"But why must it be the gold that others bring? Are you not able to supply yourself with as much as you desire?" inquired the ring, blinking with surprise.

"Well, I don't know how wise this King Genius of yours is," Trurl retorted, "but you, I see, are a thoroughly un-educated ring! What, you would have me make my own gold?

Whoever heard of such a thing?! Is a cobbler a cobbler to mend his own shoes? Does a cook do his own cooking, a soldier his own fighting? Anyway, in case you didn't know, next to gold I love to complain. But enough of this idle chatter, there is work to be done."

And he placed the ring in an old tin can, rolled up his sleeves and built the three machines in three days, not once leaving his workshop. Then he considered what external shapes to give them, wanting something that would be both simple and functional. He tried on various casings, one after the other, while the ring kept interfering with comments and suggestions, until he had to close the can.

Finally Trurl painted the machines-the first white, the second an azure blue, and the third jet black-then rubbed the ring, loaded the phaeton which instantly appeared, climbed in himself and waited to see what would happen next. There was a whistling anda hissing, the dust rose, and when it fell, Trurl looked out the window and saw that he was in a large cave, the floor of which was covered with white sand; then he noticed several wooden benches piled high with books and folios, and then a row of gleaming spheres. In one of these he recognized the stranger who had ordered the machines, and in the middle sphere, larger than the rest and etched with the lines of old age, he guessed the King.

Trurl stepped down and gave a bow. The King greeted him kindly and said: "There are two wisdoms: the first inclines to action, the second to inaction. Do you not agree, worthy Trurl, that the second is the greater? For surely, even the most far-sighted mind cannot foresee the ultimate consequences of present undertakings, consequences therefore so uncertain, that they render problematical those very undertakings. And thus perfection lies in the abstention from all action. In this then does true wisdom differ from mere intellect."

"Your Majesty's words," said Trurl, "can be taken in two ways. They may contain, for one, a subtle hint intended to belittle the value of my own labor, namely the under-taking which has as its consequence the three machines de-livered in this phaeton. Such an interpretation I find most unpleasant, as it indicates a certain, shall we say, disinclination regarding the matter of remuneration. Or else we have here simply a statement of the Doctrine of Inaction, of which it may be said that it is self-contradictory. To refrain from acting, one must first be capable of acting. He who does not move the mountain for lack of means, yet claims that wisdom did dictate he move it not, merely plays the fool with his display of philosophy. Inaction is certain, and that is all it has to recommend it. Action is uncertain, and therein lies its fascination. As for further ramifications of the problem, if Your Majesty so wishes, I can construct a suitable mechanism with which he may converse on the subject."

"The matter of remuneration let us leave to the end of this delightful occasion which has brought you to our sh.o.r.e," said the King, betraying by slight revolving motions the great amus.e.m.e.nt Trurl's peroration had afforded him. "You are our guest, n.o.ble constructor. Come therefore and sit at our humble table among these faithful friends and tell us of the deeds you have performed, and also of the deeds you chose not to."

"Your Majesty is too kind," replied Trurl. "Yet I fear I lack the necessary eloquence.

Perchance these three ma-chines may serve in my stead-which would have the added merit of providing Your Majesty with the opportunity to test them."

"Let it be as you say," agreed the King.

Everyone a.s.sumed an att.i.tude of the utmost interest and expectation. Trurl brought out the first machine-the one painted white-from the phaeton, pushed a b.u.t.ton, then took a seat at the side of King Genius. The machine said: "Here is the story of the Mult.i.tudians, their king Man-drillion, his Perfect Adviser, and Trurl the constructor, who built the Adviser, and later destroyed it!"

The land of the Mult.i.tudians is famous for its inhabitants, who are distinguished by the fact that they are mult.i.tu-dinous. One day the constructor Trurl, pa.s.sing through the saffron regions of the constellation Deliria, strayed a little from the main path and caught sight of a planet that appeared to writhe. Drawing nearer, he saw that this was due to themult.i.tudes that covered its surface; he landed, having found-not without difficulty-a few square feet of rel-atively unoccupied ground. The natives immediately ran up and thronged about him, exclaiming how mult.i.tudinous they were, although, as they all talked at once, Trurl couldn't make out a single word. When finally he under-stood, he asked: "Mult.i.tudinous, are you?"

"We are!!" they shouted, bursting with pride. "We are innumerable."

And others cried: "We are like fish in the sea!"

"Like pebbles on the beach!"

"Like stars in the sky! Like atoms!!"

"Supposing you are," returned Trurl. "What of it? Do you spend all day counting yourselves, and does that give you pleasure?"

"Know, O unenlightened alien," was their reply, "that when we stamp our feet, the very mountains tremble, and when we huff and puff, it is a hurricane that sends trees flying, and when we all sit down together, there is hardly room enough to breathe!!"

"But why should mountains tremble and hurricanes send trees flying, and why should there be hardly room enough to breathe?" asked Trurl. "Is it not better when mountains stay at rest, and there are no hurricanes, and everyone has room enough to breathe?"

The Mult.i.tudians were highly offended by this lack of respect shown to their mighty numbers and their numerical might, so they stamped, huffed and puffed, and sat down to demonstrate their mult.i.tudinality and show just what it meant. Earthquakes toppled half the trees, crushing seven hundred thousand persons, and hurricanes leveled the rest, causing the demise of seven hundred thousand more, while those who remained alive had hardly room enough to breathe.

"Good heavens!" cried Trurl, packed in among the sitting natives like a brick in a brick wall. "What a catastrophe!"

Which insulted them even more.

"O barbarous and benighted alien!" they said. "What are a few hundred thousand to the Mult.i.tudians, whose myriads are countless?! A loss that goes unnoticed is no loss at all. You have seen how powerful we are in our stamping, in our huffing and puffing, and in our sitting down. Imagine then what would happen if we turned to bigger things!"

"You mustn't think," said Trurl, "that your way of think-ing is altogether new to me.

Indeed, it's well known that whatever comes in sufficiently large quant.i.ties commands the general admiration. For example, a little stale gas cir-culating sluggishly at the bottom of an old barrel excites wonder in no one; but if you have enough of it to make a Galactic Nebula, everyone is instantly struck with awe. Though really, it's the same stale and absolutely average gas -only there's an awful lot of it."

"We do not like what you say!" they shouted. "We do not like to hear about this stale gas!"

Trurl looked around for the police, but the crowd was too great for the police to pushthrough.

"My dear Mult.i.tudians," he said. "Permit me to leave your planet, for I do not share your faith in the glory of great numbers when there is nothing more to them than what may be counted."

But instead, exchanging a look and nodding, they snapped their fingers, which set up a shock wave of such prodigious force, that Trurl was hurled into the air and flew, turning head over heels, for quite some time before landing on his feet in a garden of the royal palace. Mandrillion the Great-est, ruler of the Mult.i.tudians, approached; he had been watching the constructor's flight and descent, and now said: "They tell me, O alien, that you have not paid proper tribute to the numerosity of my people. I ascribe this to your general infirmity of mind. Yet, though you show no understanding of higher matters, you apparently possess some skill in the lower, which is fortunate, as I require a Perfect Adviser and you shall build me one!"

"What exactly is this Adviser supposed to do, and what will I receive for building it?"

inquired Trurl, brushing him-self off.

"It should answer every question, solve every problem, give absolutely the best advice and, in a word, put the great-est wisdom entirely at my disposal. For this, you shall receive two or three hundred thousand of my subjects, or more if you like-we won't quibble over a few thousand."

Trurl thought: "It would seem that an overabundance of thinking beings is a dangerous thing, if it reduces them to the status of sand. This king would sooner part with a legion of his subjects than I with a pair of old slippers!"

But he said aloud: "Sire, my house is small and would not hold so many slaves."

"Fear not, O backward alien, I have experts who will explain to you the endless benefits one may derive from owning a horde of slaves. You can, for example, dress them in robes of different colors and have them stand in a great square to form a living mosaic, or signs providing sentiments for every occasion. You can tie them in bundles and roll them down hills, you can make a huge hammer-five thousand for the head, three thousand for the handle-to break up boulders or clear forests. You can braid them into rope and make decorative hangings, where those at the very bottom, by the droll gyrations of their bodies, the kicking and the squeaking as they dangle over the abyss, create a sight that gladdens the heart and rejoices the eye. Or take ten thousand young female slaves, stand them all on one leg and have them make figure eights with their right hands and circles with their left-a spectacle, believe me, which you won't wish to part with, and I speak from experience!"

"Sire!" answered Trurl. "Forests and boulders I can man-age with machines, and as for signs and mosaics, it is not my custom to fashion them out of beings that might prefer to be otherwise employed."

"What then, O insolent alien," said the King, "do you want in return for the Perfect Adviser?"

"A hundred bags of gold!"Mandrillion was loath to part with the gold, but an idea came to him, a most ingenious plan, which however he kept to himself, and he said: "So be it!"

"Your Royal Highness shall have his Perfect Adviser," promised Trurl, and proceeded to the castle tower which Mandrillion had set aside for him as a workshop. It wasn't long before they could hear the blowing of bellows there, the ringing of hammers, the rasping of saws. The King sent spies to have a look; these returned much amazed, for Trurl had not constructed an Adviser at all, but a variety of forg-ing, welding, cutting and wiring machines, after which he sat down and with a nail made little holes in a long strip of paper, programming out the Adviser in every particular, then went for a walk while the machines toiled in the tower all night, and by early morning the work was done. Around noon, Trurl entered the main hall with an enormous doll that had two legs and one small hand; he brought it before the King, declaring that this was the Perfect Adviser.

"Indeed," muttered Mandrillion and ordered the marble floor sprinkled with saffron and cinnamon, so strong was the smell of hot iron given off by the Adviser-the thing, just out of the oven, even glowed in places. "You may go," the King said to Trurl. "Return this evening, and then we shall see who owes how much and to whom."

Trurl took his leave, feeling that these parting words of Mandrillion did not promise any great generosity and per-haps even concealed some evil intention. Which made him glad he had qualified the Adviser's universality with one small yet far from trivial condition, that is, he had included in its program an instruction to the effect that whatever it did, it was never to permit the destruction of its creator.

Remaining alone with the Adviser, the King said: "What are you and what can you do?"

"I am the King's Perfect Adviser," replied the machine in a hollow voice, as if it spoke from an empty barrel, "and I can provide him with the best advice possible."

"Good," said the King. "And to whom do you owe allegiance and perfect obedience, me or the one who constructed you?"

"Allegiance and obedience I owe only to His Royal High-ness," boomed the Adviser.

"Good, good..." said the King. "Now to begin with, I ... that is, well ... I mean, I shouldn't like my first re-quest to give the impression that I was, shall we say, stingy ...

however, ah, to some extent, you understand, if only to uphold certain principles-don't you think?"

"His Royal Highness has not yet deigned to say what it is that he wishes," said the Adviser, propping itself on a third leg it put out from its side, for it suffered a momentary loss of balance.

"A Perfect Adviser ought to be able to read its master's thoughts!" snapped Mandrillion.

"Of course, but only on request, to avoid embarra.s.s-ments," said the Adviser and, opening a little door in its belly, turned a k.n.o.b that read "Telepathitron." Then it nodded and said: "His Royal Highness doesn't wish to give Trurl a plug nickel? I understand!""Speak one word of this to anyone and I'll have you thrown in the great mill, whose stones can grind up thirty thousand of my subjects at a time!" threatened the King.

"I won't tell a soul!" the Adviser a.s.sured him. "His Royal Highness doesn't wish to pay for me-that's easily done. When Trurl comes back, simply tell him there won't be any gold and he should kindly go away."

"You're an idiot, not an adviser!" snorted the King. "I don't want to pay, but I want it to look like it's all Trurl's fault! Like I don't owe him a thing, understand?"

The Adviser turned on the device to read the royal thoughts, reeled a little, then said in a hollow voice: "His Royal Highness wishes in addition that it should appear that he is acting justly and in accordance with the law and his own sacred word, while Trurl turns out to be nothing but a despicable charlatan and scoundrel... Very well. With His Royal Highness'

permission, I will now seize His Royal Highness by the throat and choke him, and if he would be so good as to struggle and scream for help..."

"Have you gone mad?" said Mandrillion. "Why should you choke me and why should I scream?"

"That you may accuse Trurl of attempting to commit, with my aid, the crime of regicide," explained the Adviser brightly. "Thus, when His Royal Highness has him whipped and thrown into the moat, everyone will say that this was an act of the greatest mercy, since for such an offense one is usually drawn and quartered, if not tortured first.

To me His Royal Highness will grant a full pardon, as I was but an unwitting tool in the hands of Trurl, and everyone will praise the King's magnanimity and compa.s.sion, and every-thing will be exactly as His Royal Highness wishes it."

"All right, choke me-but carefully, you dog!" said the King.

Everything happened just as the Perfect Adviser said it would. True, the King wanted to have Trurl's legs pulled off before they threw him into the moat, but somehow this wasn't done-no doubt a mix-up in the orders, the King thought later, but actually it was owing to the machine's discreet intervention with one of the executioner's helpers.

Afterward, the King pardoned his Adviser and reinstated it at court; Trurl meanwhile, battered and bruised, painfully hobbled home. Immediately after his return, he went to see Klapaucius and told him the whole story. Then he said: "That Mandrillion was more of a villain than I thought. Not only did he shamefully deceive me, but he even used the very Adviser I gave him, used it to further his scurvy scheme against me! Ah, but he is sadly mistaken if he thinks that Trurl accepts defeat!

May rust eat through me if ever I forget the vengeance that I owe the tyrant!"

"What do you intend to do?" inquired Klapaucius.

"I'll take him to court, I'll sue him for the amount of my fee, and that's only the beginning: there are damages he'll have to pay-for insults and injuries."

"This is a difficult legal question," said Klapaucius. "I suggest you hire yourself a good lawyer before you try any-thing."

"Why hire a lawyer? I'll make myself one!"

And Trurl went home, threw six heaping teaspoons of transistors into a big pot, addedagain as many condensers and resistors, poured electrolyte over it, stirred well and covered tightly with a lid, then went to bed, and in three days the mixture had organized itself into a first-rate lawyer. Trurl didn't even need to remove it from the pot, since it was only to serve this once, so he set the pot on the table and asked: "What are you?"

"I'm a consulting attorney and specialist in jurispru-dence," the pot gurgled, for there was a little too much electrolyte in it. Trurl related the whole affair, whereupon it said: "You say you qualified the Adviser's program with an instruction making it incapable of engineering your death?"

"Yes, so it couldn't destroy me. That was the only con-dition."

"In that case you failed to live up to your part of the bar-gain: the Adviser was to have been perfect, without any limitations. If it couldn't destroy you, then it wasn't per-fect."

"But if it destroyed me, then there would be no one to receive payment!"

"A separate matter and a different question entirely, which comes under those paragraphs in the docket deter-mining Mandrillion's criminal liability, while your claim has more the character of a civil action."

"Look, I don't need some pot handing me a lot of legalis-tic claptrap!" fumed Trurl.

"Whose lawyer are you anyway, mine or that hoodlum king's?"

"Yours, but he did have the right to refuse you payment."

"And did he have the right to order me thrown from his castle walls into the moat?"

"As I said, that's another matter entirely, criminal, not civil," answered the pot.

Trurl flew into a rage.

"Here I make an intelligent being out of a bunch of old wires, switches and grids, and instead of some honest advice I get technicalities! You cheap cybernetic shyster, I'll teach you to trifle with me!"

And he turned the pot over, shook everything out onto the table, and pulled it apart before the lawyer had a chance to appeal the proceedings.

Then Trurl got to work and built a two-story Juris Con-sulenta, forensically reinforced fourfold, complete with cod-ices and codicils, civil and criminal, and, just to be safe, he added international and inst.i.tutional law components. Fi-nally he plugged it in, stated his case and asked: "How do I get what's coming to me?"

"This won't be easy," said the machine. "I'll need an extra five hundred transistors on top and two hundred on the side."

Which Trurl supplied, and it said: "Not enough! Increase the volume and give me two more spools, please."After this it began: "Quite an interesting case, really. There are two things that must be taken into consideration: the grounds of the allegation, for one, and here I grant you there is much that we can do-and then we have the litigation process itself. Now, it is absolutely out of the question to summon the King before any court on a civil charge, for this is contrary to international as well as interplanetary law. I will give you my final opinion, but first you must give me your word you won't pull me apart when you hear it."

Trurl gave his word and said: "But where did you get the idea I would ever do such a thing?"

"Oh, I don't know-it just seemed to me you might."

Trurl guessed this was due to the fact that, in its construction, he had used parts from the potted lawyer; ap-parently some trace of the memory of that incident had found its way into the new circuits, creating a kind of sub-conscious complex.

"Well, and your final opinion?" asked Trurl.

"Simply this: no suitable tribunals exist, hence there can be no suit. Your case, in other words, can be neither won nor lost."

Trurl leaped up and shook his fist at the legal machine, but had to keep his word and did it no harm. He went to Klapaucius and told him everything.

"From the first I knew it was a hopeless business," said Klapaucius, "but you wouldn't believe me."

"This outrage will not go unpunished," replied Trurl. "If I can't get satisfaction through the courts, then I must find some other way to settle with that scoundrel of a king!"

"I wonder how. Remember, you gave the King a Perfect Adviser, which can do anything except destroy you; it can fend off whatever blow, plague or misfortune you direct against the King or his realm-and will do so, I am sure, for I have complete confidence, my dear Trurl, in your constructing ability!"

"True. ... It would appear that, in creating the Perfect Adviser, I deprived myself of any hope of defeating that royal bandit. But no, there must be some c.h.i.n.k in the armor!

I'll not rest until I've found it!"

"What do you mean?" Klapaucius asked, but Trurl only shrugged and went home. At home he sat and meditated; sometimes he leafed impatiently through hundreds of vol-umes in his library, and sometimes he conducted secret ex-periments in his laboratory. Klapaucius visited his friend from time to time, amazed to see the tenacity with which Trurl was attempting to conquer himself, for the Adviser was, in a sense, a part of him and he had given it his own wisdom. One afternoon, Klapaucius came at the usual time but didn't find Trurl at home. The doors were all locked and the windows shuttered. He concluded that Trurl had begun operations against the ruler of the Mult.i.tudians. And he was not mistaken.

Mandrillion meanwhile was enjoying his power as never before; whenever he ran out of ideas, he asked his Adviser, who had an inexhaustible supply. Neither did the King have to fear palace coups or court intrigues, or any enemy what-soever, but reigned withan iron hand, and truly, as many grapes there were that ripened in the vineyards of the south, more gallows graced the royal countryside.

By now the Adviser had four chests full of medals for suggestions made to the King. A microspy Trurl sent to the land of the Mult.i.tudians returned with the news that, for its most recent achievement-it gave the King a ticker-tape parade, using citizens for confetti-Mandrillion had publicly called the Adviser his "pal."

Trurl then launched his carefully prepared campaign by sitting down and writing the Adviser a letter on eggsh.e.l.l-yellow stationery decorated with a freehand drawing of a ca.s.sowary tree. The content of the letter was simple.

Dear Adviser!-he wrote-I hope that things are going as well with you as they are with me, and even better. Your master has put his trust in you, I hear, and so you must keep in mind the tremendous responsibility you bear in the face of Posterity and the Common Weal and therefore fulfill your duties with the utmost dili-gence and alacrity.