The professor was answering. “Cambridge is kept free of overcrowding, young man, except on football Saturdays. And there is a feeling of freedom, of spaciousness, that no space habitat can match.”
“I concur,” Magnus said. “But surely the demands of others are present in any social environment.”
“Yes, but they maintain a certain degree of reserve in an academic setting,” the professor began, and was off into paeans of praise for the fellowship of scholars. Beneath his words, Magnus read a dread of intimate relationships, for his familial life had been so stifling that he had not married even once, and had certainly taken pains to be sure he fathered no children. His relationships with women were fleeting, and the only intimacy was that of the body. Magnus felt a surge of empathy, recognizing a maimed soul when he saw one, and identifying with it with such intensity that it shocked him. But battle-trained reflexes took over; he pushed his own emotions to the background while he worked within his cousin’s mind, inputting reassurance that the other members of the family had adjusted to his absence and had found their own sources of security without him.
Roger had finished with a description of the pleasures of sitting in the sun on an autumn morning, discussing superconductor theory with his colleagues. Magnus noted the falling inflection and murmured, “Such a web of relationships must be very pleasant, with no one pressing you for involvement.”
“Yes, quite.” But the professor frowned suddenly, as though a puzzle in the back of his mind had just been solved. “Rodney’s son—then your claim to the succession is as valid as my cousin Pelisse’s!”
“True,” Magnus acknowledged, “but her claim is also as valid as mine, and she has the advantage of knowing the situation—and the greater advantage of wanting to stay on Maxima for most of her life.”
“I see.” Roger smiled, amused. “You are no more enamored of life on an asteroid than I, eh?” Or of refereeing a convention of madmen, his mind said silently.
Magnus commiserated, and made sure the older man felt the surge of emotion. “The problem is that Pelisse does not wish the authority.”
“Oh, she will grow into it, by the time she has to assume the responsibility,” Roger said breezily. But Matilda contradicted him, rather severely. “That moment could come tomorrow, Roger, or even tonight.”
“Or not for five years, or ten,” Roger retorted, all his emotional shields up and vibrating. “Father has excellent medical care, Matilda, and you have informed me that his mind is as sharp as ever. You will pardon me if I do not show undue concern.”
Matilda reddened, but Magnus said smoothly, “It is your due concern that is perhaps appropriate.”
“Indeed.” Roger turned to him angrily. “And what concern do you think is due, young man?” His tone said: interloper.
“That of an advisor.” Magnus worked at keeping his posture loose, not letting the tension show. “After all, you have a vested interest in d’Armand Automatons, as well as an academic one, do you not?”
“Academic?” Roger frowned. “The family business is just that, young man—they apply proven principles in building their robots; they don’t experiment.”
Magnus looked up at Matilda in surprise that was only partly feigned. “You don’t have a research and development department?”
“Well, of course,” Matilda said, nettled. “They are constantly searching for new ways to apply established knowledge.”
“But not to discover new principles themselves.” Roger smiled vindictively. “After all, there’s just so much that artificial intelligence can do, and creative thought is really beyond a cybernetic ‘brain.’ ”
“Which means that it is for you to do the primary research,” Magnus interpreted. “Surely you could see that the family has the benefit of that.”
“And the rest of the world! I publish my results, young man!”
“As is only appropriate,” Magnus said smoothly. “Still, you must verify your results repeatedly before you publish, must you not?”
“Yes.” Roger frowned, not seeing Magnus’s point. “And if d’Armand Automatons had performed those experiments for you, they would be in a position to investigate applications much more quickly than the rest of the industry.”
Roger looked off into space, mulling the thought.
“There’s some point in that—but Father has never shown any interest in participating in my work.” Beneath his words, Magnus caught vivid, fleeting images of loud and angry arguments, of a father’s chilly silence at what he perceived as his son’s abandonment and rejection.
“Have you ever asked?” Magnus said quietly.
“He has not,” Matilda said, while Roger was still opening his mouth. “I confess that the idea is attractive—but such experiments would require your physical presence now and again, Roger.”
Alarm flared, and Magnus was quickly calming it with the revelation that three months would never be time for entangling relationships to form again. “I assume that if d’Armand Automatons were to use your discoveries, you would expect some form of royalties.”
“Of course!”
“But you receive shares in the family business already, Roger,” Matilda reminded him. “Your stock in the company has never been alienated.”
Roger turned frosty. “I have never used the proceeds from that stock, Matilda, not since I came to Terra and used some of the dividends to establish myself. They have sat and grown, increasing in number and value.”
“Yes, I know—I do look at the books occasionally,” Matilda returned tartly.
“It would seem to me,” Magnus murmured, “that if you accept the family’s share, you have some responsibility toward them.” This time, the surge of guilt the professor felt was purely Magnus’s doing.
But feel it he did, enough to frown and look more closely at Magnus. “You have some specific proposal in mind, young man.”
“I do,” Magnus admitted. “It is simply as I’ve suggested—that you spend your summers on Maxima, advising the heir on business matters and testing your new hypotheses.” He was ready for the surge of alarm, of defensive distancing, and lulled it, soothed it, worked in the thought, again, that three months was too short a time to become enmeshed in a circle of endless demands.
The professor’s face had turned stony, but was softening already into a thoughtful frown.
“Of course,” Magnus said quietly, “during the rest of the year, you would be available for consultation by hyperadio, as you are now.”
“The notion has merit,” the professor said slowly. “Of course, for such services, I would expect a greater number of shares in d’Armand Automatons.”