Asimov's Future History Volume 4 (75 page)

“There are.–If you cross that threshold, Partner Elijah, you will find a Personal reserved for yourself. That section of the wall is not material and you will move easily through it. The light will turn on as you enter and it will go out as you leave–and there are no decorations. You will be able to shower, if you wish, or do anything else that you care to before retiring or after waking.”

Baley turned in the indicated direction. He saw no break in the wall, but the floor molding in that spot did show a thickening as though it were a threshold.

“How do I see it in the dark, Daneel?” he asked.

“That section of the wall–which is not a wall–will glow faintly. As for the room light, there is this depression in the headboard of your bed which, if you place your finger within it, will darken the room if light–or lighten it if dark.”

“Thank you. You may leave now.”

Half an hour later, he was through with the Personal and found himself huddling beneath the blanket, with the light out, enveloped by a warm spirit-hugging darkness.

As Fastolfe had said, it had been a long day. It was almost unbelievable that it had been only that morning that he had arrived on Aurora. He had learned a great deal and yet none of it had done him any good.

He lay in the dark and went over the events of the day in quiet succession, hoping that something might occur to him that had eluded him before–but nothing like that happened.

So much for the quietly thoughtful, keen-eyed, subtle-brained Elijah Baley of the hyperwave drama.

The mattress was again half-enfolding him and it was like a warm enclosure. He moved slightly and it straightened beneath him, then slowly molded itself to fit his new position.

There was no point in frying, with his worn, sleep-seeking mind, to go over the day again, but he could not help trying a second time, following his own footsteps on this, his first day on Aurora–from the spaceport to Fastolfe’s establishment, then to Gladia’s, then back to Fastolfe.

Gladia–more beautiful than he remembered but hard–something hard about her–or has she just grown a protective shell–poor woman. He thought warmly of her reaction to the touch of her hand against his cheek–if he could have remained with her, he could have taught her–stupid Aurorans–disgustingly casual attitude toward sex–anything goes–which means nothing really goes–not worthwhile–stupid–to Fastolfe, to Gladia, back to Fastolfe–back to Fastolfe.

He moved a little and then abstractedly felt the mattress remold again. Back to Fastolfe. What happened on the way back to Fastolfe? Something said? Something not said? And on the ship before he ever got to Aurora–something that fit in–Baley was in the never-never world of half-sleep, when the mind is liberated and follows a law of its own. It is like the body flying, soaring through the air and liberated of gravity.

Of its own accord, it was taking the events–little aspects he had not noted–putting them together–one thing adding to another–clicking into place–forming a web–a fabric–And then, it seemed to him, he heard a sound and he roused himself to a level of wakefulness. He listened, heard nothing, and sank once more into the half-sleep to take up the line of thought–and it eluded him.

It was like a work of art sinking into a morass. He could still see its outlines, the masses of color. They got dimmer, but he still knew it was there. And even as he scrambled desperately for it, it was gone altogether and he remembered nothing of it. Nothing at all.

Had he actually thought of anything or was the memory of having done so itself an illusion born of some drifting nonsense in a mind asleep? And he was, indeed, asleep.

When he woke briefly during the night, he thought to himself; I had an idea. An important idea.

But he remembered nothing, except that something had been there.

He remained awake a while, staring into the darkness. If, in fact, something had been there–it would come back in time.

Or it might not! (Jehoshaphat!)

–And he slept again.

8: Fastolfe and Vasilia

31.

B
ALEY
WOKE
WITH
a start and drew in his breath with sharp suspicion. There was a faint and unrecognizable odor in the air that vanished by his second breath.

Daneel stood gravely at the side of the bed. He said, “I trust, Partner Elijah, that you have slept well.”

Baley looked around. The drapes were still closed, but it was clearly daylight Outside. Giskard was laying out clothing, totally different, from shoes to jacket, from anything he had worn the day before.

He said, “Quite well, Daneel. Did something awaken me?”

“There was an injection of antisomnin in the room’s air circulation, Partner Elijah. It activates the arousal system. We used a smaller than normal amount, since we were uncertain of your reaction. Perhaps we should have used a smaller amount still.”

Baley said, “It did seem to be rather like a paddle over the rear. What time is it?”

Daneel said, “It is 0705, by Auroran measure. Physiologically, breakfast will be ready in half an hour.” He said it without a trace of humor, though a human being might have found a smile appropriate.

Giskard said, his voice stiffer and a trifle less intoned than Daneel’s, “Sir, friend Daneel and I may not enter the Personal. If you will do so and let us know if there is anything you will need, we will supply it at once.”

“Yes, of course.” Baley raised himself, swung around, and got out of bed.

Giskard began stripping the bed at once. “May I have your pajamas, sir?”

Baley hesitated for a moment only. It was a robot who asked, nothing more. He disrobed and handed the garment to Giskard, who took it with a small, grave nod of acceptance.

Baley looked at himself with distaste. He was suddenly conscious of a middle-aged body that was very likely in less good condition than Fastolfe’s, which was nearly three times as old.

Automatically, he looked for his slippers and found there were none. Presumably, he needed none. The floor seemed warm and soft to his feet.

He stepped into the Personal and called out for instructions. From the other side of the illusory section of the wall, Giskard solemnly explained the working of the shaver, of the toothpaste dispenser, explained how to put the flushing device on automatic, how to control the temperature of the shower.

Everything was on a grander and more elaborate scale than anything Earth had to offer and there were no partitions on the other side of which he could hear the movements and involuntary sounds of someone else, something he had to ignore rigidly to maintain the illusion of privacy.

It was effete, thought Baley somberly as he went through the luxurious ritual, but it was an effeteness that (he already knew) he could become accustomed to. If he stayed here on Aurora any length of time, he would find the culture shock of returning to Earth painfully intense,
particularly
with respect to the Personal. He hoped that the readjustment would not take long, but he also hoped that any Earthpeople who settled new worlds would not feel impelled to cling to the concept of Community Personals.

Perhaps, thought Baley, that was how one ought to define “effete”: That to which one can become easily accustomed.

Baley stepped out of the Personal, various functions completed, chin new-cropped, teeth glistening, body showered and dry. He said, “Giskard, where do I find the deodorant?”

Giskard said, “I do not understand, sir.”

Daneel said quickly, “When you activated the lathering control, Partner Elijah, that introduced a deodorant effect. I ask pardon for friend Giskard’s failure to understand. He lacks my experience on Earth.”

Baley lifted his eyebrows dubiously and began to dress with Giskard’s help.

He said, “I see that you and Giskard are still with me every step of the way. Has there been any sign of any attempt at putting me out of the way?”

Daneel said, “None thus far, Partner Elijah. Nevertheless, it would be wise to have friend Giskard and myself with you at all times, if that can possibly be managed.”

“Why is that, Daneel?”

“For two reasons, Partner Elijah. First, we can help you with any aspect of Auroran culture or folkways with which you are unfamiliar. Second, friend Giskard, in particular, can record and reproduce every word of every conversation you may have. This may be of value to you. You will recall that there were times in your conversations with both Dr. Fastolfe and with Miss Gladia when friend Giskard and I were at a distance or in another room–”

“So that conversations were not recorded by Giskard?”

“Actually, they were, Partner Elijah, but with low fidelity–and there may be portions that will not be as clear as we would want them to be. It would be better if we stayed as close to you as is convenient.”

Baley said, “Daneel, are you of the opinion that I will be more at ease if I think of you as guides and as recording devices, rather than as guards? Why not simply come to the conclusion that, as guards, you two are completely unnecessary. Since there have been no attempts at me so far, why isn’t it possible to conclude that there will be no attempts at me in the future?”

“No, Partner Elijah, that would be incautious. Dr. Fastolfe feels that you are viewed with great apprehension by his enemies. They had made attempts to persuade the Chairman not to give Dr. Fastolfe permission to call you in and they will surely continue to attempt to persuade him to have you ordered back to Earth at the earliest possible moment.”

“That sort of peaceful opposition requires no guards.”

“No, sir, but if the opposition has reason to fear that you may exculpate Dr. Fastolfé, it is possible that they may feel driven to extremes. You are, after all, not an Auroran and the inhibitions against violence on our world would therefore be weakened in your case.”

Baley said dourly, “The fact that I’ve been here a whole day and that nothing has happened should relieve their minds greatly and reduce the threat of violence considerably.”

“It would indeed seem so,” said Daneel, showing no signs that he recognized the irony in Baley’s voice.

“On the other hand,” said Baley, “if I seem to make progress, then the danger to me immediately increases.”

Daneel paused to consider, then said, “That would seem to be a logical consequence.”

“And, therefore, you and Giskard will come with me wherever I go, just in case I manage to do my job a little too well.”

Daneel paused again, then said, “Your way of putting it, Partner Elijah, puzzles me, but you seem to be correct.”

“In that case,” said Baley, “I’m ready for breakfast, though it does take the edge off my appetite to be told that the alternative to failure is attempted assassination.”

32.

F
ASTOLFE
SMILED
AT
Baley across the breakfast table. “Did you sleep well, Mr. Baley?”

Baley studied the slice of ham with fascination. It had to be cut with a knife. It was grainy. It had a discrete strip of fat running down one side. It had, in short, not been processed. The result was that it tasted hammier, so to speak.

There were also fried eggs, with the yolk a flattened semisphere in the center, rimmed by white, rather like some daisies that Ben had pointed out to him in the field back on Earth. Intellectually, he knew what an egg looked like before it was processed and he knew that it contained both a yolk and a white, but he had never seen them still separate when ready to eat. Even on the ship coming here and even on Solaria, eggs, when served, were scrambled.

He looked up sharply at Fastolfe. “Pardon me?”

Fastolfe said patiently, “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes. Quite well. I would probably still be sleeping if it hadn’t been for the antisomnin.”

“Ah yes. Not quite the hospitality a guest has the right to expect, but I felt you might want an early start.”

“You are entirely right. And I’m not exactly a guest, either.”

Fastolfe ate in silence for a moment or two. He sipped at his hot drink, then said, “Has any enlightenment come overnight? Have you awakened, perhaps, with a new perspective, a new thought?”

Baley looked at Fastolfe suspiciously, but the other’s face reflected no sarcasm. As Baley lifted his drink to his lips, he said, “I’m afraid not. I am as ineffectual now as I was last night.” He sipped and involuntarily made a face.

Fastolfe said, “I’m sorry. You find the drink unpalatable?”

Baley grunted and cautiously tasted it again.

Fastolfe said, “It is simply coffee, you know. Decaffeinated.”

Baley frowned. “It doesn’t taste like coffee and–Pardon me, Dr. Fastolfe, I don’t want to begin to sound paranoid, but Daneel and I have just had a half-joking exchange on the possibility of violence against me–half-joking on my part, of course, not on Daneel’s–and it is in my mind that one way they might get at me is–”

His voice trailed away.

Fastolfe’s eyebrows moved upward. He reached for Baley’s coffee with a murmur of apology and smelled it. He then ladled out a small portion by spoon and tasted it. He said, “Perfectly normal, Mr. Baley. This is not an attempt at poisoning.”

Baley said, “I’m sorry to behave so foolishly, since I know this has been prepared by your own robots–but are you certain?”

Fastolfe smiled. “Robots have been tampered with before now.–However, there has been no tampering this time. It is just that coffee, although universally popular on the various worlds, comes in different strains. It is notorious that each human being prefers the coffee of his own world. I’m sorry, Mr. Baley, I have no Earth strain to give you. Would you prefer milk? That is relatively constant from world to world. Fruit juice? Aurora’s grape juice is considered superior throughout the worlds, generally. There are some who hint, darkly, that we allow it to ferment somewhat, but that, of course, is not true. Water?”

“I’ll try your grape juice.” Baley looked at the coffee dubiously. “I suppose I ought to try to get used to this.”

“Not at all,” said Fastolfe. “Why seek out the unpleasant if that is unnecessary?–And so”–his smile seemed a bit strained as he returned to his earlier remark–” night and sleep have brought no useful reflection to you?”