The Robots of Dawn trs-3

by Isaac Asimov

“One moment,” said Amadiro. “What was your condition at the time, Mr. Baley?”

  “I was not entirely well.”

  “Not entirely well? You are an Earthman and unaccustomed to life except in the artificial setting of your Cities. You are uneasy in the open. Is that not so, Mr. Baley?” asked Amadiro.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And there was a severe thunderstorm in progress last evening, as I am sure the Chairman recalls. Would it not be accurate to say that you were quite ill? Semiconscious, if not worse?”

  “I was quite ill,” said Baley reluctantly.

  “Then how is it your robots were gone?” asked the Chairman sharply. “Should they not have been with you in your illness?”

  “I ordered them away, Mr. Chairman.”

  “Why?”

  “I thought it best,” said Baley, “and I will explain—if I may be allowed to continue.”

  “Continue.”

  “We were indeed being pursued, for the pursuing robots arrived shortly after my robots had left. The pursuers asked me where my robots were and I told them I had sent them away. It was only after that that they asked if I were ill. I said I wasn’t ill and they left me in order to continue a search for my robots.”

  “In search of Daneel and Giskard?” asked the Chairman.

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman. It was clear to me that they were under intense orders to find the robots.”

  “In what way was that clear?”

  “Although I was obviously ill, they asked about the robots before they asked about me. Then, later, they abandoned me in my illness to search for my robots. They must have received enormously intense orders to find those robots or it would not have been possible for them to disregard a patently ill human being. As a matter of fact, I had anticipated this search for my robots and that was why I had sent them away. I felt it all important to keep them out of unauthorized hands.”

  Amadiro said, “Mr. Chairman, may I continue to question Mr. Baley on this point, in order to show the worthlessness of this statement?”

  “You may.”

  Amadiro said, “Mr. Baley. You were alone after your robots had left, were you not?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Therefore you have no recording of events? You are not yourself equipped to record them? You have no recording device?”

  “No to all three, sir.”

  “And you were ill?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Distraught? Possibly too ill to remember clearly?”

  “No, sir. I remember quite clearly.”

  “You would think so, I suppose, but you may well have been delirious and hallucinating. Under those conditions, it seems clear that what the robots said or, indeed, whether robots appeared at all would seem highly dubious.”

  The Chairman said thoughtfully, “I agree. Mr. Baley of Earth, assuming that what you remember—or claim to remember is accurate, what is your interpretation of the events you are describing?”

  “I hesitate to give you my thoughts on the matter, Mr. Chairman,” said Baley, “lest I slander the worthy Dr. Amadiro.”

  “Since you speak at my request and since your remarks are confined to this room”—the Chairman looked around; the wall niches were empty of robots—“there is no question of slander, unless it seems to me you speak with malice.”

  “In that case, Mr. Chairman,” said Baley, “I had thought it possible that Dr. Amadiro detained me in his office by discussing matters with me at greater length than was perhaps necessary, so that there would be time for the damaging of my machine, then detained me further in order that I might leave after the thunderstorm had begun, thus making sure that I would be ill in transit. He had studied Earth’s social conditions, as he told me several times, so he would know what my reaction to the storm might be. It seemed to me that it was his plan to send his robots after us and, when they came upon our stalled airfoil, to have them take us all back to the Institute grounds, presumably so that I might be treated for my illness but actually so that he might have Dr. Fastolfe’s robots.”

  Amadiro laughed gently. “What motive am I supposed to have for all this? You see, Mr. Chairman, that this is supposition joined to supposition and would be judged slander in any court on Aurora.”

  The Chairman said severely, “Has Mr. Baley of Earth anything to support these hypotheses?”

  “A line of reasoning, Mr. Chairman.”

  The Chairman stood up, at once losing some of his presence, since he scarcely unfolded to a greater than sitting height. “Let me take a short walk, so that I might consider what I have heard so far. I will be right back.” He left for the Personal.

  Fastolfe leaned in the direction of Baley and Baley met him halfway. (Amadiro looked on in casual unconcern, as though it scarcely mattered to him what they might have to say to each other.)

  Fastolfe whispered, “Have you anything better to say?”

  Baley said, “I think so, if I get the proper chance to say it, but the Chairman does not seem to be sympathetic.”

  “He is not. So far you have merely made things worse and I would not be surprised, if, when he comes back, he calls these proceedings to a halt.”

  Baley shook his head and stared at his shoes.

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  Baley was still staring at his shoes when the Chairman returned, reseated himself, and turned a hard and rather baleful glance at the Earthman.

  He said, “Mr. Baley of Earth?”

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman.”

  “I think you are wasting my time, but I do not want it said that I did not give either side a full hearing, even when it seemed to be wasting my time. Can you offer me a motive that would account for Dr. Amadiro acting—in the mad way in which you accuse him of acting?”

  “Mr. Chairman,” said Baley in a tone approaching desperation, “there is indeed a motive—a very good one. It rests on the fact that Dr. Amadiro’s plan for settling the Galaxy will come to nothing if he and his Institute cannot produce humaniform robots. So far he has produced none and can produce none. Ask him if he is willing to have a legislative committee examine his Institute for any indication that successful humaniform robots are being produced or designed. If he is willing to maintain that successful humaniform are on the assembly lines or even on the drawing boards—or even in adequate theoretical formulation—and if he is prepared to demonstrate that fact to a qualified committee, I will say nothing more and admit that my investigation has achieved nothing.” He held his breath.

  The Chairman looked at Amadiro, whose smile had faded.

  Amadiro said, “I will admit that we have no humaniform robots in prospect at the moment.”

  “Then I will continue,” said Baley, resuming his interrupted breathing with something very much like a gasp. “Dr. Amadiro can, of course, find all the information he needs for his project if he turns to Dr. Fastolfe, who has the information in his head, but Dr. Fastolfe will not cooperate in this matter.”

  “No, I will not,” murmured Fastolfe, “under any conditions.”

  “But, Mr. Chairman,” Baley continued, “Dr. Fastolfe is not the only individual who has the secret of the design and construction of humaniform robots.”

  “No?” said the Chairman. “Who else would know? Dr. Fastolfe himself looks astonished at your comment, Mr. Baley.” (For the first time, he did not add “of Earth.”)

  “I am indeed astonished,” said Fastolfe. “To my knowledge, I am certainly the only one. I don’t know what Mr. Baley means.”

  Amadiro said, with a small curling of the lip, “I suspect Mr. Baley doesn’t know, either.”

  Baley felt hemmed in. He looked from one to the other and felt that not one of them—not one—was on his side.

  He said, “Isn’t it true that any humaniform robot would know? Not consciously perhaps, not in such a way as to be able to give instructions in the matter but the information would surely be there within him, wouldn’t it? If a humaniform robot was properly questioned his answers and responses wou
ld betray his design and construction. Eventually, given enough time and given questions properly framed, a humaniform robot would yield information that would make it I possible to plan die design of other humaniform robots.—To put it briefly, no machine can be of secret design if the machine itself is available for sufficiently intense study.”

  Fastolfe seemed struck. “I see what you mean, Mr. Baley, and you are right. I had never thought of that.”

  “With respect, Dr. Fastolfe,” said Baley, “I must tell you that, like all Aurorans, you have a peculiarly individualistic pride. You are entirely too satisfied with being the best roboticist, the only roboticist who can construct humaniform so you blind yourself to the obvious.”

  The Chairman relaxed into a smile. “He has you there, Dr. Fastolfe. I have wondered why you were so eager to maintain that you were the only one with the know-how to destroy Jander when that so weakened your political case. I see clearly now that you would rather have your political case go down than your uniqueness.”

  Fastolfe chafed visibly.

  As for Amadiro, he frowned and said, “Has this anything to do with the problem under discussion?”

  “Yes, it does,” said Baley, he felt his confidence rising.

  “You cannot force any information from Dr. Fastolfe directly. Your robots cannot be ordered to do him harm, to torture him into revealing his secrets, for instance. You can’t harm him directly yourself against the protection of Dr. Fastolfe by his staff. However, you can isolate a robot and have it taken by other robots when the human being present is too ill—to take the necessary action to prevent you. All the events of yesterday afternoon were part of a quickly improvised plan to get your hands on Daneel. You saw your opportunity as soon as I insisted on seeing you at the Institute. If I had not sent my robots away, if I had not been just well enough to insist I was well and to send your robots in the wrong direction, you would have had him. And eventually you might have worked out the secret of humaniform robots by some long-sustained analysis of Daneel’s behavior and responses.”

  Amadiro said, “Mr. Chairman, I protest. I have never heard slander so viciously expressed. This is all based on the fancies of an ill man. We don’t know—and perhaps can’t ever know—whether the airfoil was really damaged; and if it was, by whom; whether robots really pursued the airfoil and really spoke to Mr. Baley or not. He is merely piling inference on inference, all based on dubious testimony concerning events of which he is the only witness—and that at a time when he was half-mad, with fear and may have been hallucinating. None of this can stand up for one moment in a courtroom.”

  “This is not a courtroom, Dr. Amadiro,” said the Chairman, “and it is my duty to listen to everything that may be germane to a question under dispute.”

  “This is not germane, Mr. Chairman. It is a cobweb.”

  “Yet it hangs together, somehow. I do not seem to catch Mr. Baley in a clear-cut illogicality. If one admits what he claims to have experienced, then his conclusions make a kind of sense. Do you deny all this, Dr. Amadiro? The airfoil damage, the pursuit, the intention to appropriate the humaniform robot?”

  “I do! Absolutely! None of it is true!” said Amadiro. It had been a noticeable while since he had smiled. “The Earthman can produce a recording of our entire conversation and no doubt he will point out that I was delaying him by speaking at length, by inviting him to tour the Institute, by inviting him to have dinner but all that can equally well be interpreted as my stretching a point to be courteous and hospitable. I was misled by a certain sympathy I have for Earthmen, perhaps, and that’s all there is to that. I deny his inferences and nothing of what he says can stand up against my denial. My reputation is not such that a mere speculation can persuade anyone that I am the kind of devious plotter this Earthman says I am.”

  The Chairman scratched at his chin thoughtfully and said, “Certainly, I am not of a mind to accuse you on the basis of what the Earthman has said so far.—Mr. Baley, if this is all you have, it is interesting but insufficient. Is there anything more you have to say of substance? I warn you that, if not, I have now spent all the time on this that I can afford to.”

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  Baley said, “There is but one more subject I wish to bring up, Mr. Chairman. You have perhaps heard of Gladia Delmarre—or Gladia Solaria. She calls herself simply Gladia.”

  “Yes, Mr. Baley,” said the Chairman with, a testy edge to his voice. “I have heard of her. I have seen the hyperwave show in which you and she play such remarkable parts.”

  “She was associated with the robot, Jander, for many months. In fact, toward the end, he was her husband.”

  The Chairman’s unfavorable stare at Baley became a hard glare. “Her what?”

  “Husband, Mr. Chairman.”

  Fastolfe, who half-rose, sat down again, looking perturbed.

  The Chairman said harshly, “That is illegal. Worse, it is ridiculous. A robot could not impregnate her. There could be no children. The status of a husband—or of a wife—is never granted without some statement as to willingness to have a child if permitted, even an Earthman, I should think, would know that.”

  Baley said, “I am aware of this, Mr. Chairman. So, I am certain, was Gladia. She did not use the word ‘husband’ in its legal sense but in an emotional one. She considered Jander the equivalent of a husband. She felt toward him as though he were a husband.”

  The Chairman turned to Fastolfe. “Did you know of this, Dr. Fastolfe? He was a robot on your staff.”

  Fastolfe, clearly embarrassed, said, “I knew she was fond of him. I suspected she made use of him sexually. I knew nothing of this illegal charade, however, until Mr. Baley told me of it.”

  Baley said, “She was a Solarian. Her concept of ‘husband’ was not Auroran.”

  “Obviously not,” said the Chairman.

  “But she did have enough of a sense of reality to keep it to herself, Mr. Chairman. She never told of this charade, as Dr. Fastolfe calls it, to any Auroran. She told me the day before yesterday because she wanted to urge me on in the investigation of something that meant so much to her. Yet even so, I imagine she would not have used the word if she had not known I was an Earthman and would understand it in her sense—and not in an Aurorans.”

  “Very well,” said the Chairman. “I’ll grant her a bare minimum of good sense—for a Solarian. Is that the one more subject you wanted to bring up?”

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman.”

  “In that case, it is totally irrelevant and can play no part in our deliberations.”

  “Mr. Chairman, there is one question I must still ask. One question. A dozen words, sir, and then I will be through.” He said it as earnestly as he could, for everything depended on this.

  The Chairman hesitated. “Agreed. One last question.”

  “Yes, Mr. Chairman.” Baley would have liked to bark out the words, but he refrained. Nor did he raise his voice. Nor did he even point his finger. Everything depended on this. Everything had led up to this and yet he remembered Fastolfe’s warning and said it almost casually. “How is it that Dr. Amadiro knew that Jander was Gladia’s husband?”

  “What?” The Chairman’s white and bushy eyebrows raised themselves in surprise. “Who said he knew anything of this?”

  Asked a direct question, Baley could continue. “Ask him, Mr. Chairman.”

  And he merely nodded in the direction of Amadiro, who had risen from his seat and was staring at Baley in obvious horror.

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  Baley said again, very softly, reluctant to draw attention, away from Amadiro, “Ask him, Mr. Chairman. He seems upset.”

  The Chairman said, “What is this, Dr. Amadiro? Did you know anything about the robot as supposed husband of this Solarian woman?”

  Amadiro stuttered, then pressed his lips together for a moment and tried again. The paleness which had struck him had vanished and was replaced by a dull flush. He said, “I am caught by surprise at this meaningless accusation, Mr. Chairman. I do not know wh
at it is all about.”

  “May I explain, Mr. Chairman? Very briefly?” said Baley. (Would he be cut off?)

  “You had better,” said the Chairman grimly. “If you have any explanation, I would certainly like to hear it.”

  “Mr. Chairman,” said Baley. “I had a conversation with Dr. Amadiro yesterday afternoon. Because it was his intention to keep me until the storm broke, he spoke more lengthily than he intended and, apparently, more carelessly. In referring to Gladia, he casually referred to the robot, Jander, as her husband. I’m curious as to how he knew that fact.”

  “Is this true, Dr. Amadiro?” asked the Chairman.

  Amadiro was still standing, bearing almost the appearance of a prisoner before a judge. He said, “Whether it is true or not has no bearing on the question under discussion.”

  “Perhaps not,” said the Chairman, “but I was astonished at your reaction to the question when it was put. It occurs to me that there is a meaning to this that Mr. Baley and you both understand and that I do not. I therefore want to understand also. Did you or did you, not know of this impossible relationship between Jander and the Solarian woman?”

  Amadiro said in a choking voice, “I could not possibly have.”

  “That is no answer,” said the Chairman. “That is an equivocation. You are making a judgment when I am asking you to hand me a memory. Did you or did you not make the statement imputed to you?”

  “Before he answers,” said Baley, feeling more certain of his ground now that the Chairman was governed by moral outrage, “it is only fair to Dr. Amadiro for me to remind him that Giskard, a robot who was also present at the meeting, can, if asked to do so, repeat the entire conversation, word for word, using the voice and intonation of both parties. In short, the conversation is recorded.”

  Amadiro burst into a kind of rage. “Mr. Chairman, the robot, Giskard, was designed, constructed, and programmed by Dr. Fastolfe, who announces himself to be the best roboticist who exists and who is bitterly opposed to me. Can we trust a recording produced by such a robot?”