(ENG) Chapter 6: Horacio Kalibang

Para los lectores de español:
Si desea leer el texto original "Horacio Kalibang o los autómatas" por Eduardo Ladislao Holmberg  en español, puede descargar el archivo PDF, haga clic en "ciencia ficción" en la página principal. 

VI.

"A very good day, cousin" I said upon seeing Hipknock in his dining room, moments after. "What event motivates this call?"

"What event? Read this letter."

And handing me Baum's letter, I read it, pleasantly surprised, as my cousin had predicted: first, for the announcement of work so great, as to be the fabrication of a brain, and second, because I knew well that Horacio Kalibang was but an automaton. It was not possible to explain to myself, by the way, how this had happened to pass unnoticed by my cousin.

After lunch we talked long about the last discoveries of the physiologists, and we arrived to the following conclusion:  If Oscar Baum, in the opinion of many people, has undertaken a folly, for a few, it is not possible to deny that the probablities of success are in his favor.

At two in the afternoon, the burgomeister, who was accompanied by me, entered the house of Oscar Baum.

"Is Señor Baum at home?"  he asked of a tall individual who came out to receive us.

"Do come in, Señor Burgomeister"

"This was not supposed to be the response" said Hipknock. "There are two of us."

"Cousin, you do not see that this is an automaton?  This response proves, at least, that you were that you were expected alone."

"Then I'm blind, because I could not recognize that."

Upon entering the salon, a blond-haired individual with blue glasses rose from a chair, from which he was sitting, and addressing the burgomeister, he extended his hand to him.

"The Señor Burgomeister Hipknock?" he asked.

"At your service. Is this Señor Baum with whom I have the honor of speaking?"

"The honor is mine, sir, I have taken the liberty of inviting you because, before launching my work to the world, I desire to know the impression that it causes on you."

"Terrible, Señor Baum, terrible! Horacio Kalibang has completely produced in me the illusion of a live man, and if it weren’t for a special circumstance, he would still guard his mystery.

"Horacio Kalibang is the most imperfect of all of them, but he draws much attention because he walks off the center of gravity."

"Only  because of that?"

Señor Baum kept silent.

His eyes made a revolution in their orbits, his lips pressed together, his arms fell inert, while one of his legs, I know not with what movement of the spring, detached from his body and fell on the ground.

The burgomeister jumped in his seat.

For my part, I burst into laughter. My cousin had not realized that he was conversing with an automaton. The truth is he is already somewhat short-sighted.

"Donnerweter" said a voice in the next room, as if the anger had torn from him an unkind expression and opening a door, the burgomeister saw in front of him another individual, identical to the one that had just been deformed. It approached my cousin and said to him:

"Pardon me, Señor Burgomeister, for this second liberty that I have taken to have myself represented as an automaton, but no doubt you will pardon me, because the excellence of the work, quickly built, is a guarantee of my respect for you.

"You are forgiven."

"The mechanical, Señor Burgomeister, is a science without limits, whose principles can be applied not only to the ordinary constructions and interpretation of the heavens, but also to all the intimate phenomena of the material brain."

"It is my opinion"

"What is the brain but a grand machine whose exquisite springs move themselves under impulses a thousand times changed? What is the soul but the set of these mechanical functions? The physical-chemical action of the stimulation of blood, the nervous transmission, and the idea in its imponderable and intangible character, are but various states of the same matter, one and simple in substance, immortal and eternally indifferent, obeying the fatality of its permutations, that produces an infusion, a mushroom, a reptile, a tree, a man, and finally a thought."

"All this is very good, Señor Baum, but I want to see your automata because it is getting late. I am a materialist, and your words do not cause in me either fear or novelty."

Señor Baum got up to his feet, and directing himself to the door, called the servant.

"Notify the machine operators that the Señor Burgomeister wants the demonstrations to begin”

A moment later one of the walls of the chamber  rose up as a curtain, and we saw, in front of us, a huge room, in which nothing lacked: easels, pianos, flutes, pistols, swords, books, etc.

Señor Baum returned to take his seat.

"Music! Dance!"

"Fritz! You are coming out yourself as an automata!” the burgomeister said to me.

I smiled because even if it were true, my cousin did not know what was happening.

And so it was. One of the automaton, with a violoncello in its left hand and a chair in the right, sat in the middle of the salon, but what was most pleasing to my cousin was that its face and its body were my own portrait.

The musician executed with mastery a precious introduction, after which, a pianist accompanied it, so that we could not but applaud.

A third automaton approached the piano, and turning a page from the book, continued the music, adding the song, and so beautiful was the the piece that they executed that my cousindid not know how to express his admiration to Señor Baum, who remained silent.

The musicians retired.

In their place appeared two beautiful girls, who, in suits of illusion and garlands of flowers, danced with such grace and freedom to, "The Awakening of the Fairies", that invisible musicians produced, that I was tempted to throw myself in the middle of them to accompany them. They retired.

"Duel!" said Señor Baum.

Two young gallants entered into the salon, by opposite doors, and after greeting each other, crossed their swords, and then stopped for a moment.

"It is your destiny to die in my hands."

"Not so, for the wound is not true in your sword."

"Have you called me a coward?"

"Coward? you must not change my words!"

"I have said and I repeat: the wrath chokes you, anger blinds you!"

"Defend your chest."

"Ho! Hee! That in yours I sink my sword."

And disarming his adversary, with these words, he took the sword that had just fallen and cut off an ear.

"Enough! Enough!" exclaimed the burgomeister. "I can't permit this to continue. First blood!"
The automata stood up, and saluting us, withdrew arm in arm.

"Painting!" said Baum.

Two naked mannequins entered the studio.

One of them was carrying, in the hand, a color palette, brushes and [tiento? what is this painting tool? we don’t know the word in English -ss] and sitting at the easel which was ready, began to copy its companion, with all the precision of a consummate artist. Having finished the painting, it left the studio.

"If these are automata, it is necessary to confess that they are no different than us" said Hipknock.

"If the esteemed burgomeister will permit me" observed Baum, "I would like to reverse the proposition."

I will not tire my readers with the enumeration of the different pictures that were presented to us: battles, parliaments, academia, walks, dances, love scenes, mystical pictures. All were presented for our admiration, with the truly special tint, that only is of the great works of the masters.           

We were close to retiring.  The burgomeister, smiling with pleasure, more for finding a kind of confirmation to the theory of the unconsciousness of his friend Hartmann, than for that which he had witnessed,  said to Baum:

"But I observe, there was lacking a picture of family"

"If the Señor burgomeister would allow, his very own family would appear immediately.”

"As you like"

And giving a nod, the salon began to fill with automata that, sitting around the table, developed, before the static eyes of the burgomeister, the very same scene from the previous night with the same movements and the same words used in the discussion about Horacio, who a moment later entered, and pronounced the words that everyone had heard from him.

My cousin could not help but laugh out loud when seeing his own automaton make a gesture of horror, upon the entrance of Kalibang, and raising his glance to the automaton of Luisa, he said:

"But I observe, Señor Baum, that my daughter looks too much at Lieutenant Blagerdorff, my nephew. "

"The Señor burgomeister also will notice that his nephew pays with no counterfeit money".

"But that.."

"They would cease to be automatas, Señor burgomeister, if they altered a single pass."

The burgomeister stood, perhaps to show to Señor Baum his indignation, in a positive manner, when he began to run to the table, and climbing over it, he broke off one of the arms and threw it over the head of the automaton of the burgomeister, who, irritated by this audacity, pronounced these words:

"Donnerweter! Ich habe ihn jetzt gefunden!" This is what we are going to record on a sheet of gold, if the fabricator of the automatas says the truth: the same words that had been said in the same way, when he received Oscar Baum's letter.

A terrible scene then took place and my cousin understood that it was useless to fight with those ferocious mannequins, he said to me:

"Fritz, we must leave, since we do not know how far it is possible for the ability of these fanatics can get. Here we remain, fighting each other in a grand battle. If they are the automata, or if we are, I do not know, but I assure you that they sing, they dance, they yell, they know, and they battle with such skill, that seems more natural than of springs.”

And then we were retreating, when an automaton, taller and stronger than the others, approached the table and yelled:

"Enough, señores! I am the strongest and I am right: if any of you denies this, I will break his skull, even though he is right.  I am not only the most automaton, I am all of humanity, and when humanity speaks with strength, Reason is the most despicable of childrens' toys."

That automaton was a beast...but if it was an automaton!

Calm reigned in the salon.

"Now, esteemed burgomeister Hipknock, do you have any doubts with respect to the ability of our conductor?" he asked.

"None, Señor, none."

"Do you have any questions to ask?"

"Oh, yes! Has it been long since these automata were made?"

"Much time!”

"And they are all here?"

"No there are a few thousand of them who are rolling around the world. When they run out of what you call the rope, and that which our conductor calls his ability, they will return to receive new strength, and then, Señor burgomeister, and then...good night."

My cousin and I looked at each other. It was logical.

Then..then..we retired, pleased by the wonders that we had witnessed, and terribly displeased with these thoughts:

"Could Fritz be an automaton?"  -said the burgomeister.

"Could the burgomeister be an automaton?" -said I.

Upon arriving at the home of the first, I bade him farewell.

"You will not join us to eat, Fritz?"

But I was already far away.


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