The Robots of Dawn trs-3

by Isaac Asimov

  Baley said, “Yes, ma’am,” and wondered when she would get to the very delicate matter of which the Commissioner had spoken.

  Demachek seemed in no hurry. She said, “Fastolfe is a moderate. That’s what he calls himself. He feels Aurora—and the Spacer worlds generally—have gone too far in their direction, as you, perhaps, feel that we on Earth have gone too far in ours. He wishes to, step backward to less robotry, to a more rapid turnover of generations, and to alliance and friendship with Earth. Naturally, we support him—but very quietly. If we were too demonstrative in our affection, that might well be the kiss of death for him.”

  Baley said, “I believe he would support Earth’s exploration and settlement of other worlds.”

  “I believe so, too. I am of the opinion he said as much to you.”

  “Yes, ma’am, when we met.”

  Demachek steepled her hands and put the tips of her fingers to her chin. “Do you think he represents public opinion on the Spacer worlds?”

  “I don’t know, ma’am.”

  “I’m afraid he does not. Those who are with him are lukewarm. Those who are against him are an ardent legion. It is only his political skills and his personal warmth that have kept him as close to the seats of power as he is. His greatest weakness, of course, is his sympathy for Earth. That is constantly used against him and it influences many who would share his views in every other respect. If you were sent to Aurora, any mistake you made would help strengthen anti-Earth feeling and would therefore weaken him, possibly fatally. Earth simply cannot take that risk.”

  Baley muttered, “I see.”

  “Fastolfe is willing to take the risk. It was he who arranged to have you sent to Solaria at a time when his political power was barely beginning and when he was very vulnerable. But then, he has only his personal power to lose, whereas we must be concerned with the welfare of over eight billion Earthpeople. That is what makes the present political situation almost unbearably delicate.”

  She paused and, finally, Baley was forced to ask the question. “What is the situation that you are referring to, ma’am?”

  “It seems,” said Demachek, “that Fastolfe has become implicated in a serious and unprecedented scandal. If he is clumsy, the chances are that he will undergo political destruction in a matter of weeks. If he is superhumanly clever, perhaps he will hold out for some months. A little sooner, a little later, he could be destroyed as a political force on Aurora—and that would be a real disaster for Earth, you see.”

  “May I ask what he is accused of? Corruption? Treason?”

  “Nothing that small. His personal integrity,—is, in any case, unquestioned even by his enemies.”

  “A crime of passion, then? Murder?”

  “Not quite murder.”

  “I don’t understand, ma’am.”

  “There are human beings on Aurora, Mr. Baley. And there are robots, too, most of them something like ours, not, very much more, advanced in most cases. However, there are a few humaniform robots, robots so humaniform that they can be taken for human.”

  Baley nodded. “I know that very well.”

  “I suppose that destroying a humaniform robot is not exactly murder in the strict sense of the word.”

  Baley leaned forward, eyes widening. He shouted, “Jehoshaphat, woman! Stop playing games. Are you telling me that Dr. Fastolfe has killed R. Daneel?”

  Roth leaped to his feet and seemed about to advance on Baley, but Undersecretary Demachek waved him back. She seemed unruffled.

  She said, “Under the circumstances, I excuse your disrespect, Baley. No, R. Daneel has not been killed. He is not the only humaniform robot on Aurora. Another such robot, not R. Daneel, has been killed, if you wish to use the term loosely. To be more precise, its mind has been totally destroyed; it was placed into permanent and irreversible roblock.”

  Baley said, “And they say that Dr. Fastolfe did it?”

  “His enemies are saying so. The extremists, who wish only Spacers to spread through the Galaxy and who wish Earthpeople to vanish from the Universe, are saying so. If these extremists can maneuver another election within the next few weeks, they will surely gain total control of the government, with incalculable results.”

  “Why is this roblock so important politically? I don’t understand.”

  “I am not myself certain,” said Demachek. “I do not pretend to understand Auroran politics. I gather that the humaniforms were in some way involved with the extremist plans and that the destruction has infuriated them.” She wrinkled her nose. “I find their politics very confusing and I will only mislead you if I try to interpret it.”

  Baley labored to control himself under the Undersecretary’s level stare. He said in a low voice, “Why am I here?”

  “Because of Fastolfe. Once before you went out into space in order to solve a murder and succeeded. Fastolfe wants you to try again. You are to go to Aurora and discover who was responsible for the roblock! He feels that to be his only chance of turning back the extremists.”

  “I am not a roboticist. I know nothing about Aurora—”

  “You knew nothing about Solaria, either, yet you managed. The point is, Baley, we are as eager to find out what really happened as Fastolfe is. We don’t want him destroyed. If he is, Earth will be subject to a kind of hostility from these Spacer extremists that will probably be greater than anything we have yet experienced. We don’t want that to happen”

  “I can’t take on this responsibility, ma’am. The task is—”

  “Next to impossible. We know that, but we have no choice. Fastolfe insists, and behind him, for the moment, stands the Auroran government. If you refuse to go or if we refuse to let you go, we will have to face the Auroran fury. If you do go and are successful, we’ll be saved and you will be suitably rewarded.”

  “And if I go—and fail?”

  “We will do our best to see to it that the blame will be yours and not Earth’s.”

  “The skins of officialdom will be saved, in other words.”

  Demachek said, “A kinder way of putting it is that you will be thrown to the wolves in the hope that Earth will not suffer too badly. One man is not a bad price to pay for our planet.”

  “It seems to me that, since I am sure to fail, I might as well not go.”

  “You know better than that,” said Demachek softly. “Aurora has asked for you and you cannot refuse.—And why should you want to refuse? You’ve been trying to go to Aurora for two years and you’ve been bitter over your failure to get our permission.”

  “I’ve wanted to go in peace to arrange for help in the settlement of other worlds, not to—”

  “You might still try to get their help for your dream of settling other worlds, Baley. After all, suppose you do succeed. It’s possible, after all. In that case, Fastolfe will be much beholden to you and he may do far more for you than he ever would have otherwise. And we ourselves will be sufficiently grateful to you to help. Isn’t that worth a risk, even a large one? However small your chances of success are if you got those chances—are zero if you do not go. Think of that, Baley, but please—not too long.”

  Baley’s lips tightened and, finally, realizing there was no alternative, he said, “How much time do—I have to—”

  And Demachek said calmly, “Come. Haven’t I been explaining that we have no choice—and no time, either? You leave,” she looked at the timeband on her wrist, “in just under six hours.”

  5

  The spaceport was at the eastern outskirts of the City in an all-but-deserted Sector that was, strictly speaking, Outside.

  This was palliated by the fact that the ticket offices and the waiting rooms were actually in the City and that the approach to the ship itself was by vehicle through a covered path. By tradition, all takeoffs were at night, so that a pall of darkness further deadened the effect of Outside.

  The spaceport was not very busy, considering the populous character of Earth. Earthmen very rarely left the planet and the traff
ic consisted entirely of commercial activity organized by robots and Spacers.

  Elijah Baley, waiting for the ship to be ready for boarding, felt already cut off from Earth.

  Bentley sat with him and there was a glum silence between the two. Finally, Ben said, “I didn’t think Mom would want to come.”

  Baley nodded. “I didn’t think so, either. I remember how she was when I went to Solaria. This is no different.”

  “Did you manage to calm her down?”

  “I did what I could, Ben. She thinks I’m bound to be in a space crash or that the Spacers will kill me once I’m on Aurora.”

  “You got back from Solaria.”

  “That just makes her the less eager to risk me a second time. She assumes the luck will run out. However, she’ll manage.—You rally round, Ben. Spend some time with her and, whatever you do, don’t talk about heading out to settle a new planet. That’s what really bothers her, you know. She feels you’ll be leaving her one of these years. She knows she won’t be able to go and so she’ll never see you again.”

  “She may not,” said Ben. “That’s the way it might work out.”

  “You can face that easily, maybe, but she can’t, so just don’t discuss it while I’m gone. All right?”

  “All right.—I think she’s a little upset about Gladia.”

  Baley looked up sharply. “Have you been—”

  “I haven’t said a word. But she saw that hyperwave thing, too, you know, I and she knows Gladia’s on Aurora.”

  “What of it? It’s a big planet. Do you think Gladia Delmarre will be waiting at the spaceport for me?—Jehoshaphat, Ben, doesn’t your mother know that hyperwave axle grease was nine tenths fiction?”

  Ben changed the subject with a tangible effort. “It seems funny—you sitting here with no luggage of any kind.”

  “I’m sitting here with too much. I’ve got the clothes I’m wearing, don’t I? They’ll get rid of those as soon as I’m on board. Off they go—to be chemically treated, then dumped into space. After that, they’ll give me a totally new wardrobe after I have been personally fumigated and cleaned and polished, inside and out. I’ve been through that once before.”

  Again, silence and then Ben said, “You know, Dad—” and stopped suddenly. He tried again. “You know Dad—” and did no better.

  Baley looked at him steadily. “What are you trying to say, Ben?”

  “Dad, I feel like an awful jackass saying this, but I think I’d better. You’re not the hero type. Even I never thought you were. You’re a nice guy and the best father there could be, but not the hero type.”

  Baley grunted.

  “Still,” said Ben, “when you stop to think of it, it was you who got Spacetown off the map; it was you who got Aurora on our side; it was you who started this whole project of settling other worlds. Dad, you’ve done more for Earth than everyone in the government put together. So why aren’t you appreciated more?”

  Baley said, “Because I’m not the hero type and because this stupid hyperwave drama was foisted on me. It has made an enemy of every man in the Department, it’s unsettled your mother, and it’s given me a reputation I can’t live up to.” The light flashed on his wrist-caller and he stood up. “I’ve got to go now, Ben.”

  “I know. But, what I want to say, Dad, is that I appreciate you. And this time when you come back, you’ll get that from everybody and not just from me.”

  Baley felt himself melting. He nodded rapidly, put a hand on his son’s shoulder, and muttered, “Thanks. Take care of yourself—and your mother—while I’m gone.”

  He walked away, not looking back. He had told Ben that he was going to Aurora to discuss the settlement, project if that were so, he might come back in triumph. As it was—

  He thought: I’ll come back in disgrace if I come back at all.

  PART 2.

  DANEEL

  6

  It was Baley’s third time on a spaceship and the passage of two years had in no way dimmed his memory of the first two times. He knew exactly what to expect.

  There would be the isolation the fact that no one would see him or have anything to do with him, with the exception (perhaps) of a robot. There would be the constant medical treatment—the fumigation and sterilization. (No other way of putting it.) There would be the attempt to make him fit to approach the disease-conscious Spacers who thought of Earthpeople as walking bags of multifarious infections.

  There would be differences, too, however. He would not, this time, be quite so afraid of the process. Surely the feeling of loss at being out of the womb would be less dreadful.

  He would be prepared for the wider surroundings. This time he told himself boldly (but with a small knot in his stomach, for all that), he might even be able to insist on being given a view of space.

  Would it look different from photographs of the night sky as seen from Outside? He wondered.

  He remembered his first view of a planetarium dome (safely within the City, of course). It had given him no sensation of being Outside, no discomfort at all.

  Then there were the two times—no, three—that he had been in the open at night and saw the real stars in the real dome of the sky. That had been far less impressive than the planetarium dome had been, but there had been a coot wind each time and a feeling of distance, which made it more frightening than the dome—but less frightening than daytime, for the darkness was a comforting wall about him.

  Would, then, the sight of the stars through a spaceship viewing window seem more like a planetarium or more like Earth’s night sky? Or would it be a different sensation altogether?

  He concentrated on that, as though to wash out the thought of leaving Jessie, Ben, and the City.

  With nothing less than bravado, he refused the car and insisted on walking the short distance from the gate to the ship in the company of the robot who had come for him. It was just a roofed-over arcade, after all.

  The passage was slightly curved and he looked back while he could still see Ben at the other end. He lifted his hand casually, as though he were taking the Expressway to Trenton, and Ben waved both arms wildly, holding up the first two fingers of each hand outspread in the ancient symbol of victory.

  Victory? A useless gesture, Baley was certain.

  He switched to another thought that might serve to fill, and occupy him. What would it be like to board a spaceship by day, with the sun shining brightly on its metal and with himself and the others who were boarding all exposed to the Outside.

  How would it feel to be entirely aware of a tiny cylindrical world, one that would detach itself from the infinitely larger world to which it was temporarily attached and that would then lose itself in an Outside, infinitely larger than any Outside on, Earth, until after an endless stretch of Nothingness it would find another—

  He held himself grimly to a steady walk, letting no change in expression show—or so he thought, at least. The robot at his sidle, however, brought him to a halt.

  “Are you ill, sir?” (Not “master,” merely “sir.” It was an Auroran robot.)

  “I’m all right, boy,” said Baley hoarsely. “Move on.”

  He kept his eyes turned to the ground and did not lift them again till the ship itself was towering above him.

  An Auroran ship!

  He was sure of that. Outlined by a warm spotlight, it soared taller, more gracefully, and yet more powerfully than the Solarian ships had.

  Baley moved inside and the comparison remained in favor of Aurora. His room was larger than the ones two years before had been: more luxurious, more comfortable.

  He knew exactly what was coming and removed all his clothes without hesitation. (Perhaps they would be disintegrated by plasma torch. Certainly, he would not get them back on returning to Earth—if he returned. He hadn’t the first time.)

  He would receive no other clothes till he had been thoroughly bathed, examined, dosed, and injected. He almost welcomed the humiliating, procedures imposed on him. After all, i
t served to keep his mind off what was taking place. He was scarcely aware of the initial acceleration and scarcely had time to think of the moment during which he left Earth and entered space.

  When he was finally dressed again, he surveyed the results unhappily in a mirror. The material, whatever it was, was smooth, and reflective and shifted color with any change in angle. The trouser legs hugged his ankles and were, in turn, covered by the tops of shoes that molded themselves softly to his feet. The sleeves of his blouse hugged his wrists and his hands were covered by thin, transparent gloves. The top of the blouse covered his neck and an attached hood could, if desired, cover his head. He was being so covered, not for his own comfort, he knew, but to reduce his danger to the Spacers.

  He thought, as he looked at the outfit, that he should feel uncomfortably enclosed, uncomfortably hot, uncomfortably damp. But he did not. He wasn’t, to his enormous relief, even sweating.

  He made the reasonable deduction. He said to the robot that had walked him to the ship and was still, with him, “Boy, are these clothes temperature-controlled?”

  The robot said, “Indeed they are, sir. It is all-weather cloth and is considered very desirable. It is also exceedingly expensive. Few on Aurora are in a position to wear it.”

  “That so? Jehoshaphat!”

  He stared at the robot. It seemed a fairly primitive model, not very much different from Earth models, in fact. Still, there was a certain subtlety of expression that Earth models lacked’. It could change expression in a limited way” for instance. It had smiled very slightly when it indicated that Baley had been given that which few on Aurora could afford.

  The structure of its body resembled metal and yet had the look of something woven, something shifting slightly with movement, something with, colors that matched and contrasted pleasingly. In short, unless one looked very closely and steadily, the robot, though definitely nonhumaniform, seemed to be wearing clothing.