The Naked Sun

7. A DOCTOR IS PRODDED

Daneel stood in the doorway. ‘What happened, Partner Eli—”

But no explanation was needed. Daneel’s voice changed to a loud ringing shout. “Robots of Hannis Gruer! Your master is hurt! Robots!”

At once a metal figure strode into the dining room and after it, in a minute or two, a dozen more entered. Three carried Gruer gently away. The others busily engaged in straightening the disarray and picking up the tableware strewn on the floor.

Daneel called out suddenly, “You there, robots, never mind the crockery. Organize a search. Search the house for any human being. Alert any robots on the grounds outside. Have them go over every acre of the estate. If you find a master, hold him. Do not hurt him” (unnecessary advice) “but do not let him leave, either. If you find no master present, let me know. I will remain at this viewer combination.”

Then, as robots scattered, Elijah muttered to Daneel, “That’s a beginning. It was poison, of course.”

“Yes. That much is obvious, Partner Elijah.” Daneel sat down queerly, as though there were a weakness in his knees. Baley had never seen him give way so, not for an instant, to any action that resembled anything so human as a weakness in the knees.

Daneel said, “It is not well with my mechanism to see a human being come to harm.”

“There was nothing you could do.”

“That I understand and yet it is as though there were certain

cloggings in my thought paths. In human terms what I feel might be the equivalent to shock.”

“If that’s so, get over it.” Baley felt neither patience nor sympathy for a queasy robot. “We’ve got to consider the little matter of responsibility. There is no poison without a poisoner.”

“It might have been food-poisoning.”

“Accidental food-poisoning? On a world this neatly run? Never. Besides, the poison was in a liquid and the symptoms were sudden and complete. It was a poisoned dose and a large one. Look, Daneel, I’ll go into the next room to think this out a bit. You get Mrs. Delmarre. Make sure she’s at home and check the distance between her estate and Gruer’s.”

“Is it that you think she—”

Baley held up a hand. “Just find out, will you?”

He strode out of the room, seeking solitude. Surely there could not be two independent attempts at murder so close together in time on a world like Solaria. And if a connection existed, the easiest assumption to make was that Gruer’s story of a conspiracy was true.

Baley felt a familiar excitement growing within him. He had come to this world with Earth’s predicament in his mind, and his own. The murder itself had been a faraway thing, but now the chase was really on. The muscles in his jaw knotted.

After all, the murderer or murderers (or murderess) had struck in his presence and he was stung by that. Was he held in so little account? It was professional pride that was hurt and Baley knew it and welcomed the fact. At least it gave him a firm reason to see this thing through as a murder case, simply, even without reference to Earth’s dangers.

Daneel had located him now and was striding toward him. “I have done as you asked me to, Partner Elijah. I have viewed Mrs. Delmarre. She is at her home, which is somewhat over a thousand miles from the estate of Agent Gruer.”

Baley said, “I’ll see her myself later. View her, I mean.” He stared thoughtfully at Daneel. “Do you think she has any connection with this crime?”

“Apparently not a direct connection, Partner Elijah.”

“Does that imply there might be an indirect connection?”

“She might have persuaded someone else to do it.”

“Someone else?” Baley asked quickly. “Who?”

“That, Partner Elijah, I cannot say.”

“If someone were acting for her, that someone .would have to be at the scene of the crime.”

“Yes,” said Daneel, “someone must have been there to place the poison in the liquid.”

“Isn’t it possible that the poisoned liquid might have been prepared earlier in the day? Perhaps much earlier?”

Daneel said quietly, “I had thought of that, Partner Elijah, which is why I used the word ‘apparently’ when I stated that Mrs. Delmarre had no direct connection with the crime. It is within the realm of possibility for her to have been on the scene earlier in the day. It would be well to check her movements.”

“We will do that. We will check whether she was physically present at any time.”

Baley’s lips twitched. He had guessed that in some ways robotic logic must fall short and he was convinced of it now. As the roboticist had said: Logical but not reasonable.

He said, “Let’s get back into the viewing room and get Gruer’s estate back in view.”

The room sparkled with freshness and order. There was no sign at all that less than an hour before a man had collapsed in agony.

Three robots stood, backs against the wall, in the usual robotic attitude of respectful submission.

Baley said, “What news concerning your master?”

The middle robot said, “The doctor is attending him, master.”

“Viewing or seeing?”

“Viewing, master.”

“What does the doctor say? Will your master live?”

“It is not yet certain, master.”

Baley said, “Has the house been searched?”

“Thoroughly, master.”

“Was there any sign of another master beside your own?”

“No, master.”

“Were there any signs of such presence in the near past?”

“Not at all, master.”

“Are the grounds being searched?”

“Yes, master.”

“Any results so far?”

“No, master.”

Baley nodded and said, “I wish to speak to the robot that served at the table this night.”

“It is being held for inspection, master. Its reactions are erratic.”

“Can it speak?”

“Yes, master.”

“Then get it here without delay.”

There was delay and Baley began again. “I said—”

Daneel interrupted smoothly. “There is interradio communication among these Solarian types. The robot you desire is being summoned. If it is slow in coming, it is part of the disturbance that has overtaken it as the result of what has occurred.”

Baley nodded. He might have guessed at interradio. In a world so thoroughly given over to robots some sort of intimate communication among them would be necessary if the system were not to break down. It explained how a dozen robots could follow when one robot had been summoned, but only when needed and not otherwise.

A robot entered. It limped, one leg dragging. Baley wondered why and then shrugged. Even among the primitive robots on Earth reactions to injury of the positronic paths were never obvious to the layman. A disrupted circuit might strike a leg’s functioning, as here, and the fact would be most significant to a roboticist and completely meaningless to anyone else.

Baley said cautiously, “Do you remember a colorless liquid on your master’s table, some of which you poured into a goblet for him?”

The robot said, “Yeth, mathter.” A defect in oral articulation, too!

Baley said, “What was the nature of the liquid?”

“It wath water, mathter.”

“Just water? Nothing else?”

“Jutht water, mathter.”

“Where did you get it?”

“From the rethervoir tap, mathter.”

“Had it been standing in the kitchen before you brought it in?”

“The mathter preferred it not too cold, mathter. It wath a thtanding order that it be poured an hour before mealth.”

How convenient, thought Baley, for anyone who knew that fact. He said, “Have one of the robots connect me with the doctor viewing your master as soon as he is available. And while that is being

done, I want another one to explain how the reservoir tap works. I want to know about the water supply here.”

The doctor was available with little delay. He was the oldest Spacer Baley had ever seen, which meant, Baley thought, that he might be over three hundred years old. The veins stood out on his hands and his close-cropped hair was pure white. He had a habit of tapping his ridged front teeth with a fingernail, making a little clicking noise that Baley found annoying. His name was Altim Thool.

The doctor said, “Fortunately, he threw up a good deal of the dose. Still, he may not survive. It is a tragic event.” He sighed heavily.

“What was the poison, Doctor?” asked Baley.

“I’m afraid I don’t know.” (Click-click-click.)

Baley said, “What? Then how are you treating him?”

“Direct stimulation of the neuromuscular system to prevent paralysis, but except for that I am letting nature take its course.” His face, with its faintly yellow skin, like well-worn leather of superior quality, wore a pleading expression. “We have very little experience with this sort of thing. I don’t recall another case in over two centuries of practice.”

Baley stared at the other with contempt. “You know there are such things as poisons, don’t you?”

“Oh yes.” (Click-click.) “Common knowledge.”

“You have book-film references where you can gain some knowledge.”

“It would take days. There are numerous mineral poisons. We make use of insecticides in our society, and it is not impossible to obtain bacterial toxins. Even with descriptions in the films it would take a long time to gather the equipment and develop the techniques to test for them.”

“If no one on Solaria knows,” said Baley grimly, “I’d suggest you get in touch with one of the other worlds and find out. Meanwhile, you had better test the reservoir tap in Gruer’s mansion for poison. Get there in person, if you have to, and do it.”

Baley was prodding a venerable Spacer roughly, ordering him about like a robot and was quite unconscious of the incongruity of it. Nor did the Spacer make any protest.

Dr. Thool said doubtfully, “How could the reservoir tap be poisoned? I’m sure it couldn’t be.”

“Probably not,” agreed Baley, “but test it anyway to make sure.” The reservoir tap was a dim possibility indeed. The robot’s explanation had shown it to be a typical piece of Solarian self-care. Water might enter it from whatever source and be tailored to suit. Microorganisms were removed and non-living organic matter eliminated. The proper amount of aeration was introduced, as were various ions in just those trace amounts best suited to the body’s needs. It was very unlikely that any poison could survive one or another of the control devices.

Still, if the safety of the reservoir were directly established, then the time element would be clear. There would be the matter of the hour before the meal, when the pitcher of water (exposed to air, thought Baley sourly) was allowed to warm slowly, thanks to Gruer’s idiosyncrasy.

But Dr. Thool, frowning, was saying, “But how would I test the reservoir tap?”

“Jehoshaphat! Take an animal with you. Inject some of the water you take out of the tap into its veins, or have it drink some. Use your head, man. And do the same for what’s left in the pitcher, and if that’s poisoned, as it must be, run some of the tests the reference films describe. Find some simple ones. Do something.”

“Wait, wait. What pitcher?”

“The pitcher in which the water was standing. The pitcher from which the robot poured the poisoned drink.”

“Well, dear me—I presume it has been cleaned up. The household retinue would surely not leave it standing about.”

Baley groaned. Of course not. It was impossible to retain evidence with eager robots forever destroying it in the name of household duty. He should have ordered it preserved, but of course, this society was not his own and he never reacted properly to it.

Jehoshaphat!

Word eventually came through that the Gruer estate was clear; no sign of any unauthorized human present anywhere.

Daneel said, “That rather intensifies the puzzle, Partner Elijah, since it seems to leave no one in the role of poisoner.”

Baley, absorbed in thought, scarcely heard. He said, “What?… Not at all. Not at all. It clarifies the matter.” He did not explain,

knowing quite well that Daneel would be incapable of understanding or believing what Baley was certain was the truth.

Nor did Daneel ask for an explanation. Such an invasion of a human’s thoughts would have been most unrobotic.

Baley prowled back and forth restlessly, dreading the approach of the sleep period, when his fears of the open would rise and his longing for Earth increase. He felt an almost feverish desire to keep things happening.

He said to Daneel, “I might as well see Mrs. Delmarre again. Have the robot make contact.”

They walked to the viewing room and Baley watched a robot work with deft metal fingers. He watched through a haze of obscuring thought that vanished in startled astonishment when a table, elaborately spread for dinner, suddenly filled half the room.

Gladia’s voice said, “Hello.” A moment later she stepped into view and sat down. “Don’t look surprised, Elijah. It’s just dinnertime. And I’m very carefully dressed. See?”

She was. The dominant color of her dress was a light blue and it shimmered down the length of her limbs to wrists and ankles. A yellow ruff clung about her neck and shoulders, a little lighter than her hair, which was now held in disciplined waves.

Baley said, “I did not mean to interrupt your meal.”

“I haven’t begun yet. Why don’t you join me?”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Join you?”

She laughed. “You Earthmen are so funny. I don’t mean join me in personal presence. How could you do that? I mean, go to your own dining room and then you and the other one can dine with me.”

“But if I leave—”

“Your viewing technician can maintain contact.”

Daneel nodded gravely at that, and with some uncertainty Baley turned and walked toward the door. Gladia, together with her table, its setting, and its ornaments moved with him.

Gladia smiled encouragingly. “See? Your viewing technician is keeping us in contact.”

Baley and Daneel traveled up a moving ramp that Baley did not recall having traversed before. Apparently there were numerous possible routes between any two rooms in this impossible mansion and he knew only few of them. Daneel, of course, knew them all.

And, moving through walls, sometimes a bit below floor level, sometimes a bit above, there was always Gladia and her dinner table.

Baley stopped and muttered, “This takes getting used to.”

Gladia said at once, “Does it make you dizzy?”

“A little.”

“Then I tell you what. Why don’t you have your technicians freeze me right here. Then when you’re in your dining room and all set, he can join us up.”

Daneel said, “I will order that done, Partner Elijah.”

Their own dinner table was set when they arrived, the plates steaming with a dark brown soup in which diced meat was bobbing, and in the center a large roast fowl was ready for the carving. Daneel spoke briefly to the serving robot and, with smooth efficiency, the two places that had been set were drawn to the same end of the table.

As though that were a signal, the opposite wall seemed to move outward, the table seemed to lengthen and Gladia was seated at the opposite end. Room joined to room and table to table so neatly that but for the varying pattern in wall and floor covering and the differing designs in tableware it would have been easy to believe they were all dining together in actual fact.

“There,” said Gladia with satisfaction. “Isn’t this comfortable?”

“Quite,” said Baley. He tasted his soup gingerly, found it delicious, and helped himself more generously. “YOU know about Agent Gruer?”

Trouble shadowed her face at once and she put her spoon down. “Isn’t it terrible? Poor Hannis.”

“You use his first name. Do you know him?”

“I know almost all the important people on Solaria. Most Solarians do know one another. Naturally.”

Naturally, indeed, thought Baley. How many of them were there, after all?

Baley said, “Then perhaps you know Dr. Altim Thool. He’s taking care of Gruer.”

Gladia laughed gently. Her serving robot sliced meat for her and added small, browned potatoes and slivers of carrots. “Of course I know him. He treated me.”

“Treated you when?”

“Right after the—the trouble. About my husband, I mean.”

Baley said in astonishment, “Is he the only doctor on the planet?”

“Oh no.” For a moment her lips moved as though she were counting to herself. “There are at least ten. And there’s one youngster I know of who’s studying medicine. But Dr. Thool is one of the best. He has the most experience. Poor Dr. Thool.”

“Why poor?”

“Well, you know what I mean. It’s such a nasty job, being a doctor. Sometimes you just have to see people when you’re a doctor and even touch them. But Dr. Thool seems so resigned to it and he’ll always do some seeing when he feels he must. He’s always treated me since I was a child and was always so friendly and kind and I honestly feel I almost wouldn’t mind if he did have to see me. For instance, he saw me this last time.”

“After your husband’s death, you mean?”

“Yes. You can imagine how he felt when he saw my husband’s dead body and me lying there.”

“I was told he viewed the body,” said Baley.

“The body, yes. But after he made sure I was alive and in no real danger, he ordered the robots to put a pillow under my head and give me an injection of something or other, and then get out. He came over by jet. Really! By jet. It took less than half an hour and he took care of me and made sure all was well. I was so woozy when I came to that I was sure I was only viewing him, you know, and it wasn’t till he touched me that I knew we were seeing, and I screamed. Poor Dr. Thool. He was awfully embarrassed, but I knew he meant well.”

Baley nodded. “I suppose there’s not much use for doctors on Solaria?”

“I should hope not.”

“I know there are no germ diseases to speak of. What about metabolic disorders? Atherosclerosis? Diabetes? Things like that?”

“It happens and it’s pretty awful when it does. Doctors can make life more livable for such people in a physical way, but that’s the least of it.”

“Oh?”

“Of course. It means the gene analysis was imperfect. You don’t suppose we allow defects like diabetes to develop on purpose. Anyone who develops such things has to undergo very detailed re

analysis. The mate assignment has to be retracted, which is terribly embarrassing for the mate. And it means no—no”—her voice sank to a whisper—“children.”

Baley said in a normal voice, “No children?”

Gladia flushed. “It’s a terrible thing to say. Such a word! Ch-children!”

“It comes easy after a while,” said Baley dryly.

“Yes, but if I get into the habit, I’ll say it in front of another Solarian someday and I’ll just sink into the ground… . Anyway, if the two of them have had children (see, I’ve said it again) already, the children have to be found and examined—that was one of Rikaine’s jobs, by the way—and well, it’s just a mess.”

So much for Thool, thought Baley. The doctor’s incompetence was a natural consequence of the society, and held nothing sinister. Nothing necessarily sinister. Cross him off, he thought, but lightly.

He watched Gladia as she ate. She was neat and precisely delicate in her movements and her appetite seemed normal. (His own fowl was delightful. In one respect, anyway-food-he could easily be spoiled by these Outer Worlds.)

He said, “What is your opinion of the poisoning, Gladia?”

She looked up. “I’m trying not to think of it. There are so many horrors lately. Maybe it wasn’t poisoning.”

“It was.”

“But there wasn’t anyone around?”

“How do you know?”

“There couldn’t have been. He has no wife, these days, since he’s all through with his quota of ch—you know what. So there was no one to put the poison in anything, so how could he be poisoned?”

“But he was poisoned. That’s a fact and must be accepted.”

Her eyes clouded over. “Do you suppose,” she said, “he did it himself?”

“I doubt it. Why should he? And so publicly?”

“Then it couldn’t be done, Elijah. It just couldn’t.”

Baley said, “On the contrary, Gladia. It could be done very easily. And I’m sure I know exactly how.”