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eyes. To the three men the machine took on more and more the essence of some great controller, an almost god-like figure. Neither Brett nor Krimpton had any sense of having created this monster; they knew they were its creatures, cogs in its mechanism —there merely to perform a function, without thoughts of their own, without personality, without humanity, in fact. The reversal of roles was complete. As for Major Green, he had transferred his loyalty from one set of masters to another. What he had done for Security he would now do for Wotan – with one difference. He was totally dedicated to this new master. There would be no qualifications; he was ready to die in its service.
    Each man understood the part he had to play in Wotan’s scheme of things. Brett was its mouthpiece. The energy used by the machine’s effort to speak was enormous. Even as it intoned in its metallic fashion, ‘Instructions must be given,’ dynamos reached a pitch that shook the room. Brett took over–the words merely being transmitted through him.
    He turned to the other two. ‘These are your orders, and time is short. Progress is not possible unless Wotan is in control over the next few days. After that, Wotan will make known the future of our race, who shall live and serve, and who shall be obliterated.’
    There was no protest. The statement seemed logical and inevitable.
    As Brett spoke a message-slip rattled from the teleprinter. He handed it to Krimpton. ‘Read it.’ Krimpton nodded. ‘London is the first capital to be taken over,’ he read out. ‘Then Washington, Moscow, Paris and Tokyo. In order to accomplish this the War Machines must go into production immediately.’ No one questioned what they might be. The knowledge was already implanted in their intelligence.
    ‘For this,’ said Brett, ‘we require highly skilled labour as well as manual workers. A first priority is to create this force. It is to start work now.’
    It was as though the machine was clarifying to itself the necessary steps to be taken. The teleprinter burst into life. Brett read out the message, ‘Contact is to be made by telephone with these people. When they answer and contact is made, the switch is to be made through to Thought Control. In this way, Wotan will enlist each individual. Once the switch is made they will be unable to resist.’
    Again that seemed obvious to the others.
    ‘And when we have made this contact,’ said the Major, ‘where are we to construct these machines?’ ‘That is your function,’ Brett told him. ‘You are to find suitable places in Central London – warehouses, factories and the like. You must be careful not to arouse suspicion, for we are vulnerable only for these first few days. After that nothing will be able to oppose us.’ There was no sense of betrayal in their voices as they planned the destruction of their own kind, indeed, there was no judgement or morality in their strategy. The overwhelming of humanity was being planned as carefully and mathematically as any other scientific project, and with as little morality. The tasks of the intellect had to be carried out, regardless of the outcome to the world at large. Other men would have to pick up the pieces – that is, if there were any other men left to do it.
    Major Green acknowledged his instructions, turned and left the office.
    Brett faced Krimpton, looking blankly at him as he issued his instructions. ‘You are to complete your work on the electrical programme. It is to be devised for the new generation of computers that the War Machines require. It is important they are able to move freely of their own accord and at their own will. They will contain their own power. And finally, all the systems as devised must be integrated through the system already controlled by Wotan.’
    None of this seemed to dismay Krimpton. ‘I shall begin at once,’ he said.
    But Brett stopped him. ‘No,’ he said, ‘there is one priority which is even higher, and you are