Historians and scientists face in opposite directions: One looks to the past, the other to the future. The wise scientist, however, listens to historians and considers the past in order to create the most acceptable future.

—PTOLEMY, Denali notebooks

When Ptolemy learned of the massacre at Thonaris, the news only reinforced his nightmares stemming from the wreck of his lab, the murder of his partner, and the fanatic Manford spurning the gift of new legs. Because of the Butlerians, superstition, ignorance, and violence were becoming the norm in society. Rational people were already going into hiding, progress was stalling, and humanity was beginning to plunge into the abyss of a new Dark Age.

For all of this, Ptolemy loathed Manford Torondo more than anyone he had ever known.

Throughout most of his life, Ptolemy had been a peaceful, innocuous man, following his own interests and paying little attention to outside political squabbles. Serena Butler’s crusade against the thinking machines had ended decades before he was born, but the continued Butlerian paranoia served Manford’s purposes. Technology was only an imaginary enemy that Manford used to rally his followers and build his own power structure.

The recent purge of biological research on Tlulax was an extension of the Butlerian wish to eradicate all science; the attack on the Thonaris shipyards was an escalation of their senseless violence. And the recent vote in the Landsraad Hall was an outright challenge to civilized human beings. Instead of keeping the Butlerian radicals on the fringe, operating outside of legitimate government, the Landsraad resolution granted Manford Torondo political standing and the explicit support of the Imperium. His extremism was being folded into the mainstream.

Ptolemy felt sickened, as he saw civilization crashing all around him. This could not be tolerated. Reasonable people had to fight back!

In an imploring message, Directeur Venport had urged all researchers on Denali to increase their efforts to defend against Manford’s insidious assault, thus galvanizing the exiled scientists.

It was time for the next step, Ptolemy decided. He requested a special meeting with Administrator Noffe in the brain-preservation lab, where the walls were lined with bubbling tanks. The expanded brains of failed Navigators hung in nutrient fluids, cut off from sensory output but kept alive. Ptolemy often spent hours regarding those disembodied brains, wondering what thoughts might be swirling through the gray matter.

Now he turned to Noffe (who was harried by the pressures placed upon him) and said, “We have an opportunity, Administrator. We need to take extreme action to face an extreme threat.”

“I am always eager to hear your ideas, Ptolemy.” Noffe often seemed distracted and overwhelmed, and that had allowed Ptolemy to complete a significant task without his knowledge.

“They must be more than just ideas. I know you hate the Butlerians, as I do. Every researcher on Denali has been harmed by them, and I don’t doubt that Josef Venport will authorize, and even applaud, what I propose. It will change everything.”

The administrator looked at him inquisitively.

Gazing one last time at the uniform arrays of enhanced brains, Ptolemy turned. “Follow me.” He led the Tlulaxa administrator to the airtight hangar, where bright glowpanels illuminated his trio of refurbished and fully functional cymek walkers; a mere glance at the imposing machines still inspired a visceral fear in Ptolemy.

Noffe’s expression wavered between intimidation and admiration. “Three complete walkers!” He walked closer, awed and nervous. “I knew you were working on the old artifacts, but—”

“I’ve found hundreds. I’ve studied them, and I understand them—and we don’t need to be mere scavengers of old, defeated technology. We can build new walkers, more advanced machine forms with better armor and stronger weaponry. You think the old cymeks were fearsome? Wait until you see my new ones!”

Noffe continued to stare, then said in a very small voice, obviously afraid of the answer, “To what purpose?”

“I have studied records from the Time of Titans—the original source material, the memoirs of General Agamemnon, and before that, the manifesto of Tlaloc. Back then, the human race had gone stagnant, grown weak. The Titans were ambitious, but in a certain sense they had altruistic motives, as well, although their own aggressive personalities brought about their downfall.”

He turned away from the powerful walkers, smiled at Noffe. “We can do better. With the enhanced brains in the experimental lab, and with improved technology, we can create a new set of cymeks—more powerful, more intelligent, and more adaptable than before.

“And they’ll need someone to lead them … possibly Josef Venport, if he is willing to undergo the radical surgery. If not, Administrator, you and I can be the first of the next generation of cymeks. With new Titans, we might manage to stave off the impending Dark Age.”

Both men discussed all the horrendous damage that Manford and his followers had caused. Then Noffe mused, “Yes, we could achieve a glorious victory. A new Time of Titans.”