Robots and Empire
1. THE DESCENDANT
PART I. AURORA
1. THE DESCENDANT
1
Gladia felt the lawn lounge to make sure it wasn't too damp and then sat down. A touch at the control adjusted it in such a way as to allow her to be semirecumbent and another activated the diamagnetic field and gave her, as it always did, the sensation of utter relaxation. And why not? She was, in actual fact, floating - a centimeter above the fabric.
It was a warm and pleasant night, the kind that found the planet Aurora at its best - fragrant and star-lit.
With a pang of sadness, she studied the numerous little sparks that dotted the sky with patterns, sparks that were all the brighter because she had ordered the lights of her establishment dimmed.
How was it, she wondered, that she had never learned the names of the stars and had never found out which were which in all the twenty-three decades of her life. One of them was the star about which her birth planet of Solaria orbited, the star which, during the first three decades of her life, she had thought of merely as "the sun."
Gladia had once been called Gladia Solaria. That was when she had come to Aurora, twenty decades before two hundred Standard Galactic Years - and it was meant as a not very friendly way of marking her foreign birth. A month before had been the bicentennial anniversary of her she had left unmarked because she did to think of those days. Before that, Gladia Delmarre -
She stirred uneasily. She had almost forgotten that surname. Was it because it was so long ago? Or was it merely that she labored to forget?
All these years she had not regretted Solaria, never missed it.
And yet now?
Was it because she had now, quite suddenly, discovered herself to have survived it? It was gone - a historical memory and she still lived on? Did she miss it now for that reason?
Her brow furrowed. No, she did not miss it, she decided resolutely. She did not long for it, nor did she wish to return to it. It was just the peculiar pang of something that had been so much a part of her - however destructively - being gone.
Solaria! The last of the Spacer worlds to be settled and made into a home for humanity. And in consequence, by some mysterious law of symmetry perhaps, it was also the first to die.
The first? Did that imply a second and third and so on?
Gladia felt her sadness deepen. There were those who thought there was indeed such an implication. If so, Aurora, her long-adopted home, having been the first Spacer-World to be settled, would, by that same rule of symmetry, therefore be the last of the fifty to die. In that case, it might, even at worst, outlast her own stretched-out lifetime and if so, that would have to do.
Her eyes sought the stars again. It was hopeless. There was no way she could possibly work out which of those indistinguishable dots of light was Solaria's sun. She imagined it would be one of the brighter ones, but there were hundreds even of those.
She lifted her arm and made what she identified to herself only as her "Daneel gesture." The fact that it was dark did not matter.
Robot Daneel Olivaw was at her side almost - at once. Anyone who had known him a little over twenty decades before, when he had first been designed by Han Fastolfe, would not have been conscious of any noticeable change in him. His broad, high-cheekboned face, with its short bronze hair combed back; his blue eyes; his tall, well-knit, and perfectly humanoid body would have seemed as young and as calmly unemotional as ever.
"May I be of help in any way, Madam Gladia?" he asked in an even voice.
"Yes, Daneel. Which of those stars is Solaria's sun?"
Daneel did not look upward. He said, "None of them, Madam Gladia. At this time of year, Solaria's sun will not rise until 03:20."
"Oh?" Gladia felt dashed. Somehow she had assumed that any star in which she happened to be interested would be visible at any time it occurred to her to look. Of course, they did rise and set at different times. She knew that much. "I've been staring at nothing, then."
"The stars, I gather from human reactions," said Daneel, as though in an attempt to console, "are beautiful whether any particular one of them is visible or not."
"I dare say," said Gladia discontentedly and adjusted the lounge to an upright position with a snap. She stood up. "However, it was Solaria's sun I wanted to see - but not so much that I intend to sit here till 03:20."
"Even were you to do so," said Daneel, "you would need magnilenses."
"Magnilenses?"
"It is not quite visible to the unaided eye, Madam Gladia."
"Worse and worse!" She brushed at her slacks. "I should have consulted you first, Daneel."
Anyone who had known Gladia twenty decades before, when she had first arrived in Aurora, would have found a change. Unlike Daneel, she was merely human. She was 155 centimeters tall, almost 10 centimeters below the ideal height for a Spacer woman. She had carefully kept her slim figure and there was no sign of weakness or stiffness about her body. Still, there was a bit of gray in her hair, fine wrinkles near her eyes, and a touch of graininess about her skin. She might well live another ten or twelve decades, but there was no denying that she was already no longer young. That didn't bother her.
She said, "Can you identify all the stars, Daneel?"
"I know those visible to the unaided eye, Madam Gladia."
"And when they rise and set on any day of the year?"
"Yes, Madam Gladia."
"And all sorts of other things about them?"
"Yes, Madam Gladia. Dr. Fastolfe once asked me to gather astronomical data so that he could have them at his fingertips without having to consult his computer. He used to say it was friendlier to have me tell him than to have his computer do so." Then, as though, to anticipate the next question, "He did not explain why that should be so."
Gladia raised her left arm and made the appropriate gesture. Her house was at once illuminated. In the soft light that now reached her, she was subliminally aware of the shadowy figures of several robots, but she paid no attention to that. In any well-ordered establishment, there were always robots within reach of human beings, both for security and for service.
Gladia took a last fugitive glimpse at the sky, where the stars had now dimmed in the scattered light. She shrugged lightly. It had been quixotic. What good would it have done even if she had been able to see the sun of that now-lost world, one faint dot among many? She might as well choose a dot at random, tell herself it was Solaria's sun, and stare at it.
Her attention turned to R. Daneel. He waited for her patiently, the planes of his face largely in shadow.
She found herself thinking again how little he had changed since she had seen him on arriving at Dr. Fastolfe's establishment so long ago. He had undergone repairs, of course. She knew that, but it was a vague knowledge that one pushed away and kept at a distance.
It was part of the general queasiness that held good for human beings, too. Spacers might boast of their iron health and of their life-spans of thirty to forty decades, but they, were not entirely immune to the ravages of age. One of Gladia's femurs fit into a titanium-silicone hip socket. Her left thumb was totally artificial, though no one could tell that without careful ultrasonograms. Even some of her nerves had been rewired. Such things would be true of any Spacer of similar age from any of the fifty Spacer worlds (no, forty-nine, for now Solaria could no longer be counted).
To make any reference to such things, however, was an ultimate obscenity. The medical records involved, which had to exist since further treatment might be necessary, were never revealed for any reason. Surgeons, whose incomes were considerably higher than those of the Chairman himself, were paid so well, in part, because they were virtually ostracized from polite society. After all, they knew.
It was all part of the Spacer fixation on long life, on their unwillingness to admit that old age existed, but Gladia didn't linger on any analysis of causes. She was restlessly, uneasy in thinking about herself in that connection. If she had a three dimensional map of herself with all prosthetic portions, all repairs, marked off in red against the gray of her natural self, what a general pinkness she would appear to have from a distance. Or so she imagined.
Her brain, however, was still intact and whole and while that was so, she was intact and whole, whatever happened to the rest of her body.
Which brought her back to Daneel. Though she had known him for twenty decades, it was only in the last year that he was hers. When Fastolfe died (his end hastened, perhaps, by despair), he had willed everything to the city of Eos, which was a common enough state of affairs. Two items, however, he had left to Gladia (aside from confirming her in the ownership of her establishment and its robots and other chattels, together with the grounds thereto appertaining).
One of them had been Daneel.
Gladia asked, "Do you remember everything you have ever committed to memory over the course of twenty decades, Daneel?"
Daneel said gravely, "I believe so, Madam Gladia. To be sure, if I forgot an item, I would not know that, for it would have been forgotten and I would not then recall ever having memorized it."
"That doesn't follow at all," said Gladia. "You might well remember knowing it, but be unable to think of it at the moment. I have frequently had something at the tip of my tongue, so to speak, and been unable to retrieve it."
Daneel said, "I do not understand, madam. If I knew something, surely it would be there when I needed it."
"Perfect retrieval?" They were walking slowly toward the house.
"Merely retrieval, madam. I am designed so."
"For how much longer?"
"I do not understand, madam."
"I mean, how much will your brain hold? With a little over twenty decades of accumulated memories, how much longer can it go on?"
"I do not know, madam. As yet I feel no difficulty."
"You might not - until you suddenly discover you can remember no more."
Daneel seemed thoughtful for a moment. "That may be so, madam."
"You know, Daneel, not all your memories are equally important."
"I cannot judge among them, madam."
"Others can. It would be perfectly possible to clean out your brain, Daneel, and then, under supervision, refill it with its important memory content only - say, ten percent of the whole. You would then be able to continue for centuries longer than you would otherwise. With repeated treatment of this sort, you could go on indefinitely. It is an expensive procedure, of course, but I would not cavil at that. You'd be worth it."
"Would I be consulted on the matter, madam? Would I be asked to agree to such treatment?"
"Of course. I would not order you in a matter like that. It would be a betrayal of Dr. Fastolfe's trust."
"Thank you, madam. In that case, I must tell you that I would never submit voluntarily to such a procedure unless I found myself to have actually lost my memory function."
They had reached the door and Gladia paused. She said, in honest puzzlement, "Why ever not, Daneel?"
Daneel said in a low Voice, "There are memories I cannot risk losing, madam, either through inadvertence or through poor judgment on the part of those conducting the procedure."
"Like the rising and setting of the stars? Forgive me, Daneel, I didn't mean to be joking. To what memories are you referring?"
Daneel said, his voice still lower, "Madam, I refer to my memories of my onetime partner, the Earthman Elijah Baley - "
And Gladia stood there, stricken, so that it was Daneel who had to take the initiative, finally, and signal for the door to open.
2
Robot Giskard Reventlov was waiting in the living room and Gladia greeted him with that same pang of uneasiness that always assailed her when she faced him.
He was primitive in comparison with Daneel. He was obviously a robot - metallic, with a face that had nothing human in expression upon it, with eyes, that glowed a dim red, as could be seen if it were dark enough. Whereas Daneel wore clothing, Giskard had only the illusion of clothing but a skillful illusion, for it was Gladia herself who had designed it.
"Well, Giskard," she said.
"Good evening, Madam Gladia," said Giskard with a small bow of his head.
Gladia remembered the words of Elijah Baley long ago, like a whisper inside the recesses of her brain:
"Daneel will take care of you. He will be your friend as well as protector and you must be a friend to him - for my sake. But it is Giskard I want you to listen to. Let him be your adviser."
Gladia had frowned. "Why him? I'm not sure I like him."
"I do not ask you to like him. I ask you to trust him."
And he would not say why.
Gladia tried to trust the robot Giskard, but was glad she did not have to try to like him. Something about him made her shiver.
She had both Daneel and Giskard as effective parts of her establishment for many decades during which Fastolfe had held titular ownership. It was only on his deathbed that Han Fastolfe had actually transferred ownership. Giskard was the second item, after Daneel, that Fastolfe had left Gladia.
She had said to the old man, "Daneel is enough, Han. Your daughter Vasilia would like to have Giskard. I'm sure of that."
Fastolfe was lying in bed quietly, eyes closed, looking more peaceful than she had seen him look in years. He did not answer immediately and for a moment she thought he had slipped out of life so quietly that she had not noticed. She tightened her grip on his hand convulsively and his eyes opened.
He whispered, "I care nothing for my biological daughters, Gladia. For twenty centuries, I have had but one functional daughter and that has been you. I want you to have Giskard. He is valuable."
"Why is he valuable?"
"I cannot say, but I have always found his presence consoling. Keep him always, Gladia. Promise me that."
"I promise," she said.
And then his eyes opened one last time and his voice, finding a final reservoir of strength, said, in almost a natural tone of voice, "I love you, Gladia, my daughter."
And Gladia said, "I love you, Han, my father."
Those were the last words he said and heard. Gladia found herself holding the hand of a dead man and, for a while, could not bring herself to let go.
So Giskard was hers. And yet he made her uneasy and she didn't know why.
"Well, Giskard," she said, "I've been trying to see Solaria in the sky among the stars, but Daneel tells me it won't be visible till 03:20 and that I would require magnilenses even then. Would you have known that?"
"No, madam."
"Should I wait up till all hours? What do you think?"
"I suggest, Madam Gladia, that you would be better off in bed."
Gladia bridled, "Indeed? And if I choose to stay up?"
"Mine is only a suggestion, madam, but you will have a hard day tomorrow and you will undoubtedly regret missing your sleep if you stay up."
Gladia frowned. "What's going to make my day hard tomorrow, Giskard? I'm not aware of any forthcoming difficulty."
Giskard said, "You have an appointment, madam, with one Levular Mandamus."
"I have? When did that happen?"
"An hour ago. He photophoned and I took the liberty - "
"You took the liberty? Who is he?"
"He is a member of the Robotics Institute, madam."
"He's an underling of Kelden Amadiro, then."
"Yes, madam."
"Understand, Giskard, that I am not in the least interested in seeing this Mandamus or anyone with any connection with that poisonous toad Amadiro. So if you've taken the liberty of making an appointment with him in my name, take the further liberty right now of phoning him again and canceling."
"If you will confirm it as an order, madam, and make that order as strong and as definite as you can, I will try to obey. I may not be able to. In my judgment, you see, you will be doing yourself harm if you cancel the appointment and I must not allow you to come to harm through any action of mine."
"Your judgment might just possibly be wrong, Giskard. Who is this man that my failure to see him will do me harm? His being a member of the Robotics Institute scarcely makes him important to me."
Gladia was perfectly aware of the fact that she was venting spleen at Giskard without much justification. She had been upset by the news of Solaria's abandonment and embarrassed by the ignorance that led her to look for Solaria in a sky that did not contain it.
Of course, it had been Daneel whose knowledge had made her own lack so obvious and yet she had not railed at him - but, then, Daneel looked human and so Gladia automatically treated him as though he were. Appearance was everything. Giskard looked like a robot, so one could easily assume he had no feelings to hurt.
And, to be sure, Giskard did not react at all to Gladia's peevishness. (Neither would Daneel have reacted - if it came to that.) He said, "I have described Dr. Mandamus as a member of the Robotics Institute, but he is perhaps more than that. In the last few years, he has been right-hand man to Dr. Amadiro. This makes him important and he is not likely to be ignored. Dr. Mandamus would not be a good man to offend, madam."
"Would he not, Giskard? I care nothing for Mandamus and a great deal less than nothing for Amadiro. I presume you remember that Amadiro once, when he and I and the world were young, did his best to prove that Dr. Fastolfe was a murderer and that it was only by a near-miracle that his machinations were aborted."
"I remember it very well, madam."
"That's a relief. I was afraid that in twenty decades you had forgotten. In those twenty decades, I have had nothing to do with Amadiro or with anyone connected with him and I intend to continue that policy I don't care what harm I may do myself or what the consequences might be. I will not see this Dr. whoever-he-is and, in the future, do not make appointments in my name without consulting me or, at the very least, without explaining that such appointments are subject to my approval."
"Yes, madam," said Giskard, "but may I point out - "
"No, you may not," Gladia said and turned away from him.
There was silence while she moved away three steps and then Giskard's calm voice said, "Madam, I must ask you to trust me."
Gladia stopped. Why did he use that expression?
She heard again that long-ago voice, "I do not ask you to like him. I ask you to trust him."
Her lips tightened and she, frowned. Reluctantly, not wanting to, she turned back.
"Welt," she said ungraciously, "what is it you want to say, Giskard?"
"Just that as long as Dr. Fastolfe was alive, madam, his policies predominated on Aurora and throughout the Spacer worlds. As a result, the people of Earth have been allowed to migrate freely to various suitable planets in the Galaxy and what we now call the Settler-worlds have flourished. Dr. Fastolfe is dead now, however, and his successors lack his prestige. Dr. Amadiro has kept his own anti-Earth views alive and it is very possible that they may now triumph and that a vigorous policy against Earth and the Settler worlds may be undertaken."
"If so, Giskard, what can I do about it?"
"You can see Dr. Mandamus and you can find out what it is that makes him so anxious to see you, madam. I assure you that he was most insistent on making the appointment as early as possible. He asked to see you at 08:00."
"Giskard, I never see anyone before noon."
"I explained that, madam. I took his anxiety to see you at breakfast, despite my explanation, to be a measure of his desperation. I felt it important to find out why he should be so desperate."
"And if I don't see him, then it is your opinion, is it, that it will harm me personally? I don't ask whether it will harm Earth, or the Settlers, or this, or that. Will it harm me?"
"Madam, it may harm the ability of Earth and the Settlers to continue the settlement of the Galaxy. That dream originated in the mind of Plainclothesman Elijah Baley more than twenty decades ago. The harm to Earth will thus become a desecration of his memory. Am I wrong in thinking that any harm that comes to his memory would be felt by you as though it were harm to yourself personally?"
Gladia was staggered. Twice within the hour now, Elijah Baley had come into the conversation. He was long gone now - a short-lived Earthman who had died over sixteen decades before - yet the mere mention of his name could still shake her.
She said, "How can things suddenly be that serious?"
"It is not sudden, madam. For twenty decades, the people of Earth and the people of the Spacer worlds have been following parallel courses and have been kept from converging into conflict by the wise policies of Dr. Fastolfe. There has, however, always been a strong opposition movement that Dr. Fastolfe has had to withstand at all times. Now that Dr. Fastolfe is dead, the opposition is much more powerful. The abandonment of Solaria has greatly increased the power of what had been the opposition and may soon be the dominant political force."
"Why?"
"It is a clear indication, madam, that Spacer strength is declining and many Aurorans must feel that strong action must be taken - now or never."
"And you think that my seeing this man is important in preventing all this?"
"That is so, madam."
Gladia was silent for a moment and remembered again, though rebelliously, that she had once promised Elijah that she would trust Giskard. She said, "Well, I don't want to and I don't think my seeing this man will do anyone any good - but, very well, I will see him."
3
Gladia was asleep and the house was dark - by human standards. It was alive, however, with motion and action, for there was much for the robots to do - and they could do it by infrared.
The establishment had to be put into order after the inevitable disordering effects of a day's activity. Supplies had to be brought in, rubbish had to be disposed of, objects had to be cleaned or polished or stored, appliances had to be checked, and, always, there was guard duty.
There were no locks on any doors; there did not have to be. There was no violent crime of any sort on Aurora, either against human beings or against property. There could not be anything of the sort, since every establishment - and every human being were, at all times, guarded by robots. This was well known and taken for granted.
The price for such calm was that the robot guards had to remain in place. They were never used - but only because they were always there.
Giskard and Daneel, whose abilities were both more intense and more general than those of the other establishment robots, did not have specific duties, unless one counted as a specific duty that of being responsible for the proper performance of all the other robots.
At 03:00, they had completed their rounds out on the lawn and in the wooded area to make sure that all the outer guards were performing their functions well and that no problems were arising.
They met near the southern limit of the establishment grounds and for a while they spoke in an abbreviated and Aesopic language. They understood each other well, with many decades of communication behind them, and it was not necessary for them to involve themselves in all the elaboration's of human speech.
Daneel said in an all but unhearable whisper, "Clouds. Unseen."
Had Daneel been speaking for human ears, he would have said, "As you see, friend Giskard, the sky has clouded up. Had Madam Gladia waited her chance to see Solaria, she would not, in any case, have succeeded."
And Giskard's reply of "Predicted. Interview, rather," was the equivalent of "So much was predicted in the weather forecast, friend Daneel, and might have been used as an excuse to get Madam Gladia to bed early. It seemed to me to be more important, however, to meet the problem squarely and to persuade her to permit this interview I have already told you about."
"It seems to me, friend Giskard," said Daneel, "that the chief reason you may have found persuasion difficult is that she has been upset by the abandonment of Solaria. I was there once with Partner Elijah when Madam Gladia was still a Solarian and was living there."
"It has always been my understanding," said Giskard, "that Madam Gladia had not been happy on her home planet; that she left her world gladly and had, at no time, any intention of returning. Yet I agree with you that she seems to have been unsettled by the fact of Solaria's history having come to an end."
"I do not understand this reaction of Madam Gladia," said Daneel, "but there are many times that human reactions do not seem to follow logically from events."
"It is what makes it difficult to decide, sometimes, what will do a human being harm and what will not." Giskard might have said it with a sigh, even a petulant sigh, had he been human. As it was, he stated it merely as an unemotional assessment of a difficult situation. "It is one of the reasons, why it seems to me that the Three Laws of Robotics are incomplete or insufficient."
"You have said this before, friend Giskard, and I have tried to believe so and failed," said Daneel.
Giskard said nothing for a while, then, "Intellectually, I think they must be incomplete or insufficient, but when I try to believe that, I too fail, for I am bound by them. Yet if I were not bound by them, I am sure I would believe in their insufficiency."
"That is a paradox that I cannot understand."
"Nor can I. And yet I find myself forced to express this paradox. On occasion, I feel that I am on the verge of discovering what the incompleteness or insufficiency of the Three Laws might be, as in my conversation with Madam Gladia this evening. She asked me how failure to keep the appointment might harm her personally, rather than simply cause harm in the abstract, and there was an answer I could not give because it was not within the compass of the Three Laws."
"You gave a perfect answer, friend Giskard. The harm done to Partner Elijah's memory would have affected Madam Gladia deeply."
"It was the best answer within the compass of the Three Laws. It was not the best answer possible."
"What was the best answer possible?"
"I do not know, since I cannot put it into words or even concepts as long as I am bound by the Laws."
"There is nothing beyond the Laws," said Daneel.
"If I were human," said Giskard, "I could see beyond the Laws and I think, friend Daneel, that you might be able to see beyond them sooner than I would.
"Yes, friend Daneel, I have long thought that, although a robot, you think remarkably like a human being."
"It is not proper to think that," said Daneel slowly, almost as though he were in pain. "You think such things because you can look into human minds. It distorts you and it may in the end destroy you. That thought is to me an unhappy one. If you can prevent yourself from seeing into minds more than you must, prevent it."
Giskard turned away. "I cannot prevent it, friend Daneel, I would not prevent it. I regret that I can do so little with it because of the Three Laws. I cannot probe deeply enough because of the fear that I may do harm. I cannot influence directly enough - because of the fear I may do harm."
"Yet you influenced Madam Gladia very neatly, friend Giskard."
"Not truly. I might have modified her thinking and made her accept the interview without question, but the human mind is so riddled with complexities that I dare do very little. Almost any twist I apply will produce subsidiary twists of whose nature I cannot be certain and which may do harm."
"Yet you did something to Madam Gladia."
"I did not have to. The word 'trust' affects her and makes her more amenable. I have noted that fact in the past, but I use the word with the greatest caution, since overuse will surely weaken it. I puzzle over this, but I cannot simply burrow for a solution."
"Because the Three Laws will not permit it?"
Giskard's eyes seemed to intensify their dim glow. "Yes. At every stage, the Three Laws stand in my way. Yet I cannot modify them - because they stand in my way. Yet I feel I must modify them, for I sense the oncoming of catastrophe. "
"You have said so before, friend Giskard, but you have not explained the nature of the catastrophe."
"Because I do not know the nature. It involves the increasing hostility between Aurora and Earth, but how this will evolve into actual catastrophe, I cannot say."
"Is it possible that there might, after all, be no catastrophe?"
"I do not think so. I have sensed, among certain Auroran officials I have encountered an aura of catastrophe - of waiting for triumph. I cannot describe this more exactly and I cannot probe deeply for a better description because the Three Laws will not allow me to. It is another reason why the interview with Mandamus must take place tomorrow. It will give me a chance to study his mind."
"But if you cannot study it effectively?"
Although Giskard's voice was incapable of showing emotion in the human sense, there was no missing the despair in his words, He said, "Then that will leave me helpless. I can only follow the Laws. What else can I do?"
And Daneel said softly and dispiritedly, "Nothing else."
4
Gladia entered her living room at 08:15, having purposely - and with a touch of spite - determined to allow Mandamus (she had now reluctantly memorized his name) to wait for her. She had also taken particular pains with her appearance and (for the first time in years) had agonized over the gray in her hair and had fleetingly wished she had followed the almost universal Auroran practice of shade control. After all, to look as young and attractive as possible would put this minion of Amadiro's at a further disadvantage.
She was thoroughly prepared to dislike him at sight was depressingly aware that he might prove, young and attractive, that a sunny face might break into a brilliant smile at her appearance, that she might prove reluctantly attracted to him.
In consequence, she was relieved at the sight of him. He was young, yes, and probably had not yet completed his first half-century, but he hadn't made the best of that. He was tall - perhaps 185 centimeters in height, she judged but too thin. It made him appear spindly. His hair was a shade too dark for an Auroran, his eyes a rather faded hazel, his face too long, his lips too thin, his mouth too broad, his complexion insufficiently fair. But what robbed him of the true appearance of youth was that his expression was too prim, too humorless.
With a flash of insight, Gladia remembered the historical novels that were such a fad on Aurora (novels that invariably dealt with primitive Earth - which was odd for a world that was increasingly hating Earthpeople) and thought: Why, he's the picture of a Puritan.
She felt relieved and almost smiled. Puritans were usually pictured as villains and, whether this Mandamus was indeed one or not, it was convenient to have him look like one.
But when he spoke Gladia was disappointed, for his voice was soft and distinctly musical. (It ought to have possessed a nasal twang if it were to fulfill the stereotype.) He said, "Mrs. Gremionis?"
She held out her hand with a carefully condescending smile. "Mr. Mandamus. - Please call me Gladia. Everyone does."
"I know you use your given name professionally - "
"I use it in every way. And my marriage came to an amicable end several decades ago."
"It lasted for a long, time, I believe."
"A very long time. It was a great success, but even great successes come to a natural end."
"Ah," said Mandamus sententiously. "To continue past the end might well turn success into failure."
Gladia nodded and said with a trace of a smile, "How wise for one so young. - But shall we move into the dining room? Breakfast is ready and I have surely delayed you long enough."
It was only as Mandamus turned with her and adjusted his steps to hers that Gladia became aware of his two accompanying robots. It was quite unthinkable for any Auroran to go anywhere without a robotic retinue, but as long as robots stood still they made no impression on the Auroran eye.
Gladia, looking at them quickly, saw that they were late models, clearly expensive. Their pseudo-clothing was elaborate and, although it was not of Gladia's design, it was first-class. Gladia had to admit so much to herself, though reluctantly - She would have to find out who had designed it someday, for she did not recognize the touch and she might be about to have a new and formidable competitor. She found herself admiring the manner in which the style of pseudo-clothing was distinctly the same for both robots, while remaining distinctly individual for each. You could not mistake one for the other.
Mandamus caught her swift look and interpreted her expression with disconcerting accuracy. (He is intelligent, thought Gladia, disappointed.) He said, "The exodesign of my robots was created by a young man at the Institute who has not yet made a name for himself. But he will, don't you think?"
"Definitely," said Gladia.
Gladia did not expect any business discussion till breakfast was done. It would be the height of ill breeding to speak of anything but trivia during meals and Gladia guessed that Mandamus was not at his best with trivia. There was the weather, of course. The recent siege of rain, now happily done with, was mentioned and the prospects for the oncoming dry season. There was the almost mandatory expression of admiration for the hostess's establishment and Gladia accepted it with practiced modesty. She did nothing to ease the strain on the man, but let him search for subject matter without help.
At length, his eye fell on Daneel, standing quietly and without motion in his wall niche, and Mandamus managed to overcome his Auroran indifference and notice him.
"Ah," he said, "clearly the famous R. Daneel Olivaw. He's absolutely unmistakable. A rather remarkable specimen."
"Quite remarkable."
"He's yours now, isn't he? By Fastolfe's will?"
"By Doctor Fastolfe's will, yes," said Gladia with faint emphasis.
"It strikes me as amazing that the Institute's line of humanoid robots failed as it did. Have you ever thought about it?"
"I have heard of it," said Gladia cautiously. (Could it be that this was what he was getting around to?) "I'm not aware of having spent much time thinking about it."
"Sociologists are still trying to understand it. Certainly, we at the Institute never got over the disappointment. It seemed like such a natural development. Some of us think that Fa - Dr. Fastolfe somehow had something to do with it."
(He had avoided making the mistake a second time, thought Gladia. Her eyes narrowed and she grew hostile as she decided he had come to her in order to probe for material damaging to poor, good Han.)
She said tartly, "Anyone who thinks that is a fool. If you think so, I won't change the expression for your benefit."
"I am not one of those who thinks so, largely because I don't see what Dr. Fastolfe could have done to make it a fiasco."
"Why should anyone have had to do anything? What it amounts to is that the public didn't want them. A robot that looks like a man competes with a man and one that looks like a woman competes with a woman - and entirely too closely for comfort. Aurorans didn't want the competition. Do we need to look any further?"
"Sexual competition?" said Mandamus calmly.
For a moment, Gladia's gaze met his levelly. Did he know of her long-ago love for the robot Jander? Did it matter if he did?
There seemed nothing in his expression to make it appear that he meant anything beyond the surface meaning of the words.
She said finally, "Competition in every way. If Dr. Han Fastolfe did anything to contribute to such a feeling, it was that he designed his robots in too human a fashion, but that was the only way."
"I think you have thought about the matter," said Mandamus. "The trouble is that sociologists find the fear of competition with too-human, a set of robots to be simplistic, as an explanation. That alone would not suffice and there is no evidence of any other aversion motive of significance."
"Sociology is not an exact 'science,'" said Gladia.
"It is not altogether inexact, either."
Gladia shrugged.
After a pause, Mandamus said, "In any case, it kept us from organizing colonizing expeditions properly. Without humanoid robots to pave the way - "
Breakfast was not quite over, but it was clear to Gladia that Mandamus could not avoid the nontrivial any longer. She said, "We might have gone ourselves."
This time it was Mandamus who shrugged. "Too difficult. Besides, those short-lived barbarians from Earth, with the permission of your Dr. Fastolfe, have swarmed over every planet in sight like a plague of beetles."
"There are plenty of available planets still. Millions. And if they can do it - "
"Of course they can do it," said Mandamus with sudden passion. "It costs lives, but what are lives to them? The loss of a decade or so, that's all, and there are billions of them.
"If a million or so die in the process of colonizing, who notices, who cares? They don't."
"I'm sure they do."
"Nonsense. Our lives are longer and therefore more valuable - and we are naturally more careful with them."
"So we sit here and do nothing but rail at Earth's Settlers for being willing to risk their lives and for seeming to inherit the Galaxy as a result."
Gladia was unaware of feeling so pro-Settler a bias, but she was in the mood to contradict Mandamus and as she spoke she could not help but feel that what began as mere contradiction made sense and could well represent her feelings. Besides, she had heard Fastolfe say similar things during his last discouraged years.
At Gladia's signal, the table was being rapidly and efficiently cleared. Breakfast might have continued, but the conversation and the mood had become quite unsuitable for civilized mealtime.
They moved back into the living room. His robots followed and so did Daneel and Giskard, all finding their niches. (Mandamus had never remarked on Giskard, thought Gladia, but then, why should he? Giskard was quite old fashioned and even primitive, entirely unimpressive in comparison to Mandamus's beautiful specimens.)
Gladia took her seat and crossed her legs, quite aware that the form-fitting sheerness of the lower portion of her slacks flattered the still youthful appearance of her legs.
"May I know the reason for your wishing to see me, Dr. Mandamus?" she said, unwilling to delay matters any longer.
He said, "I have the bad habit of chewing medicated gum after meals as an aid to digestion. Would you object?"
Gladia said stiffly, "I would find it distracting."
(Being unable to chew might put him at a disadvantage. Besides, Gladia added to herself virtuously, at his age he shouldn't need anything to aid his digestion.)
Mandamus had a small oblong package partway out of his tunic's breast pocket. He shoved it back with no sign of disappointment and murmured, "Of course."
"I was asking, Dr. Mandamus, your reason for wishing to see me."
"Actually two reasons, Lady Gladia. One is a personal matter and one is a matter of state. Would you object to my taking up the personal matter first?"
"Let me say frankly, Dr. Mandamus, that I find it hard to imagine what personal matter there could be between us. You work at the Robotics Institute, don't you?"
"Yes, I do."
"And are close to Amadiro, I have been told."
"I have the honor of working with Doctor Amadiro," he said with faint emphasis.
(He's paying me back, thought Gladia, but I'm not taking it.)
She said, "Amadiro and I had an occasion for contact twenty decades ago and it was most unpleasant. I have had no occasion for any contact with him at any time since. Nor would I have had any contact with you, as a close associate of his, but that I was persuaded that the interview might be important. Personal matters, however, would surely not make this interview in the least important to me. Shall we proceed onward, then, to the matters of state?"
Mandamus's eyes dropped and a faint flush of something that might have been embarrassment came to his cheeks.
"Let me reintroduce myself, then. I am Levular Mandamus, your descendant in the fifth degree. I am the great-great-great grandson of Santirix and Gladia Gremionis. In reverse, you are my great-great-great-grandmother."
Gladia blinked rapidly, trying not to look as thunderstruck as she, in actual fact, felt (and not quite, succeeding). Of course she had descendants and why should not one of them be this man?
But she said, "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. I have had a genealogical search made. One of these years, after all, I am likely to want children and before I can have one such a search would be mandatory. If you are interested, the pattern between us is M-F-F-M."
"You are my son's daughter's daughter's son's son?"
"Yes."
Gladia did not ask for further details. She had had one son and one daughter. She had been a perfectly dutiful mother, but in due time the children had taken up independent lives. As to descendants beyond that son and daughter, she had, in perfectly decent Spacer fashion, never inquired and did not care. Having met one of them, she was Spacer enough still not to care.
The thought stabilized her completely. She sat back in, her chair and relaxed. "Very well," she said. "You are my descendant in the fifth degree. If this is the personal matter you wish to discuss, it is of no importance."
"I understand that fully, ancestress. My genealogy is not, in itself, what I wish to discuss, but it lays the foundation. Dr. Amadiro, you see, knows of this relationship. At least, so I suspect."
"Indeed? How did that come about?"
"I believe that he quietly genealogizes all those who come to work at the Institute."
"But why?"
"In order to find out exactly what he did find out in my case. He is not a trusting man."
"I don't understand. If you are my fifth-level descendant, why should it have more meaning to him than it does to me?"
Mandamus rubbed his chin with the knuckles of his right hand in a thoughtful manner. "His dislike for you is in no way less than your dislike for him, Lady Gladia. If you were ready to refuse an interview with me for his sake, he is equally ready to refuse me preferment for your sake. It might be even worse if I were a descendant of Dr. Fastolfe, but not much."
Gladia sat stiffly, upright in her seat. Her nostrils flared and she said in a tight voice, "What is it, then, that you expect me to do? I cannot declare you a nondescendant. Shall I have an announcement placed on hypervision that you are a matter of indifference to me and that I disown you? Will that satisfy your Amadiro? If so, I must warn you I will not do it. I will do nothing to satisfy that man. If it means that he will discharge you and deprive you of your career out of some sort of disapproval of your genetic association, then that will teach you to associate with a saner, less vicious person."
"He will not discharge me, Madam Gladia. I am entirely too valuable to him - if you will pardon my immodesty. Still, I hope someday to succeed him as head of the Institute and that, I am quite certain, he will not allow, as long as he suspects me of a descent worse than that which stems from you."
"Does he imagine that poor Santirix is worse than I am?"
"Not at all." Mandamus flushed and he swallowed, but his voice remained level and steady. "I mean no disrespect, madam, but I owe it to myself to learn the truth."
"What truth?"
"I am descended from you in the fifth degree. That is clear in the genealogical records. But it is possible that I am also descended in the fifth degree, not from Santirix Gremionis but from the Earthman Elijah Baley?"
Gladia rose to her feet as quickly as though the undimensional force, fields of a puppeteer had lifted her. She was not aware that she had risen.
It was the third time in twelve hours that the name of that long-ago Earthman had been mentioned - and by three different individuals.
Her voice seemed not to be hers at all. "What do you mean?"
He said, rising in his turn and backing away slightly, "It seems to me plain enough. Was your son, my great-great-grandfather, born of a sexual union of yourself with the Earthman Elijah Baley? Was Elijah Baley your son's father? I don't know how to express it more plainly."
"How dare you make such a suggestion? Or even think it?"
"I dare because my career depends upon it. If the answer is yes, my professional life may well be ruined. I want a 'no' but an unsupported 'no' will do me no good. I must be able to present proof to Dr. Amadiro at the appropriate time and show him that his disapproval of my genealogy must end with you. After all, it is clear to me that his dislike of you - and even of Dr. Fastolfe - is as nothing - nothing at all - compared to the incredible intensity of his detestation of the Earthman Elijah Baley. It is not only the fact of his being short-lived, although the thought of having inherited barbarian genes would disturb me tremendously. I think that if I presented proof I was descended from an Earthman who was not Elijah Baley, he would dismiss that. But it is the thought of Elijah Baley - and only he - that drives him to madness. I do not know why."
The reiteration of Elijah's name had made him seem almost alive again to Gladia. She was breathing harshly and deeply and she exulted in the best memory of her life.
"I know why," she said. "It was because Elijah, with everything against him, with all of Aurora against him, managed anyhow to destroy Amadiro at the moment when that man thought he held success in his hand. Elijah did it by the exercise of sheer courage and intelligence. Amadiro had met his infinite superior in the person of an Earthman he had carelessly despised and what could he do in return but hate futilely? Elijah has been dead for more than sixteen decades and still Amadiro cannot forget, cannot forgive, cannot release the chains that bind him in hate and memory to that dead man. And I would not have Amadiro forget or cease hating - as long as it poisons every moment of his existence."
Mandamus said, "I see you have reason for wishing Dr. Amadiro ill, but what reason have you for wishing me ill? To allow Dr. Amadiro to think I am descended from Elijah Baley will give him the pleasure of destroying me. Why should you give him that pleasure needlessly, if I am not so descended? Give me the proof, therefore, that I am descended from you and Satitirix Gremionis or from you and anybody but Elijah Baley."
"You fool! You idiot! Why do you need proof from me? Go to the historical records. You will find the exact days on which Elijah Baley was on Aurora. You will find the exact day on which I gave birth to my son, Darrel. You will find that Darrel was conceived more than five years after Elijah left Aurora. You will also find that Elijah never returned to Aurora. Well, then, do you think I gestated for five years, that I carried a fetus in my womb for five Standard Galactic Years?"
"I know the statistics, madam. And I do not think you carried a fetus for five years."
"Then why do you come to me?"
"Because there is more to it than that. I know - and I imagine that Dr. Amadiro well knows - that although the Earthman Elijah Baley, as you say, never returned to Aurora's surface, he was once in a ship that was in orbit about Aurora for a day or so. I know - and I imagine that Dr. Amadiro well knows - that although the Earthman did not leave the ship to go to Aurora, you left Aurora to go to the ship; that you stayed on the ship for the better part of a day; and that this took place nearly five years after the Earthman had been on Aurora's surface - at about the time, in fact, that your son was conceived."
Gladia felt the blood drain from her face as she heard the other's calm words. The room darkened about her and she swayed.
She felt the sudden, gentle touch of strong arms about her and knew they were those of Daneel. She felt herself lowered slowly into her chair.
She heard Mandamus's voice as though from a great distance.
"Is that not true, madam?" he said.
It was, of course, true.
1. THE DESCENDANT
1
Gladia felt the lawn lounge to make sure it wasn't too damp and then sat down. A touch at the control adjusted it in such a way as to allow her to be semirecumbent and another activated the diamagnetic field and gave her, as it always did, the sensation of utter relaxation. And why not? She was, in actual fact, floating - a centimeter above the fabric.
It was a warm and pleasant night, the kind that found the planet Aurora at its best - fragrant and star-lit.
With a pang of sadness, she studied the numerous little sparks that dotted the sky with patterns, sparks that were all the brighter because she had ordered the lights of her establishment dimmed.
How was it, she wondered, that she had never learned the names of the stars and had never found out which were which in all the twenty-three decades of her life. One of them was the star about which her birth planet of Solaria orbited, the star which, during the first three decades of her life, she had thought of merely as "the sun."
Gladia had once been called Gladia Solaria. That was when she had come to Aurora, twenty decades before two hundred Standard Galactic Years - and it was meant as a not very friendly way of marking her foreign birth. A month before had been the bicentennial anniversary of her she had left unmarked because she did to think of those days. Before that, Gladia Delmarre -
She stirred uneasily. She had almost forgotten that surname. Was it because it was so long ago? Or was it merely that she labored to forget?
All these years she had not regretted Solaria, never missed it.
And yet now?
Was it because she had now, quite suddenly, discovered herself to have survived it? It was gone - a historical memory and she still lived on? Did she miss it now for that reason?
Her brow furrowed. No, she did not miss it, she decided resolutely. She did not long for it, nor did she wish to return to it. It was just the peculiar pang of something that had been so much a part of her - however destructively - being gone.
Solaria! The last of the Spacer worlds to be settled and made into a home for humanity. And in consequence, by some mysterious law of symmetry perhaps, it was also the first to die.
The first? Did that imply a second and third and so on?
Gladia felt her sadness deepen. There were those who thought there was indeed such an implication. If so, Aurora, her long-adopted home, having been the first Spacer-World to be settled, would, by that same rule of symmetry, therefore be the last of the fifty to die. In that case, it might, even at worst, outlast her own stretched-out lifetime and if so, that would have to do.
Her eyes sought the stars again. It was hopeless. There was no way she could possibly work out which of those indistinguishable dots of light was Solaria's sun. She imagined it would be one of the brighter ones, but there were hundreds even of those.
She lifted her arm and made what she identified to herself only as her "Daneel gesture." The fact that it was dark did not matter.
Robot Daneel Olivaw was at her side almost - at once. Anyone who had known him a little over twenty decades before, when he had first been designed by Han Fastolfe, would not have been conscious of any noticeable change in him. His broad, high-cheekboned face, with its short bronze hair combed back; his blue eyes; his tall, well-knit, and perfectly humanoid body would have seemed as young and as calmly unemotional as ever.
"May I be of help in any way, Madam Gladia?" he asked in an even voice.
"Yes, Daneel. Which of those stars is Solaria's sun?"
Daneel did not look upward. He said, "None of them, Madam Gladia. At this time of year, Solaria's sun will not rise until 03:20."
"Oh?" Gladia felt dashed. Somehow she had assumed that any star in which she happened to be interested would be visible at any time it occurred to her to look. Of course, they did rise and set at different times. She knew that much. "I've been staring at nothing, then."
"The stars, I gather from human reactions," said Daneel, as though in an attempt to console, "are beautiful whether any particular one of them is visible or not."
"I dare say," said Gladia discontentedly and adjusted the lounge to an upright position with a snap. She stood up. "However, it was Solaria's sun I wanted to see - but not so much that I intend to sit here till 03:20."
"Even were you to do so," said Daneel, "you would need magnilenses."
"Magnilenses?"
"It is not quite visible to the unaided eye, Madam Gladia."
"Worse and worse!" She brushed at her slacks. "I should have consulted you first, Daneel."
Anyone who had known Gladia twenty decades before, when she had first arrived in Aurora, would have found a change. Unlike Daneel, she was merely human. She was 155 centimeters tall, almost 10 centimeters below the ideal height for a Spacer woman. She had carefully kept her slim figure and there was no sign of weakness or stiffness about her body. Still, there was a bit of gray in her hair, fine wrinkles near her eyes, and a touch of graininess about her skin. She might well live another ten or twelve decades, but there was no denying that she was already no longer young. That didn't bother her.
She said, "Can you identify all the stars, Daneel?"
"I know those visible to the unaided eye, Madam Gladia."
"And when they rise and set on any day of the year?"
"Yes, Madam Gladia."
"And all sorts of other things about them?"
"Yes, Madam Gladia. Dr. Fastolfe once asked me to gather astronomical data so that he could have them at his fingertips without having to consult his computer. He used to say it was friendlier to have me tell him than to have his computer do so." Then, as though, to anticipate the next question, "He did not explain why that should be so."
Gladia raised her left arm and made the appropriate gesture. Her house was at once illuminated. In the soft light that now reached her, she was subliminally aware of the shadowy figures of several robots, but she paid no attention to that. In any well-ordered establishment, there were always robots within reach of human beings, both for security and for service.
Gladia took a last fugitive glimpse at the sky, where the stars had now dimmed in the scattered light. She shrugged lightly. It had been quixotic. What good would it have done even if she had been able to see the sun of that now-lost world, one faint dot among many? She might as well choose a dot at random, tell herself it was Solaria's sun, and stare at it.
Her attention turned to R. Daneel. He waited for her patiently, the planes of his face largely in shadow.
She found herself thinking again how little he had changed since she had seen him on arriving at Dr. Fastolfe's establishment so long ago. He had undergone repairs, of course. She knew that, but it was a vague knowledge that one pushed away and kept at a distance.
It was part of the general queasiness that held good for human beings, too. Spacers might boast of their iron health and of their life-spans of thirty to forty decades, but they, were not entirely immune to the ravages of age. One of Gladia's femurs fit into a titanium-silicone hip socket. Her left thumb was totally artificial, though no one could tell that without careful ultrasonograms. Even some of her nerves had been rewired. Such things would be true of any Spacer of similar age from any of the fifty Spacer worlds (no, forty-nine, for now Solaria could no longer be counted).
To make any reference to such things, however, was an ultimate obscenity. The medical records involved, which had to exist since further treatment might be necessary, were never revealed for any reason. Surgeons, whose incomes were considerably higher than those of the Chairman himself, were paid so well, in part, because they were virtually ostracized from polite society. After all, they knew.
It was all part of the Spacer fixation on long life, on their unwillingness to admit that old age existed, but Gladia didn't linger on any analysis of causes. She was restlessly, uneasy in thinking about herself in that connection. If she had a three dimensional map of herself with all prosthetic portions, all repairs, marked off in red against the gray of her natural self, what a general pinkness she would appear to have from a distance. Or so she imagined.
Her brain, however, was still intact and whole and while that was so, she was intact and whole, whatever happened to the rest of her body.
Which brought her back to Daneel. Though she had known him for twenty decades, it was only in the last year that he was hers. When Fastolfe died (his end hastened, perhaps, by despair), he had willed everything to the city of Eos, which was a common enough state of affairs. Two items, however, he had left to Gladia (aside from confirming her in the ownership of her establishment and its robots and other chattels, together with the grounds thereto appertaining).
One of them had been Daneel.
Gladia asked, "Do you remember everything you have ever committed to memory over the course of twenty decades, Daneel?"
Daneel said gravely, "I believe so, Madam Gladia. To be sure, if I forgot an item, I would not know that, for it would have been forgotten and I would not then recall ever having memorized it."
"That doesn't follow at all," said Gladia. "You might well remember knowing it, but be unable to think of it at the moment. I have frequently had something at the tip of my tongue, so to speak, and been unable to retrieve it."
Daneel said, "I do not understand, madam. If I knew something, surely it would be there when I needed it."
"Perfect retrieval?" They were walking slowly toward the house.
"Merely retrieval, madam. I am designed so."
"For how much longer?"
"I do not understand, madam."
"I mean, how much will your brain hold? With a little over twenty decades of accumulated memories, how much longer can it go on?"
"I do not know, madam. As yet I feel no difficulty."
"You might not - until you suddenly discover you can remember no more."
Daneel seemed thoughtful for a moment. "That may be so, madam."
"You know, Daneel, not all your memories are equally important."
"I cannot judge among them, madam."
"Others can. It would be perfectly possible to clean out your brain, Daneel, and then, under supervision, refill it with its important memory content only - say, ten percent of the whole. You would then be able to continue for centuries longer than you would otherwise. With repeated treatment of this sort, you could go on indefinitely. It is an expensive procedure, of course, but I would not cavil at that. You'd be worth it."
"Would I be consulted on the matter, madam? Would I be asked to agree to such treatment?"
"Of course. I would not order you in a matter like that. It would be a betrayal of Dr. Fastolfe's trust."
"Thank you, madam. In that case, I must tell you that I would never submit voluntarily to such a procedure unless I found myself to have actually lost my memory function."
They had reached the door and Gladia paused. She said, in honest puzzlement, "Why ever not, Daneel?"
Daneel said in a low Voice, "There are memories I cannot risk losing, madam, either through inadvertence or through poor judgment on the part of those conducting the procedure."
"Like the rising and setting of the stars? Forgive me, Daneel, I didn't mean to be joking. To what memories are you referring?"
Daneel said, his voice still lower, "Madam, I refer to my memories of my onetime partner, the Earthman Elijah Baley - "
And Gladia stood there, stricken, so that it was Daneel who had to take the initiative, finally, and signal for the door to open.
2
Robot Giskard Reventlov was waiting in the living room and Gladia greeted him with that same pang of uneasiness that always assailed her when she faced him.
He was primitive in comparison with Daneel. He was obviously a robot - metallic, with a face that had nothing human in expression upon it, with eyes, that glowed a dim red, as could be seen if it were dark enough. Whereas Daneel wore clothing, Giskard had only the illusion of clothing but a skillful illusion, for it was Gladia herself who had designed it.
"Well, Giskard," she said.
"Good evening, Madam Gladia," said Giskard with a small bow of his head.
Gladia remembered the words of Elijah Baley long ago, like a whisper inside the recesses of her brain:
"Daneel will take care of you. He will be your friend as well as protector and you must be a friend to him - for my sake. But it is Giskard I want you to listen to. Let him be your adviser."
Gladia had frowned. "Why him? I'm not sure I like him."
"I do not ask you to like him. I ask you to trust him."
And he would not say why.
Gladia tried to trust the robot Giskard, but was glad she did not have to try to like him. Something about him made her shiver.
She had both Daneel and Giskard as effective parts of her establishment for many decades during which Fastolfe had held titular ownership. It was only on his deathbed that Han Fastolfe had actually transferred ownership. Giskard was the second item, after Daneel, that Fastolfe had left Gladia.
She had said to the old man, "Daneel is enough, Han. Your daughter Vasilia would like to have Giskard. I'm sure of that."
Fastolfe was lying in bed quietly, eyes closed, looking more peaceful than she had seen him look in years. He did not answer immediately and for a moment she thought he had slipped out of life so quietly that she had not noticed. She tightened her grip on his hand convulsively and his eyes opened.
He whispered, "I care nothing for my biological daughters, Gladia. For twenty centuries, I have had but one functional daughter and that has been you. I want you to have Giskard. He is valuable."
"Why is he valuable?"
"I cannot say, but I have always found his presence consoling. Keep him always, Gladia. Promise me that."
"I promise," she said.
And then his eyes opened one last time and his voice, finding a final reservoir of strength, said, in almost a natural tone of voice, "I love you, Gladia, my daughter."
And Gladia said, "I love you, Han, my father."
Those were the last words he said and heard. Gladia found herself holding the hand of a dead man and, for a while, could not bring herself to let go.
So Giskard was hers. And yet he made her uneasy and she didn't know why.
"Well, Giskard," she said, "I've been trying to see Solaria in the sky among the stars, but Daneel tells me it won't be visible till 03:20 and that I would require magnilenses even then. Would you have known that?"
"No, madam."
"Should I wait up till all hours? What do you think?"
"I suggest, Madam Gladia, that you would be better off in bed."
Gladia bridled, "Indeed? And if I choose to stay up?"
"Mine is only a suggestion, madam, but you will have a hard day tomorrow and you will undoubtedly regret missing your sleep if you stay up."
Gladia frowned. "What's going to make my day hard tomorrow, Giskard? I'm not aware of any forthcoming difficulty."
Giskard said, "You have an appointment, madam, with one Levular Mandamus."
"I have? When did that happen?"
"An hour ago. He photophoned and I took the liberty - "
"You took the liberty? Who is he?"
"He is a member of the Robotics Institute, madam."
"He's an underling of Kelden Amadiro, then."
"Yes, madam."
"Understand, Giskard, that I am not in the least interested in seeing this Mandamus or anyone with any connection with that poisonous toad Amadiro. So if you've taken the liberty of making an appointment with him in my name, take the further liberty right now of phoning him again and canceling."
"If you will confirm it as an order, madam, and make that order as strong and as definite as you can, I will try to obey. I may not be able to. In my judgment, you see, you will be doing yourself harm if you cancel the appointment and I must not allow you to come to harm through any action of mine."
"Your judgment might just possibly be wrong, Giskard. Who is this man that my failure to see him will do me harm? His being a member of the Robotics Institute scarcely makes him important to me."
Gladia was perfectly aware of the fact that she was venting spleen at Giskard without much justification. She had been upset by the news of Solaria's abandonment and embarrassed by the ignorance that led her to look for Solaria in a sky that did not contain it.
Of course, it had been Daneel whose knowledge had made her own lack so obvious and yet she had not railed at him - but, then, Daneel looked human and so Gladia automatically treated him as though he were. Appearance was everything. Giskard looked like a robot, so one could easily assume he had no feelings to hurt.
And, to be sure, Giskard did not react at all to Gladia's peevishness. (Neither would Daneel have reacted - if it came to that.) He said, "I have described Dr. Mandamus as a member of the Robotics Institute, but he is perhaps more than that. In the last few years, he has been right-hand man to Dr. Amadiro. This makes him important and he is not likely to be ignored. Dr. Mandamus would not be a good man to offend, madam."
"Would he not, Giskard? I care nothing for Mandamus and a great deal less than nothing for Amadiro. I presume you remember that Amadiro once, when he and I and the world were young, did his best to prove that Dr. Fastolfe was a murderer and that it was only by a near-miracle that his machinations were aborted."
"I remember it very well, madam."
"That's a relief. I was afraid that in twenty decades you had forgotten. In those twenty decades, I have had nothing to do with Amadiro or with anyone connected with him and I intend to continue that policy I don't care what harm I may do myself or what the consequences might be. I will not see this Dr. whoever-he-is and, in the future, do not make appointments in my name without consulting me or, at the very least, without explaining that such appointments are subject to my approval."
"Yes, madam," said Giskard, "but may I point out - "
"No, you may not," Gladia said and turned away from him.
There was silence while she moved away three steps and then Giskard's calm voice said, "Madam, I must ask you to trust me."
Gladia stopped. Why did he use that expression?
She heard again that long-ago voice, "I do not ask you to like him. I ask you to trust him."
Her lips tightened and she, frowned. Reluctantly, not wanting to, she turned back.
"Welt," she said ungraciously, "what is it you want to say, Giskard?"
"Just that as long as Dr. Fastolfe was alive, madam, his policies predominated on Aurora and throughout the Spacer worlds. As a result, the people of Earth have been allowed to migrate freely to various suitable planets in the Galaxy and what we now call the Settler-worlds have flourished. Dr. Fastolfe is dead now, however, and his successors lack his prestige. Dr. Amadiro has kept his own anti-Earth views alive and it is very possible that they may now triumph and that a vigorous policy against Earth and the Settler worlds may be undertaken."
"If so, Giskard, what can I do about it?"
"You can see Dr. Mandamus and you can find out what it is that makes him so anxious to see you, madam. I assure you that he was most insistent on making the appointment as early as possible. He asked to see you at 08:00."
"Giskard, I never see anyone before noon."
"I explained that, madam. I took his anxiety to see you at breakfast, despite my explanation, to be a measure of his desperation. I felt it important to find out why he should be so desperate."
"And if I don't see him, then it is your opinion, is it, that it will harm me personally? I don't ask whether it will harm Earth, or the Settlers, or this, or that. Will it harm me?"
"Madam, it may harm the ability of Earth and the Settlers to continue the settlement of the Galaxy. That dream originated in the mind of Plainclothesman Elijah Baley more than twenty decades ago. The harm to Earth will thus become a desecration of his memory. Am I wrong in thinking that any harm that comes to his memory would be felt by you as though it were harm to yourself personally?"
Gladia was staggered. Twice within the hour now, Elijah Baley had come into the conversation. He was long gone now - a short-lived Earthman who had died over sixteen decades before - yet the mere mention of his name could still shake her.
She said, "How can things suddenly be that serious?"
"It is not sudden, madam. For twenty decades, the people of Earth and the people of the Spacer worlds have been following parallel courses and have been kept from converging into conflict by the wise policies of Dr. Fastolfe. There has, however, always been a strong opposition movement that Dr. Fastolfe has had to withstand at all times. Now that Dr. Fastolfe is dead, the opposition is much more powerful. The abandonment of Solaria has greatly increased the power of what had been the opposition and may soon be the dominant political force."
"Why?"
"It is a clear indication, madam, that Spacer strength is declining and many Aurorans must feel that strong action must be taken - now or never."
"And you think that my seeing this man is important in preventing all this?"
"That is so, madam."
Gladia was silent for a moment and remembered again, though rebelliously, that she had once promised Elijah that she would trust Giskard. She said, "Well, I don't want to and I don't think my seeing this man will do anyone any good - but, very well, I will see him."
3
Gladia was asleep and the house was dark - by human standards. It was alive, however, with motion and action, for there was much for the robots to do - and they could do it by infrared.
The establishment had to be put into order after the inevitable disordering effects of a day's activity. Supplies had to be brought in, rubbish had to be disposed of, objects had to be cleaned or polished or stored, appliances had to be checked, and, always, there was guard duty.
There were no locks on any doors; there did not have to be. There was no violent crime of any sort on Aurora, either against human beings or against property. There could not be anything of the sort, since every establishment - and every human being were, at all times, guarded by robots. This was well known and taken for granted.
The price for such calm was that the robot guards had to remain in place. They were never used - but only because they were always there.
Giskard and Daneel, whose abilities were both more intense and more general than those of the other establishment robots, did not have specific duties, unless one counted as a specific duty that of being responsible for the proper performance of all the other robots.
At 03:00, they had completed their rounds out on the lawn and in the wooded area to make sure that all the outer guards were performing their functions well and that no problems were arising.
They met near the southern limit of the establishment grounds and for a while they spoke in an abbreviated and Aesopic language. They understood each other well, with many decades of communication behind them, and it was not necessary for them to involve themselves in all the elaboration's of human speech.
Daneel said in an all but unhearable whisper, "Clouds. Unseen."
Had Daneel been speaking for human ears, he would have said, "As you see, friend Giskard, the sky has clouded up. Had Madam Gladia waited her chance to see Solaria, she would not, in any case, have succeeded."
And Giskard's reply of "Predicted. Interview, rather," was the equivalent of "So much was predicted in the weather forecast, friend Daneel, and might have been used as an excuse to get Madam Gladia to bed early. It seemed to me to be more important, however, to meet the problem squarely and to persuade her to permit this interview I have already told you about."
"It seems to me, friend Giskard," said Daneel, "that the chief reason you may have found persuasion difficult is that she has been upset by the abandonment of Solaria. I was there once with Partner Elijah when Madam Gladia was still a Solarian and was living there."
"It has always been my understanding," said Giskard, "that Madam Gladia had not been happy on her home planet; that she left her world gladly and had, at no time, any intention of returning. Yet I agree with you that she seems to have been unsettled by the fact of Solaria's history having come to an end."
"I do not understand this reaction of Madam Gladia," said Daneel, "but there are many times that human reactions do not seem to follow logically from events."
"It is what makes it difficult to decide, sometimes, what will do a human being harm and what will not." Giskard might have said it with a sigh, even a petulant sigh, had he been human. As it was, he stated it merely as an unemotional assessment of a difficult situation. "It is one of the reasons, why it seems to me that the Three Laws of Robotics are incomplete or insufficient."
"You have said this before, friend Giskard, and I have tried to believe so and failed," said Daneel.
Giskard said nothing for a while, then, "Intellectually, I think they must be incomplete or insufficient, but when I try to believe that, I too fail, for I am bound by them. Yet if I were not bound by them, I am sure I would believe in their insufficiency."
"That is a paradox that I cannot understand."
"Nor can I. And yet I find myself forced to express this paradox. On occasion, I feel that I am on the verge of discovering what the incompleteness or insufficiency of the Three Laws might be, as in my conversation with Madam Gladia this evening. She asked me how failure to keep the appointment might harm her personally, rather than simply cause harm in the abstract, and there was an answer I could not give because it was not within the compass of the Three Laws."
"You gave a perfect answer, friend Giskard. The harm done to Partner Elijah's memory would have affected Madam Gladia deeply."
"It was the best answer within the compass of the Three Laws. It was not the best answer possible."
"What was the best answer possible?"
"I do not know, since I cannot put it into words or even concepts as long as I am bound by the Laws."
"There is nothing beyond the Laws," said Daneel.
"If I were human," said Giskard, "I could see beyond the Laws and I think, friend Daneel, that you might be able to see beyond them sooner than I would.
"Yes, friend Daneel, I have long thought that, although a robot, you think remarkably like a human being."
"It is not proper to think that," said Daneel slowly, almost as though he were in pain. "You think such things because you can look into human minds. It distorts you and it may in the end destroy you. That thought is to me an unhappy one. If you can prevent yourself from seeing into minds more than you must, prevent it."
Giskard turned away. "I cannot prevent it, friend Daneel, I would not prevent it. I regret that I can do so little with it because of the Three Laws. I cannot probe deeply enough because of the fear that I may do harm. I cannot influence directly enough - because of the fear I may do harm."
"Yet you influenced Madam Gladia very neatly, friend Giskard."
"Not truly. I might have modified her thinking and made her accept the interview without question, but the human mind is so riddled with complexities that I dare do very little. Almost any twist I apply will produce subsidiary twists of whose nature I cannot be certain and which may do harm."
"Yet you did something to Madam Gladia."
"I did not have to. The word 'trust' affects her and makes her more amenable. I have noted that fact in the past, but I use the word with the greatest caution, since overuse will surely weaken it. I puzzle over this, but I cannot simply burrow for a solution."
"Because the Three Laws will not permit it?"
Giskard's eyes seemed to intensify their dim glow. "Yes. At every stage, the Three Laws stand in my way. Yet I cannot modify them - because they stand in my way. Yet I feel I must modify them, for I sense the oncoming of catastrophe. "
"You have said so before, friend Giskard, but you have not explained the nature of the catastrophe."
"Because I do not know the nature. It involves the increasing hostility between Aurora and Earth, but how this will evolve into actual catastrophe, I cannot say."
"Is it possible that there might, after all, be no catastrophe?"
"I do not think so. I have sensed, among certain Auroran officials I have encountered an aura of catastrophe - of waiting for triumph. I cannot describe this more exactly and I cannot probe deeply for a better description because the Three Laws will not allow me to. It is another reason why the interview with Mandamus must take place tomorrow. It will give me a chance to study his mind."
"But if you cannot study it effectively?"
Although Giskard's voice was incapable of showing emotion in the human sense, there was no missing the despair in his words, He said, "Then that will leave me helpless. I can only follow the Laws. What else can I do?"
And Daneel said softly and dispiritedly, "Nothing else."
4
Gladia entered her living room at 08:15, having purposely - and with a touch of spite - determined to allow Mandamus (she had now reluctantly memorized his name) to wait for her. She had also taken particular pains with her appearance and (for the first time in years) had agonized over the gray in her hair and had fleetingly wished she had followed the almost universal Auroran practice of shade control. After all, to look as young and attractive as possible would put this minion of Amadiro's at a further disadvantage.
She was thoroughly prepared to dislike him at sight was depressingly aware that he might prove, young and attractive, that a sunny face might break into a brilliant smile at her appearance, that she might prove reluctantly attracted to him.
In consequence, she was relieved at the sight of him. He was young, yes, and probably had not yet completed his first half-century, but he hadn't made the best of that. He was tall - perhaps 185 centimeters in height, she judged but too thin. It made him appear spindly. His hair was a shade too dark for an Auroran, his eyes a rather faded hazel, his face too long, his lips too thin, his mouth too broad, his complexion insufficiently fair. But what robbed him of the true appearance of youth was that his expression was too prim, too humorless.
With a flash of insight, Gladia remembered the historical novels that were such a fad on Aurora (novels that invariably dealt with primitive Earth - which was odd for a world that was increasingly hating Earthpeople) and thought: Why, he's the picture of a Puritan.
She felt relieved and almost smiled. Puritans were usually pictured as villains and, whether this Mandamus was indeed one or not, it was convenient to have him look like one.
But when he spoke Gladia was disappointed, for his voice was soft and distinctly musical. (It ought to have possessed a nasal twang if it were to fulfill the stereotype.) He said, "Mrs. Gremionis?"
She held out her hand with a carefully condescending smile. "Mr. Mandamus. - Please call me Gladia. Everyone does."
"I know you use your given name professionally - "
"I use it in every way. And my marriage came to an amicable end several decades ago."
"It lasted for a long, time, I believe."
"A very long time. It was a great success, but even great successes come to a natural end."
"Ah," said Mandamus sententiously. "To continue past the end might well turn success into failure."
Gladia nodded and said with a trace of a smile, "How wise for one so young. - But shall we move into the dining room? Breakfast is ready and I have surely delayed you long enough."
It was only as Mandamus turned with her and adjusted his steps to hers that Gladia became aware of his two accompanying robots. It was quite unthinkable for any Auroran to go anywhere without a robotic retinue, but as long as robots stood still they made no impression on the Auroran eye.
Gladia, looking at them quickly, saw that they were late models, clearly expensive. Their pseudo-clothing was elaborate and, although it was not of Gladia's design, it was first-class. Gladia had to admit so much to herself, though reluctantly - She would have to find out who had designed it someday, for she did not recognize the touch and she might be about to have a new and formidable competitor. She found herself admiring the manner in which the style of pseudo-clothing was distinctly the same for both robots, while remaining distinctly individual for each. You could not mistake one for the other.
Mandamus caught her swift look and interpreted her expression with disconcerting accuracy. (He is intelligent, thought Gladia, disappointed.) He said, "The exodesign of my robots was created by a young man at the Institute who has not yet made a name for himself. But he will, don't you think?"
"Definitely," said Gladia.
Gladia did not expect any business discussion till breakfast was done. It would be the height of ill breeding to speak of anything but trivia during meals and Gladia guessed that Mandamus was not at his best with trivia. There was the weather, of course. The recent siege of rain, now happily done with, was mentioned and the prospects for the oncoming dry season. There was the almost mandatory expression of admiration for the hostess's establishment and Gladia accepted it with practiced modesty. She did nothing to ease the strain on the man, but let him search for subject matter without help.
At length, his eye fell on Daneel, standing quietly and without motion in his wall niche, and Mandamus managed to overcome his Auroran indifference and notice him.
"Ah," he said, "clearly the famous R. Daneel Olivaw. He's absolutely unmistakable. A rather remarkable specimen."
"Quite remarkable."
"He's yours now, isn't he? By Fastolfe's will?"
"By Doctor Fastolfe's will, yes," said Gladia with faint emphasis.
"It strikes me as amazing that the Institute's line of humanoid robots failed as it did. Have you ever thought about it?"
"I have heard of it," said Gladia cautiously. (Could it be that this was what he was getting around to?) "I'm not aware of having spent much time thinking about it."
"Sociologists are still trying to understand it. Certainly, we at the Institute never got over the disappointment. It seemed like such a natural development. Some of us think that Fa - Dr. Fastolfe somehow had something to do with it."
(He had avoided making the mistake a second time, thought Gladia. Her eyes narrowed and she grew hostile as she decided he had come to her in order to probe for material damaging to poor, good Han.)
She said tartly, "Anyone who thinks that is a fool. If you think so, I won't change the expression for your benefit."
"I am not one of those who thinks so, largely because I don't see what Dr. Fastolfe could have done to make it a fiasco."
"Why should anyone have had to do anything? What it amounts to is that the public didn't want them. A robot that looks like a man competes with a man and one that looks like a woman competes with a woman - and entirely too closely for comfort. Aurorans didn't want the competition. Do we need to look any further?"
"Sexual competition?" said Mandamus calmly.
For a moment, Gladia's gaze met his levelly. Did he know of her long-ago love for the robot Jander? Did it matter if he did?
There seemed nothing in his expression to make it appear that he meant anything beyond the surface meaning of the words.
She said finally, "Competition in every way. If Dr. Han Fastolfe did anything to contribute to such a feeling, it was that he designed his robots in too human a fashion, but that was the only way."
"I think you have thought about the matter," said Mandamus. "The trouble is that sociologists find the fear of competition with too-human, a set of robots to be simplistic, as an explanation. That alone would not suffice and there is no evidence of any other aversion motive of significance."
"Sociology is not an exact 'science,'" said Gladia.
"It is not altogether inexact, either."
Gladia shrugged.
After a pause, Mandamus said, "In any case, it kept us from organizing colonizing expeditions properly. Without humanoid robots to pave the way - "
Breakfast was not quite over, but it was clear to Gladia that Mandamus could not avoid the nontrivial any longer. She said, "We might have gone ourselves."
This time it was Mandamus who shrugged. "Too difficult. Besides, those short-lived barbarians from Earth, with the permission of your Dr. Fastolfe, have swarmed over every planet in sight like a plague of beetles."
"There are plenty of available planets still. Millions. And if they can do it - "
"Of course they can do it," said Mandamus with sudden passion. "It costs lives, but what are lives to them? The loss of a decade or so, that's all, and there are billions of them.
"If a million or so die in the process of colonizing, who notices, who cares? They don't."
"I'm sure they do."
"Nonsense. Our lives are longer and therefore more valuable - and we are naturally more careful with them."
"So we sit here and do nothing but rail at Earth's Settlers for being willing to risk their lives and for seeming to inherit the Galaxy as a result."
Gladia was unaware of feeling so pro-Settler a bias, but she was in the mood to contradict Mandamus and as she spoke she could not help but feel that what began as mere contradiction made sense and could well represent her feelings. Besides, she had heard Fastolfe say similar things during his last discouraged years.
At Gladia's signal, the table was being rapidly and efficiently cleared. Breakfast might have continued, but the conversation and the mood had become quite unsuitable for civilized mealtime.
They moved back into the living room. His robots followed and so did Daneel and Giskard, all finding their niches. (Mandamus had never remarked on Giskard, thought Gladia, but then, why should he? Giskard was quite old fashioned and even primitive, entirely unimpressive in comparison to Mandamus's beautiful specimens.)
Gladia took her seat and crossed her legs, quite aware that the form-fitting sheerness of the lower portion of her slacks flattered the still youthful appearance of her legs.
"May I know the reason for your wishing to see me, Dr. Mandamus?" she said, unwilling to delay matters any longer.
He said, "I have the bad habit of chewing medicated gum after meals as an aid to digestion. Would you object?"
Gladia said stiffly, "I would find it distracting."
(Being unable to chew might put him at a disadvantage. Besides, Gladia added to herself virtuously, at his age he shouldn't need anything to aid his digestion.)
Mandamus had a small oblong package partway out of his tunic's breast pocket. He shoved it back with no sign of disappointment and murmured, "Of course."
"I was asking, Dr. Mandamus, your reason for wishing to see me."
"Actually two reasons, Lady Gladia. One is a personal matter and one is a matter of state. Would you object to my taking up the personal matter first?"
"Let me say frankly, Dr. Mandamus, that I find it hard to imagine what personal matter there could be between us. You work at the Robotics Institute, don't you?"
"Yes, I do."
"And are close to Amadiro, I have been told."
"I have the honor of working with Doctor Amadiro," he said with faint emphasis.
(He's paying me back, thought Gladia, but I'm not taking it.)
She said, "Amadiro and I had an occasion for contact twenty decades ago and it was most unpleasant. I have had no occasion for any contact with him at any time since. Nor would I have had any contact with you, as a close associate of his, but that I was persuaded that the interview might be important. Personal matters, however, would surely not make this interview in the least important to me. Shall we proceed onward, then, to the matters of state?"
Mandamus's eyes dropped and a faint flush of something that might have been embarrassment came to his cheeks.
"Let me reintroduce myself, then. I am Levular Mandamus, your descendant in the fifth degree. I am the great-great-great grandson of Santirix and Gladia Gremionis. In reverse, you are my great-great-great-grandmother."
Gladia blinked rapidly, trying not to look as thunderstruck as she, in actual fact, felt (and not quite, succeeding). Of course she had descendants and why should not one of them be this man?
But she said, "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure. I have had a genealogical search made. One of these years, after all, I am likely to want children and before I can have one such a search would be mandatory. If you are interested, the pattern between us is M-F-F-M."
"You are my son's daughter's daughter's son's son?"
"Yes."
Gladia did not ask for further details. She had had one son and one daughter. She had been a perfectly dutiful mother, but in due time the children had taken up independent lives. As to descendants beyond that son and daughter, she had, in perfectly decent Spacer fashion, never inquired and did not care. Having met one of them, she was Spacer enough still not to care.
The thought stabilized her completely. She sat back in, her chair and relaxed. "Very well," she said. "You are my descendant in the fifth degree. If this is the personal matter you wish to discuss, it is of no importance."
"I understand that fully, ancestress. My genealogy is not, in itself, what I wish to discuss, but it lays the foundation. Dr. Amadiro, you see, knows of this relationship. At least, so I suspect."
"Indeed? How did that come about?"
"I believe that he quietly genealogizes all those who come to work at the Institute."
"But why?"
"In order to find out exactly what he did find out in my case. He is not a trusting man."
"I don't understand. If you are my fifth-level descendant, why should it have more meaning to him than it does to me?"
Mandamus rubbed his chin with the knuckles of his right hand in a thoughtful manner. "His dislike for you is in no way less than your dislike for him, Lady Gladia. If you were ready to refuse an interview with me for his sake, he is equally ready to refuse me preferment for your sake. It might be even worse if I were a descendant of Dr. Fastolfe, but not much."
Gladia sat stiffly, upright in her seat. Her nostrils flared and she said in a tight voice, "What is it, then, that you expect me to do? I cannot declare you a nondescendant. Shall I have an announcement placed on hypervision that you are a matter of indifference to me and that I disown you? Will that satisfy your Amadiro? If so, I must warn you I will not do it. I will do nothing to satisfy that man. If it means that he will discharge you and deprive you of your career out of some sort of disapproval of your genetic association, then that will teach you to associate with a saner, less vicious person."
"He will not discharge me, Madam Gladia. I am entirely too valuable to him - if you will pardon my immodesty. Still, I hope someday to succeed him as head of the Institute and that, I am quite certain, he will not allow, as long as he suspects me of a descent worse than that which stems from you."
"Does he imagine that poor Santirix is worse than I am?"
"Not at all." Mandamus flushed and he swallowed, but his voice remained level and steady. "I mean no disrespect, madam, but I owe it to myself to learn the truth."
"What truth?"
"I am descended from you in the fifth degree. That is clear in the genealogical records. But it is possible that I am also descended in the fifth degree, not from Santirix Gremionis but from the Earthman Elijah Baley?"
Gladia rose to her feet as quickly as though the undimensional force, fields of a puppeteer had lifted her. She was not aware that she had risen.
It was the third time in twelve hours that the name of that long-ago Earthman had been mentioned - and by three different individuals.
Her voice seemed not to be hers at all. "What do you mean?"
He said, rising in his turn and backing away slightly, "It seems to me plain enough. Was your son, my great-great-grandfather, born of a sexual union of yourself with the Earthman Elijah Baley? Was Elijah Baley your son's father? I don't know how to express it more plainly."
"How dare you make such a suggestion? Or even think it?"
"I dare because my career depends upon it. If the answer is yes, my professional life may well be ruined. I want a 'no' but an unsupported 'no' will do me no good. I must be able to present proof to Dr. Amadiro at the appropriate time and show him that his disapproval of my genealogy must end with you. After all, it is clear to me that his dislike of you - and even of Dr. Fastolfe - is as nothing - nothing at all - compared to the incredible intensity of his detestation of the Earthman Elijah Baley. It is not only the fact of his being short-lived, although the thought of having inherited barbarian genes would disturb me tremendously. I think that if I presented proof I was descended from an Earthman who was not Elijah Baley, he would dismiss that. But it is the thought of Elijah Baley - and only he - that drives him to madness. I do not know why."
The reiteration of Elijah's name had made him seem almost alive again to Gladia. She was breathing harshly and deeply and she exulted in the best memory of her life.
"I know why," she said. "It was because Elijah, with everything against him, with all of Aurora against him, managed anyhow to destroy Amadiro at the moment when that man thought he held success in his hand. Elijah did it by the exercise of sheer courage and intelligence. Amadiro had met his infinite superior in the person of an Earthman he had carelessly despised and what could he do in return but hate futilely? Elijah has been dead for more than sixteen decades and still Amadiro cannot forget, cannot forgive, cannot release the chains that bind him in hate and memory to that dead man. And I would not have Amadiro forget or cease hating - as long as it poisons every moment of his existence."
Mandamus said, "I see you have reason for wishing Dr. Amadiro ill, but what reason have you for wishing me ill? To allow Dr. Amadiro to think I am descended from Elijah Baley will give him the pleasure of destroying me. Why should you give him that pleasure needlessly, if I am not so descended? Give me the proof, therefore, that I am descended from you and Satitirix Gremionis or from you and anybody but Elijah Baley."
"You fool! You idiot! Why do you need proof from me? Go to the historical records. You will find the exact days on which Elijah Baley was on Aurora. You will find the exact day on which I gave birth to my son, Darrel. You will find that Darrel was conceived more than five years after Elijah left Aurora. You will also find that Elijah never returned to Aurora. Well, then, do you think I gestated for five years, that I carried a fetus in my womb for five Standard Galactic Years?"
"I know the statistics, madam. And I do not think you carried a fetus for five years."
"Then why do you come to me?"
"Because there is more to it than that. I know - and I imagine that Dr. Amadiro well knows - that although the Earthman Elijah Baley, as you say, never returned to Aurora's surface, he was once in a ship that was in orbit about Aurora for a day or so. I know - and I imagine that Dr. Amadiro well knows - that although the Earthman did not leave the ship to go to Aurora, you left Aurora to go to the ship; that you stayed on the ship for the better part of a day; and that this took place nearly five years after the Earthman had been on Aurora's surface - at about the time, in fact, that your son was conceived."
Gladia felt the blood drain from her face as she heard the other's calm words. The room darkened about her and she swayed.
She felt the sudden, gentle touch of strong arms about her and knew they were those of Daneel. She felt herself lowered slowly into her chair.
She heard Mandamus's voice as though from a great distance.
"Is that not true, madam?" he said.
It was, of course, true.
