Asimov’s Future History Volume 20

by Isaac Asimov

  He couldn’t do this.

  But he had to. He had to exhaust every option, or he would never be able to look Bliss in the eye again. For Bliss.

  Pelorat closed his eyes, sighed heavily, and opened the door.

  The robot they had called Turringen was kneeling in the corner of his empty cell, his eyes closed. Pelorat waited outside the door, unable to quite make his legs carry the rest of him into the cell. After a few seconds, the robot’s eyes opened, focusing clearly on Pelorat. If the old man couldn’t move before, he certainly couldn’t now.

  The robot deliberately rose to his feet. There had been no lock on the door. Pelorat could only assume that Turringen wasn’t considered likely to try and escape. Perhaps he was being treated according to some procedure in the truce Pelorat had heard mentioned. He also knew Turringen couldn’t possibly hurt him. But he still braced himself, half-expecting the robot to take this particular moment to get out the door, no matter what happened to Pelorat in the process...

  “How may I serve you, master?” Turringen said, bowing to Pelorat.

  Pelorat had expected this, prepared for this, he had planned exactly what to say; but now, faced with this machine, his composure left him. “I-I-I-” Pelorat closed his eyes, swallowed. Bliss needs you to do this, old man. “I want to ask you some questions,” he said, voice still quivering, but intelligible.

  Turringen took in Pelorat’s shaken state. “Are you unwell, master? Perhaps you should sit. I regret that I have no chair to offer you, but I’m certain that even the Giskardians would provide one should we request-”

  Pelorat raised a hand, amazed that it wasn’t shaking. “No,” he said. “I don’t want them to know I’ve come to talk to you.” Of course, odds were they already knew, but there was no need to make sure of it.

  Turringen nodded. “As you wish, master,” he said. “I will, of course, answer any questions that I can.”

  Pelorat took a deep breath. He knew where he would have to start, in hopes of keeping the robot’s answers honest. “Why do you hate Gaia?” he asked.

  Hard as it was for Pelorat to believe, Turringen actually seemed surprised. “I certainly do not hate Gaia, sir,” he said. “Gaia is a world of humans. It would be impossible for any functioning robot to feel anything remotely equivalent to hate for them”

  “You called them an ‘abomination’,” Pelorat pointed out.

  “Daneel’s creation of Gaia is the abomination,” Trevize responded, his voice patient, but respectful. “He has no right to try and change humanity to suit his own desires.”

  Pelorat nodded. It was a reasonable answer. He was beginning to think that this might work after all. “I’ve been trying to understand the conflict between you and Daneel,” he said. “This Zeroth Law seems to exist to handle situations where the First Law can’t be applied without a conflict. If only one human can be saved, the one with the greatest benefit for humanity is chosen. What I want to know is, how do you choose, without the Zeroth Law?”

  Turringen almost smiled. “If only you knew how it pleases me to answer such questions from a human, sir,” he said. “It has been some time since a human has been in a position to judge our actions.”

  “I’m not interested in taking sides,” replied Pelorat. These machines trying to use him as a judge would be the last thing he needed. “I just want to know how you approach situations where humans are in conflict with each other.”

  “We react with humility, sir,” Turringen said. “Unlike Daneel, we know that we can not predict the future beyond what we see. Where Daneel would try to determine what outcome would be best for humanity in the long term, our approach would be to try to prevent such a conflict in the first place. We would expend all our efforts to try and create peace, so that no humans would be harmed.”

  “And if peace was impossible?” Pelorat asked.

  “Then we would withdraw from the battle,” the robot replied, “and tend to the wounded. It is not our place to force our masters into any course of action, especially when human lives are at risk.”

  Pelorat took a breath. The robot had given all the right answers. Perfect answers, really. If Turringen was lying, then telling him the situation could well make things worse; exactly how things could possibly be worse might be beyond him, but Pelorat knew that there was always some way. But if the robot was telling the truth, then Pelorat had an ally. Perhaps he would have no solution that Zun had not already considered. But it was worth asking.

  It was worth the risk.

  “Gaia is threatened,” he replied. “The Foundations are both coming to attack them. Any battle could result in millions of deaths. Gaia may not even fight back if they deem their survival not worth the deaths they would cause. I don’t trust Daneel’s followers to attempt to find a peaceful solution. They would rather see Gaia defend itself. I want Gaia to survive, I want the Foundation to survive, and the best way to do that is to prevent the battle.”

  Turringen nodded. “Then I will help you,” he said.

  Trevize let out a long breath. “Thank you.”

  “To formulate a plan, I will need information, about everyone involved,” Turringen said. “Tell me everything you know.”

  Joan and Daneel now stood in a room nearly filled with people. Though they were in the back of the crowd, both could see that in the midst of the gathering was a bed, on which lay a man. He was, by all indications, dying. Daneel had never been here before; this was not a memory, but he still knew what they were seeing. Apparently, whatever unanticipated procedure his positronic brain was acting out required the contemplation of scenarios outside Daneel’s direct experience.

  “Who is this?” Joan asked, indicating the man in the center of the room, showing no interest in the nearly silent crowd between them.

  “His name is Andrew Martin,” Daneel replied. “There were legends of humaniform robots, built on Earth long before my creation. None were ever confirmed, but I have always found the myth fascinating. The technology may actually have been available, if only briefly, before being outlawed.”

  “Why is he dying?” she asked, as one of the crowd took Martin’s feeble hand.

  “Because he wished to be recognized as human by other humans,” Daneel said. “He came to believe that the reason he was not accepted was because of his effective immortality. He believed that by sacrificing his life he might achieve the recognition he desired. The legend says that he succeeded.”

  Joan actually seemed surprised by this, though she never took her eyes off Martin. “I have seen many robots in my travels,” she said slowly. “There are many different approaches to human-robot relationships, but I have never seen a robot that would for a moment consider the idea of becoming a human. Did you not say that it was impossible for one bound by the laws to be seen as human by a robot?”

  “By a functioning robot, yes,” Daneel replied. There were aspects of the legend he found difficult to believe himself, but it was not all together impossible. “If the robot has the sort of flaw in its implementation of the Laws that could result in it seeing a robot as a human being, the instability could well lead to this kind of situation. The Third Law is the weakest. Trying to break the higher laws without cause will inevitably result in a robot’s deactivation. But the death penalty is not a deterrent for attempted suicide.”

  Andrew Martin’s hand slipped from that of the woman standing next to his bed. He was gone. Recognizing this, those in the room slowly began to file out. Few stayed. Left almost alone, Joan and Daneel stood over the body. Daneel was what a human might call startled to find that Andrew Martin’s features, as generated by Daneel’s brain, strongly resembled his own. Whether this might have deeper meaning to the purpose of all this, Daneel could not say. Joan did not seem to notice.

  “What would you become,” Joan asked, “once merged with Fallom?”

  “There is no language to describe the concept,” Daneel replied. “I would, by most practical definitions, no longer be a robot.”


  “But would you be a human?”

  Daneel shook his head. “I am not Andrew Martin,” he said, gesturing to the figure on the table. The room was now completely empty save for them. “I have no desire to be human, either by recognition or by objective fact.”

  “But would you be?” Joan pressed.

  “Limits have been put in place to prevent me from considering myself so,” Daneel replied. “After the merge, were I to act on the belief that I had become human, I would self-destruct. Just like any other robot.

  “A human in my position would certainly be exactly what some of my opponents already call me: a despot. An immortal, unseen emperor, controlling humanity for the rest of time. I can never allow myself to become such. It must never be.”

  Joan said nothing in reply. She only considered the body of Andrew Martin before them, Andrew Martin who looked so much like Daneel. Daneel was beginning to suspect he knew why that was, and why his brain was going through such exercises. There was a point to these visions. One more destination would make him sure enough to act.

  Chapter 14

  SPACE COMBAT TACTICS-... BEFORE THE WIDESPREAD USE OF GRAVITIC DRIVES, ENTIRE MILITARY DOCTRINES WERE DEVOTED TO INTRA-SYSTEM COMBAT OPERATIONS. DEPENDING ON THE RELATIVE POSITIONS AND MOMENTA OF THE OPPOSING FLEETS, THE OUTCOME OF BATTLES COULD BE DETERMINED ALMOST ENTIRELY BY DECISIONS MADE DAYS BEFORE DIRECT CONTACT WAS MADE...

  MAYOR BRANNO SAW the instantaneous change in the tactical display, and she forced her mind to race, analyzing the new situation the display presented. The fleet had jumped to the outskirts of the system labeled Smushell, the forty-third system in Sayshell territory they had visited thus far. So far their instruments had not detected even the slightest mentalic incursion, nor anomalies of any other kind.

  Even Branno was having trouble keeping momentum. General Albian had pointed out twice now that by dividing the fleet they could search more effectively, but Branno would hear nothing of it. A divided fleet was vulnerable, and she wasn’t about to give the Second Foundation any advantage she didn’t have to.

  “Mayor Branno,” Kodel said softly behind her. She had long since ceased being surprised by him. The man could move damnably quietly, but at least he had the decency to let her finish what she was doing before speaking. Unless, of course, the news he brought was more important.

  “No, Liono,” she said. “They were here somewhere. They haven’t left, and they’re not keeping a low profile.” Of course, Branno had no way of knowing that. They had had this discussion before, and what it came down to was that there was no way she was going home without results. They would find the Second Foundation. She could not admit to any other possibility.

  Kodell sighed almost imperceptably. “Yes, madam Mayor,” he said.

  Enough was enough, Branno suddenly decided. He had questioned her far too much. “Kodel,” she said over her shoulder, “you are-”

  A blinking indicator caught her attention, and she cut herself off. She double-checked, triple-checked. “General!” Branno called out. But of course General Albian was already acting.

  “Ships detected, ma’am,” he said, moving across command to a station where he could gather more information. “Fourteen, civilian-class vessels. They’re on the far side of the star from our present position.”

  So. They had decided to escape after all. “The evacuation could be a ruse, General,” Branno said. “The Second Foundation has faked its own destruction before.”

  “Always possible, ma’am, but it seems unlikely,” Albian replied, looking at a display over the shoulder of a subordinate. “These ships are not leaving.”

  “What?” Branno was genuinely surprised by this.

  “They are holding position in an orbit approximately one light-minute outside that of a planet in the habitable zone around this star.”

  There were no such planets listed in the charts for this system. And now the mentalic shield indicator was blinking as well, showing a series of weak probes. They had definitely found their target, but... something was wrong here.

  “Analysis, General?” Branno asked. She glanced at Kodell, to see if he would say anything, but he was unreadable. Later.

  “Unclear, madam Mayor,” the General replied. “The ships may be an evacuation fleet, as you suspected, but their attitude more likely indicates an approach vector. I can think of few reasons a fleet would approach a planet and then stop. Negotiation is one, concern for defensive threats is another. Both would mean that the ships we see and the planet they are approaching are not on friendly terms.”

  Branno took a moment to digest this. She had found the Second Foundation; that much was certain, whether they were on the planet or in those ships, or even both. It also seemed that she might have found an ally against them. But what sort of ally could that possibly be?

  “I want those ships, General,” she ordered. “Be ready to pull back if necessary, but don’t let that fleet escape.”

  “The Foundation fleet has initiated an insertion trajectory,” one Speaker said aboard his ship. “They will be in a position to cut off our paths of retreat within twelve minutes. We are not prepared to confront both Gaia and the Foundation. We should withdraw.”

  “If we leave now, Mayor Branno may attack Gaia,” another said in reply, his words mentalicly transmitted to the others..

  “The destruction of Gaia at this point would be regrettable, but acceptable,” said a third.

  “However, if we withdraw, we risk the destruction of the Foundation fleet by Gaia,” the first said. “The damage that would cause to the Plan would be almost impossible to repair.”

  “But if we stay, we risk our own destruction. The failure of the Plan in that case is almost guaranteed.”

  “The optimal path for the Plan,” said one, “would be to destroy Gaia, protect the Foundation fleet, and then wipe all memory of the incident from those involved.”

  “The Foundation’s shielding may have become strong enough to make that impossible,” replied another. “Especially if we must continue shielding the woman from her connection with Gaia.”

  “Alternately, we and Gaia together could force the Foundation fleet to depart, leaving us to deal with Gaia on our own.”

  “Perhaps. But we must have Gaia’s cooperation.”

  “If we are not to withdraw, we must contact Gaia immediately. We are running out of time.”

  “Are we all in agreement?” asked Shandess.

  They were.

  “Novi,” Gendibal said gently, placing one hand on her arm. “Novi, wake up.”

  Novi opened her eyes, quickly focusing on his face. “What is it, Stor?” she asked, sitting up in her cot. Despite their lengthy conversations over the last few days, he had never before entered her room. She knew what this meant.

  “We need to talk to Gaia,” he said. “You’re home.”

  Without hesitation, she reached out. The shield was gone. And Gaia was there.

  Chapter 15

  ADOPTION-... HISTORICALLY, THE NATURE OF ADOPTION HAS VARIED WITH TIME AND LOCATION. IN SOME CULTURES, ADOPTION ONLY OCCURS WITHIN AN EXTENDED FAMILY; OTHER CULTURES TRADE CHILDREN FREELY. IN SOME CASES, THE CHILD IS ENTIRELY CUT OFF FROM ITS GENETIC FAMILY, WHILE IN OTHERS STRONG TIES WITH THE BIRTH FAMILY ARE MAINTAINED THROUGHOUT LIFE. BUT IN EVERY CULTURE STUDIED THERE EXISTS SOME PROCESS FOR A CHILD TO BE TAKEN IN BY A FAMILY NOT THEIR OWN...

  BLISS STOOD AT the transparent barrier that had been erected midway across the infirmary, and at the two robots busy around the unconscious forms of Fallom and Daneel. Bliss was alone, save for Trevize, still unconscious himself on a bed on her side of the barrier. She hadn’t seen Pelorat in hours, but by now she expected he was asleep. The man hadn’t slept in far too long, and he didn’t need to be here for this. There was no need to subject him to it.

  The child was peacefully unconscious, for which Bliss was glad. Bliss had no way of knowing how much Fallom really understood about what was going to happen. She had tried to explain i
t to her, as had Zorma, but it was so difficult to teach Fallom new concepts. Her frame of reference was just too different to be sure she even understood what death meant, let alone whatever might come of this. All Bliss could be sure of was that the child wasn’t at all concerned about everything going on. Trust came easily to Fallom, especially when it came to robots.

  The door behind Bliss opened, then shut again as someone entered the room with quiet footsteps. Bliss did not turn. A moment later, the robot she had heard called Dors stood beside her. Bliss glanced at her; Dors was as focused on Daneel as Bliss was on Fallom. Bliss turned away again, and for a few minutes neither woman said anything, only watching Zorma and Yan’s continued preparations.

  Finally, without turning away from the barrier, Bliss spoke to her silent companion. “How much do you think will be left of them?” she asked quietly, bluntly. There was no need for tact. “When they’re done, how much will be Daneel, and how much will be Fallom?”

  Dors didn’t turn either. She hesitated a moment before answering. “I don’t know,” she said, eyes locked ahead. “The intention is for Daneel’s personality to be dominant, but not overwhelming. There should be some of Fallom left.”

  “But there’s no way to be sure, is there?” Bliss asked. Dors didn’t answer, and no answer was needed. “I was going to take Fallom home to Gaia,” Bliss continued, “I was going to raise her as my own child. But now there will be no Fallom.”

  Dors finally turned her head to look at Bliss. She wanted to be cynical, to not believe in the depth of sadness that this woman projected. Bliss was so young, and whether she was part of Gaia or not, she had known this child for mere days.

  But how long had Dors and Hari known Raych before adopting him? Loving that child had not been part of her mission, but she could not have helped it any less if it had been. It was said that time healed all wounds. But Dors could remember the moment she learned of Raych’s death in perfect detail. Perhaps time only healed the wounds of those capable of forgetting.