Free Whatever Gods May Be by George P. Saunders

without explicit instructions from Mission Control.
    Voyager IV knew no such restrictions.  Guided by the most recent genius in computer evolution, Voyager IV was an independent thinker in its own elite circle of film probes.  Those who had constructed the spacecraft knew that it would exercise its judgment responsibly.
    The black cloud hovering near the moon represented a perfect excuse to abrogate all pre-programmed commandments.  Voyager IV had gone to work.
    It could never have known that its maiden contribution to Mankind conversely marked an end for those that created it.
    The opaque mass only twenty thousand kilometers from the moon was a complete anomaly; the combined technology of Earth could not have filled in a paragraph of information describing it.  Yet its effect on the world was immeasurably catastrophic.  It came from nowhere, quickly, without warning, somehow, mysteriously disrupting Earth's natural rotation.  Within days, it would turn the world into a churning, primeval pit of fire and ice.  In the past twenty four hours, entire continents had been destroyed and created; tidal waves roared through and buried whole cities; lava now covered half the globe.  Hurricanes and tornadoes, rabid with two hundred mile winds, raged over land and sea.  How the black cloud could inflict so much destruction with little or no power, heat or radiation, was a mystery; the fact that it did, however, was sufficient.  Earth was a dying world that would not live out the week.
    Voyager relayed its exciting discovery to Earth, informing all who listened that it was continuing to film.  The phenomena it had spotted was relatively close - no more than twenty thousand miles away at most.  The probes computers did not attempt to identify what it was filming; this was not its job.  Not that it would have helped the anxious scientists back on Earth anyway; the cloud drew an enormous zip on every scanner available.  But as full focus was completely enmeshed in the deadly blackness, another potentially riveting discovery was missed -- or ignored as being inconsequential in light of the Armageddon-like atmosphere prevailing all over the world.
    Ten objects raced past Voyager's starboard side, no more than ten city block lengths away.  Whatever they were, they seemed to take as little notice in the spaceship as Voyager did of them.  Chopping up its artwork into a hundred thousand electronic puzzle pieces that only a sister computer back on Earth could reassemble, Voyager relayed its footage of the black cloud home.  The entire process was fast, lasting no more than a minute or two.  Voyager IV then turned its steely attention once again towards the point of light in the sky it would not see for half a decade.  Never again did it look back at its first cinematographic victory, certain that it would reach those who had placed so much confidence in its abilities.
    Voyager IV - had it a soul or even emotion - would have been disappointed had it known that its efforts had been all for naught.  The discovery of the century, captured by the magic of movies, would never be seen by anybody.  Inimitable and irrefutable proof of life beyond the stars would forever float uselessly between the orbits of the moon and Mars.
    For in less than a minute, the men who designed and built Voyager IV would be dead.

 
    I am tired of tears and laughter
    And men that laugh and weep;
    Of what may come hereafter
    For men that sow to reap;
    I am weary of days and hours,
    Blown buds of barren flowers,
    Desires and dreams and powers
    And everything but sleep ...
     

NINE
     
     
    Rzzdik Zolan
     
    "Hall opening at 230 plus, Zolan," the metallic voice of Zolan's spacecraft announced tonelessly.  It paused deliberately before adding, "I would like to emphasize my discontent over this decision.  You're making a big mistake."
    "Let me worry about that, Rover," Zolan said tonelessly, watching three sets of television monitors display various scenes