Memories.

Seurat had a lot of them, neatly sorted and filed, available for instant inspection and reflection. It was completely unlike the internal recollections of human beings, with their random-recovery features and recall-by-association techniques. If he wanted a supply of puns or riddles, Seurat had all of them at his mechanical fingertips. If he wanted to review the effect his jokes had on other machines or on humans, he had files for that as well. And a lot more.

But at the moment none of that gave him comfort. He felt oddly lonely as he traveled the long update route by himself.

In the library of his gelcircuitry brain, he had a personal journal of experiences compiled from his regular update runs between the various Synchronized Worlds. His information was broad-based but not particularly deep. He interacted with the Omnius worlds only at a surface level, within the parameters of his duties.

Now, after a quarter century of unavoidable delay, his first stop would be Bela Tegeuse, a small and relatively unimportant planet in the Omnius network. The evermind incarnation there would be the first to receive a copy of the defunct Earth-Omnius’s final thoughts. Though Seurat’s “update” was long outdated, it nonetheless contained vital information, the true records of what had happened on the annihilated machine world, the last, failed decisions of the evermind incarnation.

After delivering his update to Bela Tegeuse, Seurat would hurry to the next machine planet, and the next. Soon, everything would be in order once again.

The robot stood on the bridge of his update ship, scanning the infinity of star systems. His past, present, and future lay out there, a sequence of events that was supposed to be entirely reliable, set up by the evermind’s comprehensive downloads. But machines could only establish programs with probable outcomes, not certainties. Seurat’s interactions with Vorian Atreides had added an unanticipated element.

Most disturbing.

Within his gelcircuitry brain, Seurat encountered a thought that was not his own: an Omnius implant, one of thousands in the independent robot’s subset of databases that guided him along the proper paths, as constructed for him by the evermind.

But I have my own thoughts.

Seurat experienced a brief tug-of-war in his internal programming as he tried to assert himself. A defensive swarm of data inundated the robot captain… Omnius implants keeping him from slipping off-program.

Since he had worked closely with a trustee human, the robot had developed enhanced flexibilities in order to deal with the irrational creatures. He had a rudimentary emotional core that simulated certain basic feelings of humans, just enough to interact with them.

At least that was the way it was supposed to be. But Seurat missed the enjoyable times he had had with Vorian Atreides, the strategy games, the stimulating banter. How many humans does it take to come up with one good idea? The joke danced in his consciousness, and he brought up the punchline: No one can count that high, not even Omnius.

Vor had never objected to such machine sarcasm, had not shown any indications of rebelliousness. There had been no warning signs of mental disturbance whatsoever… until the violent slave uprising on Earth, when Vor had stunned the robot captain and stolen the Dream Voyager. Seurat wondered if he should have noticed some sort of aberration. He also wondered how Vor could have turned against the system that had nurtured him into adulthood.

A thought intruded: I hope he is safe and healthy.

The update ship entered a small solar system and sped toward the gray-blue planet of Bela Tegeuse, a gloomy world far from its sun, where twilight was as bright as any day became.

Having seen the radioactive wreckage of Earth, Seurat approached the planet with special caution. After making radio contact with Tegeusan ground stations, he used image enhancers to examine conditions below.

Finally satisfied that all appeared normal, the robot pilot punched down through the atmosphere and landed at the central city of Comati, a glistening metal stronghold at the base of cold mountains.

Attendant robots rolled across the fused, glassy-smooth landing field to receive him. Because of the urgency of his restored mission, Seurat requested a rapid turnaround, so that he could embark on the next leg of his dissemination run.

With the machine equivalent of reverence, update robots received the silver gelsphere— long thought to be lost— and transferred its data into an Omnius node, which would then upload all of the previously unknown information into the planetary evermind network. The copy proceeded efficiently, and within moments the Bela Tegeuse-Omnius absorbed the lost information about the last moments on Earth.

“Seurat, you have performed a great service for the Synchronized Worlds,” Omnius declared.

Thereupon, the planetary evermind dumped a copy of its own new thoughts since the last update. The entire process was like a conveyor belt, a continuous track in which Seurat and other update ship captains relayed information from one planet to the next, keeping the computer network as synchronized as possible.

Required to continue his route with all possible haste, the robot captain lifted off moments later, leaving Bela Tegeuse behind….

Within hours after Seurat passed beyond communication range, things began to happen behind him. A chain of breakdowns, failures, and cascading disasters occurred on Bela Tegeuse. Transposed landing codes, improperly adjusted reactor exhaust systems, harmful power surges, and logic conundrums paralyzed the network and infrastructure. The Synchronized World crippled itself.

But by that time Seurat was well on his way to the next Omnius stronghold, eager to deliver his update… not knowing he was spreading the altered code like a plague, faster than any warning could be passed from planet to planet.

“ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE IS not the correct term,” Agamemnon said with a growl. “Even sophisticated computers like Omnius are just plain stupid, when faced with the right sort of questions.”

“And yet, my love,” Juno pointed out, “they have held us in thrall for ten centuries. What does that make us?”

The Titans had gathered in space again, another secret rendezvous that included their adopted coconspirator, Beowulf. Duped watcheyes hovered inside a separate ship’s chamber, lenses glinting and recording images that were carefully doctored to fool Omnius.

After the confusion and shutdowns on Bela Tegeuse, at least two other Synchronized Worlds experienced spontaneous breakdowns. Planetary Omnius incarnations deteriorated and went insane, shutting down the evermind network. The Titans suspected that this was some incomprehensible and innovative new attack by the Army of the Jihad. Agamemnon watched with curious optimism, quietly anticipating further damage to Omnius. “I do not object to any means that further weaken the domination of the evermind.”

“Still, it would be good to understand,” Dante pointed out, “then, perhaps, we could make further use of it.”

“And what about our mysterious new enemy who attacked me on Ix and wiped out the thinking machine fleet?” Xerxes asked. His synthesized voice carried a whining tone. He had returned in his damaged raptor form, frightened and unsettled at the unexpected arrival of the artificial asteroid. “Even after the Omnius core was destroyed by atomics, we still could have won the space battle, but that huge juggernaut tipped the scales. I suspect… it was controlled by a cymek. I think—” Xerxes fidgeted. “I think it might have been… Hecate.”

Some of the Titans made disbelieving sounds. Beowulf, eager to speak, said, “Hecate has been gone for centuries. She probably died of boredom out in open space.”

“She was a self-centered fool,” Juno added. Extruding a robotic hand from her shoulder, she used the mechanical fingers to tighten a fitting.

“Still,” Dante pointed out, “she was the only one of us wise enough to flee before Omnius took over. Hecate remained independent, but we’ve been forced to serve the evermind all this time.”

“Perhaps not for much longer,” Beowulf said. Blue lights blinked excitedly around his brain canister.

Dante was curious. “What evidence do you have for this assertion, Xerxes? Considering the number of neo-cymeks that have been created over the centuries, why would you suspect Hecate rather than… some other rogue?”

“Some other rogue?” Juno sounded amused.

“Because after I was damaged and reeling off into space, someone actually communicated with me, a simulated female voice. It was transmitted on my private channel. She knew me, talked about Tlaloc and the Titans, called me by name.”

The cymek general had heard enough. “You are concocting phantoms as an excuse for your failure. Blaming the Army of the Jihad isn’t enough to convince us you weren’t responsible for losing Ix.”

“Why do you always doubt me, Agamemnon? For a thousand years I have worked to make up for my mistake—”

“A million years could not earn you forgiveness. I should dismantle your external sensors and send you drifting off into space, blind and deaf for the rest of eternity. Perhaps Hecate could keep you company.”

Oddly enough, Beowulf acted as peacemaker between them. “General Agamemnon, there are only a few of you left. Must you quarrel amongst yourselves? Aren’t Omnius and the Jihad Army sufficient enemies? This is not the military brilliance I imagined from the famed Titan general.”

Agamemnon was stunned into angry silence. The watcheyes continued to observe and record. Finally, he said, “You are correct, Beowulf.” His acceptance was surprising to those who had known him for a long time. “There will be sufficient opportunity to discuss my grievances with Xerxes after we have won back our glory.”

“And time enough for me to prove myself,” Xerxes suggested.

“Despite my initial disbelief,” Agamemnon said, “I have indeed received separate confirmation, and I intend to share it with you. Xerxes is correct— Hecate has apparently returned, but at present she is irrelevant… as always.” He turned to Beowulf. “Share your ideas with us. We Titans have spoken of our own plans for generations. Let us hear fresh insight from the youngest member of our group.”

“General, neo-cymeks like myself can be convinced to turn against Omnius if they think we can win. We have achieved more than we ever thought possible in our human trustee days, but neos can go no farther as long as Omnius retains control. In a second Time of Titans, though, we could become rulers in our own right.”

“But can we trust them, if their allegiance is so easily shifted?” Juno asked. “The neos were never free. They were human servants rewarded by being converted into cymeks. They owe their physical power and longevity to Omnius, not to us. Such a payment can buy a great deal of loyalty.”

Agamemnon spun his head turret, and his optic threads glinted. “Why not recruit more neo-cymeks from the outset? Create them ourselves from selected human candidates who swear allegiance to us. The Titans may be few, but the possibilities are endless. If we find some way to keep it secret from Omnius, we can foster a fighting force of our own, confident of their total dedication, without concern about treachery.”

The other Titans agreed, and Beowulf launched into a discussion of how they could begin to put this plan into operation.

Agamemnon did not mention the thorn of doubt that continued to scratch at his thoughts. He wasn’t as certain as he claimed to be, since he had been betrayed by even his own son, Vorian Atreides.

That being the case, how trustworthy could other humans be?