Daneel Olivaw 3 - The Robots of Dawn Read online

  Giskard said, his voice stiffer and a trifle less intoned than Daneel's, “Sir, friend Daneel and I may not enter the Personal. If you will do so and let us know if there is anything you will need, we will supply it at once.”

  “Yes, of course.” Baley raised himself, swung around, and got out of bed.

  Giskard began stripping the bed at once. “May I have your pajamas, sir?”

  Baley hesitated for a moment only. It was a robot who asked, nothing more. He disrobed and handed the garment to Giskard, who took it with a small, grave nod of acceptance.

  Baley looked at himself with distaste. He was suddenly conscious of a middle-aged body that was very likely in less good condition than Fastolfe's, which was nearly three times as old.

  Automatically, he looked for his slippers and found there were none. Presumably, he needed none. The floor seemed warm and soft to his feet.

  He stepped into the Personal and called out for instructions. From the other side of the illusory section of the wall, Giskard solemnly explained the working of the shaver, of the toothpaste dispenser, explained how to put the flushing device on automatic, how to control the temperature of the shower.

  Everything was on a grander and more elaborate scale than anything Earth had to offer and there were no partitions on the other side of which he could hear the movements and involuntary sounds of someone else, something he had to ignore rigidly to maintain the illusion of privacy.

  It was effete, thought Baley somberly as he went through the luxurious ritual, but it was an effeteness that (he already knew) he could become accustomed to. If he stayed here on Aurora any length of time, he would find the culture shock of returning to Earth painfully intense, particularly with respect to the Personal. He hoped that the readjustment would not take long, but he also hoped that any Earthpeople who settled new worlds would not feel impelled to cling to the concept of Community Personals.

  Perhaps, thought Baley, that was how one ought to define “effete”: That to which one can become easily accustomed.

  Baley stepped out of the Personal, various functions completed, chin new-cropped, teeth glistening, body showered and dry. He said, “Giskard, where do I find the deodorant?”

  Giskard said, “I do not understand, sir.”

  Daneel said quickly, “When you activated the lathering control, Partner Elijah, that introduced a deodorant effect. I ask pardon for friend Giskard's failure to understand. He lacks my experience on Earth.”

  Baley lifted his eyebrows dubiously and began to dress with Giskard's help.

  He said, “I see that you and Giskard are still with me every step of the way. Has there been any sign of any attempt at putting me out of the way?”

  Daneel said, “None thus far, Partner Elijah. Nevertheless, it would be wise to have friend Giskard and myself with you at all times, if that can possibly be managed.”

  “Why is that, Daneel?”

  “For two reasons, Partner Elijah. First, we can help you with any aspect of Auroran culture or folkways with which you are unfamiliar. Second, friend Giskard, in particular, can record and reproduce every word of every conversation you may have. This may be of value to you. You will recall that there were times in your conversations with both Dr. Fastolfe and with Miss Gladia when friend Giskard and I were at a distance or in another room—”

  “So that conversations were not recorded by Giskard?”

  “Actually, they were, Partner Elijah, but with low fidelity—and there may be portions that will not be as clear as we would want them to be. It would be better if we stayed as close to you as is convenient.”

  Baley said, “Daneel, are you of the opinion that I will be more at ease if I think of you as guides and as recording devices, rather than as guards? Why not simply come to the conclusion that, as guards, you two are completely unnecessary. Since there have been no attempts at me so far, why isn't it possible to conclude that there will be no attempts at me in the future?”

  “No, Partner Elijah, that would be incautious. Dr. Fastolfe feels that you are viewed with great apprehension by his enemies. They had made attempts to persuade the Chairman not to give Dr. Fastolfe permission to call you in and they will surely continue to attempt to persuade him to have you ordered back to Earth at the earliest possible moment.”

  “That sort of peaceful opposition requires no guards.”

  “No, sir, but if the opposition has reason to fear that you may exculpate Dr. Fastolfe, it is possible that they may feel driven to extremes. You are, after all, not an Auroran and the inhibitions against violence on our world would therefore be weakened in your case.”

  Baley said dourly, “The fact that I've been here a whole day and that nothing has happened should relieve their minds greatly and reduce the threat of violence considerably.”

  “It would indeed seem so,” said Daneel, showing no signs that he recognized the irony in Baley's voice.

  “On the other hand,” said Baley, “if I seem to make progress, then the danger to me immediately increases.”

  Daneel paused to consider, then said, “That would seem to be a logical consequence.”

  “And, therefore, you and Giskard will come with me wherever I go, just in case I manage to do my job a little too well.”

  Daneel paused again, then said, “Your way of putting it, Partner Elijah, puzzles me, but you seem to be correct.”

  “In that case,” said Baley, “I'm ready for breakfast, though it does take the edge off my appetite to be told that the alternative to failure is attempted assassination.”

  32

  Fastolfe smiled at Baley across the breakfast table. “Did you sleep well, Mr. Baley?”

  Baley studied the slice of ham with fascination. It had to be cut with a knife. It was grainy. It had a discrete strip of fat running down one side. It had, in short, not been processed. The result was that it tasted hammier, so to speak.

  There were also fried eggs, with the yolk flattened semisphere in the center, rimmed by white, rather like some daisies that Ben had pointed out to him in the field back on Earth. Intellectually, he knew what an egg looked like before it was processed and he knew that it contained both a yolk and a white, but he had never seen them still separate when ready to eat. Even on the ship coming here and even on Solaria, eggs, when served, were scrambled.

  He looked up sharply at Fastolfe. “Pardon me?”

  Fastolfe said patiently, “Did you sleep well?”

  “Yes. Quite well. I would probably still be sleeping if it hadn't been for the antisomnin.”

  “Ah yes. Not quite the hospitality a guest has the right to expect, but I felt you might want an early start.”

  “You are entirely right. And I'm not exactly a guest, either.”

  Fastolfe ate in silence for a moment or two. He sipped at his hot drink, then said, “Has any enlightenment come overnight? Have you awakened, perhaps, with a new perspective, a new thought?”

  Baley looked at Fastolfe suspiciously, but the other's face reflected no sarcasm. As Baley lifted his drink to his lips, he said, “I'm afraid not. I am as ineffectual now as I was last night.” He sipped and involuntarily made a face.

  Fastolfe said, “I'm sorry. You find the drink unpalatable?”

  Baley grunted and cautiously tasted it again.

  Fastolfe said, “It is simply coffee, you know. Decaffeinated.”

  Baley frowned. “It doesn't taste like coffee and— Pardon me, Dr. Fastolfe, I don't want to begin to sound paranoid, but Daneel and I have just had a half-joking exchange on the possibility of violence against me—half-joking on my part, of course, not on Daneel's—and it is in my mind that one way they might get at me is—”

  His voice trailed away.

  Fastolfe's eyebrows moved upward. He reached for Baley's coffee with a murmur of apology and smelled it. He then ladled out a small portion by spoon and tasted it. He said, “Perfectly normal, Mr. Baley. This is not an attempt at poisoning.”

  Baley said, “I'm sorry to be
have so foolishly, since I know this has been prepared by your own robots—but are you certain?”

  Fastolfe smiled. “Robots have been tampered with before now. —However, there has been no tampering this time. It is just that coffee, although universally popular on the various worlds, comes in different strains. It is notorious that each human being prefers the coffee of his own world. I'm sorry, Mr. Baley, I have no Earth strain to give you. Would you prefer milk? That is relatively constant from world to world. Fruit juice? Aurora's grape juice is considered superior throughout the worlds, generally. There are some who hint, darkly, that we allow it to ferment somewhat, but that, of course, is not true. Water?”

  “I'll try your grape juice.” Baley looked at the coffee dubiously. “I suppose I ought to try to get used to this.”

  “Not at all,” said Fastolfe. “Why seek out the unpleasant if that is unnecessary? —And so“—his smile seemed a bit strained as he returned to his earlier remark—”night and sleep have brought no useful reflection to you?”

  “I'm sorry,” said Baley. Then, frowning at a dim memory, “Although—”

  “Yes?”

  “I have the impression that just before falling asleep, in the free-association limbo between sleep and waking, it seemed to me that I had something.”

  “Indeed? What?”

  “I don't know. The thought drove me into wakeful-ness but didn't follow me there. Or else some imagined sound distracted me. I don't remember, I snatched at the thought, but didn't retrieve it. It's gone. I think that this sort of thing is not uncommon.”

  Fastolfe looked thoughtful. “Are you sure of this?”

  “Not really. The thought grew so tenuous so rapidly I couldn't even be sure that I had actually had it. And even if I had, it may have seemed to make sense to me only because I was half-asleep. If it were repeated to me now in broad daylight, it might make no sense at all.”

  “But whatever it was and however fugitive, it would have left a trace, surely.”

  “I imagine so, Dr. Fastolfe. In which case, it will come to me again. I'm confident of that.”

  “Ought we to wait?”

  “What else can we do?”

  “There's such a thing as a Psychic Probe.”

  Baley sat back in his chair and stared at Fastolfe for a moment. He said, “I've heard of it, but it isn't used in police work on Earth.”

  “We're not on Earth, Mr. Baley,” said Fastolfe softly.

  “It can do brain damage. Am I not right?”

  “Not likely, in the proper hands.”

  “Not impossible, even in the proper hands,” said Baley. “It's my understanding that it cannot be used on Aurora except under sharply defined conditions. Those it is used on must be guilty of a major crime or must—”

  “Yes, Mr. Baley, but that refers to Aurorans. You are not an Auroran.”

  “You mean because I'm an Earthman I'm to be treated as inhuman?”

  Fastolfe smiled and spread his hands. “Come, Mr. Baley. It was just a thought. Last night you were desperate enough to suggest trying to solve our dilemma by placing Gladia in a horrible and tragic position. I was wondering if you were desperate enough to risk yourself?”

  Baley rubbed his eyes and, for a minute or so, remained silent. Then, in an altered voice, he said, “I was wrong last night. I admitted it. As for this matter now, there is no assurance that what I thought of, when half-asleep, had any relevance to the problem. It may have been pure fantasy—illogical nonsense. There may have been no thought at all. Nothing. Would you consider it wise, for so small a likelihood of gain, to risk damage to my brain, when it is upon that for which you say you depend for a solution to the problem?”

  Fastolfe nodded. “You plead your case eloquently— and I was not really serious.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Fastolfe.”

  “But where are we to go from here?”

  “For one thing, I wish to speak to Gladia again. There are points concerning which I need clarification.”

  “You should have taken them up last night.”

  “So I should, but I had more than I could properly absorb last night and there were points that escaped me. I am an investigator and not an infallible computer.”

  Fastolfe said, “I was not imputing blame. It's just that I hate to see Gladia unnecessarily disturbed. In view of what you told me last night, I can only assume she must be in a state of deep distress.”

  “Undoubtedly. But she is also desperately anxious to find out what happened—who, if anyone, killed the one she viewed as her husband. That's understandable, too. I'm sure she'll be willing to help me. —And I wish to speak to another person as well.”

  “To whom?”

  “To your daughter Vasilia.”

  “To Vasilia? Why? What purpose will that serve?”

  “She is a roboticist. I would like to talk to a roboticist other than yourself.”

  “I do not wish that, Mr. Baley.”

  They had finished eating. Baley stood up. “Dr. Fastolfe, once again I must remind you that I am here at your request, I have no formal authority to do police work. I have no connection with any Auroran authorities. The only chance I have of getting to the bottom of this miserable mess is to hope that various people will voluntarily cooperate with me and answer my questions.

  “If you stop me from attempting this, then it is clear that I can get no farther than I am right now, which is nowhere. It will also look extremely bad for you—and therefore for Earth—-so I urge you not to stand in my way. If you make it possible for me to interview anyone I wish— or even simply try to make it possible by interceding on my behalf—then the people of Aurora will surely consider that to be a sign of self-conscious innocence on your part. If you hamper my investigation, on the other hand, to what conclusion can they come but that you are guilty and fear exposure?”

  Fastolfe said, with poorly suppressed annoyance, “I understand that, Mr. Baley. But why Vasilia? There are other roboticists.”

  “Vasilia is your daughter. She knows you. She might have strong opinions concerning the likelihood of your destroying a robot. Since she is a member of the Robotics Institute and on the side of your political enemies, any favorable evidence she may give would be persuasive.”

  “And if she testifies against me?”

  “We'll face that when it comes. Would you get in touch with her and ask her to receive me?”

  Fastolfe said resignedly, “I will oblige you, but you are mistaken if you think I can easily persuade her to see you. She may be too busy—or think she is. She may be away from Aurora. She may simply not wish to be involved. I tried to explain last night that she has reason— thinks she has reason—to be hostile to me. My asking her to see you may indeed impel her to refuse, merely as a sign of her displeasure with me.”

  “Would you try, Dr. Fastolfe?”

  Fastolfe sighed. “I will try while you are at Gladia's. —I presume you wish to see her directly? I might point out that a trimensional viewing would do. The image is high enough in quality so that you will not be able to tell it from personal presence.”

  “I'm aware of that, Dr. Fastolfe, but Gladia is a Solarian and has unpleasant associations with trimensional viewing. And, in any case, I am of the opinion that there is an intangible additional effectiveness in being within touching distance. The present situation is too delicate and the difficulties too great for me to want to give up that additional effectiveness.”

  “Well, I'll alert Gladia.” He turned away, hesitated, and turned back. “But, Mr. Baley—”

  “Yes, Dr. Fastolfe?”

  “Last night you told me that the situation was serious enough for you to disregard any inconvenience it might cause Gladia. There were, you pointed out, greater things at stake.”

  “That's so, but you can rely on me not to disturb her if I can help it.”

  “I am not talking about Gladia now. I merely warn you that this essentially proper view of yours should be extended to myself. I don't ex
pect you to worry about my convenience or pride if you should get a chance to talk to Vasilia. I don't look forward to the results, but if you do talk to her, I will have to endure any ensuing embarrassment and you must not seek to spare me. Do you understand?”

  “To be perfectly honest, Dr. Fastolfe, it was never my intention to spare you. If I have to weigh your embarrassment or shame against the welfare of your policies and against the welfare of my world, I would not hesitate a moment to shame you.”

  “Good! —And Mr. Baley, we must extend that attitude also to yourself. Your convenience must not be allowed to stand in the way.”

  “It wasn't allowed to do so when you decided to have me brought here without consulting me.”

  “I'm referring to something else. If, after a reasonable time—not a long time, but a reasonable time—you make no progress toward a solution, we will have to consider the possibilities of psychic-probing, after all. Gur last chance might be to find out what it is your mind knows that you do not know it knows.”

  “It may know nothing, Dr. Fastolfe.”

  Fastolfe looked at Baley sadly. “Agreed. But, as you said concerning the possibility of Vasilia testifying against me—we'll face that when it comes.”

  He turned away again and walked out of the room.

  Baley looked after him thoughtfully. It seemed to him now that if he made progress he would face physical reprisals of an unknown—but possibly dangerous—kind. And if he did not make progress, he would face the Psychic Probe, which could scarcely be better.

  “Jehoshaphat!” he muttered softly to himself.

  33

  The walk to Gladia's seemed shorter than it had on the day before. The day was sunlit and pleasant again, but the vista looked not at all the same. The sunlight slanted from the opposite direction, of course, and the coloring seemed slightly different.

  It could be that the plant life looked a bit different in the morning than in the evening—or smelled different. Baley had, on occasion, thought that of Earth's plant life as well, he remembered.

  Daneel and Giskard accompanied him again, but they traveled more closely to him and seemed less intensely alert.