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"...science fiction is sort of like a sociological genome. It's a huge range of possible futures, most of them useless; some vital. You never really know in advance."
- Peter Watts
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Automatic Gun |
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A large artillery device that is entire automated. |
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Upon surveying a devastated planet, a space ship is unexpectedly shot down.
"...What a strange situation! All our reasoning tells us that no life could exist; the whole planet burned dry, the atmosphere itself gone, completely poisoned.”
"The gun that fired the projectiles survived,” Nasha said. "Why not people?”
"It’s not the same. Metal doesn’t need air to breathe. Metal doesn’t get leukemia from radioactive particles. Metal doesn’t need food and water.”
The gun was huge. Stark and immense it pointed up at the sky, a mass of steel and glass, set in a huge slab of concrete. Even as they watched the gun moved on its swivel base, whirring underneath. A slim vane turned with the wind, a network of rods atop a high pole.
"It’s alive,” Nasha whispered. "It’s listening to us, watching us.”
The gu& moved again, this time clockwise. It was mounted so that it could make a full circle. The barrel lowered a trifle, then resumed its original position.
"But who fires it?” Tance said.
Dorle laughed. "No one. No one fires it.”
They stared at him. "What do you mean?”
"It fires itself.”
They couldn’t believe him. Nasha came close to him, frowning, looking up at him. "I don’t understand. What do you mean, it fires itself?”
"Watch, I’ll show you. Don’t move.” Dorle picked up a rock from the ground. He hesitated a moment and then tossed the rock high in the air. The rock passed in front of the gun. Instantly the great barrel moved, the vanes contracted.
THE rock fell to the ground. The gun paused, then resumed its calm swivel, its slow circling.

(The automated gun in 'The Gun' by Philip K. Dick)
"You see,” Dorle said, "it noticed the rock, as soon as I threw it up in the air. It’s alert to anything that flies or moves above the ground level. Probably it detected us as soon as we entered the gravitational field of the planet. It probably had a bead on us from the start. We don’t have a chance. It knows all about the ship. It’s just waiting for us to take off again.”
"I understand about the rock,” Nasha said, nodding. "The gun noticed it, but not us, since we’re on the ground, not above. It’s only designed to combat objects in the sky. The ship is safe until it takes off again, then the end will come.”
"But what’s this gun for?” Tance put in. "There’s no one alive here. Everyone is dead.”
"It’s a machine,” Dorle said. "A machine that was made to do a job. And it’s doing the job... On it goes, waiting for the enemy."
"There must have been hundreds of guns like this,” Dorle murmured. "They must have been used to the sight, guns, weapons, uniforms. Probably they accepted it as a natural thing, part of their lives, like eating and sleeping. An institution, like the church and the state. Men trained to fight, to lead armies, a regular profession. Honored, respected."
Tance was walking slowly toward the gun, peering nearsightedly up at it. "Quite complex, isn’t it? All those vanes and tubes. I suppose this is some sort of a telescopic sight.” His gloved hand touched the end of a long tube.
Instantly the gun shifted, the barrel retracting. It swung —
"Don’t move!” Dorle cried. The barrel swung past them as they stood, rigid and still. For one terrible moment it hesitated over their heads, clicking and whirring, settling into position. Then the sounds died out and the gun became silent. |
Technovelgy from The Gun,
by Philip K. Dick.
Published by Planet Stories in 1952
Additional resources -
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The visitors badly damaged the gun, so they could safely repair their ship and take off. But the makers of the gun weren't finished yet:
Down below, in the center of the ruined city, a single half-broken detector vane moved slightly, catching the roar of the ship. The base of the great gun throbbed painfully, straining to turn. After a moment a red warning light flashed on down inside its destroyed works.
And a long way off, a hundred miles from the city, another warning light flashed on, far underground. Automatic relays flew into action. Gears turned, belts whined. On the ground above a section of metal slag slipped back. A ramp appeared.
A moment later a small cart rushed to the surface.
The cart turned toward the city. A second cart appeared behind it. It was loaded with wiring cables. Behind it a third cart came, loaded with telescopic tube sights. And behind came more carts, some with relays, some with firing controls, some with tools and parts, screws and bolts, pins and nuts. The final one contained atomic warheads.
The carts lined up behind the first one, the lead cart. The lead cart started off, across the frozen ground, bumping calmly along, followed by the others. Moving toward the city.
To the damaged gun.
Compare to the automated bomber in Flying Dutchman by Ward Moore.
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