Free Lem, Stanislaw by The Cyberiad [v1.0] [htm]

(and rightly, too) of being the King's spies. So the
    constructors said nothing of their work, but praised the mulled
    electrolyte which the waiters brought in, tail coats flapping, in
    beakers of the finest cut crystal. Only after the repast, when they
    had wandered out on the veranda overlooking the village with its
    white steeples and domes catching the last golden rays of the setting
    sun, only then did Trurl turn to Klapaucius and say:
    "We're not out of the woods yet,
    you know."
    "How do you mean?" asked
    Klapaucius in a cautious whisper.
    "There's one difficulty. You see,
    if the King defeats our mechanical beast, he'll undoubtedly have us
    thrown into that pit, for we won't have done his bidding. If, on the
    other hand, the beast… You see what I mean?"
    "If the beast isn't defeated?"
    "No, if the beast defeats him,
    dear colleague. If that happens, the King's successor may not
    let us off so easily."
    "You don't think we'd have to
    answer for that, do you? As a rule, heirs to the throne are only too
    happy to see it vacated."
    "True, but this will be his son,
    and whether the son punishes us out of filial devotion or
    because he thinks the royal court expects it of him, it'll make
    little difference as far as we're concerned."
    "That never occurred to me,"
    muttered Klapaucius. "You're quite right, the prospects aren't
    encouraging… Have you thought of a way out of this dilemma?"
    "Well, we might make the beast
    multimortal. Picture this: the King slays it, it falls, then it gets
    up again, resurrected, and the King chases it again, slays it
    again, and so on, until he gets sick and tired of the whole thing."
    "That he won't like," said
    Klapaucius after some thought. "And anyway, how would you design
    such a beast?"
    "Oh, I don't know… We
    could make it without any vital organs. The King chops the beast into
    little pieces, but the pieces grow back together."
    "How?"
    "Use a field."
    "Magnetic?"
    "If you like."
    "How do we operate it?"
    "Remote control, perhaps?"
    asked Trurl.
    "Too risky," said
    Klapaucius. "How do you know the King won't have us locked up in
    some dungeon while the hunt's in progress? Our poor predecessors were
    no fools, and look how they ended up. More than one of them, I'm
    sure, thought of remote control—yet it failed. No, we can't
    expect to maintain communication with the beast during the
    battle."
    "Then why not use a satellite?"
    suggested Trurl. "We could install automatic controls-—"
    "Satellite indeed!" snorted
    Klapaucius. "And how are you going to build it, let alone put it
    in orbit? There are no miracles in our profession, Trurl! We'll have
    to hide the controls some other way."
    "But where can we hide the
    controls when they watch our every step? You've seen how the servants
    skulk about, sticking their noses into everything. We'd never be
    able to leave the premises ourselves, and certainly not smuggle out
    such a large piece of equipment. It's impossible!"
    "Calm down," said prudent
    Klapaucius, looking over his shoulder. "Perhaps we don't need
    such equipment in the first place."
    "Something has to operate the
    beast, and if that something is an electronic brain anywhere
    inside, the King will smash it to a pulp before you can say goodbye."
    They were silent. Night had fallen and
    the village lights below were flickering on, one by one. Suddenly
    Trurl said:
    "Listen, here's an idea. We only
    pretend to build a beast but in reality build a ship to escape on. We
    give it ears, a tail, paws, so no one will suspect, and they can be
    easily jettisoned on takeoff. What do you think of that? We get off
    scot-free and thumb our noses at the King!"
    "And if the King has planted a
    real constructor among our servants, which is not unlikely, then it's
    all over and into the pit with us. Besides, running away—no, it
    just doesn't suit me. It's him or us, Trurl, you can't get around
    it."
    "Yes, I suppose a spy could be a
    constructor too," said Trurl with a sigh. "What then can