The Caves of Steel trs-1 Page 9

  “Thank you, Dr. Fastolfe,” said Baley. “Your attitude is appreciated.”

  So much, he thought, for the amenities. He bit into the center of the apple and hard, dark little ovoids popped into his mouth. He spat automatically. They flew out and fell to the ground. One would have struck Fastolfe’s leg had not the Spacer moved it hastily.

  Baley reddened, started to bend.

  Fastolfe said, pleasantly, “It is quite all right, Mr. Baley. Just leave them, please.”

  Baley straightened again. He put the apple down gingerly. He had the uncomfortable feeling that once he was gone, the lost little objects would be found and picked up by suction; the bowl of fruit would be burnt or discarded far from Spacetown; the very room they were sitting in would be sprayed with viricide.

  He covered his embarrassment with brusqueness. He said, “I would like to ask permission to have Commissioner Enderby join our conference by trimensional personification.”

  Fastolfe’s eyebrows raised. “Certainly, if you wish it. Daneel, would you make the connection?”

  Baley sat in stiff discomfort until the shiny surface of the large parallel piped in one corner of the room dissolved away to show Commissioner Julius Enderby and part of his desk. At that moment, the discomfort eased and Baley felt nothing short of love for that familiar figure, and a longing to be safely back in that office with him, or anywhere in the City, for that matter. Even in the least prepossessing portion of the Jersey yeast-vat districts.

  Now that he had his witness, Baley saw no reason for delay. He said, “I believe I have penetrated the mystery surrounding the death of Dr. Sarton.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Enderby springing to his feet and grabbing wildly (and successfully) at his flying spectacles. By standing, the Commissioner thrust his head out of the limits of the trimensic receiver and was forced to sit down again, red-faced and speechless.

  In a much quieter way, Dr. Fastolfe, head inclined to one side, was as startled. Only R. Daneel was unmoved.

  “Do you mean,” said Fastolfe, “that you know the murderer?”

  “No,” said Baley, “I mean there was no murder.”

  “What!” screamed Enderby.

  “One moment, Commissioner Enderby,” said Fastolfe, raising a hand. His eyes held Baley’s and he said, “Do you mean that Dr. Sarton is alive?”

  “Yes, sir, and I believe I know where he is.”

  “Where?”

  “Right there,” said Baley, and pointed firmly at R. Daneel Olivaw.

  Chapter 8.

  DEBATE OVER A ROBOT

  At the moment, Baley was most conscious of the thud of his own pulse. He seemed to be living in a moment of suspended time. R. Daneel’s expression was, as always, empty of emotion. Han Fastolfe wore a look of well-bred astonishment on his face and nothing more. It was Commissioner Julius Enderby’s reaction that most concerned Baley, however. The trimensic receiver out of which his face stared did not allow of perfect reproduction. There was always that tiny flicker and that not-quite-ideal resolution. Through that imperfection and through the further masking of the Commissioner’s spectacles, Enderby’s eyes were unreadable.

  Baley thought: Don’t go to pieces on me, Julius. I need you.

  He didn’t really think that Fastolfe would act in haste or under emotional impulse. He had read somewhere once that Spacers had no religion, but substituted, instead, a cold and phlegmatic intellectualism raised to the heights of a philosophy. He believed that and counted on it. They would make a point of acting slowly and then only on the basis of reason.

  If he were alone among them and had said what he had said, he was certain that he would never have returned to the City. Cold reason would have dictated that. The Spacers’ plans were worth more to them, many times over, than the life of a City dweller. There would be some excuse made to Julius Enderby. Maybe they would present his corpse to the Commissioner, shake their heads, and speak of an Earthman conspiracy having struck again. The Commissioner would believe them. It was the way he was built. If he hated Spacers, it was a hatred based on fear. He wouldn’t dare disbelieve them.

  That was why he had to be an actual witness of events, a witness, moreover, safely out of reach of the Spacers’ calculated safety measures.

  The Commissioner said, chokingly, “Lije, you’re all wrong. I saw Dr. Sarton’s corpse.”

  “You saw the charred remnants of something you were told was Dr. Sarton’s corpse,” retorted Baley, boldly. He thought grimly of the Commissioner’s broken glasses. That had been an unexpected favor for the Spacers.

  “No, no, Lije. I knew Dr. Sarton well and his head was undamaged. It was he.” The Commissioner put his hand to his glasses uneasily, as though he, too, remembered, and added, “I looked at him closely, very closely.”

  “How about this one, Commissioner?” asked Baley, pointing to R. Daneel again. “Doesn’t he resemble Dr. Sarton?”

  “Yes, the way a statue would.”

  “An expressionless attitude can be assumed, Commissioner. Suppose that were a robot you had seen blasted to death. You say you looked closely. Did you look closely enough to see whether the charred surface at the edge of the blast was really decomposed organic tissue or a deliberately introduced layer of carbonization over fused metal.”

  The Commissioner looked revolted. He said, “You’re being ridiculous.”

  Baley turned to the Spacer. “Are you willing to have the body exhumed for examination, Dr. Fastolfe?”

  Dr. Fastolfe smiled. “Ordinarily, I would have no objection, Mr. Baley, but I’m afraid we do not bury our dead. Cremation is a universal custom among us.”

  “Very convenient,” said Baley.

  “Tell me, Mr. Baley,” said Dr. Fastolfe, “just how did you arrive at this very extraordinary conclusion of yours?”

  Baley thought: He isn’t giving up. He’ll brazen it out, if he can. He said, “It wasn’t difficult. There’s more to imitating a robot than just putting on a frozen expression and adopting a stilted style of conversation. The trouble with you men of the Outer Worlds is that you’re too used to robots. You’ve gotten to accept them almost as human beings. You’ve grown blind to the differences. On Earth, it’s different. We’re very conscious of what a robot is.

  “Now in the first place, R. Daneel is too good a human to be a robot. My first impression of him was that he was a Spacer. It was quite an effort for me to adjust myself to his statement that he was a robot. And of course, the reason for that was that he was a Spacer and wasn’t a robot.”

  R. Daneel interrupted, without any sign of self-consciousness at being himself so intimately the topic of debate. He said, “As I told you, partner Elijah, I was designed to take a temporary place in a human society. The resemblance to humanity is purposeful.”

  “Even,” asked Baley, “down to the painstaking duplication of those portions of the body which, in the ordinary course of events, would always be covered by clothes? Even to the duplication of organs which, in a robot, would have no conceivable function?”

  Enderby said suddenly, “How did you find that out?”

  Baley reddened. “I couldn’t help noticing in the—in the Personal.”

  Enderby looked shocked.

  Fastolfe said, “Surely you understand that a resemblance must be complete if it is to be useful. For our purposes, half measures are as bad as nothing at all.”

  Baley asked abruptly, “May I smoke?”

  Three pipefuls in one day was a ridiculous extravagance, but he was riding a rolling torrent of recklessness and needed the release of tobacco. After all, he was talking back to Spacers. He was going to force their lies down their own throats.

  Fastolfe said, “I’m sorry, but I’d prefer that you didn’t.”

  It was a “preference” that had the force of a command. Baley felt that. He thrust back the pipe, the bowl of which he had already taken into his hand in anticipation of automatic permission.

  Of course not, he thought bitter
ly. Enderby didn’t warn me, because he doesn’t smoke himself, but it’s obvious. It follows. They don’t smoke on their hygienic Outer Worlds, or drink, or have any human vices. No wonder they accept robots in their damned—what did R. Daneel call it?—C/Fe society? No wonder R. Daneel can play the robot as well as he does. They’re all robots out there to begin with.

  He said, “The too complete resemblance is just one point out of a number. There was a near riot in my section as I was taking him home.” (He had to point. He could not bring himself to say either R. Daneel or Dr. Sarton.) “It was he that stopped the trouble and he did it by pointing a blaster at the potential rioters.”

  “Good Lord,” said Enderby, energetically, “the report stated that it was you—”

  “I know, Commissioner,” said Baley. “The report was based on information that I gave. I didn’t want to have it on the record that a robot had threatened to blast men and women.”

  “No, no. Of course not.” Enderby was quite obviously horrified. He leaned forward to look at something that was out of the range of the trimensic receiver.

  Baley could guess what it was. The Commissioner was checking the power gauge to see if the transmitter were being tapped.

  “Is that a point in your argument?” asked Fastolfe.

  “It certainly is. The First Law of Robotics states that a robot cannot harm a human being.”

  “But R. Daneel did no harm.”

  “True. He even stated afterward that he wouldn’t have fired under any circumstances. Still, no robot I ever heard of could have violated the spirit of the First Law to the extent of threatening to blast a man, even if he really had no intention to do so.”

  “I see. Are you a robotics expert, Mr. Baley?”

  “No, sir. But I’ve had a course in general robotics and in positronic analysis. I’m not completely ignorant.”

  “That’s nice,” said Fastolfe, agreeably, “but you see, I am a robotics expert, and I assure you that the essence of the robot mind lies in a completely literal interpretation of the universe. It recognizes no spirit in the First Law, only the letter. The simple models you have on Earth may have their First Law so overlaid with additional safeguards that, to be sure, they may well be incapable of threatening a human. An advanced model such as R. Daneel is another matter. If I gather the situation correctly, Daneel’s threat was necessary to prevent a riot. It was intended then to prevent harm to human beings. He was obeying the First Law, not defying it.”

  Baley squirmed inwardly, but maintained a tight external calm. It would go hard, but he would match this Spacer at his own game.

  He said, “You may counter each point separately, but they add up just the same. Last evening in our discussion of the so-called murder, this alleged robot claimed that he had been converted into a detective by the installation of a new drive into his positronic circuits. A drive, if you please, for justice.”

  “I’ll vouch for that,” said Fastolfe. “It was done to him three days ago under my own supervision.”

  “A drive for justice? Justice, Dr. Fastolfe, is an abstraction. Only a human being can use the term.”

  “If you define ‘justice’ in such a way that it is an abstraction, if you say that it is the rendering of each man his due, that it is adhering to the right, or anything of the sort, I grant you your argument, Mr. Baley. A human understanding of abstractions cannot be built into a positronic brain in the present state of our knowledge.”

  “You admit that, then—as an expert in robotics?”

  “Certainly. The question is, what did R. Daneel mean by using the term ‘justice’?”

  “From the context of our conversation, he meant what you and I and any human being would mean, but what no robot could mean.”

  “Why don’t you ask him, Mr. Baley, to define the term?”

  Baley felt a certain loss of confidence. He turned to R. Daneel. “Well?”

  “Yes, Elijah?”

  “What is your definition of justice?”

  “Justice, Elijah, is that which exists when all the laws are enforced.”

  Fastolfe nodded. “A good definition, Mr. Baley, for a robot. The desire to see all laws enforced has been built into R. Daneel, now. Justice is a very concrete term to him since it is based on law enforcement, which is in turn based upon the existence of specific and definite laws. There is nothing abstract about it. A human being can recognize the fact that, on the basis of an abstract moral code, some laws may be bad ones and their enforcement unjust. What do you say, R. Daneel?”

  “An unjust law,” said R. Daneel evenly, “is a contradiction in terms.”

  “To a robot it is, Mr. Baley. So you see, you mustn’t confuse your justice and R. Daneel’s.”

  Baley turned to R. Daneel sharply and said, “You left my apartment last night.”

  R. Daneel replied, “I did. If my leaving disturbed your sleep, I am sorry.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “To the Men’s Personal.”

  For a moment, Baley was staggered. It was the answer he had already decided was the truth, but he had not expected it to be the answer R. Daneel would give. He felt a little more of his certainty oozing away, yet he held firmly on his track. The Commissioner was watching, his lensed eyes flicking from one to the other as they spoke. Baley couldn’t back down now, no matter what sophistries they used against him. He had to hold to his point.

  He said, “On reaching my section, he insisted on entering Personal with me. His excuse was a poor one. During the night, he left to visit Personal again as he has just admitted. If he were a man, I’d say he had every reason and right to do so. Obviously. As a robot, however, the trip was meaningless. The conclusion can only be that he is a man.”

  Fastolfe nodded. He seemed not in the least put out. He said, “This is most interesting. Suppose we ask Daneel why he made his trip to Personal last night.”

  Commissioner Enderby leaned forward. “Please, Dr. Fastolfe,” he muttered, “it is not proper to—”

  “You need not be concerned, Commissioner,” said Fastolfe, his thin lips curving back in something that looked like a smile but wasn’t, “I am certain that Daneel’s answer will not offend your sensibilities or those of Mr. Baley. Won’t you tell us, Daneel?”

  R. Daneel said, “Elijah’s wife, Jessie, left the apartment last night on friendly terms with me. It was quite obvious that she had no reason for thinking me to be other than human. She returned to the apartment knowing I was a robot. The obvious conclusion is that the information to that effect exists outside the apartment. It followed that my conversation with Elijah last night had been overheard. In no other way could the secret of my true nature have become common knowledge.

  “Elijah told me that the apartments were well insulated. We spoke together in low voices. Ordinary eavesdropping would not do. Still, it was known that Elijah is a policeman. If a conspiracy exists within the City sufficiently well organized to have planned the murder of Dr. Sarton, they may well have been aware that Elijah had been placed in charge of the murder investigation. It would fall within the realm of possibility then, even of probability, that his apartment had been spybeamed.

  “I searched the apartment as well as I could after Elijah and Jessie had gone to bed, but could find no transmitter. This complicated matters. A focused duo-beam could do the trick even in the absence of a transmitter, but that requires rather elaborate equipment.

  “Analysis of the situation led to the following conclusion. The one place where a City dweller can do almost anything without being disturbed or questioned is in the Personals. He could even set up a duo-beam. The custom of absolute privacy in the Personals is very strong and other men would not even look at him. The Section Personal is quite close to Elijah’s apartment, so that the distance factor is not important. A suitcase model could be used. I went to the Personal to investigate.”

  “And what did you find?” asked Baley quickly.

  “Nothing, Elijah. No sign of a duo-beam.�
��

  Dr. Fastolfe said, “Well, Mr. Baley, does this sound reasonable to you?”

  But Baley’s uncertainty was gone, now. He said, “Reasonable as far as it goes, perhaps, but it stops short of perfection by a hell of a way. What he doesn’t know is that my wife told me where she got the information and when. She learned he was a robot shortly after she left the house. Even then, the rumor had been circulating for hours. So the fact that he was a robot could not have leaked out through spying on our last evening’s conversation.”

  “Nevertheless,” said Dr. Fastolfe, “his action last night of going to the Personal stands explained, I think.”

  “But something is brought up that is not explained,” retorted Baley, heatedly. “When, where, and how was the leak? How did the news get about that there was a Spacer robot in the City? As far as I know, only two of us knew about the deal, Commissioner Enderby and myself, and we told no one.—Commissioner, did anyone else in the Department know?”

  “No,” said Enderby, anxiously. “Not even the Mayor. Only we, and Dr. Fastolfe.”

  “And he,” added Baley, pointing.

  “I?” asked R. Daneel.

  “Why not?”

  “I was with you at all times, Elijah.”

  “You were not,” cried Baley, fiercely. “I was in Personal for half an hour or more before we went to my apartment. During that time, we two were completely out of contact with one another. It was then that you got in touch with your group in the City.”

  “What group?” asked Fastolfe.

  And “What group?” echoed Commissioner Enderby almost simultaneously.

  Baley rose from his chair and turned to the trimensic receiver. “Commissioner, I want you to listen closely to this. Tell me if it doesn’t all fall into a pattern. A murder is reported and by a curious coincidence it happens just as you are entering Spacetown to keep an appointment with the murdered man. You are shown the corpse of something supposed to be human, but the corpse has since been disposed of and is not available for close examination.