The Naked Sun

by Isaac Asimov

  Stunned horror gave way to a babble of objection as Baley talked. His last sentence had to be shouted, and, even so, was all but drowned out.

  Attlebish, face flushed, raised himself from his chair and stepped forward. “Even if what you say is so, then Mrs. Delmarre is the murderess. She was there, she quarreled with him, she would be watching her husband working with the robot, and would know of the replaceable-limb situation—which I don’t believe, by the way. No matter what you do, Earthman, everything points to her.”

  Gladia began to weep softly.

  Baley did not look at her. He said, “On the contrary, it is easy to show that, whoever committed the murder, Mrs. Delmarre did not.”

  Jothan Leebig suddenly folded his arms and allowed an expression of contempt to settle on his face.

  Baley caught that and said, “You’ll help me do so, Dr. Leebig. As a roboticist, you know that maneuvering robots into action such as indirect murder takes enormous skill. I had occasion yesterday to try to put an individual under house arrest. I gave three robots detailed instructions intended to keep this individual safe. It was a simple thing, but I am a clumsy man with robots. There were loopholes in my instructions and my prisoner escaped.”

  “Who was the prisoner?” demanded Attlebish.

  “Beside the point,” said Baley impatiently. “What is the point is the fact that amateurs can’t handle robots well. And some Solarians may be pretty amateurish as Solarians go. For instance, what does Gladia Delmarre know about robotics? … Well, Dr. Leebig?”

  “What?” The roboticist stared.

  “You tried to teach Mrs. Delmarre robotics. What kind of a pupil was she? Did she learn anything?”

  Leebig looked about uneasily. “She didn’t …” and stalled.

  “She was completely hopeless, wasn’t she? Or would you prefer not to answer?”

  Leebig said stiffly, “She might have pretended ignorance.”

  “Are you prepared to say, as a roboticist, that you think Mrs. Delmarre is sufficiently skilled to drive robots to indirect murder?”

  “How can I answer that?”

  “Let me put it another way. Whoever tried to have me killed at the baby farm must have had to locate me by using interrobot communications. After all, I told no human where I was going and only the robots who conveyed me from point to point knew of my whereabouts. My partner, Daneel Olivaw, managed to trace me later in the day, but only with considerable difficulty. The murderer, on the other hand, must have done it easily, since, in addition to locating me, he had to arrange for arrow poisoning and arrow shooting, all before I left the farm and moved on. Would Mrs. Delmarre have the skill to do that?”

  Corwin Attlebish leaned forward. “Who do you suggest would have the necessary skill, Earthman?”

  Baley said, “Dr. Jothan Leebig is self-admittedly the best robot man on the planet.”

  “Is that an accusation?” cried Leebig.

  “Yes!” shouted Baley.

  The fury in Leebig’s eyes faded slowly. It was replaced not by calm, exactly, but by a kind of clamped-down tension. He said, “I studied the Delmarre robot after the murder. It had no detachable limbs. At least, they were detachable only in the usual sense of requiring special tools and expert handling. So the robot wasn’t the weapon used in killing Delmarre and you have no argument.”

  Baley said, “Who else can vouch for the truth of your statement?”

  “My word is not to be questioned.”

  “It is here. I’m accusing you, and your unsupported word concerning the robot is valueless. If someone else will bear you out, that would be different. Incidentally, you disposed of that robot quickly. Why?”

  “There was no reason to keep it. It was completely disorganized. It was useless.”

  “Why?”

  Leebig shook his finger at Baley and said violently, “You asked me that once before, Earthman, and I told you why. It had witnessed a murder which it had been powerless to stop.”

  “And you told me that that always brought about complete collapse; that that was a universal rule. Yet when Gruer was poisoned, the robot that had presented him with the poisoned drink was harmed only to the extent of a limp and a lisp. It had actually itself been the agent of what looked like murder at that moment, and not merely a witness, and yet it retained enough sanity to be questioned.

  “This robot, the robot in the Delmarre case, must therefore have been still more intimately concerned with murder than the Gruer robot. This Delmarre robot must have had its own arm used as the murder weapon.”

  “All nonsense,” gasped out Leebig. “You know nothing about robotics.”

  Baley said, “That’s as may be. But I will suggest that Security Head Attlebish impound the records of your robot factory and maintenance shop. Perhaps we can find out whether you have built robots with detachable limbs and, if so, whether any were sent to Dr. Delmarre, and, if so, when.”

  “No one will tamper with my records,” cried Leebig.

  “Why? If you have nothing to hide, why?”

  “But why on Solaria should I want to kill Delmarre? Tell me that. What’s my motive?”

  “I can think of two,” said Baley. “You were friendly with Mrs. Delmarre. Overly friendly. Solarians are human, after a fashion. You never consorted with women, but that didn’t keep you immune from, shall we say, animal urges. You saw Mrs. Delmarre—I beg your pardon, you viewed her—when she was dressed rather informally and——”

  “No,” cried Leebig in agony.

  And Gladia whispered energetically, “No.”

  “Perhaps you didn’t recognize the nature of your feelings yourself,” said Baley, “or if you had a dim notion of it, you despised yourself for your weakness, and hated Mrs. Delmarre for inspiring it. And yet you might have hated Delmarre, too, for having her. You did ask Mrs. Delmarre to be your assistant. You compromised with your libido that far. She refused and your hatred was the keener for that. By killing Dr. Delmarre in such a way as to throw suspicion on Mrs. Delmarre, you could be avenged on both at once.”

  “Who would believe that cheap, melodramatic filth?” demanded Leebig in a hoarse whisper. “Another Earthman, another animal, maybe. No Solarian.”

  “I don’t depend on that motive,” said Baley. “I think it was there, unconsciously, but you had a plainer motive, too. Dr. Rikaine Delmarre was in the way of your plans, and had to be removed.”

  “What plans?” demanded Leebig.

  “Your plans aiming at the conquest of the Galaxy, Dr. Leebig,” said Baley.

  18

  A QUESTION IS ANSWERED

  “The Earthman is mad,” cried Leebig, turning to the others. “Isn’t that obvious?”

  Some stared at Leebig wordlessly, some at Baley.

  Baley gave them no chance to come to decisions. He said, “You know better, Dr. Leebig. Dr. Delmarre was going to break off with you. Mrs. Delmarre thought it was because you wouldn’t marry. I don’t think so. Dr. Delmarre himself was planning a future in which ectogenesis would be possible and marriage unnecessary. But Dr. Delmarre was working with you; he would know, and guess, more about your work than anyone else. He would know if you were attempting dangerous experiments and he would try to stop you. He hinted about such matters to Agent Gruer, but gave no details, because he was not yet certain of the details. Obviously, you discovered his suspicions and killed him.”

  “Mad!” said Leebig again. “I will have nothing more to do with this.”

  But Attlebish interrupted. “Hear him out, Leebig!”

  Baley bit his lip to keep from a premature display of satisfaction at the obvious lack of sympathy in the Security Head’s voice. He said, “In the same discussion with me in which you mentioned robots with detachable limbs, Dr. Leebig, you mentioned spaceships with built-in positronic brains. You were definitely talking too much then. Was it that you thought I was only an Earthman and incapable of understanding the implications of robotics? Or was it that you had just been threatened with pe
rsonal presence, had the threat lifted, and were a little delirious with relief? In any case, Dr. Quemot had already told me that the secret weapon of Solaria against the Outer Worlds was the positronic robot.”

  Quemot, thus unexpectedly referred to, started violently, and cried, “I meant——”

  “You meant it sociologically, I know. But it gives rise to thoughts. Consider a spaceship with a built-in positronic brain as compared to a manned spaceship. A manned spaceship could not use robots in active warfare. A robot could not destroy humans on enemy spaceships or on enemy worlds. It would not grasp the distinction between friendly humans and enemy humans.

  “Of course, a robot could be told that the opposing spaceship had no humans aboard. It could be told that it was an uninhabited planet that was being bombarded. That would be difficult to manage. A robot could see that its own ship carried humans; it would know its own world held humans. It would assume that the same was true of enemy ships and worlds. It would take a real expert in robotics, such as you, Dr. Leebig, to handle them properly in that case, and there are very few such experts.

  “But a spaceship that was equipped with its own positronic brain would cheerfully attack any ship it was directed to attack, it seems to me. It would naturally assume all other ships were unmanned. A positronic-brained ship could easily be made incapable of receiving messages from enemy ships that might undeceive it. With its weapons and defenses under the immediate control of a positronic brain, it would be more maneuverable than any manned ship. With no room necessary for crewmen, for supplies, for water or air purifiers, it could carry more armor, more weapons and be more invulnerable than any ordinary ship. One ship with a positronic brain could defeat fleets of ordinary ships. Am I wrong?”

  The last question was shot at Dr. Leebig, who had risen from his seat and was standing, rigid, almost cataleptic with—what? Anger? Horror?

  There was no answer. No answer could have been heard. Something tore loose and the others were yelling madly. Klorissa had the face of a Fury and even Gladia was on her feet, her small fist beating the air threateningly.

  And all had turned on Leebig.

  Baley relaxed and closed his eyes. He tried for just a few moments to unknot his muscles, unfreeze his tendons.

  It had worked. He had pressed the right button at last. Quemot had made an analogy between the Solarian robots and the Spartan Helots. He said the robots could not revolt so that the Solarians could relax.

  But what if some humans threatened to teach the robots how to harm humans; to make them, in other words, capable of revolting?

  Would that not be the ultimate crime? On a world such as Solaria would not every last inhabitant turn fiercely against anyone even suspected of making a robot capable of harming a human; on Solaria, where robots outnumbered humans by twenty thousand to one?

  Attlebish cried, “You are under arrest. You are absolutely forbidden to touch your books or records until the government has a chance to inspect them——” He went on, almost incoherent, scarcely heard in the pandemonium.

  A robot approached Baley. “A message, master, from the master Olivaw.”

  Baley took the message gravely, turned, and cried, “One moment.”

  His voice had an almost magical effect. All turned to look at him solemnly and in no face (outside Leebig’s frozen glare) was there any sign of anything but the most painful attention to the Earthman.

  Baley said, “It is foolish to expect Dr. Leebig to leave his records untouched while waiting for some official to reach them. So even before this interview began, my partner, Daneel Olivaw, left for Dr. Leebig’s estate. I have just heard from him. He is on the grounds now and will be with Dr. Leebig in a moment in order that he may be put under restraint.”

  “Restraint!” howled Leebig in an almost animal terror. His eyes widened into staring holes in his head. “Someone coming here? Personal presence? No! No!” The second “No” was a shriek.

  “You will not be harmed,” said Baley coldly, “if you cooperate.”

  “But I won’t see him. I can’t see him.” The roboticist fell to his knees without seeming aware of the motion. He put his hands together in a desperate clasped gesture of appeal. “What do you want? Do you want a confession? Delmarre’s robot had detachable limbs. Yes. Yes. Yes. I arranged Gruer’s poisoning. I arranged the arrow meant for you. I even planned the spaceships as you said. I haven’t succeeded, but, yes, I planned it. Only keep the man away. Don’t let him come. Keep him away!”

  He was babbling.

  Baley nodded. Another right button. The threat of personal presence would do more to induce confession than any physical torture.

  But then, at some noise or movement outside the field of sound or vision of any of the others, Leebig’s head twisted and his mouth opened. He lifted a pair of hands, holding something off.

  “Away,” he begged. “Go away. Don’t come. Please don’t come. Please——”

  He scrambled away on hands and knees, then his hand went suddenly to a pocket in his jacket. It came out with something and moved rapidly to his mouth. Swaying twice, he fell prone.

  Baley wanted to cry: You fool, it isn’t a human that’s approaching; only one of the robots you love.

  Daneel Olivaw darted into the field of vision and for a moment stared down at the crumpled figure.

  Baley held his breath. If Daneel should realize it was his own pseudo humanity that had killed Leebig, the effect on his First Law-enslaved brain might be drastic.

  But Daneel only knelt and his delicate fingers touched Leebig here and there. Then he lifted Leebig’s head as though it were infinitely precious to him, cradling it, caressing it.

  His beautifully chiseled face stared out at the others and he whispered, “A human is dead!”

  Baley was expecting her; she had asked for a last interview; but his eyes widened when she appeared.

  He said, “I’m seeing you.”

  “Yes,” said Gladia, “how can you tell?”

  “You’re wearing gloves.”

  “Oh.” She looked at her hands in confusion. Then, softly, “Do you mind?”

  “No, of course not. But why have you decided to see, rather than view?”

  “Well”—she smiled weakly—“I’ve got to get used to it, don’t I, Elijah? I mean, if I’m going to Aurora.”

  “Then it’s all arranged?”

  “Mr. Olivaw seems to have influence. It’s all arranged. I’ll never come back.”

  “Good. You’ll be happier, Gladia. I know you will.”

  “I’m a little afraid.”

  “I know. It will mean seeing all the time and you won’t have all the comforts you had on Solaria. But you’ll get used to it and, what’s more, you’ll forget all the terror you’ve been through.”

  “I don’t want to forget everything,” said Gladia softly.

  “You will.” Baley looked at the slim girl who stood before him and said, not without a momentary pang, “And you will be married someday, too. Really married, I mean.”

  “Somehow,” she said mournfully, “that doesn’t seem so attractive to me—right now.”

  “You’ll change your mind.”

  And they stood there, looking at each other for a wordless moment.

  Gladia said, “I’ve never thanked you.”

  Baley said, “It was only my job.”

  “You’ll be going back to Earth now, won’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll never see you again.”

  “Probably not. But don’t feel badly about that. In forty years at most, I’ll be dead and you won’t look a bit different from the way you do now.”

  Her face twisted. “Don’t say that.”

  “It’s true.”

  She said rapidly, as though forced to change the subject, “It’s all true about Jothan Leebig, you know.”

  “I know. Other roboticists went over his records and found experiments toward unmanned intelligent spaceships. They also found other robots w
ith replaceable limbs.”

  Gladia shuddered. “Why did he do such a horrible thing, do you suppose?”

  “He was afraid of people. He killed himself to avoid personal presence and he was ready to kill other worlds to make sure that Solaria and its personal-presence taboo would never be touched.”

  “How could he feel so,” she murmured, “when personal presence can be so very——”

  Again a silent moment while they faced each other at ten paces.

  Then Gladia cried suddenly, “Oh, Elijah, you’ll think it abandoned of me.”

  “Think what abandoned?”

  “May I touch you? I’ll never see you again, Elijah.”

  “If you want to.”

  Step by step, she came closer, her eyes glowing, yet looking apprehensive, too. She stopped three feet away, then slowly, as though in a trance, she began to remove the glove on her right hand.

  Baley started a restraining gesture. “Don’t be foolish, Gladia.”

  “I’m not afraid,” said Gladia.

  Her hand was bare. It trembled as she extended it.

  And so did Baley’s as he took her hand in his. They remained so for one moment, her hand a shy thing, frightened as it rested in his. He opened his hand and hers escaped, darted suddenly and without warning toward his face until her fingertips rested featherlight upon his cheek for the barest moment.

  She said, “Thank you, Elijah. Good-bye.”

  He said, “Good-bye, Gladia,” and watched her leave.

  Even the thought that a ship was waiting to take him back to Earth did not wipe out the sense of loss he felt at that moment.

  Undersecretary Albert Minnim’s look was intended to be one of prim welcome. “I am glad to see you back on Earth. Your report, of course, arrived before you did and is being studied. You did a good job. The matter will look well in your record.”