Daneel Olivaw 3 - The Robots of Dawn Page 14

  Baley said, “What you're telling me is that active resentment against Earth is being built up.”

  Fastolfe said, “Exactly, Mr. Baley. The situation grows worse for me—and for Earth—every day and we have very little time.”

  “But isn't there an easy way of knocking this thing on its head?” (Baley, in despair, decided it was time to fall back on Daneel's point.) “If you were indeed anxious to test 2Lmethod for the destruction of a humaniform robot, why seek out one in another establishment, one with which it might be inconvenient to experiment? You had Daneel, himself, in your own establishment. He was at hand and convenient. Would not the experiment have been conducted upon him if there were any truth at all in the rumor?”

  “No, no,” said Fastolfe. “I couldn't get anyone to believe that. Daneel was my first success, my triumph. I wouldn't destroy him under any circumstances. Naturally, I would turn to Jander. Everyone would see that and I would be a fool to try to persuade them that it would have made more sense for me to sacrifice Daneel.”

  They were walking again, nearly at their destination. Baley was in deep silence, his face tight-lipped.

  Fastolfe said, “How do you feel, Mr. Baley?”

  Baley said in a low voice, “If you mean as far as being Outside is concerned, I am not even aware of it. If you mean as far as our dilemma is concerned, I think I am as close to giving up as I can possibly be without putting myself into an ultrasonic brain-dissolving chamber.” Then passionately, “Why did you send for me, Dr. Fastolfe? Why have you given me this job? What have I ever done to you to be treated so?”

  “Actually,” said Fastolfe, “it was not my idea to begin with and I can only plead my desperation.”

  “Well, whose idea was it?”

  “It was the owner of this establishment we have now reached who suggested it originally—and I had no better idea.”

  “The owner of this establishment? Why would he—”

  “She.”

  “Well, then, why would she suggest anything of the sort?”

  “Oh! I haven't explained that she knows you, have I, Mr. Baley? There she is, waiting for us now.”

  Baley looked up, bewildered.

  “Jehoshaphat,” he whispered.

  6. GIADIA

  23

  The young woman who faced them said with a wan smile, “I knew that when I met you again, Elijah, that would be the first word I would hear.”

  Baley stared at her. She had changed. Her hair was shorter and her face was even more troubled now than it had been two years ago and seemed more than two years older, somehow. She was still unmistakably Gladia, however. There was still the triangular face, with its pronounced cheekbones and small chin. She was still short, still slight of figure, still vaguely childlike.

  He had dreamed of her frequently—though not in an overtly erotic fashion—after returning to Earth. His dreams were always stories of not being able to quite reach her. She was always there, a little too far off to speak to easily. She never quite heard when he called her. She never grew nearer when he approached her.

  It was not hard to understand why the dreams had been as they were. She was a Solarian-born person and, as such, was rarely supposed to be in the physical presence of other human beings.

  Elijah had been forbidden to her because he was human—and beyond that (of course) because he was from Earth. Though the exigencies of the murder case he was investigating forced them to meet, throughout their relationship she was completely covered, when physically together, to prevent actual contact. And yet, at their last meeting, she had, in defiance of good sense, fleetingly touched his cheek with her bare hand. She must have known she could be infected as a result. He cherished the touch the more, for every aspect of her upbringing combined to make it unthinkable.

  The dreams had faded in time.

  Baley said, rather stupidly, “It was you who owned the—”

  He paused and Gladia finished the sentence for him. “The robot. And two years ago, it was I who possessed the husband. Whatever I touch is destroyed.”

  Without really knowing what he was doing, Baley reached up to place his hand on his cheek. Gladia did not seem to notice.

  She said, “You came to rescue me that first time. Forgive me, but I had to call on you again. —Come in, Elijah. Come in, Dr. Fastolfe.”

  Fastolfe stepped back to allow Baley to walk in first. He followed. Behind Fastolfe came Daneel and Giskard— and they, with the characteristic self-effacement of robots, stepped to unoccupied wall niches on opposite sides and remained silently standing, backs to the wall.

  For one moment, it seemed that Gladia would treat them with the indifference with which human beings commonly treated robots. After a glance at Daneel, however, she turned away and said to Fastolfe in a voice that choked a little, “That one. Please. Ask him to leave.”

  Fastolfe said, with a small motion of surprise, “Daneel?”

  “He's too—too Janderlike!”

  Fastolfe turned to look at Daneel and a look of clear pain crossed his face momentarily. “Of course, my dear.

  You must forgive me. I did not think. —Daneel, move into another room and remain there while we are here.”

  Without a word, Daneel left.

  Gladia glanced a moment at Giskard, as though to judge whether he, also, was too Janderlike, and turned away with a small shrug.

  She said, “Would either of you like refreshment of any kind? I have an excellent coconut drink, fresh and cold.”

  “No, Gladia,” said Fastolfe. “I have merely brought Mr. Baley here as I promised I would. I will not stay long.”

  “If I may have a glass of water,” said Baley, “I won't trouble you for anything more.”

  Gladia raised one hand. Undoubtedly, she was under observation, for, in a moment, a robot moved in noiselessly, with a glass of water on a tray and a small dish of what looked like crackers with a pinkish blob on each.

  Baley could not forbear taking one, even though he was not certain what it might be. It had to be something Earth-descended, for he could not believe that on Aurora, he—or anyone—would be eating any portion of the planet's sparse indigenous biota or anything synthetic either. Nevertheless, the descendants of Earthly food species might change with time, either through deliberate cultivation or the action of a strange environment—and Fastolfe, at lunchtime, had said that much of the Auroran diet was an acquired taste.

  He was pleasantly surprised. The taste was sharp and spicy, but he found it delightful and took a second almost at once. He said, “Thank you” to the robot (who would not have objected to standing there indefinitely) and took the entire dish, together with the glass of water.

  The robot left.

  It was late afternoon now and the sunlight came rud-dily through the western windows. Baley had the impression that this house was smaller than Fastolfe's, but it would have been more cheerful had not the sad figure of Gladia standing in its midst provoked a dispiriting effect.

  That might, of course, be Baley's imagination. Cheer, in any case, seemed to him impossible in any structure purporting to house and protect human beings that yet remained exposed to the Outside beyond each wall. Not one wall, he thought, had the warmth of human life on the other side. In no direction could one look for companionship and community. Through every outer wall, every side, top and bottom, there was inanimate world. Cold! Cold!

  And coldness flooded back upon Baley himself as he thought again of the dilemma in which he found himself. (For a moment, the shock of meeting Gladia again had driven it from his mind.)

  Gladia said, “Come. Sit down, Elijah. You must excuse me for not quite being myself. I am, for a second time, the center of a planetary sensation—and the first time was more than enough.”

  “I understand, Gladia. Please do not apologize,” said Baley.

  “And as for you, dear Doctor, please don't feel you need go.”

  “Well—” Fastolfe looked at the time strip on the wall. “I will st
ay for a short while, but then, my dear, there is work that must be done though the skies fall. All the more so, since I must look forward to a near future in which I may be restrained from doing any work at all.”

  Gladia blinked rapidly, as though holding back tears. “I know, Dr. Fastolfe. You are in deep trouble because of—of what happened here and I don't seem to have time to think of anything but my own—discomfort.”

  Fastolfe said, “I'll do my best to take care of my own problem, Gladia, and there is no need for you to feel guilt over the matter. —Perhaps Mr. Baley will be able to help us both.”

  Baley pressed his lips together at that, then said heavily, “I was not aware, Gladia, that you were in any way involved in this affair.”

  “Who else would be?” she said with a sigh.

  “You are—were—in possession of Jander Panell?”

  “Not truly in possession. I had him on loan from Dr. Fastolfe.”

  “Were you with him when he—” Baley hesitated over some way of putting it.

  “Died? Mightn't we say died? —No, I was not. And before you ask, there was no one else in the house at the time. I was alone. I am usually alone. Almost always. That is my Solarian upbringing, you remember. Of course, that is not obligatory. You two are here and I do not mind—very much.”

  “And you were definitely alone at the time Jander died? No mistake?”

  “I have said so,” said Gladia, sounding a little irritated. “No, never mind, Elijah. I know you must have everything repeated and repeated. I was alone. Honestly.”

  “There were robots present, though.”

  “Yes, of course. When I say ‘alone,’ I mean there were no other human beings present.”

  “How many robots do you possess, Gladia? Not counting Jander.”

  Gladia paused as though she were counting internally. Finally, she said, “Twenty. Five in the house and fifteen on the grounds. Robots move freely between my house and Dr. Fastolfe's, too, so that it isn't always possible to judge, when a robot is quickly seen at either establishment, whether it is one of mine or one of his.”

  “Ah,” said Baley, “and since Dr. Fastolfe has fifty-seven robots in his establishment, that means, if we combine the two, that there are seventy-seven robots available, altogether. Are there any other establishments whose robots may mingle with yours indistinguishably?”

  Fastolfe said, “There's no other establishment near enough to make that practical. Nor is the practice of mixing robots really encouraged. Gladia and I are a special case because she is not Auroran and because I have taken rather a—responsibility for her.”

  “Even so. Seventy-seven robots,” said Baley.

  “Yes,” said Fastolfe, “but why are you making this point?”

  Baley said, “Because it means you can have any of seventy-seven moving objects, each vaguely human in form, that you are used to seeing out of the corner of the eye and to which you would pay no particular attention. Isn't it possible, Gladia, that if an actual human being were to penetrate the house, for whatever purpose, you would scarcely be aware of it? It would be one more moving object, vaguely human in form, and you would pay no attention.”

  Fastolfe chuckled softly and Gladia, unsmiling, shook her head.

  “Elijah,” she said, “one can tell you are an Earthman. Do you imagine that any human being, even Dr. Fastolfe here, could possibly approach my house without my being informed of the fact by my robots. I might ignore a moving form, assuming it to be a robot, but no robot ever would. I was waiting for you just now when you arrived, but that was because my robots had informed me you were approaching. No, no, when Jander died, there was no other human being in the house.”

  “Except yourself?”

  “Except myself. Just as there was no one in the house except myself when my husband was killed.”

  Fastolfe interposed gently. “There is a difference, Gladia. Your husband was killed with a blunt instrument. The physical presence of the murderer was necessary and, if you were the only one present, that was serious. In this case, Jander was put out of operation by a subtle spoken program. Physical presence was not necessary. Your presence here alone means nothing, especially since you do not know how to block the mind of a humaniform robot.”

  They both turned to look at Baley, Fastolfe with a quizzical look on his face, Gladia with a sad one. (It irritated Baley that Fastolfe, whose future was as bleak as Baley's own, nevertheless seemed to face it with humor. What on Earth is there to the situation to cause one to laugh like an idiot? Baley thought morosely.)

  “Ignorance,” said Baley slowly, “may mean nothing. A person may not know how to get to a certain place and yet may just happen to reach it while walking blindly. One might talk to Jander and, all unknowingly, push the button for mental freeze-out.”

  Fastolfe said, “And the chances of that?”

  “You're the expert, Dr. Fastolfe, and I suppose you will tell me they are very small.”

  “Incredibly small. A person may not know how to get to a certain place, but if the only route is a series of tight ropes stretched in sharply changing directions, what are the chances of reaching it by walking randomly while blindfolded?”

  Gladia's hands fluttered in extreme agitation. She clenched her fists, as though to hold them steady, and brought them down on her knees. “I didn't do it, accident or not. I wasn't with him when it happened. I wasn't. I spoke to him in the morning. He was well, perfectly normal. Hours later, when I summoned him, he never came. I went in search of him and he was standing in his accustomed place, seeming quite normal. The trouble was, he didn't respond to me. He didn't respond at all. He has never responded since.”

  Baley said, “Could something you had said to him, quite in passing, have produced mind-freeze only after you had left him—an hour after, perhaps?”

  Fastolfe interposed sharply, “Quite impossible, Mr. Baley. If mind-freeze is to take place, it takes place at once. Please do not badger Gladia in this fashion. She is incapable of producing mind-freeze deliberately and it is unthinkable that she would produce it accidentally.”

  “Isn't it unthinkable that it would be produced by random positronic drift, as you say it must have?”

  “Not quite as unthinkable.”

  “Both alternatives are extremely unlikely. What is the difference in unthinkability?”

  “A great one. I imagine that a mental freeze-out through positronic drift might have a probability of 1 in 1012; that by accidental pattern-building 1 in 10100. That is just an estimate, but a reasonable one. The difference is greater than that between a single electron and the entire Universe—and it is in favor of the positronic drift.”

  There was silence for a while.

  Baley said, “Dr. Fastolfe, you said earlier that you couldn't stay long.”

  “I have stayed too long already.”

  “Good. Then would you leave now?”

  Fastolfe began to rise, then said, “Why?”

  “Because I want to speak to Gladia alone.”

  “To badger her?”

  “I must question her without your interference. Our situation is entirely too serious to worry about politeness.”

  Gladia said, “I am not afraid of Mr. Baley, dear Doe-tor.” She added wistfully, “My robots will protect me if his impoliteness becomes extreme.”

  Fastolfe smiled and said, “Very well, Gladia.” He rose and held out his hand to her. She took it briefly.

  He said, “I would like to have Giskard remain here for general protection—and Daneel will continue to be in the next room, if you don't mind. Could you lend me one of your own robots to escort me back to my establishment?”

  “Certainly,” said Gladia, raising her arms. “You know Pandion, I believe.”

  “Of course! A sturdy and reliable escort.” He left, with the robot following closely.

  Baley waited, watching Gladia, studying her. She sat there, her eyes on her hands, which were folded limply together in her lap.

  Ba
ley was certain there was more for her to tell. How he could persuade her to talk, he couldn't say, but of one thing more he was certain. While Fastolfe was there, she would not tell the whole truth.

  24

  Finally, Gladia looked up, her face like a little girl's. She said in a small voice, “How are you, Elijah? How do you feel?”

  “Well enough, Gladia.”

  She said, “Dr. Fastolfe said he would lead you here across the open and see to it that you would have to wait some time in the worst of it.”

  “Oh? Why was that? For the fun of it?”

  “No, Elijah. I had told him how you reacted to the open. You remember the time you fainted and fell into the pond?”

  Elijah shook his head quickly. He could not deny die event or his memory thereof, but neither did he approve of the reference. He said gruffly, “Fm not quite like that anymore. I've improved.”

  “But Dr. Fastolfe said he would test you. Was it all right?”

  “It was sufficiently all right. I didn't faint.” He remembered the episode aboard the spaceship during the approach to Aurora and ground his teeth faintly. That was different and there was no call to discuss the matter.

  He said, in a deliberate change of subject, “What do I call you here? How do I address you?”

  “You've been calling me Gladia.”

  “It's inappropriate, perhaps. I could say Mrs. Delmarre, but you may have—”

  She gasped and interrupted sharply, “I haven't used that name since arriving here. Please don't you use it.”

  “What do the Aurorans call you, then?”

  “They say Gladia Solaria, but that's just an indication that I'm an alien and I don't want that either. I am simply Gladia. One name. It's not an Auroran name and I doubt that there's another one on this planet, so it's sufficient. I'll continue to call you Elijah, if you don't mind.”