Asimov's Future History Volume 4 (72 page)

Daneel’s voice was in his ear. “Are you well, Partner Elijah?”

“Quite well,” said Baley, pleased with himself. “I’m handling the Outside well, Daneel. I can even admire the sunset. Is it always like this?”

Daneel gazed dispassionately at the setting sun and said, “Yes. But let us move quickly toward Dr. Fastolfe’s establishment. At this time of year, the twilight does not last long, Partner Elijah, and I would wish you there while you can still see easily.”

“I’m ready. Let’s go.” Baley wondered if it might not be better to wait for the darkness. It would not be pleasant not to see, but, then, it would give
him
the illusion of being enclosed–and he was not, in his heart, sure as to how long this euphoria induced by admiring a sunset (a sunset, mind you, Outside) would last. But that was a cowardly uncertainty and he would not own up to it.

Giskard noiselessly drifted backward toward him and said, “Would you prefer to wait, sir? Would the darkness suit you better? We ourselves will not be discommoded.”

Baley became aware of other robots, farther off, on every side. Had Gladia marked off her field robots for guard duty or had Fastolfe sent his?

It accentuated the way they were all caring for him and, perversely, he would not admit to weakness. He said, “No, we’ll go now,” and struck off at a brisk walk toward Fastolfe’s establishment, which he could just see through the distant trees.

Let the robots follow or not, as they wished, he thought boldly. He knew that, if he let himself think about it, there would be something within him that would still quail at the thought of himself on the outer skin of a planet with no protection but air between himself and the great void, but he would
not
think of it.

It was the exhilaration at being free of the fear that made his jaws tremble and his teeth click. Or it was the cool wind of evening that did it–and that also set the gooseflesh to appearing on his arms.

It was
not
the Outside.

It was
not.

He said, trying to unclench his teeth, “How well did you know Jander, Daneel?”

Daneel said, “We were together for some time. From the time of friend Jander’s construction, till he passed into the establishment of Miss Gladia, we were together steadily.”

“Did it bother you, Daneel, that Jander resembled you so closely?”

“No, sir. He and I each knew ourselves apart, Partner Elijah, and Dr. Fastolfe did not mistake us either. We were, therefore, two individuals.”

“And could you tell them apart, too, Giskard?” They were closer to him now, perhaps because the other robots had taken over the long-distance duties.

Giskard said, “There was no occasion, as I recall, on which it was important that I do so.”

“And if there had been, Giskard?”

“Then I could have done so.”

“What was your opinion of Jander, Daneel?”

Daneel said, “My opinion, Partner Elijah? Concerning what aspect of Jander do you wish my opinion?”

“Did he do his work well, for instance?”

“Certainly.”

“Was he satisfactory in every way?”

“In every way, to my knowledge.”

“How about you, Giskard? What is your opinion?”

Giskard said, “I was never as close to friend Jander as friend Daneel was and it would not be proper for me to state an opinion. I can say that, to my knowledge, Dr. Fastolfe was uniformly pleased with friend Jander. He seemed equally pleased with friend Jander and with friend Daneel. However, I do not think my programming is such as to allow me to offer certainty in such matters.”

Baley said, “What about the period after Jander entered the household of Miss Gladia? Did you know him then, Daneel?”

“No, Partner Elijah. Miss Gladia kept him at her establishment. On those occasions when she visited Dr. Fastolfe, he was never with her, as far as I was aware. On occasions when I accompanied Dr. Fastolfe on a visit to Miss Gladia’s establishment, I did not see friend Jander.”

Baley felt a little surprised at that. He turned to Giskard in order to ask the same question, paused, and then shrugged. He was not really getting anywhere and, as Dr. Fastolfe had indicated earlier, there is not really much use in cross-examining a robot. They would not knowingly say anything that would harm a human being, nor could they be badgered, bribed, or cajoled into it. They would not openly lie, but they would remain stubbornly–if politely–insistent on giving useless answers.

And–perhaps–it no longer mattered.

They were at Fastolfe’s doorstep now and Baley felt his breath quickening. The trembling of his arms and lower lip, he was confident, was, indeed, only because of the cool wind.

The sun had gone now, a few stars were visible, the sky was darkening to an odd greenish-purple that made it seem bruised, and he passed through the door into the warmth~f the glowing walls.

He was safe.

Fastolfe greeted him. “You are back in good time, Mr. Baley. Was your session with Gladia fruitful?”

Baley said, “Quite fruitful, Dr. Fastolfe. It is even possible that I hold the key to the answer in my hand.”

28.

F
ASTOLFE
MERELY
SMILED
politely, in a way that signaled neither surprise, elation, nor disbelief. He led the way into what was obviously a dining room, a smaller and friendlier one than the one in which they had had lunch.

“You and I, my dear Mr. Baley,” said Fastolfe pleasantly, “will eat an informal dinner alone. Merely the two of us. We will even have the robots absent if that will please you. Nor shall we talk business unless you desperately want to.”

Baley said nothing, but paused to look at the walls in astonishment. They were a wavering, luminous green, with differences in brightness and in tint that were slowly progressive from bottom to top. There was a hint of fronds of deeper green and shadowy flickers this way and that. The walls made the room appear to be a well-lit grotto at the bottom of a shallow arm of the sea. The effect was vertiginous–at least, Baley found it so.

Fastolfe had no trouble interpreting Baley’s expression. He said, “It’s an acquired taste, Mr. Baley, I admit.–Giskard, subdue the wall illumination.–Thank you.”

Baley drew a breath of relief. “And thank
you,
Dr. Fastolfe. May I visit the Personal, sir?”

“But of course.”

Baley hesitated. “Could you–”

Fastolfe chuckled. “You’ll find it perfectly normal, Mr. Baley. You will have no complaints.”

Baley bent his head. “Thank you
very much.”

Without the intolerable make-believe, the Personal–he believed it to be the same one he had used earlier in the day–was merely what it was, a much more luxurious and hospitable one than he had ever seen. It was incredibly different from those on Earth, which were rows of identical units stretching indefinitely, each ticked off for use by one–and only one–individual at a time.

It
gleamed
somehow with hygienic cleanliness. Its outermost molecular layer might have been peeled off after every use and a new layer laid on. Obscurely, Baley felt that, if he stayed on Aurora long enough, he would find it difficult to readjust himself to Earth’s crowds, which forced hygiene and cleanliness into the background–something to pay a distant obeisance to–a not quite attainable ideal.

Baley, standing there surrounded by conveniences of ivory and gold (not real ivory, no doubt, nor real gold), gleaming and smooth, suddenly found himself shuddering at Earth’s casual exchange of bacteria and wincing at its richness in infectivity. Was that not what the Spacers felt? Could he blame them?

He washed his hands thoughtfully, playing with the tiny touches here and there along the control-strip in order to change the temperature. And yet these Aurorans were so unnecessarily garish in their interior decorations, so insistent in pretending they were living in a state of nature when they had tamed nature and broken it.–Or was that only Fastolfe?

After all, Gladia’s establishment had been far more austere.–Or was that only because she had been brought up on Solaria?

The dinner that followed was an unalloyed delight. Again, as at lunch, there was the distinct feeling of being closer to nature. The dishes were numerous–each different, each in small portions–and, in a number of cases, it was possible to see that they had once been part of plants and animals. He was beginning to look upon the inconveniences–the occasional small bone, bit of gristle, strand of fiber, which might have repelled him earlier–as a bit of adventure.

The first course was a little fish–a little fish that one ate whole, with whatever internal organs it might have–and that struck him, at first sight, as another foolish way of rubbing one’s nose in Nature with a capital “N.” But he swallowed the little fish anyway, as Fastolfe did, and the taste converted him at once. He had never experienced anything like it. It was as though taste buds had suddenly been invented and inserted iii his tongue.

Tastes changed from dish to dish and some were distinctly odd and not entirely pleasant, but he found it didn’t matter. The thrill of a distinct taste, of
different
distinct tastes (at Fastolfe’s instruction, he took a sip of faintly flavored water between dishes) was what counted–and not the inner detail.

He tried not to gobble, nor to concentrate his attention entirely on the food, nor to lick his plate. Desperately, he continued to observe and imitate Fastolfe and to ignore the other’s kindly but definitely amused glance.

“I trust,” said Fastolfe, “you find this to your taste.”

“Quite good,” Baley managed to choke out.

“Please don’t force yourself into useless politeness. Do not eat anything that seems strange or unpalatable to you. I will have additional helpings of anything you do like brought in its place.”

“Not necessary, Dr. Fastolfe. It is all rather satisfactory.”

“Good.”

Despite Fastolfe’s offer to eat without robots present, it was a robot who served. (Fastolfe, accustomed to this, probably did not even notice the fact, Baley thought–and he did not bring the matter up.)

As was to be expected, the robot was silent and his motions were flawless. His handsome livery seemed to be out of historical dramas that Baley had seen on hyperwave. It was only at very close view that one could see how much the costume was an illusion of the lighting and how close the robot exterior was to a smooth metal finish–and no more.

Baley said, “Has the waiter’s surface been designed by Gladia?”

“Yes,” said Fastolfe, obviously pleased. “How complimented she will feel to know that you recognized her touch. She is good, isn’t she? Her work is coming into increasing popularity and she fills a useful niche in Auroran society.”

Conversation throughout the meal had been pleasant but unimportant. Baley had had no urge to “talk business” and had, in fact, preferred to be largely silent while enjoying the meal and leaving it to his unconscious–or whatever faculty took over in the absence of hard thought–to decide on how to approach the matter that seemed to him now to be the central point of the Jander problem.

Fastolfe took the matter out of his hands, rather, by saying, “And now that you’ve mentioned Gladia, Mr. Baley, may I ask how it came about that you left for her establishment rather deep in despair and have returned almost buoyant and speaking of perhaps having the key to the whole affair in your hand? Did you learn something new–and unexpected, perhaps–at Gladia’s?”

“That I did,” said Baley absently–but he was lost in the dessert, which he could not recognize at all, and of which (after some yearning in his eyes had acted to inspire the waiter) a second small helping was placed before him. He felt replete. He had never in his life so enjoyed the act of eating and for the first time found himself resenting the physiological limits that made it impossible to eat forever. He felt rather ashamed of himself that he should feel so.

“And what was it learned that was new and unexpected?” asked Fastolfe with quiet patience. “Presumably something I didn’t know myself?”

“Perhaps. Gladia told me that you had given Jander to her about half a year ago.”

Fastolfe nodded. “I knew
that.
So I did.”

Baley said sharply, “Why?”

The amiable look on Fastolfe’s face faded slowly. Then he said, “Why not?”

Baley said, “I don’t know why not, Dr. Fastolfe. I don’t care. My question is: Why?”

Fastolfe shook his head slightly and said nothing.

Baley said, “Dr. Fastolfe, I am here in order to straighten out what seems to be a miserable mess. Nothing you have done–
nothing–
has
made things simple. Rather, you have taken what seems to be pleasure in showing me how bad a mess it is and in destroying any speculation I may advance as a possible solution. Now, I don’t expect others to answer my questions. I have no official standing on this world and have no right to ask questions, let alone force answers.

“You, however, are different. I am here at your request and I am trying to save your career as well as mine and, according to your own account of matters, I am trying to save Aurora as well as Earth. Therefore, I expect you to answer my questions fully and truthfully. Please don’t indulge in stalemating tactics, such as asking me why not when I ask why. Now, once again–and for the last time: Why?”

Fastolfe thrust out his lips and looked grim. “My apologies, Mr. Baley. If I hesitated to answer, it is because, looking back on it, it seems there is no very dramatic reason. Gladia Delmarre–no, she doesn’t want her surname used–Gladia is a stranger on this planet; she has undergone traumatic experiences on her home world, as you know, and traumatic experiences on this one, as perhaps you don’t know–”

“I do know. Please be more direct.”

“Well, then, I was sorry for her. She was alone and Jander, I thought, would make her feel less alone.”

“Sorry for her? Just that. Are you lovers? Have you been?”

“No, not at all. I did not offer. Nor did she.–Why? Did she tell you we were lovers?”

“No, she did not, but I need independent confirmation, in any case. I’ll let you know when there is a contradiction; you needn’t concern yourself about that. How is it that with you sympathizing so with her and–from what I gather from Gladia, she feeling so grateful to you–that neither of you offered yourself? I gather that on Aurora offering sex is about on a par with commenting upon the weather.”