The Robots of Dawn

36

Baley paused at the door of the airfoil and said firmly, “Giskard, I do not wish the windows opacified. I do not wish to sit in the back. I want to sit in the front seat and observe the Outside. Since I will be sitting between you and Daneel, I should be safe enough, unless the car itself is destroyed. And, in that case, we will all be destroyed and it won’t matter whether I am in front or in back.”

Giskard responded to the force of the statement by retreating into greater respectfulness. “Sir, if you should feel ill—”

“Then you will stop the car and I will climb into the back seat and you can opacify the rear windows. Or you needn’t even stop. I can climb over the front seat while you are moving. The point is, Giskard, that it is important for me to become as acquainted with Aurora as is possible and it is important for me, in any case, to become accustomed to the Outside. I am stating this as an order, Giskard.”

Daneel said softly, “Partner Elijah is quite correct in his request, friend Giskard. He will be reasonably safe.”

Giskard, perhaps reluctantly (Baley could not interpret the expression on his not-quite-human face), gave in and took his place at the controls. Baley followed and looked out of the clear glass of the windshield without quite the assurance he had presented in his voice. However, the pressure of a robot on either side, was comforting.

The car rose on its jets of compressed air and swayed a bit as though it were finding its footing. Baley felt a queasy sensation in the pit of his stomach and tried not to regret his brave performance of moments before. There was no use trying to tell himself that Daneel and Giskard showed no signs of fear and should be imitated. They were robots and could not feel fear.

And then the car moved forward suddenly and Baley felt himself pushed hard against the seat. Within a minute he was moving at as fast a speed as he had ever experienced on the Expressways of the City. A wide, grassy road stretched out, ahead.

The speed seemed the greater for the fact, that there were none of the friendly lights and structures of the City on either side but rather wide gulfs of greenery and irregular formations.

Baley fought to keep his breath steady and to talk as naturally as he might of neutral things.

He said, “We don’t seem to be passing any farmland, Daneel. This seems to be unused land.”

Daneel said, “This is city territory, Partner Elijah. It is privately owned parkland and estates.”

“City?” Baley could not accept the word. He knew what a City was.

“Eos is the largest and most important city on Aurora. The first to be established. The Auroran World Legislature sits here. The Chairman of the Legislature has his estate here and we will be passing it.”

Not only a city but the largest. Baley looked about to either side. “I was under the impression that the Fastolfe and Gladia establishments were on the outskirts of Eos. I should think. We would have passed the city limits, by now.”

“Not at all, Partner Elijah. We’re passing through its center. The limits are seven kilometers away and our destination is nearly forty kilometers beyond that.”

“The center of the city? I see no structures.”

“They are not meant to be seen from the road, but there’s, one you can make out between the trees. That is the establishment of Fuad Labord, a well-known writer.”

“Do you know all the establishments by sight?”

“They are in my memory banks,” said Daneel solemnly.

“There’s no traffic on the road. Why is that?”

“Long distances are covered by air-cars or magnetic subcars. Trimensional connections—”

“They call it viewing on Solaria,” said Baley.

“And here, too, in informal conversation, but TVC more formally. That takes care of much communication. Finally, Aurorans are fond of walking and it is not unusual to walk several kilometers for social visiting or even for business meetings where time is not of the essence.”

“And we have to get somewhere that’s too far to walk, too close for air-cars, and trimensional viewing is not wanted so we use a ground-car.”

“An airfoil, more specifically, Partner Elijah, but that qualifies as a ground-car, I suppose.”

“How long will it take to reach Vasilia’s establishment?”

“Not long, Partner Elijah. She is at the Robotics Institute, as perhaps you know.”

There were some moments of silence and then Baley said, “It looks cloudy near the horizon there.”

Giskard negotiated a curve at high speed, the airfoil tipping through an angle of some thirty degrees. Baley choked back a moan and clung to Daneel, who flung his left arm around Baley’s shoulders and held him in a strong viselike grip, one hand on each shoulder. Slowly, Baley let out his breath as the airfoil righted itself.

Daneel said, “Yes, those clouds will bring precipitation later in the day, as predicted.”

Baley frowned. He had been caught in the rain once once—during his experimental work in the field Outside on Earth. It was like standing under a cold shower with his clothes on. There had been sheer panic for a moment when he realized that there was no way in which he could reach for any controls that would turn it off. The water would come down forever!—Then everyone was running and he ran with them, making for the dryness and controllability of the City.

But this was Aurora and he had no idea what one did when it began to rain and there was no City to escape into. Run into the nearest establishment? Would refugees automatically be welcome?

Then there was another brief turn and Giskard said, “Sir, we are in the parking lot of the Robotics Institute. We can now enter and visit the establishment that Dr. Vasilia maintains on the Institute grounds.”

Baley nodded. The trip had taken something between fifteen and twenty minutes (as nearly as he could judge, Earth time) and he was glad it was over. He said, rather breathlessly, “I want to know something about Dr. Fastolfe’s daughter before I meet her. You did not know her, did you, Daneel?”

Daneel said, “At the time I came into existence, Dr. Fastolfe and his daughter had been separated for a considerable time. I have never met her.”

“But as for you, Giskard, you and she knew each other well. Is that not so?”

“It is so, sir,” said Giskard impassively.

“And were fond of each other?”

“I believe, sir,” said Giskard, “that it gave Dr. Fastolfe’s daughter pleasure to be with me.”

“Did it give you pleasure to be with her?”

Giskard seemed to pick his words. “It gives me a sensation that I think is what human beings mean by ‘pleasure’ to be with any human being.”

“But more so with Vasilia, I think. Am I right?”

“Her pleasure at being with me, sir,” said Giskard, “did seem to stimulate those positronic potentials that produce actions in me that are equivalent to those that pleasure produces in human beings. Or so I was once told by Dr. Fastolfe.”

Baley said suddenly, “Why did Vasilia leave her father?”

Giskard said nothing.

Baley said, with the sudden peremptoriness of an Earthman addressing a robot, “I asked you a question, boy.”

Giskard turned his head and stared at Baley, who, for a moment, thought the glow in the robot’s eyes might be brightening into a blaze of resentment at the demeaning word.

However, Giskard spoke mildly and there was no readable expression in his eyes when he said, “I would like to answer, sir, but in all matters concerning that separation, Miss Vasilia ordered me at that time to say nothing.”

“But I’m ordering you to answer me and I can order you very firmly indeed—if I wish to.”

Giskard said, “I am sorry. Miss Vasilia, even at that time, was skilled in robotics and the orders she gave me were sufficiently powerful to remain, despite anything you are likely to say, sir.”

Baley said, “She must have been skilled in robotics, since Dr. Fastolfe told me she reprogrammed you on occasion.”

“It was not dangerous to do so, sir. Dr. Fastolfe himself could always correct any errors.”

“Did he have to?”

“He did not, sir.”

“What was the nature of the reprogramming?”

“Minor matters, sir.”

“Perhaps, but humor me. Just what was it she did?”

Giskard hesitated and Baley knew what that meant at once. The robot said, “I fear that any questions concerning there programming cannot be answered by me.”

“You were forbidden?”

“No, sir, but the reprogramming automatically wipes out what went before. If I am changed in any particular, it would seem to me that I have always been as changed and I would have no memory of what I was before I was I changed.”

“Then how do you know the reprogramming was minor?”

“Since Dr. Fastolfe never saw any need of correcting what Miss Vasilia did—or so he once told me—I can only suppose the changes were minor. You might ask Miss Vasilia, sir.”

“I will,” said Baley.

“I fear, however, that she will not answer, sir.”

Baley’s heart sank. So far he had questioned only Dr. Fastolfe, Gladia, and the two robots, all of whom had overriding reasons to cooperate. Now, for the first time, he would be facing an unfriendly subject.

37

Baley stepped out of the airfoil, which was resting on a grassy plot, and felt a certain pleasure in feeling solidity beneath his feet.

He looked around in surprise, for the structures were rather thickly spread, and to his right was a particularly large one, built plainly, rather like a huge right-angled block of metal and glass.

“Is that the Robotics Institute?” he asked.

Daneel said, “This entire complex is the Institute, Partner Elijah. You are seeing only a portion and it is more thickly built up than is common on Aurora because it is a self-contained political entity. It contains home establishments, laboratories, libraries, communal gymnasia, and so on. The large structure is the administrative center.”

“This is so un-Auroran, with all these buildings in view at least judging from what I saw of Eos—that I should think there would be considerable disapproval.”

“I believe there was, Partner Elijah, but the head of the Institute is friendly with the Chairman, who has much influence, and there was a special dispensation, I understand, because of research necessities.” Daneel looked about thoughtfully. “It is indeed more compact than I had supposed.”

“Than you had supposed? Have you never been here before, Daneel?”

“No, Partner Elijah.”

“How about you, Giskard?”

“No, sir!” said Giskard.

Baley said, “You found your way here without trouble and you seem to know the place.”

“We have been suitably informed, Partner Elijah,” said Daneel, “since it was necessary that we come with you.”

Baley nodded thoughtfully then said, “Why didn’t Dr. Fastolfe come with us?” and decided, once again, that it made no sense to try to catch a robot off-guard. Ask a question rapidly or unexpectedly—and they simply waited until the question was absorbed and then answered.—They were never caught off guard.

Daneel said, “As Dr. Fastolfe said, he is not a member of the Institute and feels it would be improper to visit uninvited.”

“But why is he not a member?”

“The reason for that I have never been told, Partner Elijah.”

Baley’s eyes turned to Giskard, who said at once, “Nor I, sir.”

Did not know? Were told not to know?—Baley shrugged. It did not matter which. Human beings could lie and robots be instructed.

Of course, human beings could be browbeaten or maneuvered out of a lie—if the questioner were skillful enough or brutal enough—and robots could be maneuvered out of instruction—if the questioner were skillful enough or unscrupulous enough—but the skills were different and Baley had none at all with respect to robots.

He said, “Where would we be likely to find Dr. Vasilia Fastolfe?”

Daneel said, “This is her establishment immediately before us.”

“You have been instructed, then, as to its location?”

“That has been imprinted in our memory banks, Partner Elijah—”

“Well, then, lead the way.”

The orange sun was well up in the sky now and it was clearly nearing midday. As they approached Vasilia’s establishment, they stepped into the shadow of the factory and Baley twitched a little as he felt the temperature drop immediately.

His lips tightened at the thought of occupying and settling worlds without Cities, where the temperature was uncontrolled and subject to unpredictable, idiotic changes.—And, he noted uneasily, the line of clouds at the horizon had advanced somewhat. It could also rain whenever it wished, with water cascading down.

Earth! He longed for the Cities.

Giskard had walked into the establishment first and Daneel held out his arm to prevent Baley from following.

Of course! Giskard was reconnoitering.

So was Daneel, for that matter. His eyes traversed the landscape with an intentness no human being could have duplicated. Baley was certain that those robotic eyes missed nothing. (He wondered why robots were not equipped with four eyes equally distributed about the perimeter of the head—or an optic strip totally circumnavigating it. Daneel could not be expected to, of course, since he had to be human in appearance, but why not Giskard? Or did that introduce complications of vision that the positronic pathways could not handle? For a moment, Baley had a faint vision of the complexities that burdened the life of a roboticist.)

Giskard reappeared in the doorway, and nodded. Daneel’s arm exerted a respectful pressure and Baley moved forward. The door stood ajar.

There was no lock on Vasilia’s establishment, but there had also been none (Baley suddenly remembered) on those of Gladia and of Dr. Fastolfe. A sparse population and separation helped insure privacy and, no doubt, the custom of noninterference helped, too. And, come to think of it, the ubiquitous robot guards were more efficient than any lock could be.

The pressure of Daneel’s hand on Baley’s upper arm brought the latter to a halt. Giskard, ahead of them, was speaking in a low voice to two robots, who were themselves rather Giskardlike.

A sudden coldness struck the pit of Baley’s stomach. What if some rapid maneuver substituted another robot for Giskard? Would he be able to recognize the substitution? Tell two such robots apart? Would he be left with a robot without special instructions to guard him, one who might innocently lead him into danger and then react with insufficient quickness when protection was necessary?

Controlling his voice, he said calmly to Daneel, “Remarkable the similarity in those robots, Daneel. Can you tell them apart?”

“Certainly, Partner Elijah. Their clothing designs are different and their code numbers are different, as well.”

“They don’t look different to me.”

“You are not accustomed to notice that sort of detail.”

Baley stared again. “What code numbers?”

“They are easily visible, Partner Elijah, when you know where to look and when your eyes are sensitive farther into the infrared than human eyes are.”

“Well, then, I would be in trouble if I had to do the identifying, wouldn’t I?”

“Not at all, Partner Elijah. You had but to ask a robot for its full name and serial number. It would tell you.”

“Even if instructed to give me a false one?”

“Why should any robot be so instructed?”

Baley decided not to explain.

Giskard was, in any case, returning. He said to Baley, “Sir, you will be received. Come this way, please.”

The two robots of the establishment led. Behind them came Baley and Daneel, the latter retaining his grip protectively.

Following in the rear was Giskard.

The two robots stopped before a double door which opened, apparently automatically, in both directions. The room within was suffused with a dim, grayish light—daylight diffusing through thick drapery.

Baley could make out, not very clearly, a small human figure in the room, half-seated on a tall stool, with one elbow resting on a table that ran the length of the wall.

Baley and Daneel entered, Giskard coming up behind them. The door closed, leaving the room dimmer than ever.

A female voice said sharply, “Come no closer! Stay where you are!”

And the room burst into full daylight.

38

Baley blinked and looked upward. The ceiling was glassed and, through it, the sun could be seen. The sun seemed oddly dim, however, and could be looked at, even though that did not seem to affect the quality of the light within. Presumably, the glass (or whatever the transparent substance was) diffused the light without absorbing it.

He looked down at the woman, who still maintained her pose at the stool, and said, “Dr. Vasilia Fastolfe?”

“Dr. Vasilia Aliena, if you want a full name. I do not borrow the names of others. You may call me Dr. Vasilia. It is the name by which I am commonly known at the Institute.” Her voice, which had been rather harsh, softened, “And how are you, my old friend Giskard?”

Giskard said, in tones oddly removed from his usual one, “I greet you—” He paused and then said, “I greet you, Little Miss.”

Vasilia smiled. “And this, I suppose, is the humaniform robot of whom I have heard—Daneel Olivaw?”

“Yes, Dr. Vasilia.” said Daneel briskly.

“And finally, we have—the Earthman.”

“Elijah Baley, Doctor,” said Baley stiffly.

“Yes, I’m aware that Earthmen have names and that Elijah Baley is yours,” she said coolly. “You don’t look one blasted thing like the actor who played you in the hyperwave, show.”

“I am aware of that, Doctor.”

“The one who played Daneel was rather a good likeness, however, but I suppose we are not here to discuss the show.”

“We are not.”

“I gather we are here, Earthman, to talk, about whatever it is you want to say about Santirix Gremionis and get it over with. Right?”

“Not entirely,” said Baley. “That is not the primary reason for my coming, though I imagine we will get to it.”

“Indeed? Are you under the impression that we are here to engage in a long and complicated discussion on whatever topic you choose to deal with?”

“I think, Dr. Vasilia, you would be well-advised to allow me to manage this interview as I wish.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No.

“Well, I have never met an Earthman and it might be interesting to see how closely you resemble the actor who played your role—that is, in ways other than appearance. Are you really the masterful person you seemed to be in the show?”

“The show,” said Baley with clear distaste, “was overdramatic and exaggerated my personality in every direction. I would rather you accept me as I am and judge me entirely from how I appear to you right now.”

Vasilia laughed: “At least you don’t seem overawed by me. That’s a point in your favor. Or do you think this Gremionis thing you’ve got in mind puts you in a position to order me about?”

“I am not here to do anything but uncover the truth in the matter of the dead humaniform robot, Jander Panell.”

“Dead? Was he ever alive, then?”

“I use one syllable in preference to phrases such as ‘rendered inoperative.’ Does saying ‘dead’ confuse you?”

Vasilia said, “You fence well.—Debrett, bring the Earthman a chair. He will grow weary standing if this is to be a long conversation. Then get into your niche. And you may choose one, too, Daneel.—Giskard, come stand by me.”

Baley sat down. “Thank you, Debrett.—Dr. Vasilia, I have no authority to question you; I have no legal means of forcing you to answer my questions. However, the death of Jander Panell has put your father in a position of some—”

“It has put whom in a position?”

“Your father.”

“Earthman, I sometimes refer to a certain individual as my father, but no one else does. Please use a proper name.”

“Dr. Han Fastolfe. He is your father, isn’t he? As a matter of record?”

Vasilia said, “You are using a biological term. I share genes with him in a manner characteristic of what on Earth would be considered a father-daughter relationship. This is a matter of indifference on Aurora, except in medical and genetic matters. I can conceive of my suffering from certain metabolic states in which it would be appropriate to consider the physiology and biochemistry of those with whom I share genes, parents, siblings, children, and so on. Otherwise these relationships are not generally referred to in polite Auroran society.—I explain this to you because you are an Earthman.”

“If I have offended against custom,” said Baley, “it is through ignorance and I apologize. May I refer to the gentleman under discussion by name?”

“Certainly.”

“In that case, the death of Jander Panell has put Dr. Han Fastolfe into a position of some difficulty and I would assume that you would be concerned enough to desire to help him.”

“You assume that, do you? Why?”

“He is your—He brought you up. He cared for you. You had a profound affection for each other. He still feels a profound affection for you.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“It was obvious from the details of our conversations—even from the fact that he has taken an interest in the Solarian woman, Gladia Delmarre, because of her resemblance to you.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He did, but even if he hadn’t, the resemblance is obvious.”

“’Nevertheless, Earthman, I owe Dr. Fastolfe nothing. Your assumptions can be dismissed.”

Baley cleared his throat. “Aside from any personal feelings you might or might not have, there is the matter of the future of the Galaxy. Dr. Fastolfe wishes new worlds to be explored and settled by human beings. If the political repercussions of Jander’s death lead to the exploration and settlement of the new worlds by robots, Dr. Fastolfe believes that this will be catastrophic for Aurora and humanity. Surely you would not be a party to such a catastrophe.”

Vasilia said indifferently, watching him closely, “Surely not, if I agreed with Dr. Fastolfe. I do not. I see no harm in having humaniform robots doing the work. I am here at the Institute, in fact, to make that possible. I am a Globalist. Since Dr. Fastolfe is a Humanist, he is my political enemy.”

Her answers were clipped and direct, no longer than they had to be. Each time, there followed a definite silence, as, though she were waiting, with interest, for the next question. Baley had the impression that she was curious about him, amused by him, making wagers with herself as to what the next question might be, determined to give him just the minimum information necessary to force another question.

He said, “Have you long been a member of this Institute?”

“Since its formation.”

“Are there many members?”

“I should judge about a third of Aurora’s roboticists are members, though only about half of these actually live and work on the Institute grounds.”

“Do other members of the Institute share your views on the robotic exploration of other worlds? Do they oppose Dr. Fastolfe’s views one and all?”

“I suspect that most of them are Globalists, but I don’t know that we have taken a vote on the matter or even discussed it formally. You had better ask them all individually.”

“Is Dr. Fastolfe a member of the Institute?”

“No.”

Baley waited a bit, but she said nothing beyond the negative. He said, “Isn’t that surprising? I should think he, of all people, would be a member.”

“As it happens, we don’t want him. What is perhaps less important, he doesn’t want us.”

“Isn’t that even more surprising?”

“I don’t think so.”—And then, as though goaded into saying something more by an irritation within herself, she said, “He lives in the city of Eos. I suppose you know the significance of the name, Earthman?”

Baley nodded and said, “Eos is—the ancient Greek goddess of the dawn, as Aurora is the ancient Roman goddess of the dawn.”

“Exactly. Dr. Han Fastolfe lives in the City of the Dawn on the World of the Dawn, but he is not himself a believer in the Dawn. He does not understand the necessary method of expansion through the Galaxy, of converting the Spacer Dawn into broad Galactic Day. The robotic exploration of the Galaxy is the only practical way to carry the task through and he won’t accept it—or us.”

Baley said slowly, “Why is it the only practical method? Aurora and the other Spacer worlds were not explored and settled by robots but by human beings.”

“Correction. By Earthpeople. It was a wasteful and inefficient procedure and there are now no Earthpeople that we will allow to serve as further settlers. We have become Spacers, long-lived, and healthy, and we have robots who are infinitely more versatile and flexible than those available to the human beings who originally settled our worlds. Times and matters are wholly different—and today only robotic exploration is feasible.”

“Let us suppose you are right and Dr. Fastolfe is wrong. Even so, he has a logical view. Why won’t he and the Institute accept each other? Simply because they disagree on this point?”

“No, this disagreement is comparatively minor—There is a more fundamental conflict.”

Again Baley paused and again she added nothing to her remark. He did not feel it safe to display irritation, so he said quietly, almost tentatively, “What is the more fundamental conflict?”

The amusement in Vasilia’s voice came nearer the surface. It softened the lines of her face somewhat and, for a moment, she looked more like Gladia. “You couldn’t guess, unless it were explained to you, I think.”

“Precisely why I am asking, Dr. Vasilia.”

“Well, then, Earthman, I have been told that Earthpeople are short-lived. I have not been misled in that, have I?”

Baley shrugged, “Some of us live to be a hundred years old, Earth time.” He thought a bit. “Perhaps a—hundred and thirty or so metric years.”

“And how old are you?”

“Forty-five standard, sixty metric.”

“I am sixty-six metric. I expect to live three metric centuries more at least—if I am careful.”

Baley spread his hands wide. “I congratulate you.”

“There are disadvantages.”

“I was told this morning that, in three or four centuries, many, many losses have a chance to accumulate.”

“I’m afraid so,” said Vasilia. “And many, many gains have a chance to accumulate, as well. On the whole, it balances.”

“What, then, are the disadvantages?”

“You are not a scientist, of course.”

“I am a plainclothesman—a policeman, if you like.”

“But perhaps you know scientists on your world.”

“I have met some,” said Baley cautiously.

“You know how they work? We are told that on Earth they cooperate out of necessity. They have, at most, half a century of active labor in the course of their short lives. Less than seven metric decades. Not much can be done in that time.”

“Some of our scientists had accomplished quite a deal in considerably less time.”

“Because they have taken advantage of the findings others have made before them and profit from the use they can make of contemporary findings by others. Isn’t that so?”

“Of course—We have a scientific community to which all contribute, across the expanse of space and of time.”

“Exactly. It won’t work otherwise. Each scientist, aware of the unlikelihood of accomplishing much entirely by himself, is forced into the community, cannot help becoming part of the clearinghouse. Progress thus becomes enormously greater than it would be if this did not exist.”

“Is not this the case on Aurora and the other Spacer worlds, too?” asked Baley.

“In theory it is; in practice not so much. The pressures in a long-lived society are less. Scientists here have three or three and a half centuries to devote to a problem, so that the thought arises that significant progress may be made in that time by a solitary worker. It becomes possible to feel a kind of intellectual greed—to want to accomplish something on your own, to assume a property right to a particular facet of progress, to be willing to see the general advance slowed—rather than give up what you conceive to be yours alone. And the general advance is slowed on Spacer worlds as a result, to the point where it is difficult to outpace the work done on Earth, despite our enormous advantages.”

“I assume you wouldn’t say this if I were not to take it that Dr. Han Fastolfe behaves in this manner.”

“He certainly does. It is his theoretical analysis of the positronic brain that has made the humaniform robot possible. He has used it to construct—with the help of the late Dr. Sarton—your robot friend Daneel, but he has not published the important details of his theory, nor does he make it available to anyone else. In this way, he—and he alone—holds a stranglehold on the production of humaniform robots.”

Baley furrowed his brow. “And the Robotics Institute is dedicated to cooperation among scientists?”

“Exactly. This Institute is made up of over a hundred topnotch roboticists of different ages, advancements, and skills and we hope to establish branches on other worlds and make it an interstellar association. All of us are dedicated to communicating our separate discoveries or speculations to the common fund—doing voluntarily for the general good what you Earthpeople do perforce because you live such short lives.

“This, however, Dr. Han Fastolfe will not do. I’m sure you think of Dr. Han Fastolfe as a nobly idealistic Auroran patriot,—but he will not put his intellectual property—as he thinks of it—into the common fund and therefore he does not want us. And because he assumes a personal property right upon scientific discoveries, we do not want him.—You no longer find the mutual distaste a mystery, I take it.”

Baley nodded his head, then said, “You think this will work—this voluntary giving up of personal glory?”

“It must,” said Vasilia grimly.

“And has the Institute, through community endeavor, duplicated Dr. Fastolfe’s individual work and rediscovered the theory of the humaniform positronic brain?”

“We will, in time. It is inevitable.”

“And you are making no attempt to shorten the time it will take by persuading Dr. Fastolfe to yield the secret?”

“I think we are on the way to persuading him.”

“Through the working of the Jander scandal?”

“I don’t think you really have to ask that question.—Well, have I told you what you wanted to know, Earthman?”

Baley said, “You have told me some things I didn’t know.”

“Then it is time for you to tell me about Gremionis. Why have you brought up the name of this barber in connection with me?”

“Barber?”

“He considers himself a hair stylist, among other things, but he is a barber, plain and simple. Tell me about him—or let us consider this interview at an end.”

Baley felt weary—It seemed clear to him that Vasilia had enjoyed the fencing. She had given him enough to whet his appetite and now he would be forced to buy additional material with information of his own.—But he had none. Or at least he had only guesses. And many of them were wrong, vitally wrong, he was through.

He therefore fenced on his own. “You understand, Dr. Vasilia, that you can’t get away with pretending that it is farcical to suppose there is a connection between Gremionis and yourself.”

“Why not, when it is farcical?”

“Oh no. If it were farcical, you would have laughed in my face and shut off trimensional contact. The mere fact that you were willing to abandon your earliest stand and receive me—the mere fact, that you have been talking to me at length and telling me a great many things—is a clear admission that you feel that I just possibly might have my knife at your jugular.”

Vasilia’s jaw muscles tightened and she said, in a low and angry voice, “See, here, little Earthman, my position is vulnerable and you probably know it. I am the daughter of Dr. Fastolfe and there are some here at the Institute who are foolish enough—or knavish enough—to mistrust me therefor. I don’t know what kind of story you may have heard—or made up but that it’s more or less farcical is certain. Nevertheless, no matter how farcical, it might be used effectively against me. So I am willing to trade for it. I have told you some things and I might tell you more, but only if you now tell me what you have in your hand and convince me you are telling me the truth. So tell me now.

“If you try to play games with me, I will be in no worse position than at present if I kick you out—and I will at least get pleasure out of that. And I will use what leverage I have with the Chairman to get him to cancel his decision to let you come here and have you sent right back to Earth. There is considerable pressure on him now to do this and you won’t want the addition of mine.

“So, talk! Now!”

39

Baley’s impulse was to lead up to the crucial point, feeling his way to see if he were right. That, he felt, would not work. She would see what he was doing—she was no fool—and would stop him. He was on the track of something, he knew, and he didn’t want to spoil it. What she said about her vulnerable position as the result of her relationship to her father might well be true, but she still would not have been frightened into seeing him if she hadn’t suspected that some notion he had was not completely farcical.

He had to come out with something, then, with something important that would establish, at once, some sort of domination over her. Therefore—the gamble.

He said, “Santirix Gremionis offered himself to you.” And, before Vasilia could react, he raised the ante by saying, with an added touch of harshness, “And not once but many times.”

Vasilia clasped her hands over one knee, then pulled herself up and seated herself on the stool, as though to make herself more comfortable. She looked at Giskard, who stood motionless and expressionless at her side.

Then she looked at Baley and said, “Well, the idiot offers himself to everyone he sees, regardless of age and sex—I would be unusual if he paid me no attention.”

Baley made the gesture of brushing that to one side. (She had not laughed. She had not brought the interview to an end. She had not even put on a display of fury. She was waiting to see what he would build out of the statement, so he did have something by the tail.)

He said, “That is exaggeration, Dr. Vasilia. No one, how ever undiscriminating, would fail to make choices and, in the case of this Gremionis, you were selected and, despite your refusal to accept him, he continued to offer himself, quite out of keeping with Auroran custom.”

Vasilia said, “I am glad you realize, I refused him. There are some who feel that, as a matter of courtesy, any offer or almost any offer—or almost any offer—should be accepted, but that is not my opinion. I see no reason why I have to subject myself to some uninteresting event that will merely waste my time. Do you find something objectionable in that, Earthman?”

“I have no opinion to offer—either favorable or unfavorable—in connection with Auroran custom.” (She was still waiting, listening to him. What was she waiting for? Would it be for what he wanted to say but yet wasn’t sure he dared to?)

She said, with an effort at lightness, “Do you have anything at all to offer—or are we through?”

“Not through,” said Baley, who was now forced to take another gamble. “You recognized this non-Auroran perseverance in Gremionis and it occurred to you that you could make use of it.”

“Really? How mad! What possible use could I make of it?”

“Since he was clearly attracted to you very strongly, it would not be difficult to arrange to have him attracted by another who resembled you very closely. You urged him to do so, perhaps promising to accept him if the other did not.

“Who is this poor woman who resembles me closely?”

“You do not know? Come now, that is naive, Dr. Vasilia. I am talking of the Solarian woman, Gladia, whom I already have said has come under the protection of Dr. Fastolfe precisely because she does resemble you. You expressed no surprise when I referred to this at the beginning of our talk. It is too late to pretend ignorance now.”

Vasilia looked at him sharply. “And from his interest in her, you deduced that he must first have been interested in me? It was this wild guess with which you approached me?”

“Not entirely a wild guess. There are other substantiating factors. Do you deny all this?”

She brushed thoughtfully at the long desk beside her and Baley wondered what details were carried by the long sheets of paper on it. He could make out, from a distance, complexities of patterns that he knew would be totally meaningless to him, no matter how carefully and thoroughly he studied them.

Vasilia said, “I grow weary. You have told me that Gremionis was interested first in me, and then in my look-alike, the Solarian. And now you want me to deny it. Why should I take the trouble to deny it? Of what importance is it? Even if it were true, how could this damage me in any way? You are saying that I was annoyed by attentions I didn’t want and that I ingeniously deflected them. Well?”

Baley said, “It is not so much what you did, as why. You knew that Gremionis was the type of person who would be persistent. He had offered himself to you over and over and he would offer himself to Gladia over and over.”

“If she would refuse him.”

“She was a Solarian, having trouble with sex, and was refusing everyone, something I dare say you knew, since I imagine that, for all your estrangement from your fa—from Dr. Fastolfe, you have enough feeling to keep an eye on your replacement.”

“Well, then, good for her. If she refused Gremionis, she showed good taste.”

“You knew there was no ‘if’ about it. You knew she would.

“Still—what of it?”

“Repeated offers to her would mean that Gremionis would be in Gladia’s establishment frequently, that he would cling to her.”

“One last time. Well?”

“And in Gladia’s establishment was a very unusual object, one of the two humaniform robots in existence, Jander Panell.”

Vasilia hesitated. Then, “What are you driving at?”

“I think it struck you that if, somehow, the humaniform robot were killed under circumstances that would implicate Dr. Fastolfe, that could be used as a weapon—to force the secret of the humaniform positronic brain out of him. Gremionis, annoyed over Gladia’s persistent refusal to accept him and given the opportunity by his constant presence at Gladia’s establishment, could be induced to seek a fearful revenge by killing the robot.

Vasilia blinked rapidly. “That poor barber might have twenty such motives, and twenty such opportunities and it wouldn’t matter. He wouldn’t know how to order a robot to shake hands with any efficiency. How would he manage to come within a light-year of imposing mental freeze—out on a robot?”

“Which now,” said Baley softly, “finally brings us to the point, a point I think you have been anticipating, for you have somehow restrained yourself from throwing me out because you had to make sure whether I had this point in mind or not. What I’m saying is that Gremionis did the job, with the help of this Robotics Institute, working through you.”