by Isaac Asimov
Give it one year, thought Baley, one year, and I’ll be on my way to Aurora. One generation, and we’ll be out in space once more.
Baley stepped onto the northbound Expressway. Soon he would see Jessie. Would she understand? And his son, Bentley, now seventeen. When Ben had a seventeen-year-old of his own, would he be standing on some empty world, building a spacious life?
It was a frightening thought. Baley still feared the open. But he no longer feared the fear! It was not something to run from, that fear, but something to fight.
Baley felt as though a touch of madness had come over him. From the very first the open had had its weird attraction over him; from the time in the ground-car when he had tricked Daneel in order to have the top lowered so that he might stand up in the open air.
He had failed to understand then. Daneel thought he was being perverse. Baley himself thought he was facing the open out of professional necessity, to solve a crime. Only on that last evening on Solaria, with the curtain tearing away from the window, did he realize his need to face the open for the open’s own sake; for its attraction and its promise of freedom.
There must be millions on Earth who would feel that same urge, if the open were only brought to their attention, if they could be made to take the first step.
He looked about.
The Expressway was speeding on. All about him was artificial light and huge banks of apartments gliding backward and flashing signs and store windows and factories and lights and noise and crowds and more noise and people and people and people..
It was all he had loved, all he had hated and feared to leave, all he had thought he longed for on Solaria.
And it was all strange to him.
He couldn’t make himself fit back in.
He had gone out to solve a murder and something had happened to him.
He had told Minnim the Cities were wombs, and so they were. And what was the first thing a man must do before he can be a man? He must be born. He must leave the womb. And once left, it could not be re-entered.
Baley had left the City and could not re-enter. The City was no longer his; the Caves of Steel were alien. This had to be. And it would be so for others and Earth would be born again and reach outward.
His heart beat madly and the noise of life about him sank to an unheard murmur.
He remembered his dream on Solaria and he understood it at last. He lifted his head and he could see through all the steel and concrete and humanity above him. He could see the beacon set in space to lure men outward. He could see it shining down. The naked sun!
Mirror Image
3423 A.D.
LIJE BALEY HAD just decided to relight his pipe, when the door of his office opened without a preliminary knock, or announcement, of any kind. Baley looked up in pronounced annoyance and then dropped his pipe. It said a good deal for the state of his mind that he left it lie where it had fallen.
“R. Daneel Olivaw,” he said, in a kind of mystified excitement. “Jehoshaphat! It is you, isn’t it?”
“You are quite right, “said the tall, bronzed newcomer, his even features never flicking for a moment out of their accustomed calm. “I regret surprising you by entering without warning, but the situation is a delicate one and there must be as little involvement as possible on the part of the men and robots even in this place. I am, in any case, pleased to see you again, friend Elijah.”
And the robot held out his right hand in a gesture as thoroughly human as was his appearance. It was Baley who was so unmanned by his astonishment as to stare at the hand with a momentary lack of understanding.
But then he seized it in both his, feeling its warm firmness. “But Daneel, why? You’re welcome any time, but–What is this situation that is a delicate one? Are we in trouble again? Earth, I mean?”
“No, friend Elijah, it does not concern Earth. The situation to which I refer as a delicate one is, to outward appearances, a small thing. A dispute between mathematicians, nothing more. As we happened, quite by accident, to be within an easy Jump of Earth–”
“This dispute took place on a starship, then?”
“Yes, indeed. A small dispute, yet to the humans involved astonishingly large.”
Baley could not help but smile. “I’m not surprised you find humans astonishing. They do not obey the Three Laws.”
“That is, indeed, a shortcoming,” said R. Daneel, Gravely, “and I think humans themselves are puzzled by humans. It may be that you are less puzzled than are the men of other worlds because so many more human beings live on Earth than on the Spacer worlds. If so, and I believe it is so, you could help us.”
R. Daneel paused momentarily and then said, perhaps a shade too quickly, “And yet there are rules of human behavior which I have learned. It would seem, for instance, that I am deficient in etiquette, by human standards, not to have asked after your wife and child.”
“They are doing well. The boy is in college and Jessie is involved in local politics. The amenities are taken care of. Now tell me how you come to be here.”
“As I said, we were within an easy Jump of Earth,” said R. Daneel, “so I suggested to the captain that we consult you.”
“And the captain agreed?” Baley had a sudden picture of the proud and autocratic captain of a Spacer starship consenting to make a landing on Earth–of all worlds–and to consult an Earthman–of all people.
“I believe,” said R. Daneel, “that he was in a position where he would have agreed to anything. In addition, I praised you very highly; although, to be sure, I stated only the truth. Finally, I agreed to conduct all negotiations so that none of the crew, or passengers, would need to enter any of the Earthman cities.”
“And talk to any Earthman, yes. But what has happened?”
“The passengers of the starship, Eta Carina, included two mathematicians who were traveling to Aurora to attend an interstellar conference on neurobiophysics. It is about these mathematicians, Alfred Ban Humboldt and Gennao Sabbat, that the dispute centers. Have you perhaps, friend Elijah, heard of one, or both, of them?”
“Neither one,” said Baley, firmly. “I know nothing about mathematics. Look, Daneel, surely you haven’t told anyone I’m a mathematics buff or–”
“Not at all, friend Elijah. I know you are not. Nor does it matter, since the exact nature of the mathematics involved is in no way relevant to the point at issue.”
“Well, then, go on.”
“Since you do not know either man, friend Elijah, let me tell you that Dr. Humboldt is well into his twenty-seventh decade–pardon me, friend Elijah?”
“Nothing. Nothing,” said Baley, irritably. He had merely muttered to himself, more or less incoherently, in a natural reaction to the extended life-spans of the Spacers. “And he’s still active, despite his age? On Earth, mathematicians after thirty or so.”
Daneel said, calmly; “Dr. Humboldt is one of the top three mathematicians, by long-established repute, in the galaxy. Certainly he is still active. Dr. Sabbat, on the other hand, is quite young, not yet fifty, but he has already established himself as the most remarkable new talent in the most abstruse branches of mathematics.”
“They’re both great, then,” said Baley. He remembered his pipe and picked it up. He decided there was no point in lighting it now and knocked out the dottle. “What happened? Is this a murder case? Did one of them apparently kill the other?”
“Of these two men of great reputation, one is trying to destroy that of the other. By human values, I believe this may be regarded as worse than physical murder.”
“Sometimes, I suppose. Which one is trying to destroy the other?”
“Why, that, friend Elijah, is precisely the point at issue. Which?”
“Go on.”
“Dr. Humboldt tells the story clearly. Shortly before he boarded the starship, he had an insight into a possible method for analyzing neural pathways from changes in microwave absorption patterns of local cortical areas. The insight was a purely mathematical te
chnique of extraordinary subtlety, but I cannot, of course, either understand or sensibly transmit the details. These do not, however, matter. Dr. Humboldt considered the matter and was more convinced each hour that he had something revolutionary on hand, something that would dwarf all his previous accomplishments in mathematics. Then he discovered that Dr. Sabbat was on board.”
“Ah. And he tried it out on young Sabbat?”
“Exactly. The two had met at professional meetings before and knew each other thoroughly by reputation. Humboldt went into it with Sabbat in great detail. Sabbat backed Humboldt’s analysis completely and was unstinting in his praise of the importance of the discovery and of the ingenuity of the discoverer. Heartened and reassured by this, Humboldt prepared a paper outlining, in summary, his work and, two days later, prepared to have it forwarded subetherically to the co-chairmen of the conference at Aurora, in order that he might officially establish his priority and arrange for possible discussion before the sessions were closed. To his surprise, he found that Sabbat was ready with a paper of his own, essentially the same as Humboldt’s, and Sabbat was also preparing to have it subetherized to Aurora.”
“I suppose Humboldt was furious.”
“Quite!”
“And Sabbat? What was his story?”
“Precisely the same as Humboldt’s. Word for word.”
“Then just what is the problem?”
“Except for the mirror-image exchange of names. According to Sabbat, it was he who had the insight, and he who consulted Humboldt; it was Humboldt who agreed with the analysis and praised it.”
“Then each one claims the idea is his and that the other stole it. It doesn’t sound like a problem to me at all. In matters of scholarship, it would seem only necessary to produce the records of research, dated and initialed. Judgment as to priority can be made from that. Even if one is falsified, that might be discovered through internal inconsistencies.”
“Ordinarily, friend Elijah, you would be right, but this is mathematics, and not in an experimental science. Dr. Humboldt claims to have worked out the essentials in his head. Nothing was put in writing until the paper itself was prepared. Dr. Sabbat, of course, says precisely the same.”
“Well, then, be more drastic and get it over with, for sure. Subject each one to a psychic probe and find out which of the two is lying.”
R. Daneel shook his head slowly, “Friend Elijah, you do not understand these men. They are both of rank and scholarship, Fellows of the Imperial Academy. As such, they cannot be subjected to trial of professional conduct except by a jury of their peers–their professional peers–unless they personally and voluntarily waive that right.”
“Put it to them, then. The guilty man won’t waive the right because he can’t afford to face the psychic probe. The innocent man will waive it at once. You won’t even have to use the probe.”
“It does not work that way, friend Elijah. To waive the right in such a case–to be investigated by laymen–is a serious and perhaps irrecoverable blow to prestige. Both men steadfastly refuse to waive the right to special trial, as a matter of pride. The question of guilt, or innocence, is quite subsidiary.”
“In that case, let it go for now. Put the matter in cold storage until you get to Aurora. At the neurobiophysical conference, there will be a huge supply of professional peers, and then–”
“That would mean a tremendous blow to science itself, friend Elijah. Both men would suffer for having been the instrument of scandal. Even the innocent one would be blamed for having been party to a situation so distasteful. It would be felt that it should have been settled quietly out of court at all costs.”
“All right. I’m not a Spacer, but I’ll try to imagine that this attitude makes sense. What do the men in question say?”
“Humboldt agrees thoroughly. He says that if Sabbat will admit theft of the idea and allow Humboldt to proceed with transmission of the paper–or at least its delivery at the conference, he will not press charges. Sabbat’s misdeed will remain secret with him; and, of course, with the captain, who is the only other human to be party to the dispute.”
“But young Sabbat will not agree?”
“On the contrary, he agreed with Dr. Humboldt to the last detail–with the reversal of names. Still the mirror-image.”
“So they just sit there, stalemated?”
“Each, I believe, friend Elijah, is waiting for the other to give in and admit guilt.”
“Well, then, wait.”
“The captain has decided this cannot be done. There are two alternatives to waiting, you see. The first is that both will remain stubborn so that when the starship lands on Aurora, the intellectual scandal will break. The captain, who is responsible for justice on board ship will suffer disgrace for not having been able to settle the matter quietly and that, to him, is quite insupportable.”
“And the second alternative?”
“Is that one, or the other, of the mathematicians will indeed admit to wrongdoing. But will the one who confesses do so out of actual guilt, or out of a noble desire to prevent the scandal? Would it be right to deprive of credit one who is sufficiently ethical to prefer to lose that credit than to see science as a whole suffer? Or else, the guilty party will confess at the last moment, and in such a way as to make it appear he does so only for the sake of science, thus escaping the disgrace of his deed and casting its shadow upon the other. The captain will be the only man to know all this but he does not wish to spend the rest of his life wondering whether he has been a party to a grotesque miscarriage of justice.”
Baley sighed. “A game of intellectual chicken. Who’ll break first as Aurora comes nearer and nearer? Is that the whole story now, Daneel?”
“Not quite. There are witnesses to the transaction.”
“Jehoshaphat! Why didn’t you say so at once. What witnesses?
“Dr. Humboldt’s personal servant–”
“A robot, I suppose.”
“Yes, certainly. He is called R. Preston. This servant, R. Preston, was present during the initial conference and he bears out Dr. Humboldt in every detail.”
“You mean he says that the idea was Dr. Humboldt’s to begin with; that Dr. Humboldt detailed it to Dr. Sabbat; that Dr. Sabbat praised the idea, and so on.”
“Yes, in full detail.”
“I see. Does that settle the matter or not? Presumably not.”
“You are quite right. It does not settle the matter, for there is a second witness. Dr. Sabbat also has a personal servant, R. Idda, another robot of, as it happens, the same model as R. Preston, made, I believe, in the same year in the same factory. Both have been in service for an equal period of time.
“An odd coincidence–very odd.”
“A fact, I am afraid, and it makes it difficult to arrive at any judgment based on obvious differences between the two servants.”
“R. Idda, then, tells the same story as R. Preston?”
“Precisely the same story, except for the mirror-image reversal of the names.”
“R. Idda stated, then, that young Sabbat, the one not yet fifty”–Lije Baley did not entirely keep the sardonic note out of his voice; he himself was not yet fifty and he felt far from young–” had the idea to begin with; that he detailed it to Dr. Humboldt, who was loud in his praises, and so on.”
“Yes, friend Elijah.”
“And one robot is lying, then.”
“So it would seem.”
“It should be easy to tell which. I imagine even a superficial examination by a good roboticist–”
“A roboticist is not enough in this case, friend Elijah. Only a qualified robopsychologist would carry weight enough and experience enough to make a decision in a case of this importance. There is no one so qualified on board ship. Such an examination can be performed only when we reach Aurora–”
“And by then the crud hits the fan. Well, you’re here on Earth. We can scare up a robopsychologist, and surely anything that happens on Earth will never reac
h the ears of Aurora and there will be no scandal.”
“Except that neither Dr. Humboldt, nor Dr. Sabbat, will allow his servant to be investigated by a robopsychologist of Earth. The Earthman would have to–” He paused.
Lije Baley said stolidly, “He’d have to touch the robot.”
“These are old servants, well thought of–”
“And not to be sullied by the touch of Earthman. Then what do you want me to do, damn it?” He paused, grimacing. “I’m sorry, R. Daneel, but I see no reason for your having involved me.”
“I was on the ship on a mission utterly irrelevant to the problem at hand. The captain turned to me because he had to turn to someone. I seemed human enough to talk to, and robot enough to be a safe recipient of confidences. He told me the whole story and asked what I would do. I realized the next Jump could take us as easily to Earth as to our target. I told the captain that, although I was at as much a loss to resolve the mirror-image as he was, there was on Earth one who might help.”
“Jehoshaphat!” muttered Baley under his breath.
“Consider, friend Elijah, that if you succeed in solving this puzzle, it would do your career good and Earth itself might benefit. The matter could not be publicized, of course, but the captain is a man of some influence on his home world and he would be grateful.”
“You just put a greater strain on me.”
“I have every confidence,” said R. Daneel, stolidly, “that you already have some idea as to what procedure ought to be followed.”
“Do you? I suppose that the obvious procedure is to interview the two mathematicians, one of whom would seem to be a thief.”
“I’m afraid, friend Elijah, that neither one will come into the city. Nor would either one be willing to have you come to them.”
“And there is no way of forcing a Spacer to allow contact with an Earthman, no matter what the emergency. Yes, I understand that, Daneel–but I was thinking of an interview by closed-circuit television.”