The Last Question. The last question was asked for the first time, half in jest, on May 21, 2061, at a time when humanity first stepped into the light.
The question came about as a result of a five dollar bet over highballs, and it happened this way: Alexander Adell and Bertram Lupov were two of the faithful attendants of Multivac. As well as any human beings could, they knew what lay behind the cold, clicking, flashing face -- miles and miles of face -- of that giant computer. They had at least a vague notion of the general plan of relays and circuits that had long since grown past the point where any single human could possibly have a firm grasp of the whole. Multivac was self-adjusting and self-correcting. For decades, Multivac had helped design the ships and plot the trajectories that enabled man to reach the Moon, Mars, and Venus, but past that, Earth's poor resources could not support the ships.
The energy of the sun was stored, converted, and utilized directly on a planet-wide scale. "Sure you are. The Last Answer. The Last Answer by Isaac Asimov — © 1980 Murray Templeton was forty-five years old, in the prime of life, and with all parts of his body in perfect working order except for certain key portions of his coronary arteries, but that was enough.
The pain had come suddenly, had mounted to an unbearable peak, and had then ebbed steadily. He could feel his breath slowing and a kind of gathering peace washing over him. There is no pleasure like the absence of pain – immediately after pain. Murray felt an almost giddy lightness as though he were lifting in the air and hovering. He opened his eyes and noted with distant amusement that the others in the room were still agitated. Now, with the pain gone, the others were still hovering, still anxious, still gathered about his fallen body –– Which, he suddenly realised, he was looking down on. He was down there, sprawled, face contorted. He thought: Miracle of miracles! He thought: There should be some angel – or something – coming for me. “Not at all. "How it Happened" by Isaac Asimov.
My brother began to dictate in his best oratorical style, the one which has the tribes hanging on his words.
"In the beginning," he said, "exactly fifteen point two billion years ago, there was a big bang and the Universe--" But I had stopped writing. "Fifteen billion years ago? " I said incredulously. "Absolutely," he said. "I don't question your inspiration," I said. "I have to," said my brother. By now I had put down my stylus. "What? " I said, "Suppose you describe one million years of events to each roll of papyrus. My brother thought awhile. "Way down," I said, "if you expect to reach the public.
" "How about a hundred years? " "How about six days? " He said horrified, "You can't squeeze Creation into six days. " I said, "This is all the papyrus I have. "Oh, well," he said, and began to dictate again, "In the beginning-- Does it have to be six days, Aaron? "