Daneel Olivaw 3 - The Robots of Dawn Read online

  Baley said idly, “Does the sun shine here all the time?”

  “It does not, Partner Elijah,” said Daneel. “Were it to do so, that would be disastrous for the plant world and, therefore, for humanity. The prediction is, in fact, for the sky to cloud over in the course of the day.”

  “What was that?” asked Baley, startled. A small and gray-brown animal was crouched in the grass. Seeing them, it hopped away in leisurely fashion.

  “A rabbit, sir,” said Giskard.

  Baley relaxed. He had seen them in the fields of Earth, too.

  Gladia was not waiting for them at the door this time, but she was clearly expecting them. When a robot ushered them in she did not stand up, but said, with something between crossness and weariness, “Dr. Fastolfe told me you had to see me again. What now?”

  She was wearing a robe that clung tightly to her body and was clearly wearing nothing underneath. Her hair was pulled back shapelessly and her face was pallid. She looked more drawn that she had the day before and it was clear that she had had little sleep.

  Daneel, remembering what had happened the day before, did not enter the room. Giskard entered, however, glanced keenly about, then retired to a wall niche. One of Gladia's robots stood in another niche.

  Baley said, “I'm terribly sorry, Gladia, to have to bother you again.”

  Gladia said, “I forgot to tell you last night that, after Jander is torched, he will, of course, be recycled for use in the robot factories again. It will be amusing, I suppose, to know that each time I see a newly formed robot, I can take time to realize that many of Jander's atoms form part of him.”

  Baley said, “We ourselves, when we die, are recycled—and who knows what atoms of whom are in you and me right now or in whom ours will someday be.”

  “You are very right, Elijah. And you remind me how easy it is to philosophize over the sorrows of others.”

  “That is right, too, Gladia, but I did not come to philosophize.”

  “Do what you came to do, then.”

  “I must ask questions.”

  “Weren't yesterday's enough? Have you spent the time since then in thinking up new ones?”

  “In part, yes, Gladia. —Yesterday, you said that even after you were with Jander—as wife and husband—there were men who offered themselves to you and that you refused. It is that which I must question you about.”

  “Why?”

  Baley ignored the question. “Tell me,” he said, “how many men offered themselves to you during the time you were married to Jander?”

  “I don't keep records, Elijah. Three or four.”

  “Were any of them persistent? Did anyone offer himself more than once?”

  Gladia, who had been avoiding his eyes, now looked at him full and said, “Have you talked to others about this?”

  Baley shook his head. “I have talked on this subject to no one but you. From your question, however, I suspect that there was at least one who was persistent.”

  “One. Santirix Gremionis.” She sighed. “Aurorans have such peculiar names and he was peculiar—for an Auroran. I had never met one as repetitious in the matter as he. He was always polite, always accepted my refusal with a small smile and a stately bow, and then, as like as not, he would try again the next week or even the next day. The mere repetition was a small discourtesy. A decent Auroran would accept a refusal permanently unless the prospective partner made it reasonably plain there was a change of mind.”

  “Tell me again— Did those who offered themselves to you know of your relationship with Jander?”

  “It was not something I mentioned in casual conversation.”

  “Well, then, consider this Gremionis, specifically. Did he know that Jander was your husband?”

  “I never told him so.”

  “Don't dismiss it like that, Gladia. It's not a matter of his being told. Unlike the others, he offered himself repeatedly. How often would you say, by the way? Three times? Four? How many?”

  “I did not count,” said Gladia wearily. “It might have been a dozen times or more. If he weren't a likable person otherwise, I would have had my robots bar the establishment to him.”

  “Ah, but you didn't. And it takes time to make multiple offerings. He came to see you. He encountered you. He had time to note Jander's presence and how you behaved to him. Might he not have guessed at the relationship?”

  Gladia shook her head. “I don't think so. Jander never intruded when I was with any human being.”

  “Were those your instructions? I presume they must have been.”

  “They were. And before you suggest I was ashamed of the relationship, it was merely an attempt to avoid bothersome complications. I have retained some instinct of privacy about sex that Aurorans don't have.”

  “Think again. Might he have guessed? Here he is, a man in love—”

  “In love!” The sound she made was almost a snort. “What do Aurorans know of love?”

  “A man who considers himself in love. You are not responsive. Might he not, with the sensitivity and suspicion of a disappointed lover, have guessed? Consider! Did he ever make any roundabout reference to Jander? Anything to cause you the slightest suspicion—-”

  “No! No! It would be unheard of for any Auroran to comment adversely on the sexual preferences or habits of another.”

  “Not necessarily adversely. A humorous comment, perhaps. Any indication that he suspected the relationship.”

  “No! If young Gremionis had ever breathed a word of that sort, he would never have seen the inside of my establishment again and I would have seen to it that he never approached me again. —But he wouldn't have done anything of the sort. He was the soul of eager politeness to me.”

  “You say ‘young'. How old is this Gremionis?”

  “About my age. Thirty-five. Perhaps even a year or two younger.”

  “A child,” said Baley sadly. “Even younger than I am. But at that age —Suppose he guessed at your relationship with Jander and said nothing—nothing at all. Might he not, nevertheless, have been jealous?”

  “Jealous?”

  It occurred to Baley that the word might have little meaning on Aurora or Solaria. “Angered that you should prefer another to himself.”

  Gladia said sharply, “I know the meaning of the word ‘jealous.’ I repeated it only out of surprise that you should think any Auroran was jealous. On Aurora, people are not jealous over sex. Over other things certainly, but not over sex.” There was a definite sneer upon her face. “Even if he were jealous, what would it matter? What could he do?”

  “Wasn't it possible he might have told Jander that the relationship with a robot would endanger your position on Aurora—”

  “That would not have been true!”

  “Jander might have believed it if he were told so-believed he was endangering you, harming you. Might not that have been the reason for the mental freeze-out?”

  “Jander would never have believed that. He made me happy every day he was my husband and I told him so.”

  Baley remained calm. She was missing the point, but he would simply have to make it clearer. “I am sure he believed you, but he might also feel impelled to believe someone else who told him the reverse. If he were then caught in an unbearable First Law dilemma—”

  Gladia's face contorted and she shrieked, “That's mad. You're just telling me the old fairy tale of Susan Calvin and the mind-reading robot. No one over the age of ten can possibly believe that.”

  “Isn't it possible that—”

  “No, it isn't. I'm from Solaria and I know enough about robots to know it isn't possible. It would take an incredible expert to tie First Law knots in a robot. Dr. Fastolfe might be able to do it, but certainly not Santirix Gremionis. Gremionis is a stylist. He works on human beings. He cuts hair, designs clothing. I do the same, but at least I work on robots. Gremionis has never touched a robot. He knows nothing about them, except to order one to close the window or something like that. Are you try
ing to tell me that it was the relationship between Jander and me—me“—she tapped herself harshly on the breastbone with one rigid finger, the swells of her small breasts scarcely showing under her robe—”that caused Jander's death?”

  “It was nothing you did knowingly,” said Baley, wanting to stop but unable to quit probing. “What if Gremionis had learned from Dr. Fastolfe how to—”

  “Gremionis didn't know Dr. Fastolfe and couldn't have understood anything Dr. Fastolfe might have told him, anyhow.”

  “You can't know for certain what Gremionis might or might not understand and, as for not knowing Dr. Fastolfe—Gremionis must have been frequently in your establishment if he hounded you so and—”

  “And Dr. Fastolfe was almost never in my establishment. Last night, when he came with you, it was only the second time he had crossed my threshold. He was afraid that to be too close to me would drive me away. He admitted that once. He lost his daughter that way, he thought—something foolish like that. —You see, Elijah, when you live several centuries, you have plenty of time to lose thousands of things. Be th-thankful for short life, Elijah.” She was weeping uncontrollably.

  Baley looked and felt helpless. “I'm sorry, Gladia. I have no more questions. Shall I call a robot? Will you need help?”

  She shook her head and waved her hand at him. “Just go away—go away,” she said in a strangled voice. “Go away.”

  Baley hesitated and then strode out of the room, taking one last, uncertain look at her as he walked out the door. Giskard followed in his footsteps and Daneel joined him as he left the house. He scarcely noticed. It occurred to him, abstractedly, that he was coming to accept their presence as he would have that of his shadow or of his clothing, that he was reaching a point where he would feel bare without them.

  He walked rapidly back toward the Fastolfe establishment, his mind churning. His desire to see Vasilia had at first been a matter of desperation, a lack of any other object of curiosity, but now things had changed. There was just a chance that he had stumbled on something vital.

  34

  Fastolfe's homely face was set in grim lines when Baley returned.

  “Any progress?” he asked.

  “I eliminated part of a possibility. —Perhaps.”

  “Part of a possibility? How do you eliminate the other part? Better yet, how do you establish a possibility?”

  Baley said, “By finding it impossible to eliminate a possibility, a beginning is made at establishing one.”

  “And if you find it impossible to eliminate the other part of the possibility you mysteriously mentioned?”

  Baley shrugged. “Before we waste our time considering that, I must see your daughter.”

  Fastolfe looked dejected. “Well, Mr. Baley, I did as you asked me to do and tried to contact her. It was necessary to awaken her.”

  “You mean she is in part of the planet where it is night? I hadn't thought of that.” Baley felt chagrined. “I'm afraid I'm fool enough to imagine I'm on Earth still. In underground Qties, day and night lose their meaning and time tends to be uniform.”

  “It's not that bad. Eos is the robotics center of Aurora and you'll find few roboticists who live out of it. She was simply sleeping and being awakened did not improve her temper, apparently. She would not speak to me.”

  “Call again,” said Baley urgently.

  “I spoke to her secretarial robot and there was an uncomfortable relaying of messages. She made it quite plain she will not speak to me in any fashion. She was a little more flexible with you. The robot announced that she would give you five minutes on her private viewing channel, if you call“—Fastolfe consulted the time-strip on the wall—”in half an hour. She will not see you in person under any conditions.”

  “The conditions are insufficient and so is the time. I must see her in person for as long as is needed. Did you explain the importance of this, Dr. Fastolfe?”

  “I tried. She is not concerned.”

  “You are her father. Surely—”

  “She is less inclined to bend her decision for my sake than for a randomly chosen stranger. I knew this, so I made use of Giskard.”

  “Giskard?”

  “Oh yes. Giskard is a great favorite of hers. When she was studying robotics at the university, she took the liberty of adjusting some minor aspects of his programming—and nothing makes for a closer relationship with a robot than that—except for Gladia's method, of course. It was almost as though Giskard were Andrew Martin—”

  “Who is Andrew Martin?”

  “Was, not is,” said Fastolfe. “You have never heard of him?”

  “Never!”

  “How odd! These ancient legends of ours all have Earth as their setting, yet on Earth they are not known. —Andrew Martin was a robot who, gradually, step by step, was supposed to have become humaniform. To be sure, there have been humaniform robots before Daneel, but they were all simple toys, little more than automatons. Nevertheless, amazing stories are told of the abilities of Andrew Martin—a sure sign of the legendary nature of the tale. There was a woman who was part of the legends who is usually known as Little Miss. The relationship is too complicated to describe now, but I suppose that every little girl on Aurora has daydreamed of being Little Miss and of having Andrew Martin as a robot. Vasilia did— and Giskard was her Andrew Martin.”

  “Well, then?”

  “I asked her robot to tell her that you would be accompanied by Giskard. She hasn't seen him in years and I thought that might lure her into agreeing to see you.”

  “But it didn't, I presume.”

  “It didn't.”

  “Then we must think of something else. There must be some way of inducing her to see me.”

  Fastolfe said, “Perhaps you will think of one. In a few minutes, you will view her on trimensic and you will have five minutes to convince her that she ought to see you personally.”

  “Five minutes! What can I do in five minutes?”

  “I don't know. It is better, after all, than nothing.”

  35

  Fifteen minutes later, Baley stood before the trimensional viewing screen, ready to meet Vasilia Fastolfe.

  Dr. Fastolfe had left, saying, with a wry smile, that his presence would certainly make his daughter less amenable to persuasion. Nor was Daneel present. Only Giskard remained behind to keep Baley company.

  Giskard said, “Dr. Vasilia's trimensic channel is open for reception. Are you ready, sir?”

  “As ready as I can be,” said Baley grimly. He had refused to sit, feeling he might be more imposing if he were standing. (How imposing could an Earthman be?)

  The screen grew bright as the rest of the room dimmed and a woman appeared—in rather uncertain focus, at first. She was standing facing him, her right hand resting on a laboratory bench laden with sets of diagrams. (No doubt she planned to be imposing, too.)

  As the focus sharpened, the edges of the screen seemed to melt away and the image of Vasilia (if it were she) deepened and became three-dimensional. She was standing in the room with every sign of solid reality, except that the decor of the room she was in did not match the room Baley was in and the break was a sharp one.

  She was wearing a dark brown skirt that divided into loose trouser legs that were semitransparent, so that her legs, from midthigh down, were shadowily visible. Her blouse was tight and sleeveless, so that her arms were bare to the shoulder. Her neckline was low and her hair, quite blond, was in tight curls.

  She had none of her father's plainness and certainly not his large ears. Baley could only assume she had had a beautiful mother and was fortunate in the allotment of genes.

  She was short and Baley could see a remarkable resemblance to Gladia in her facial features, although her expression was far colder and seemed to bear the mark of a dominating personality.

  She said sharply, “Are you the Earthman come to solve my father's problems?”

  “Yes, Dr. Fastolfe,” said Baley in an equally clipped manner.

/>   “You may call me Dr. Vasilia. I do not wish the confusion of being mistaken for my father.”

  “Dr. Vasilia, I must have a chance to deal with you, face-to-face, for a reasonably extended period.”

  “No doubt you feel that. You are, of course, an Earthman and a certain source of infection.”

  “I have been medically treated and I am quite safe to be with. Your father has been constantly with me for over a day.”

  “My father pretends to be an idealist and must do foolish things at times to support the pretense. I will not imitate him.”

  “I take it you do not wish him harm. You will bring him harm if you refuse to see me.”

  “You are wasting time. I will not see you, except in this manner, and half the period I have allotted is gone. If you wish, we can stop this now if you find it unsatisfactory.”

  “Giskard is here, Dr. Vasilia, and would like to urge you to see me.”

  Giskard stepped into the field of vision. “Good morning, Little Miss,” he said in a low voice.

  For a moment, Vasilia looked embarrassed and, when she spoke, it was in a somewhat softer tone. “I am glad to view you, Giskard, and will see you any time you wish, but I will not see this Earthman, even at your urging.”

  “In that case,” said Baley, throwing in all his reserves desperately, “I must take the case of Santirix Gremionis to the public without the benefit of having consulted you.”

  Vasilia's eyes widened and her hand on the table lifted upward and clenched into a fist, “What is this about Gremionis?”

  “Only that he is a handsome young man and he knows you well. Am I to deal with these matters without hearing what you have to say?”

  “I will tell you right now that—”

  “No,” said Baley loudly. “You will tell me nothing unless I see you face-to-face.”

  Her mouth twitched. “I will see you, then, but I will not remain with you one moment more than I choose. I warn you. —And bring Giskard.”

  The trimensional connection broke off with a snap and Baley felt himself turn dizzy at the sudden change in background that resulted. He made his way to a chair and sat down.