Asimov's Future History Volume 4 (60 page)

“Fm aware of that, Daneel, but how do I speak to Fastolfe? Through the equivalent of an astrosimulator? With controls in my hand?”

“Not at all, Partner Elijah. You will speak face-to-face. He plans to meet you at the spaceport.”

13.

B
ALEY
LISTENED
FOR
the noises of landing. He did not know what they might be, of course. He did not know the mechanism of the ship, how many men and women it carried, what they would have to do in the process of landing, what in the way of noise would be involved.

Shouts? Rumbles? A dim vibration?

He heard nothing.

Daneel said, “You seem to be under tension, Partner Elijah. I would prefer that you did not wait to tell me of any discomfort you might feel. I must help you at the very moment you are, for any reason, unhappy.”

There was a faint stress on the word “must.”

Baley thought absently: The First Law drives him. He surely suffered as much in his way as I suffered in mine when I collapsed and he did not foresee it in time. A forbidden imbalance of positronic potentials may have no meaning to me, but it may produce in him the same discomfort and the same reaction as acute pain would to me.

He thought further: How can I tell what exists inside the pseudoskin and pseudoconsciousness of a robot, any more than Daneel can tell what exists inside me.

And then, feeling remorse at having thought of Daneel as a robot, Baley looked into the other’s gentle eyes (when did he start thinking of their expression as gentle?) and said, “I would tell you of any discomfort at once. There is none. I am merely trying to hear any noise that might tell me of the progress of the landing procedure, Partner Daneel.”

“Thank you, Partner Elijah,” said Daneel gravely. He bowed his head slightly and went on, “There should be no discomfort in the landing. You will feel acceleration, but that will be minimal, for this room will yield, to a certain extent, in the direction of the acceleration. The temperature may go up, but not more than two degrees Celsius. As for sonic effects, there may be a low hiss as we pass through the thickening atmosphere. Will any of this disturb you?”

“It shouldn’t. What does disturb mc is not being free to participate in the landing. I would like to know about such things. I do not want to be imprisoned and to be kept from the experience.”

“You have already discovered, Partner Elijah, that the nature of the experience does not suit your temperament.”

“And how am I to get over that, Daneel?,” he said strenuously. “That is not enough reason to keep mc here?”

“Partner Elijah, I have already explained that you are kept here for your own safety.”

Baley shook his head in clear disgust. “I have thought of that and I say it’s nonsense. My chances of straightening out this mess are so small, with all the restrictions being placed on me and with the difficulty I will have in understanding anything about Aurora, that I don’t think anyone in his right mind would bother to take the trouble to try to stop me. And if they did, why bother attacking me personally? Why not sabotage the ship? If we imagine ourselves to be facing no-holds-barred villains, they should find a ship–and the people aboard it–and you and Giskard–and myself, of course–to be a small price to pay.”

“This has, in point of fact, been considered, Partner Elijah. The ship has been carefully studied. Any signs of sabotage would be detected.”

“Are you sure? One hundred percent certain?”

“Nothing of this sort can be absolutely certain. Giskard and I were comfortable, however, with the thought that the certainty was quite high and that we might proceed with minimal expectation of disaster.”

“And if you were wrong?”

Something like a small sign of spasm crossed Daneel’s face, as though he were being asked to consider something that interfered with the smooth working of the positronic pathways in his brain. He said, “But we have not been wrong.”

“You cannot say that. We arc approaching the landing and that is sure to be the danger moment. In fact, at this point there is no need to sabotage the ship. My personal danger is greatest now–right now. I can’t hide in this room if I’m to disembark at Aurora. I will have to pass through the ship and be within reach of others. Have you taken precautions to keep the landing safe?” (He was being petty–striking out at Daneel needlessly because he was chafing at his long imprisonment–and at the indignity of his moment of collapse.)

But Daneel said calmly, “We have, Partner Elijah. And, incidentally, we have landed. We arc now resting on the surface of Aurora.”

For a moment, Baley was bewildered. He looked around wildly, but of course there was nothing to see but an enclosing room. He had felt and heard nothing of what Daneel had described. None of the acceleration, or heat, or wind whistle.–Or had Daneel deliberately brought up the matter of his personal danger once again, in order to make sure he would not think of other unsettling–but minor–matters.

Baley said, “And yet there’s still the matter of getting off the ship. How do I do that without being vulnerable to possible enemies?”

Daneel walked to one wall and touched a spot upon it. The wall promptly split in two, the two halves moving apart. Baley found himself looking into a long cylinder, a tunnel.

Giskard had entered the room at that moment from the other side and said, “Sir, the three of us will move through the exit tube. Others have it under observation from without. At the other end of the tube, Dr. Fastolfe is waiting.”

“We have taken every precaution,” said Daneel.

Baley muttered, “My apologies, Daneel–Giskard.” He moved into the exit tube somberly. Every effort to assure that precautions had been taken also assured him that those precautions were thought necessary.

Baley liked to think he was no coward, but he was on a strange planet, with no way of telling friend from enemy, with no way of taking comfort in anything familiar (except, of course, Daneel). At crucial moments, he thought with a shiver, he would be without enclosure to warm him and to give him relief.

4: Fastolfe

14.

D
R
. H
AN
F
ASTOLFE
was indeed waiting–and smiling. He was tall and thin, with light brown hair that was not very thick, and there were, of course, his ears. It was the cars that Baley remembered, even after three years. Large ears, standing away from his head, giving him a vaguely humorous appearance, a pleasant homeliness. It was the ears that made Baley smile, rather than Fastolfe’s welcome.

Baley wondered briefly if Auroran medical technology did not extend to the minor plastic surgery required to correct the ungainliness of those ears.–But then, it might well be that Fastolfe liked their appearance as Baley himself (rather to his surprise) did. There is something to be said about a face that makes one smile.

Perhaps Fastolfe valued being liked at first glance. Or was it that he found it useful to be underestimated? Or just different?

Fastolfe said, “Plainclothesman Elijah Baley. I remember you well, even though I persist in thinking of you as possessing the face of the actor who portrayed you.”

Baley’s face turned grim. “That hyperwave dramatization haunts me, Dr. Fastolfe. If I knew where I could go to escape it–”

“Nowhere,” said Fastolfe genially. “At least ordinarily. So if you don’t like it, we’ll expunge it from our conversations right now. I shall never mention it again. Agreed?”

“Thank you.” With calculated suddenness, he thrust out his hand at Fastolfe.

Fastolfe hesitated perceptibly. Then he took Baley’s hand, holding it gingerly–and not for long–and said, “I shall assume you are not a walking sack of infection, Mr. Baley.”

Then he said ruefully, staring at his hands, “I must admit, though, that my hands have been treated with an inert film that doesn’t feel entirely comfortable. I’m a creature of the irrational fears of my society.”

Baley shrugged. “So are we all. I do not relish the thought of being Outside–in the open air, that is. For that matter, I do not relish having had to come to Aurora under the circumstances in which I find myself.”

“I understand that well, Mr. Baley. I have a closed car for you here and, when we come to my establishment, we will do our best to continue to keep you enclosed.”

“Thank you, but in the course of my stay on Aurora, I feel that it will be necessary for me to stay Outside on occasion. I am prepared for that–as best I can be.”

“I understand, but we will inflict the Outside on you only when it is necessary. That is not now the case, so please consent to be enclosed.”

The car was waiting in the shadow of the tunnel and there would scarcely be a trace of Outside in passing from the latter to the former. Behind him, Baley was aware of both Daneel and Giskard, quite dissimilar in appearance but both identical in grave and waiting attitude–and both endlessly patient.

Fastolfe opened the back door and said, “Please to get in.”

Baley entered. Quickly and smoothly, Daneel entered behind him, while Giskard, virtually simultaneously, in what seemed a!-most like a well-choreographed dance movement, entered on the other side. Baley found himself wedged, but not oppressively so, between them. In fact, he welcomed the thought that, between himself and the Outside, on both sides, was the thickness of a robotic body.

But there was no Outside. Fastolfe climbed into the front scat and, as the door closed behind him, the windows blanked out and a soft, artificial light suffused the interior.

Fastolfe said, “I don’t generally drive this way, Mr. Baley, but I don’t mind a great deal and you may find it more comfortable. The car is completely computerized, knows where it’s going, and can deal with any obstructions or emergencies. We need interfere in no way.”

There was the faintest feeling of acceleration and then a vague, barely noticeable sensation of motion.

Fastolfe said, “This is a secure passage, Mr. Baley. I have gone to considerable trouble to make certain that as few people as possible know you will be in this car and certainly you will not be detected within it. The trip by car–which rides on air-jets, by the way, so that it is an airfoil, actually–will not take long, but, if you wish, you can seize the opportunity to rest. You are quite safe now.”

“You speak,” said Baley, “as though you think I’m in danger. I was protected to the point of imprisonment on the ship–and again now.” Baley looked about the small, enclosed interior of the car, within which he was hemmed by the frame of metal and opacified glass, to say nothing of the metallic frame of two robots.

Fastolfe laughed lightly. “I am overreacting, I know, but feeling runs high on Aurora. You arrive here at a time of crisis for us and I would rather be made to look silly by overreacting than to run the terrible risk that underreacting entails.”

Baley said, “I believe you understand, Dr. Fastolfe, that my failure here would be a blow to Earth.”

“I understand that well. I am as determined as you are to prevent your failure. Believe me.”

“I do. Furthermore, my failure here, for whatever reason, will also be my personal and professional ruin on Earth.”

Fastolfe turned in his seat to look at Baley with a shocked expression. “Really? That would not be warranted.”

Baley shrugged. “I agree, but it will happen. I will be the obvious target for a desperate Earth government.”

“This was not in my mind when I asked for you, Mr. Baley. You may be sure I will do what I can. Though, in all honesty”–his eyes fell away–” that will be little enough, if we lose.”

“I know that,” said Baley dourly. He leaned back against the soft upholstery and closed his eyes. The motion of the car was limited to a gentle lulling sway, but Baley did not sleep. Instead, he thought hard–for what that was worth.

15.

B
ALEY
DID
NOT
experience the Outside at the other end of the trip, either. When he emerged from the airfoil, he was in an underground garage and a small elevator brought him up to ground level (as it turned out).

He was ushered into a sunny room and, as he passed through the direct rays of the sun (yes, faintly orange), he shrank away a bit.

Fastolfe noticed. He said, “The windows are not opacifiable, though they can be darkened. I will do that, if you like. In fact, I should have thought of that–”

“No need,” said Baley gruffly. “I’ll just sit with my back to it. I must acclimate myself.”

“If you wish, but let me know if, at any time, you grow too uncomfortable.–Mr. Baley, it is late morning here on this part of Aurora. I don’t know your personal time on the ship. If you have been awake for many hours and would like to sleep, that can be arranged. If you are wakeful but not hungry, you need not eat. However, if you feel you can manage it, you are welcome to have lunch with me in a short while.”

“That would fit in well with my personal time, as it happens.”

“Excellent. I’ll remind you that our day is about seven percent shorter than Earth’s. It shouldn’t involve you in too much biorhythmic difficulties, but if it does, we will try to adjust ourselves to your needs.”

“Thank you.”

“Finally–I have no clear idea what your food preferences might be.”

“I’ll manage to cat whatever is put before mc.”

“Nevertheless, I won’t feel offended if anything seems–not palatable.”

“Thank you.”

“And you won’t mind if Daneel and Giskard join us?”

Baley smiled faintly. “Will they be eating, too?”

There was no answering smile from Fastolfe. He said seriously, “No, but I want them to be with you at all times.”

“Still danger? Even here?”

“I trust nothing entirely. Even here.”

A robot entered. “Sir, lunch is served.”

Fastolfe nodded. “Very good, Faber. We will be at the table in a few moments.”

Baley said, “How many robots do you have?”

“Quite a few. We arc not at the Solarian level of ten thousand robots to a human being, but I have more than the average number–fifty-seven. The house is a large one and it serves as my office and my workshop as well. Then, too, my wife, when I have one, must have space enough to be insulated from my work in a separate wing and must be served independently.”