’s what slaves are for.”

When the floating barge settled onto a glazed-tile deck, servants emerged to take Norma’s bags and offer the two of them cool drinks. Like an eager boy, Holtzman led Norma to his impressive laboratories. The large rooms were filled with water clocks and magnetic sculptures in which spheres orbited about electrical paths without wires or gears. Sketches and half-finished drawings covered electrostatic boards, surrounded by serpentine calculations that went nowhere.

Glancing around, Norma realized that Holtzman had abandoned more concepts than she had ever created in her life. Even so, many of the cluttered papers and geometric drawings looked a bit old. Some of the ink had faded, and papers were curled around the edges.

With a swish of his wide sleeves, Holtzman gave the intriguing items a dismissive wave. “Just toys, useless gadgets that I keep for my amusement.” He poked a finger at one of the floating silver balls, which sent the other model planets into dangerous orbits, spinning about like heavenly bodies out of control. “Sometimes I dabble with them for inspiration, but usually they only make me think of other toys, not the weapons of mass destruction we need in order to save us from the tyranny of machines.”

With a distracted frown, Holtzman continued, “My work is constrained in that I cannot use sophisticated computers. In order to perform the enormous calculations required to test a theory, I have no recourse but to rely upon human mental abilities and hope for the best from the fallible calculational skills of trained people. Come, let me show you the solvers.”

He led her to a well-illuminated chamber with high windows. Inside, numerous identical benches and flat tabletops had been set up in a grid layout. Workers hunched over each writing surface using handheld calculation devices. From their drab garments and dull expressions, Norma judged that these men and women must be some of Poritrin’s numerous slaves.

“This is the only way we can imitate the abilities of a thinking machine,” Holtzman explained. “A computer can handle billions of iterations. We have a harder time of it, yet with enough people working in concert and as specialists, we accomplish billions of calculations on our own. It just takes longer.”

He walked down the narrow aisles between the solvers, who were furiously scribing numbers and mathematical symbols on flat slates, checking and double-checking answers before passing them on to the next person in line.

“Even the most complex math can be broken into a sequence of trivial steps. Each of these slaves has been trained to complete specific equations in an assembly-line fashion. When taken together, this collective human mind is capable of remarkable feats.” Holtzman surveyed the room as if he expected his solvers to give him a resounding cheer. Instead, they studied their work with heavy-lidded eyes, moving through equation after equation with no comprehension of reasons or larger pictures.

Norma felt sympathy for them, having been belittled and ignored for so long herself. She knew intellectually that human slavery was a way of life on many League Worlds, as it was throughout the machine-ruled planets. Nevertheless, she supposed that these workers would prefer doing mental work to heavy labor out in the agricultural fields.

With a magnanimous gesture, the scientist said, “Every solver is at your disposal, Norma, whenever you develop a theory that needs verification. The next stage, of course is to build prototypes for further testing and development. We have plenty of labs and test facilities, but the most important work comes first.” He tapped a fingertip on his own forehead. “Up here.”

Holtzman gave her a cockeyed grin and lowered his voice. “Mistakes are possible, of course, even at our level. If that happens, we hope that Lord Niko Bludd is tolerant enough to keep us around.”