by Isaac Asimov
“With those people?”
“Right now. Surely a strip-runner who used to risk life and limb isn’t afraid of a little open air.”
“But —”
“Come on.”
She followed Shakira down the street, helpless to resist. The woman stopped in front of an opening in the high walls. Amy peered around her and saw a long, dimly lit tunnel with another wall at its end.
“What is it?” Amy asked.
“An exit. Some of them are guarded now, but this one isn’t. There really isn’t any need to watch them — most people don’t know about them or don’t want to think about them. Even the people living in this subsection have probably forgotten this exit is here. Will you come with me?”
“What if somebody follows us?” Amy glanced nervously down the street, which seemed even emptier than before. “It isn’t safe.”
“Believe me, nobody will follow. They’d rather believe this place doesn’t exist. Will you come?”
Amy swallowed hard, then nodded. It was only a passageway; it couldn’t be that bad. They entered; she kept close to the young woman as the familiar, comforting noise of the street behind them grew fainter.
Shakira said, “The exit’s at the end.” Her voice sounded hollow in the eerie silence. Amy’s stomach knotted as they came to the end of the tunnel.
“Ready?” Shakira asked.
“I think So.”
“Hang on to me. It’ll be dark Outside — that’ll make it easier for you, and I won’t let go.”
Shakira pressed her hand against the wall. An opening slowly appeared. Amy felt cold air on her face; as they stepped Outside, the door closed behind them. She closed her eyes, terrified to look, already longing for the warmth and safety of the City.
A gust of wind slapped her, fiercer than the wind on the fastest strips. She opened her eyes and looked up. A black sky dotted with stars was above her, and that bright pearly orb had to be the moon. Except for the wind and the bone-chilling cold, she might almost have been inside a City planetarium. But the planetarium had not revealed how vast the sky was, or shown the silvery clouds that drifted below the black heavens. She lowered her gaze; a bluish-white plain, empty except for the distant domes of a farm, stretched in front of her. Her ears throbbed at the silence that was broken only by the intermittent howl of the wind.
Open air — and the white substance covering the ground had to be snow. The wind gusted again, lifting a thin white veil of flakes, then died. There was space all around her, unfiltered air, dirt under her feet, and the moon shining down on all of it; the safety of walls was gone. Her stomach lurched as her heart pounded; her head swam. Her grip on Shakira loosened; the pale plain was spinning. Then she was falling through the endless silence into a darkness as black as the sky …
Arms caught her, lifting her up; she felt warmth at her back. The silence was gone. She clawed at the air and realized she was back inside the tunnel. She blinked; her mouth was dry. “Are you all right?” Shakira felt her forehead; Amy leaned heavily against her. “I got you inside as fast as I could. I’m sorry — I forgot there’d be a full moon tonight. It would have been easier for you if it had been completely dark.”
Amy trembled, afraid to let go. “I didn’t know,” she said. “I didn’t think —” She shivered with relief, welcoming the warmth, the faint but steady noise from the street, the walls of the City. She tried to smile. “Guess I didn’t do so well.”
“But you did. The first time I went Outside, I passed out right after taking my first breath of open air. The second time, I ran back inside after a few seconds and swore I’d never set foot Outside again. You did a lot better than that — I was counting. We must have been standing there for nearly two minutes.”
Shakira supported her with one arm; they made their way slowly toward the street. “Can you walk by yourself?” the woman asked as they left the tunnel.
“I think so.” Shakira let go. Amy stared down the street, which had seemed so empty earlier, relieved at the sight of all the people. “I couldn’t do that again, Shakira. I couldn’t face it — all that space.”
“I think you can.” Shakira folded her arms. “You can if you don’t give up now. We’ll be going Outside in two days. You’ll have to wear more clothes — it’d help if you can get gloves and a hat.” Amy shook her head, struck by the strangeness of needing warmer clothes; the temperature inside never varied. “It’s winter, so we’ll only take a short walk — we won’t be Outside very long. I’d like you to come with us. I’ll stay by the exit with you, and you needn’t remain Outside a second longer than you can bear. Believe me, if you keep trying, even if you think you can’t stand it, it’ll get easier. You may even start to look forward to it.”
“I don’t know —” Amy started to say.
“Will you try?”
Amy took a deep breath, smelling the odors of the City, the faint pungence of bodies, a whiff of someone’s perfume, a sharp, acrid scent she could not place; she had never noticed the smells before. “I’ll try.” She drew her brows together. “My parents will kill me if they ever find out. I’ll have to think of an excuse”
“But you must tell them, Amy.”
“They’ll never let me go.”
“Then you’ll have to find a way to convince them. They have to know for two very good reasons. One is that it’ll cause trouble for Lije if kids come Outside without their families’ permission, and the other is that they just might decide to join us themselves. I’ll come by your place for you, so you’ll have to tell them why I’m there. You can give me your answer then.”
“There’s something else,” Amy said. “That Mr. Baley — he’s a detective. When he finds out I got picked up, he may not want me.”
Shakira laughed. “Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you a secret — Lije Baley was a pretty good strip-runner in his day. I heard a little about his past from my uncle and another old-timer. He won’t hold that against you, but don’t say anything to the others about it.” Shakira took her arm as they walked toward the strips. “We’d better get home.”
Amy glanced at her. “You wouldn’t want to try another run?”
“Not a chance. You’ve had enough trouble, and you’ve got more to lose now. Maybe some dancing, but only if there’s room, and only on the slow strips.”
The sturdy walls of her Kingsbridge subsection surrounded Amy once more. She had nearly forgotten the coldness, the wind, the silence, the terrible emptiness of the Outside.
Yet she knew she would have to go Outside again. The comforting caves of steel would not always be a safe refuge. She would have to face the emptiness until she no longer feared it, and wondered how the City would seem to her then.
She waited by the apartment door for a few moments before slipping her key into the slot. Her parents might be asleep already, and she could not tell them about this event at breakfast in the section kitchen. She could tell them tomorrow night, and would try not to hope for too much.
The door opened; she went inside. Her parents were still awake, cuddling together on the couch; they sat up quickly and adjusted their nightrobes.
“Amy!” Her father looked a bit embarrassed. “You ‘re home early.”
“I thought I was late.”
He glanced at the wall timepiece. “Oh — I guess you are. I hadn’t noticed. Well, I’ll let it pass this once.”
Amy studied the couple. They seemed in a good mood; her mother’s brown eyes glowed, and her father’s broad face lacked its usual tenseness. She might not get a better chance to speak to them, and did not want her mother finding out from Mrs. Lister at breakfast that she hadn’t been at Debora’s.
“Um.” Amy cleared her throat. “I have to talk to you.”
Her father looked toward the timepiece again. “Is it important?”
“It’s very important.” She went to a chair and sat down across from them. “It really can’t wait. Please — just let me talk until I’m finished, and then you can sa
y whatever you want.” She paused. “I wasn’t at Deb’s. I know I wasn’t supposed to, but I left the subsection.”
Her father started; her mother reached for his hand.
“Not to run strips, I swear,” Amy added hastily. She lowered her eyes, afraid to look directly at them, then told them about her first meeting with Shakira, the run that had ended in disaster, the encounter on the street in Hempstead, what Shakira had said about the group that went Outside, and the challenge she had met that night by facing the open space beyond the City. She wasn’t telling the story very well, having to pause every so often to fill in a detail, but by the time she reached the end, she was sure she had mentioned all the essentials.
Her parents said nothing throughout, and were silent when she finished. At last she forced herself to raise her head. Her father looked stunned, her mother bewildered.
“You went Outside?” Alysha whispered.
“Yes.”
“Weren’t you terrified?”
“I was never so scared in my life, but I had to — I —”
Her father sagged against the couch. “You deliberately disobeyed us.” He sounded more exasperated than angry. “You lied and told us you’d be with Debora Lister. You left the subsection to meet a dubious young woman who’s a damned strip-runner herself, and —”
“She isn’t,” Amy protested … She doesn’t run any more, and she wouldn’t have with me if I hadn’t insisted — I told you. That was my fault.”
“At least you’re admitting your guilt,” he said … I let you have your say, so allow me to finish. Now she wants you to traipse around Outside with that group of hers. I forbid it — do you hear? You’re not to have anything more to do with her, and if she calls or comes here, I’ll tell her so myself. I’ll have to be firmer with you, Amy. Since you can’t be honest with us about your doings, you’ll be restricted to this apartment again, and —”
“Rick.” Alysha’s voice was low, but firm … Let me speak. If joining those people means so much to Amy, then maybe she should.” Ricardo’s face paled as he turned toward his wife … I know she disobeyed us, but I think I can understand why she felt it necessary. Anyway, how much trouble can she get into if a City detective’s with them? They seem harmless enough.”
“Harmless?” her husband said … Going Outside, deluding themselves that —”
“Let her go, Rick.” Alysha pressed his hand between both of hers … That young woman told her the truth. You know it’s true — you can see what the Department’s statistical projections show, whether you’ll admit it to yourself or not. If there’s any chance that those people with Elijah Baley can leave Earth, maybe it’s better if Amy goes with them.”
Amy drew in her breath, startled that her mother was taking her side and confronting her father in her presence. “You’d accept that?” Ricardo asked … What if the Spacers actually allow those people off Earth — not that I think it’s likely, but what if they do? You’re saying you’d be content never to see your daughter again.”
“I wouldn’t be content — you know better than that. But how can I cling to her if she has a chance, however small, at something else? I know what her life will be here, perhaps better than you do. I’d rather know she’s doing something meaningful to her somewhere else, even if that means we’ll lose her, than to have to go through life pretending I don’t see her frustrations and disappointments.”
Ricardo heaved a sigh. “I can’t believe I’m hearing you say this.”
“Oh, Rick.” She released his hand. “You would have expected me to say and do the unexpected years ago.” She smiled at that phrase. “How conventional we’ve become since then.” She gazed at him silently for a bit. “Maybe I’ll go with Amy when she meets that group. I should see what kind of people they are, after all. Maybe I’ll even take a step Outside myself.”
Her husband frowned, looking defeated. “This is a fine situation,” he said. “Not only do I have a disobedient daughter, but now my wife’s against me, too. If my co-workers hear you’re both wandering around with that group of Baley’s, it may not do me much good in the Department.”
“Really?” Amy’s mother arched her brows. “They always knew we were both a bit, shall we say, eccentric, and that didn’t bother you once. Perhaps you should come with us to meet Mr. Baley’s group. It’d be wiser to have your colleagues think you’re going along with our actions, however odd or amusing they may find them, than to believe there’s a rift between us.” Her mouth twisted a little. “You know what they say — happy families make for a better City.”
Ricardo turned toward Amy. “You’d do it again? Go Outside, I mean. You’d actually go through that again?”
“Yes, I would,” Amy replied. “I know it’ll be hard, but I’d try.”
“It’s late,” her father said. “I can’t think about this now.” He stood up and took Alysha by the arm as she rose. “We’ll discuss this tomorrow, after I’ve had a chance to consider it. Good night, Amy.”
“Good night.”
Her mother was whispering to her father as Amy went to her room. Her father had backed down for now, and her mother was almost certain to bring him around. She undressed for bed, convinced she had won her battle.
She stretched out, tired and ready to sleep, and soon drifted into a dream. She was on the strips again, riding through an open arch to the Outside, but she wasn’t afraid this time.
The City slept. The strips and expressways continued to move, carrying the few who were awake — young lovers who had crept out to meet each other, policemen on patrol, hospital workers heading home after a night shift, and restless souls drawn to wander the caverns of New York.
Amy stood on a strip, a sprinkling of people around her. Four boys raced past her, leaping from strip to strip; for a moment, she was tempted to join their race. She had come out at night a few times before, to practice some moves when the strips were emptier, returning to her subsection before her parents awoke. More riders began to fill the slowest strip; the City was waking. Her parents would be up by the time she got back, but she was sure they would understand why she had been drawn out here tonight.
Her parents had come with her to meet Elijah Baley and his group. The detective was a tall, dark-haired man with a long, solemn face, but he had brightened a little when Shakira introduced her new recruits. Amy’s mother and father had not gone Outside with them; perhaps they would next time. She knew what an effort it would be for them, and hoped they could find the courage to take that step. They would be with her when the group met again; they had promised that much. When she was able to face the openness without fear, to stride across the ground bravely as Shakira did, maybe she would lead them Outside herself.
She leaped up, spun around in a dervish, and ran along the strip. The band hummed under her feet; she could hear its music again. She bounded forward, did a handspring, then jumped to the next strip. She danced across the gray bands until she reached the expressway, then hauled herself aboard.
Her hands tightened around the pole as she recalled her first glimpse of daylight. The whiteness of the snow had been blinding, and above it all, in the painfully clear blue sky, was a bright ball of flame, the naked sun. She had known she was standing on a ball of dirt clad only in a thin veil of air, a speck that was hurtling through a space more vast and empty than anything she could see. The terror had seized her then, driving her back inside, where she had cowered on the floor, sick with fear and despair. But there had also been Shakira’s strong arms to help her up, and Elijah Baley’s voice telling her of his own former fears. Amy had not gone Outside again that day, but she had stood in the open doorway and forced herself to take one more breath of wintry air.
It was a beginning. She had to meet the challenge if she was ever to lead others Outside, or to follow the hopeful settlers to another world.
She left the expressway and danced along the strips, showing her form, imagining that she was running one last race. She was near the Hempstead st
reet where she had met Shakira.
The street was nearly empty, its store windows darkened. Amy left the strips and hurried toward the tunnel, running along the passageway until her breath came in short, sharp gasps. When she reached the end, she hesitated for only a moment, then pressed her hand against the wall.
The opening appeared. The muted hum from the distant strips faded behind her, and she was Outside, alone, with the morning wind in her face. The sky was a dark dome above her. She looked east and saw dawn brightening the cave of stars.
The Robots of Dawn
3424
1: Baley
1.
ELIJAH BALEY FOUND himself in the shade of the tree and muttered to himself, “I knew it. I’m sweating.”
He paused, straightened up, wiped the perspiration from his brow with the back of his hand, then looked dourly at the moisture that covered it.
“I hate sweating,” he said to no one, throwing it out as a cosmic law. And once again he felt annoyance with the Universe for making something both essential and unpleasant.
One never perspired (unless one wished to, of course) in the City, where temperature and humidity were absolutely controlled and where it was never absolutely necessary for the body to perform in ways that made heat production greater than heat removal.
Now that was civilized.
He looked out into the field, where a straggle of men and women were, more or less, in his charge. They were mostly youngsters in their late teens, but included some middle-aged people like himself. They were hoeing inexpertly and doing a variety of other things that robots were designed to do–and could do much more efficiently had they not been ordered to stand aside and Wait while the human beings stubbornly practiced.
There were clouds in the sky and the sun, at the moment, was going behind one of them. He looked up uncertainly. On the one hand, it meant the direct heat of the sun (and the sweating) would be cut down. On the other hand, was there a chance of rain?