Asimov's Future History Volume 4 (79 page)

The pressure of Daneel’s hand on Baley’s upper arm brought the latter to a halt. Giskard, ahead of them, was speaking in a low voice to two robots, who were themselves rather Giskardlike.

A sudden coldness struck the pit of Baley’s stomach. What if some rapid maneuver substituted another robot for Giskard? Would he be able to recognize the substitution? Tell two such robots apart? Would he be left with a robot without special instructions to guard him, one who might innocently lead him into danger and then react with insufficient quickness when protection was necessary?

Controlling his voice, he said calmly to Daneel, “Remarkable the similarity in those robots, Daneel. Can you tell them apart?”

“Certainly, Partner Elijah. Their clothing designs are different and their code numbers are different, as well.”

“They don’t look different to me.”

“You are not accustomed to notice that sort of detail.”

Baley stared again. “What code numbers?”

“They are easily visible, Partner Elijah, when you know where to look and when your eyes are sensitive farther into the infrared than human eyes are.”

“Well, then, I would be in trouble if I had to do the identifying, wouldn’t I?”

“Not at all, Partner Elijah. You had but to ask a robot for its full name and serial number. It would tell you.”

“Even if instructed to give me a false one?”

“Why should any robot be so instructed?”

Baley decided not to explain.

Giskard was, in any case, returning. He said to Baley, “Sir, you will be received. Come this way, please.”

The two robots of the establishment led. Behind them came Baley and Daneel, the latter retaining his grip protectively.

Following in the rear was Giskard.

The two robots stopped before a double door which opened, apparently automatically, in both directions. The room within was suffused with a dim, grayish light–daylight diffusing through thick drapery.

Baley could make out, not very clearly, a small human figure in the room, half-seated on a tall stool, with one elbow resting on a table that ran the length of the wall.

Baley and Daneel entered, Giskard coming up behind them. The door closed, leaving the room dimmer than ever.

A female voice said sharply, “Come no closer! Stay where you are!”

And the room burst into full daylight.

38.

B
ALEY
BLINKED
AND
looked upward. The ceiling was glassed and, through it, the sun could be seen. The sun seemed oddly dim, however, and could be looked at, even though that did not seem to affect the quality of the light within. Presumably, the glass (or whatever the transparent substance was) diffused the light without absorbing it.

He looked down at the woman, who still maintained her pose at the stool, and said, “Dr. Vasilia Fastolfe?”

“Dr. Vasilia Aliena, if you want a full name. I do not borrow the names of others. You may call me Dr. Vasilia. It is the name by which I am commonly known at the Institute.” Her voice, which had been rather harsh, softened, “And how are you, my old friend Giskard?”

Giskard said, in tones oddly removed from his usual one, “I greet you–” He paused and then said, “I greet you, Little Miss.”

Vasilia smiled. “And this, I suppose, is the humaniform robot of whom I have heard–Daneel Olivaw?”

“Yes, Dr. Vasilia,” said Daneel briskly.

“And finally, we have–the Earthman.”

“Elijah Baley, Doctor,” said Baley stiffly.

“Yes, I’m aware that Earthmen have names and that Elijah Baley is yours,” she said coolly. “You don’t look one blasted thing like the actor who played you in the hyperwave show.”

“I am aware of that, Doctor.”

“The one who played Daneel was rather a good likeness, however, but I suppose we are not here to discuss the show.”

“We are not.”

“I gather we are here, Earthman, to talk about whatever it is you want to say about Santirix Gremionis and get it over with. Bight?”

“Not entirely,” said Baley. “That is not the primary reason for my coming, though I imagine we will get to it.”

“Indeed? Are you under the impression that we are here to engage in a long and complicated discussion on whatever topic you choose to deal with?”

“I think, Dr. Vasilia, you would be well-advised to allow me to manage this interview as I wish.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No.”

“Well, I have never met an Earthman and it might be interesting to see how closely you resemble the actor who played your role–that is, in ways other than appearance. Are you really the masterful person you seemed to be in the show?”

“The show,” said Baley with clear distaste, “was overdramatic and exaggerated my personality in every direction. I would rather you accept me as I am and judge me entirely from how I appear to you right now.”

Vasilia laughed. “At least you don’t seem overawed by me. That’s a point in your favor. Or do you think this Gremionis thing you’ve got in mind puts you in a position to order me about?”

“I am not here to do anything but uncover the truth in the matter of the dead humaniform robot, Jander Panell.”

“Dead? Was he ever alive, then?”

“I use one syllable in preference to phrases such as ‘rendered inoperative.’ Does saying ‘dead’ confuse you?”

Vasilia said, “You fence well.–Debrett, bring the Earthman a chair. He will grow weary standing if this is to be a long conversation. Then get into your niche. And you may choose one, too, Daneel.–Giskard, come stand by me.”

Baley sat down. “Thank you, Debrett.–Dr. Vasilia, I have no authority to question you; I have no legal means of forcing you to answer my questions. However, the death of Jander Panell has put your father in a position of some–”

“It has put
whom
in a position?”

“Your father.”

“Earthman, I sometimes refer to a certain individual as my father, but no one else does. Please use a proper name.”

“Dr. Han Fastolfe. He is your father, isn’t he? As a matter of record?”

Vasilia said, “You are using a biological term. I share genes with him in a manner characteristic of what
on Earth
would be considered a father-daughter relationship. This is a matter of indifference on Aurora, except in medical and genetic matters. I can conceive of my suffering from certain metabolic states in which it would be appropriate to consider the physiology and biochemistry of those with whom I share genes–parents, siblings, children, and so on. Otherwise these relationships are not generally referred to in polite Auroran society.–I explain this to you because you are an Earthman.”

“If I have offended against custom,” said Baley, “it is through ignorance and I apologize. May I refer to the gentleman under discussion by name?”

“Certainly.”

“In that case, the death of Jander Panell has put Dr. Han Fastolfe into a position of some difficulty and I would assume that you would be concerned enough to desire to help him.”

“You assume that, do you? Why?”

“He is your–He brought you up. He cared for you. You had a profound affection for each other. He still feels a profound affection for you.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“It was obvious from the details of our conversations–even from the fact that he has taken an interest in the Solarian woman, Gladia Delmarre, because of her resemblance to you.”

“Did he tell you
that?”

“He did, but even if he hadn’t, the resemblance is obvious.”

“Nevertheless, Earthman, I owe Dr. Fastolfe nothing. Your assumptions can be dismissed.”

Baley cleared his throat. “Aside from any personal feelings you might or might not have, there is the matter of the future of the Galaxy. Dr. Fastolfe wishes new worlds to be explored and settled by human beings. If the political repercussions of Jander’s death lead to the exploration and settlement of the new worlds by robots, Dr. Fastolfe believes that this will be catastrophic for Aurora and humanity. Surely you would not be a party to such a catastrophe.”

Vasilia said indifferently, watching him closely, “Surely not, if I agreed with Dr. Fastolfe. I do not. I see no harm in having humaniform robots doing the work. I am here at the Institute, in fact, to make that possible. I am a Globalist. Since Dr. Fastolfe is a Humanist, he is my political enemy.”

Her answers were clipped and direct, no longer than they had to be. Each time there followed a definite silence, as though she were waiting, with interest, for the next question. Baley had the impression that she was curious about him, amused by him, making wagers with herself as to what the next question might be, determined to give him just the minimum information necessary to force another question.

He said, “Have you long been a member of this Institute?”

“Since its formation.”

“Are there many members?”

“I should judge about a third of Aurora’s roboticists are members, though only about half of these actually live and work on the Institute grounds.”

“Do other members of the Institute share your views on the robotic exploration of other worlds? Do they oppose Dr. Fastolfe’s views one and all?”

“I suspect that most of them are Globalists, but I don’t know that we have taken a vote on the matter or even discussed it formally. You had better ask them all individually.”

“Is Dr. Fastolfe a member of the Institute?”

“No.”

Baley waited a bit, but she said nothing beyond the negative.

He said, “Isn’t that surprising? I should think lie, of all people, would be a member.”

“As it happens, we don’t want him. What is perhaps less important, he doesn’t want us.”

“Isn’t that even more surprising?”

“I don’t think so.”–And then, as though goaded into saying something more by an irritation within herself, she said, “He lives in the city of Eos. I suppose you know the significance of the name, Earthman?”

Baley nodded and said, “Eos is the ancient Greek goddess of the dawn, as Aurora is the ancient Roman goddess of the dawn.”

“Exactly. Dr. Han Fastolfe lives in the City of the Dawn on the World of the Dawn, but he is not himself a believer in the Dawn. He does not understand the necessary method of expansion through the Galaxy, of converting the Spacer Dawn into broad Galactic Day. The robotic exploration of the Galaxy is the only practical way to carry the task through and he won’t accept it–or us.”

Baley said slowly, “Why is it the only practical method? Aurora and the other Spacer worlds were not explored and settled by robots but by human beings.”

“Correction. By Earthpeople. It was a wasteful and inefficient procedure and there are now no Earthpeople that we will allow to serve as further settlers. We have become Spacers, long-lived and healthy, and we have robots who are infinitely more versatile and flexible than those available to the human beings who originally settled our worlds. Times and matters are wholly different–and
today
only robotic exploration is feasible.”

“Let us suppose you are right and Dr. Fastolfe is wrong. Even so, he has a logical view. Why won’t he and the Institute accept each other? Simply because they disagree on this point?”

“No, this disagreement is comparatively minor. There is a more fundamental conflict.”

Again Baley paused and again she added nothing to her remark. He did not feel it safe to display irritation, so he said quietly, almost tentatively, “What is the more fundamental conflict?”

The amusement in Vasilia’s voice came nearer the surface. It softened the lines of her face somewhat and, for a moment, she looked more like Gladia. “You couldn’t guess, unless it were explained to you, I think.”

“Precisely why I am asking, Dr. Vasilia.”

“Well, then, Earthman, I have been told that Earthpeople are short-lived. I have not been misled in that, have I?”

Baley shrugged, “Some of us live to be a hundred years old, Earth time.” He thought a bit. “Perhaps a hundred and thirty or so metric years.”

“And how old are you?”

“Forty-five standard, sixty metric.”

“I am sixty-six metric. I expect to live three metric centuries more at least–if I am careful.”

Baley spread his hands wide. “I congratulate you.”

“There are disadvantages.”

“I was told this morning that, in three or four centuries, many, many losses have a chance to accumulate.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Vasilia. “And many, many gains have a chance to accumulate, as well. On the whole, it balances.”

“What, then, are the disadvantages?”

“You are not a scientist, of course.”

“I am a plainclothesman–a policeman, if you like.”

“But perhaps you know scientists on your world.”

“I have met some,” said Baley cautiously.

“You know how they work? We are told that on Earth they cooperate out of necessity. They have, at most, half a century of active labor in the course of their short lives. Less than seven metric decades. Not much can be done in that time.”

“Some of our scientists had accomplished quite a deal in considerably less time.”

“Because they have taken advantage of the findings others have made before them and profit from the use they can make of contemporary findings by others. Isn’t that so?”

“Of course. We have a scientific community to which all contribute, across the expanse of space and of time.”

“Exactly. It won’t work otherwise. Each scientist, aware of the unlikelihood of accomplishing much entirely by himself, is forced into the community, cannot help becoming part of the clearinghouse. Progress thus becomes enormously greater than it would be if this did not exist.”

“Is not this the case on Aurora and the other Spacer worlds, too?” asked Baley.

“In theory it is; in practice not so much. The pressures in a long-lived society are less. Scientists here have three or three and a half centuries to devote to a problem, so that the thought arises that significant progress may be made in that time by a solitary worker, It becomes possible to feel a kind of intellectual greed–to
want
to accomplish something on your own, to assume a property right to a particular facet of progress, to be wiling to see the general advance slowed–rather than give up what you conceive to be yours alone. And the general advance
is
slowed on Spacer worlds as a result, to the point where it is difficult to outpace the work done on Earth, despite our enormous advantages.”