41
" It was a joy to see those new units do the Forward March, About Face and Company Halt; and afterwards, when they were dismissed, they took to chatting, and later, through the open windows of the barracks one could hear voices booming in chorus, disputing such matters as absolute truth, analytic versus synthetic a priori propositions, and the Thing-in-itself, for their collective minds had already attained that level. Various philosophical systems were hammered out, till finally a certain battalion of sappers arrived at a position of total solipsism, claiming that nothing really existed beyond itself. And since from this it followed that there was no King, nor any enemy, this battalion was quietly disconnected and its members reassigned to units that firmly adhered to epistemological realism. At about the same time, in the kingdom of Atrocitus, the sixth amphibious division forsook naval operations for navel contemplation and, thoroughly immersed in mysticism, very nearly drowned. Somehow or other, as a result of this incident, war was declared, and the troops, rumbling and clanking, slowly moved towards the border from either side.
The law of Gargantius proceeded to work with inexorable logic. As formation joined formation, in proportion there developed an esthetic sense, which reached its apex at the level of a reinforced division, so that the columns of such a force easily became sidetracked, chasing off after butterflies, and when the motorized corps named for Bartholocaust approached an enemy fortress that had to be taken by storm, the plan of attack drawn up that night turned out to be a splendid painting of the battlements, done moreover in the abstractionist spirit, which ran counter to all military traditions. "
― Stanisław Lem , The Cyberiad
42
" During the next two weeks Trurl fed general instructions into his future electropoet, then set up all the necessary logic circuits, emotive elements, semantic centers. He was about to invite Klapaucius to attend a trial run, but thought better of it and started the machine himself. It immediately proceeded to deliver a lecture on the grinding of crystallographical surfaces as an introduction to the study of submolecular magnetic anomalies. Trurl bypassed half the logic circuits and made the emotive more electromotive; the machine sobbed, went into hysterics, then finally said, blubbering terribly, what a cruel, cruel world this was. Trurl intensified the semantic fields and attached a strength of character component; the machine informed him that from now on he would carry out its every wish and to begin with add six floors to the nine it already had, so it could better meditate upon the meaning of existence. Trurl installed a philosophical throttle instead; the machine fell silent and sulked. Only after endless pleading and cajoling was he able to get it to recite something: "I had a little froggy." That appeared to exhaust its repertoire. Trurl adjusted, modulated, expostulated, disconnected, ran checks, reconnected, reset, did everything he could think of, and the machine presented him with a poem that made him thank heaven Klapaucius wasn't there to laugh — imagine, simulating the whole Universe from scratch, not to mention Civilization in every particular, and to end up with such dreadful doggerel! Trurl put in six cliché filters, but they snapped like matches; he had to make them out of pure corundum steel. This seemed to work, so he jacked the semanticity up all the way, plugged in an alternating rhyme generator — which nearly ruined everything, since the machine resolved to become a missionary among destitute tribes on far-flung planets. But at the very last minute, just as he was ready to give up and take a hammer to it, Trurl was struck by an inspiration; tossing out all the logic circuits, he replaced them with self-regulating egocentripetal narcissistors. The machine simpered a little, whimpered a little, laughed bitterly, complained of an awful pain on its third floor, said that in general it was fed up, through, life was beautiful but men were such beasts and how sorry they'd all be when it was dead and gone. Then it asked for pen and paper. "
― Stanisław Lem , The Cyberiad
43
" The machine was self-programming, however, and in addition had a special ambition-amplifying mechanism with glory-seeking circuits, and very soon a great change took place. Its poems became difficult, ambiguous, so intricate and charged with meaning that they were totally incomprehensible. When the next group of poets came to mock and laugh, the machine replied with an improvisation that was so modern, it took their breath away, and the second poem seriously weakened a certain sonneteer who had two State awards to his name, not to mention a statue in the city park. After that, no poet could resist the fatal urge to cross lyrical swords with Trurl's electronic bard. They came from far and wide, carrying trunks and suitcases full of manuscripts. The machine would let each challenger recite, instantly grasp the algorithm of his verse, and use it to compose an answer in exactly the same style, only two hundred and twenty to three hundred and forty-seven times better.
The machine quickly grew so adept at this, that it could cut down a first-class rhapsodist with no more than one or two quatrains. But the worst of it was, all the third-rate poets emerged unscathed; being third-rate, they didn't know good poetry from bad and consequently had no inkling of their crushing defeat. One of them, true, broke his leg when, on the way out, he tripped over an epic poem the machine had just completed, a prodigious work beginning with the words:
Arms, and machines I sing, that, forc'd by fate,
And haughty Homo's unrelenting hate,
Expell'd and exil'd, left the Terran shore … "
― Stanisław Lem , The Cyberiad
47
" - ...лучше, если разумное существо не может себя переделывать; такая свобода - истинное мучение. Ведь тот, кто вынужден оставаться таким, каков есть, может винить судьбу, переменить которую ему не дано; тому же, кто волен себя изменять, уже некого винить за свою ущербность, и, если ему плохо с самим собою, ответа за это никто не несёт, кроме него самого. (Трурль - королю Гениалону)
("Сказка о трёх машинах-рассказчицах короля Гениалона") "
― Stanisław Lem , The Cyberiad
50
" Как тебе известно, хоть обычно об этом не думают, мир безгранично богат и разнообразен. В нем есть великолепные города, полные суеты и сокровищ, есть королевские дворцы и хижины, чарующие и угрюмые горы, есть шумные дубравы, ласковые озера, знойные пустыни Юга и бескрайние снега Севера. Ты, такой, каким создан, не можешь, однако, видеть и воспринимать одновременно более одного-единственного места из тех, о которых я упомянул, и из миллионов тех, о которых я умолчал. Поэтому без всякого преувеличения можно сказать, что для тех мест, где тебя нет, ты являешься чем-то вроде мертвеца, поскольку ты не наслаждаешься богатством дворцов, не принимаешь участия в танцах южных стран, не восхищаешься радужными переливами льдов Севера. Для тебя они не существуют совершенно так же, как если б тебя вообще не было на свете. Поэтому если ты хорошо вникнешь, углубишься мыслью в то, о чем я говорю, так поймешь, что, не будучи всюду, то есть во всех этих волшебных местах, ты не существуешь почти нигде. Ибо мест для пребывания, как уже было сказано, миллион миллионов, а ты можешь воспринимать лишь одно из них, неинтересное, неприятное своим однообразием, даже отвратительное, — этот скалистый островок. Итак, между «везде» и «почти нигде» — огромная разница, и это — твой жизненный удел, ибо ты всегда находился одновременно в одном-единственном месте. Зато разница между «почти нигде» и «нигде», по правде говоря, микроскопическая. Математика ощущений доказывает, что ты уже сейчас, собственно, еле живешь, раз почти повсюду отсутствуешь, совсем как покойник! Это — во-первых. А во-вторых, посмотри на этот песок, смешанный с гравием, который ранит твои нежные ступни, — разве ты считаешь его чем-то ценным? Наверное, нет. А эта масса соленой воды, ее надоедливый избыток — нужно тебе это? Нисколько! Или эти скалы и знойная, иссушающая суставы голубизна неба над головой? Нужен тебе этот невыносимый зной, эти мертвые раскаленные скалы? Разумеется, нет! Итак, ты не нуждаешься абсолютно ни в чем из всего, что тебя окружает, на чем ты стоишь, что распростерлось над твоей головой. Что же остается, если отнять все это? Шум в голове, боль в висках, биение сердца, дрожь в коленях и прочие хаотические движения. А нужны ли тебе этот шум, боль, биение или дрожь? Ни в коем случае, мой дорогой! А если и от этого отказаться, что же тогда останется? Мятущиеся мысли, слова, так похожие на проклятия, которые ты про себя адресуешь мне, твоему другу, ну и, наконец, душащий тебя гнев и вызывающий тошноту страх. Нужны ли тебе, спрашиваю под конец, этот омерзительный страх и бессильная злоба? Конечно, и это тебе не нужно. Если же отбросим и эти ненужные ощущения, не останется уж совсем ничего, абсолютно, говорю тебе — нуль, и именно этим нулем, то есть состоянием вечного равновесия, постоянного молчания и совершенного покоя я и хочу, как настоящий друг, одарить тебя! (Вух - Автоматею) "
― Stanisław Lem , The Cyberiad
55
" First, A ship of the finest make and model available shall be furnished to carry the constructors home.
2nd, The said ship shall be laden with various cargo as here specified: diamonds—four bushels, gold coin—forty bushels, platinum, palladium, and whatever other ready valuables they happen to think of—eight bushels of each, also whatever mementos and tokens from the Royal Apartments the signatories of this instrument may deem appropriate.
3rd, Until such time as the said ship shall be in readiness for takeoff, every nut and bolt in place, fully loaded and delivered up to the constructors complete with red carpet, an eighty-piece send-off band and children's chorus, an abundance of honors, decorations and awards, and a wildly cheering crowd—until then, no King.
4th, That a formal expression of undying gratitude shall be stamped upon a gold medallion and addressed to Their Most Sublime and Radiant Constructors Trurl and Klapaucius, Delight and Terror of the Universe, and moreover it shall contain a full account of their victory and be duly signed and notarized by every high and low official in the land, then set in the richly embellished barrel of the King's favorite cannon, which Lord Protozor, Master of the Royal Hunt, shall himself and wholly unaided carry on board—no other Protozor but the one who lured Their Most Sublime and Radiant Constructors to this planet thinking to work their painful and ignominious death thereby.
5th, That the aforesaid Protozor shall accompany them on their return journey as insurance against any sort of double-dealing, pursuit, and the like. On board he shall occupy a cage three by three by four feet and shall receive a a daily allowance of humble pie with a filling made of that very same sawdust which Their Most Sublime and Radiant Constructors saw fit to order in the process of indulging the King's foolishness and which was subsequently taken to police headquarters by unmarked balloon.
6th and lastly, The King need not crave forgiveness of Their Most Sublime and Radiant Constructors on bended knee, since he is much too beneath them to deserve notice. "
― Stanisław Lem , The Cyberiad
57
" But then the constructors unexpectedly showed up after a leisurely breakfast, to supervise the work, and nothing suited them: this material, for instance, was no good, and that engineer was an absolute idiot, and they had to have a revolving magic lantern in the main hall, one with four pneumatic widgets and a calibrated cuckoo clock on top—and if the natives here didn't know what a widget was, so much the worse for them, considering that the King was no doubt most impatient for his release and would (when he could) deal harshly with anyone who dared to delay it. "
― Stanisław Lem , The Cyberiad
