Mind Webs - The Hall Of Machines

A surreal sci-fi series exploring speculative concepts, dreams, and philosophical what-ifs. Each episode is a cerebral journey into the mind’s deepest questions.

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:29):
Mind Webb. Welcome to a half hour of mind Webbs
Short stories from the world the speculative fiction. Michael Hanson

(00:52):
speaking and I mind Webbs This evening, I do a
story from the Eye of the Lens book by Langon Jones.
It's called the Hall of Machines. Many great thinkers have
attempted to analyze the nature of the Hall. However, all

(01:13):
their different approaches have been characterized by a lack of
agreement and often blatant contradiction of fact. The appearance of
the Hall is generally well known, but as soon as
we try to unearth specific detail, we realize that all
is conjecture. The hall is vast, we would expect the
descriptions of its contents to vary. One person could not

(01:36):
be expected to cover the whole area of its interior. However,
there has been a great deal of superstitious rumor concerning
its contents, and it's often difficult to separate the true
from the wholly fallacious. There has been much conjecture concerning
the size of the Hall, but no results have actually
been confirmed by any kind of measurement. It's been postulated

(01:59):
by at least one I hear that the Hall is
in fact infinite in extent. Others, no doubt, influenced by
exaggerated reports, have maintained that the hall covers a variable area,
its size altering by a factor of at least fifty
Other evidence, however, suggests that both of these ideas bear,
in all probability little relationship to the facts. During the

(02:22):
last few years, I found it a rewarding task to
research all the material I could find that related in
any way to the Hall. The task has been difficult
but illuminating. I have now in my files a vast
amount of information in the form of books, articles, newspaper cuttings,
recorded tapes and movie films, as well as a large

(02:43):
number of transcribed interviews on a subject which I have
found to become daily more more fascinating. My research has
become to a degree obsessional. I now find that my
normal routine has been disturbed to quite a large extent.
Over the last three year. I have devoted a complete
room to this work, my ultimate intention being to shape

(03:06):
the material into a comprehensive book. All over the wall
are pinned the relevant newspaper cuttings, their arrangement depending on
whichever aspect of the hall, and currently researching set. In
the middle of the room is my movie projector. Frequently
I watch five hours of film that I have accumulated
at one sitting and beside it is the tape recorder.

(03:27):
On tape I have, apart from interviews in the commentaries,
at least an hour of the recorded sounds of some
of the machines actually in operation. I've taken these sounds
down as accurately as possible and of musical notation. I've
permutated the resulting patterns of notes and have found interesting
relationships between the basic shapes, but as yet nothing more concrete.

(03:52):
I now spend a large proportion of my day in
carrying out this research. I sit four hours cutting out
newspaper articles or developing film in the dark room. I've
constructed and so with scissors, photographic chemicals, music, paper, paste, tape,
recorder and projector, I've built up a picture that is
It's far from complete, but is remarkable in its specific detail.

(04:16):
I would now like to present some of the more
striking of the descriptions I've unearthed. They're is not delivered
in a planned order, but have been assembled to give,
rather than a dry academic account, a series of interesting impressions.
I believe that one of the most fascinating aspects of
the Hall is in the diverse impressions it creates within

(04:38):
the minds of the observers. When my book is complete,
which will not be for some years, it'll run to
at least five large volumes, I shall have sufficient confidence
in the correctness of my results and also the scope
to present them in detail. Until then, these extracts are

(05:00):
intended only to communicate the atmosphere of the Hall as
it appeared to some people. The water machine. The trusts
and gullies of the water machine extend over a large
area of this section of the Hall. Although it's enclosed

(05:23):
by false walls aboard, it still gives a sprawling impression
all about our convex metal surfaces. The floor is intersected
by runnels and gullies. The water machine is constructed primarily
of cast iron, but certain of its parts are made
of a lighter metal, probably an alloy such as aluminum.

(05:45):
The machine consists of the complexity of large components which
stretch probably twenty feet in height, and the whole mass
is supported by a surprisingly small number of slim metal struts.
Water is being pumped in from a large pipe at
the very top of the machine. It is conducted by
a series of ingenious mechanical movements through a series of

(06:07):
gullies and out of this part of all. I thought
it likely that the water was moving in a large
enclosed cycle and dropped into a nearby channel a small
piece of white paper, as I suspected. Within about three
minutes the paper came floating past my feet again. The
noise of the water is almost deafening at times. Constantly

(06:31):
there's the hissing of a jet at the top of
the machine and a rushing of the liquid as it
bubbles its way through its course. Also, there's the loud
creaking of the metal parts as they operate. Every few
seconds there is an enormous crash as a metal part
is activated in the water, momentarily redoubles its volume. Water

(06:54):
drips constantly from the supporting members, gathers on the floor
and runs down the slow towards the many drains, concrete channels,
sweeping graceful lines about my feet. Cast iron come to
its curve in black roundness, globules of condensation running along
their undersides. Situated at the top of the machine is

(07:18):
the vast silver belly of the top water container spatulate
and curved like a vast silver spoon. The lead in
pipe about six inches in diameter is pointing into this tank,
and a great jet of water, like a column of glass,
is sluicing into its interior. After a while, the container

(07:40):
begins to groan loudly. Suddenly the critical balance is attained.
The groaning reaches a climax under the enormous weight of water,
and the tank begins to shudder under a volume of
liquid that it is incapable of supporting. Ulber's bill slops
to the floor and runs down to the square drains slowly.

(08:03):
Inch by inch, the tank begins to tip its last box.
Water spills over its thick pouring lip and falls in
a glistening ribbon into a reservoir a couple of yards below.
The tank begins to accelerate its rate of movement, and
more water gushes down. Faster moves the container, and then

(08:23):
with a crash, it inverts itself. A solid mass of
water falls into the reservoir and the ground shutters with
the impact. The container, meanwhile is pulled back to a
creaking vertical by a counterweight. Water leaks from the reservoir,
jetting out with great force from a circle of six

(08:45):
holes at its convex base. These six separate streams are
all conducted by diverse methods to the ground. One of
the streams gushes into a smaller version of the water barrel.
Another enters one of the hinged containers set between the
double rim of a large wheel, its weight causing the
wheel to rotate slowly. After a quarter revolution, the container

(09:10):
will snag on a projection and tip up, letting the
water escape into one of the channels. Another stream strikes
a sprung flange which bounces constantly in and out of
the floe the other end of the flange, operating a
mechanism like the escapement of a clock. All the streams
eventually reach the dark channels or well set concrete set

(09:33):
in the floor, and are then conducted away from sight
through holes set in the surrounding walls. Behind the wall
can be heard the sound of great pumps up above,
I know of pouting is playing machines of movement. Seeing

(10:00):
through a rather enclosed part of the hall, now its
spaciousness not apparent, owing to the large bulk of the
partitions enclosing. Various machines. When I passed a small wooden
doorway set into one of the partitions. On the door
was a plaque printed black on white. It said Interlocking
machine Room. On entering the room, I found it to

(10:24):
be full of giant metal crabs. Great struts of thin
metal rod crisscrosses from ceiling to floor, making it impossible
to see very far into this room. The very air
shutters with the vibration of these machines. Although the constructions
vary considerably one from the other, a large number of

(10:46):
them have the same basic shape. Their nucleus is a
mass of rods and other interlocking numbers, and they stand
about ten feet high. The arrangement of these rods is
infinitely complex. At their apex, they are thickly composed and
are surrounded by other parts that join them and permit
their motion. They branch out, and at floor level, each

(11:10):
machine covers a considerable area. All of the legs of
these machines are connected by free moving joints to the
legs of the other units, and a movement of one
causes an adjustment to the position of the other. The
whole room is in motion, and the machines twitch each
other with an action that appears almost lascivious in nature.

(11:34):
A rod near me is moved by the action of
a neighbour's leg. This movement is communicated at the top
of the unit to another of the legs, and it
in turn imparts motion to a machine still further away.
As these machines work, a constant metallic clattering fills the air,
as if the room is filled with typewriters. The machines

(11:59):
are slick and oiled. Their movement is smoove but gives
an impression of great nervousness. All Over this chamber are
various other parts, all of which seem affected in some
way by the movement of the rods. On the wall
near me is fixed a plaque with a jointed arm
extending from it. Taut wires radiate from either extremity into

(12:21):
the skeletal gray. One end is angled up, the other down.
As the wire of the higher end is pulled by
some motion in the mass of interlocking parts, the arm
reverses its position jerkily. Perhaps a million years ago, these
machines were constructed in the delicate static balance a frozen wave,

(12:43):
and with the locking of the final link in the circuit,
the fixing of the last jointed leg against leg. The
balance was tripped, a motion would have run its path,
twisting and turning about the machine, splitting itself, dividing again.
Until today this movement still ran about the constructions, the
fused and the unpredictable, a million strands of current still splitting.

(13:09):
And perhaps the machines had been so carefully designed that
in another million years all the currents would begin to amalgamate,
becoming less and less complex, until they finally became too,
meeting in opposition and deadlock, all movement ceasing. The mind
drowns among the interlocking machines. Perhaps the reason is in

(13:33):
the similarity of this abstract maze to that pattern formed
by the neural current. Perhaps these patterns of motion parallel
too closely the patterns of electricity that we call personality,
and the one is disturbed by the other. Conversely, perhaps
the very existence of a human mind in the room

(13:54):
causes little eddies and whirlds in the motion of the machines.
I was able to stay in the interlocking machine room
for more than a minute or two before the psychological
effects became more than I could bear. The clock A

(14:16):
large number of the machines in the hall are partitioned
off by boards, so that one often feels that one
is walking in the constricted space and loses completely the
feeling of immensity that one often experiences in the hall.
It was in such a place that I found, set
against one wall, the mechanism of an enormous clock. It

(14:38):
was all of shining brass, and it stood no less
than ten feet high. It was facing the wall, the
dials and hands, if in fact any such existed, being
completely invisible. The clock was triangular in shape and supported
by a framework of sturdy brass front and back brass
that curved down to provide four feet There was no

(15:00):
plate at the back of the clock, its arbors being
seated in strips of brass that curved in beautiful shapes
from the main framework. Despite the largeness of the clock,
it was built to delicate proportions. The wheels were all
narrow rimmed, and the pallets then engaged the escape wheel
were long curved, like the fingernails of a woman. It

(15:24):
was as if the mechanism of an ordinary domestic clock
had been magnified to a great degree. There was none
of the solidity and cumbersomeness of the turret clock. Here
I discovered, to my surprise that this clock was powered,
as most domestic clocks, by a spring. However, this spring
was immense and must have exerted a tremendous pressure to

(15:47):
operate the mechanism. Although the whole movement was surmounted by
the escape wheel and anchor, which perched on the apex
of the triangle, the pendulum was disproportionately short, stretching down
a little more than six feet. The slow tick of
this enormous clock was locking in the lower partials, and
as a consequence, was not disturbing. As the clock was

(16:11):
so large, motion could be seen among the wheels, which
moved each to a varying degree with each tick of
the clock. This was a fascinating sight, and I stayed
watching the clock for a considerable period of time. I
wish that I could have seen the clock illuminated by
a strong morning sunlight from a window. A Machine of death.

(16:42):
There is darkness in this part of the hall. Stray
light illuminates black pitted metal. I can see little of
the machine of Death. It is to my right and
is a bleak, high wall of metal, the end of
a thick chain extrudes here, turns and plunges back into

(17:02):
the metal wall. The chain is a foot wide and
four inches thick. The only other feature of this machine
is a waste pipe which is sticking out from the wall.
Underneath this pipe is a channel set in the floor
which conducts the waist to a nearby drain. The all
pervasive stink of this strain makes breathing difficult. The pipe

(17:27):
is pouring blood into the channel. The next machine is
the Mother. This machine is standing in isolation, surrounded by
space on all sides. It is extremely large, standing almost

(17:49):
one hundred feet high. It is shaped like an elongated onion,
tapering at the top to a high spire. From one
side of the machine, from about ten feet up, a
flaxid rubbery tube bangs down and outward to a ground level.
The onion belly of the Mother is completely featureless and
light catches its curves. The tube is of a dull

(18:10):
red shade. There are sounds coming from inside the metal body,
soft but constant, but then abruptly they stop and all
is silent. At the top of the tube, a bulge
becomes apparent, swelling outward all the time slowly. This bulge

(18:31):
begins to travel inside the tube, away from the machine
and down to the ground. While all of this is
going on, one obtains an impression of supreme effort and
strangely pain. Perhaps it is because the whole process is
so slow. The object creeping down the tube will eventually
reach the end and emerge into the light. One realizes

(18:54):
this and feels an almost clusterrophobic impatience with the slowness
of the event. There is a feeling also of compression
and relaxation, and one finds one's own muscles clenching in
time to the imagined contractions. Eventually, the bulge reaches the
end of the tube at ground level. This is where

(19:17):
the real struggle begins. One becomes aware that the end
of the tube is beginning to dilate slowly and rhythmically.
The belly of the machine is as smooth and unevocative
of any emotion as ever, but it is impossible for
the observer not to feel that agonies are now being endured.

(19:38):
One realizes that the process is completely irreversible, that there
is no way of forcing the bulge back up the
tube and inside the metal shell again. Wider and wider
grows the amperture at the ends of the tube, affording
one an occasional glimpse of shiny moisture within. A glint

(19:58):
of metal is now then apparent. The tube dilates to
its fullest extent, and a metal form is suddenly revealed,
Covered in dripping brown fluid. The rubber slides over its surface,
releasing it more and more by the second. Abruptly it
bursts free in a wash of amniotic oil. All is still.

(20:25):
The oil begins to drain away, and the new machine
stands there motionlessly as the liquid drains from its surfaces.
It is a small mechanism caterpillar tracks with various appendages
at its front end. It seem to be designed for
working metal or stone. With a word, it jerks into action,

(20:46):
then moves softly away from the great Mother. There is
a click from the parent machine, and the noises inside
begin again. I have watched this mechanism for long periods,
and and it appears to create only two kinds of machine.
They are both on the same basic design, but one

(21:08):
appears to be made for erection, the other for demolition.
The mother has probably been working thus for hundreds of
years now. Electric machines stare at me with warm green eyes.
I see nothing but bright plastic surfaces in set with

(21:30):
pieces of glass. These are still machines, active but unmoving,
and in my ears is the faint hum of their life.
The only movement here which indicates that the machines are
in operation is the kicking of meters and the occasional
jug of an empty tape spool. Their function is not apparent.

(21:51):
They work here at nameless tasks, performing them all with
electronic precision and smoothness. There are wires all over this room,
and their bright primary colors contrast strikingly with the overall
pastel tones of the plastic bodies. In a small chamber

(22:14):
to the rear of the room of electric machines, there
are some more of a different kind. The door to
this small room is of wood, with a square glass
set into it. The room appears to have remained undisturbed
for many years. They line three walls of the chamber
and are covered with switches and meters. They hum in

(22:37):
strange configurations of sound, and appear to be making electric
music together. Death of Machines one. In this part of
the hall, all the still spiked mounds of time rise

(22:58):
around me. Their hulks and crust with brown the cane.
The floor is totally covered by a soft carpet of rust.
Its acrid odor stings the nostrils. A piece attaches itself
from one of the tall machines and drifts to the
floor a flake of time. Many such flakes have fallen
here in this part of the hall. Time burns fire

(23:19):
in my eyes, and I turn my head looking for escape.
But everywhere I see seconds and hours frozen into these
red shapes. Here is a wheel, its rim completely eaten through.
They're a piston, its movable parts now fixed in the
mechanical rigor mortis. A reel of wire has been thrown
into a corner ages in the past, and all that
remain are its circular traces in the dust. My feet

(23:42):
have left prints in the carpet depth of machines too.
I had come into the hall with my girl, and
we had spent a long time wandering about hand in hand,
when we suddenly came on the remains of a machine.
It stood about six feet in height, and I could

(24:04):
see that at one time it had been of great complexity.
For some reason, my girl was not very interested and
went off to see something else. But I found that
This particular machine made me feel very sad. It appeared
to be entirely composed of needles of metal arranged in
the thick pattern. The largest of these needles was about

(24:26):
three inches long, and there appeared to be no way
for the machine to hold together. My guess is that
when it was made, the needles were fitted in such
a way that the whole thing is struck in internal balance.
The machine was now little more than a gossamer web
of rust. It must have had tremendous stability to have
remained standing for such a long time. It was fascinating

(24:50):
to look closely at its construction, to see the red
lines fitting together so densely. It was like looking into
a labyrinth, a system of blood red caves. With every
movement of my head, a whole new landscape was presented
to me. I called my girl over, and we stood
hand in hand looking at the dead machine. I think

(25:13):
that it must have been our body heat, for neither
of us made an excessive movement. But at that moment
the entire construction creaked and sank a few inches. Then
there was a sigh, and the whole thing dissolved into
dust about our feet. Both of us felt very subdued

(25:34):
when we left the hall. I hope that the above
information has enabled you to gain an impression of this
very exciting hall. There is little that I can add
except for the following point. You will remember from one
of the accounts I gave you, the one giving the

(25:56):
tales of the creation of new machines. The following lass.
You see it is a small mechanism on caterpillar tracks,
with various appendages at its front end, which seem to
be designed for working metal or stone. It appears to
create only two kinds of machine. One appears to be
made for erection, the other for demolition. These two passages,

(26:20):
together with some other material that I have not published,
suggest an interesting point. I believe that the machines mentioned
here are the same as those described in another account,
in which the writer stood by one of the outer
walls of the hall. He watched one set of machines

(26:40):
building a wall about six inches further out than the
old wall, which was being torn down by the other mechanisms.
This seems to be a process which is going on
all the time all over the hall. A new wall
is built slightly further out, and this in turn will
be demolished as another wall is put up. I believe

(27:04):
that the Hall has been from the time of its
creation and always will be increasing in size. However, only
more research will be able to establish this radical ideas
and incontrovertible fact. The story tonight was the Hall of

(27:26):
the Machines, from the book The Eye of the Lens
by Langdon Jones. This is Michael Hanson speaking production engineering
for mindwebs by Steve Gordon. Mindwebbs is a production of
WHA Radio and Madison, a service of University of Wisconsin
Extension