With him, Fastolfe brought Giskard, however. To have arrived without any robots would have been unthinkable, even for Fastolfe. To have arrived with more than one would have put a strain on the increasingly antirobot Earthmen he hoped to see and with whom he intended to negotiate.
To begin with, of course, he would meet with Baley, who would be his liaison with Earth and its people. That was the rational excuse for the meeting. The real excuse was simply that Fastolfe wanted very much to see Baley again; he certainly owed him enough.
(That Giskard wanted to see Baley and that he very slightly tightened the emotion and impulse in Fastolfe’s brain to bring that about, Fastolfe had no way of knowing—or even imagining.)
Baley was waiting for them at the time of landing and with him was a small group of Earth officials, so that there was a tedious passage of time during which politeness and protocol had its innings. It was some hours before Baley and Fastolfe could get away by themselves and it might not have happened that soon but for Giskard’s quiet and unfelt interference—with just a touch at the minds of the more important of those officials who were distinctly bored. (It was always safe to confine one’s self to accentuating an emotion that already existed. It could almost never bring harm.)
Baley and Fastolfe sat in the smallness of a private dining room that was ordinarily available only to high government officials. Food items could be punched out on a computerized menu and were then brought in by computerized carriers.
Fastolfe smiled. “Very advanced,” he said, “but these carriers are merely specialized robots. I’m surprised Earth uses them. They are not of Spacer manufacture, surely.”
“No, they’re not,” said Baley solemnly. “Home-grown, so to speak. This is only for use at the top and it’s my first chance, ever, to experience it. I’m not likely to do so again.”
“You may be elected to high office someday and then experience this sort of thing daily.”
“Never,” said Baley. The dishes were put before each of them and the carrier was even sophisticated enough to ignore Giskard, who stood impassively behind Fastolfe’s chair.
For a while, Baley ate silently and then, with a certain shyness, he said, “It is good to see you again, Dr. Fastolfe.”
“The pleasure is as much mine. I haven’t forgotten that two years ago, when you were on Aurora, you managed to free me of the suspicion of the destruction of the robot Jander and to turn the tables neatly on my overconfident opponent, the good Amadiro.”
“I still shake when I think of it,” said Baley. “And greetings to you, too, Giskard. I trust you haven’t forgotten me.”
“That would be quite impossible, sir,” said Giskard.
“Good! Well, Doctor, I trust the political situation on Aurora continues to be favorable. The news here would make it seem so, but I don’t trust Earth analysis of Auroran affairs—”
“You may—at the moment. My party is in firm control of the Council. Amadiro maintains a sullen opposition, but I suspect it will be years before his people recover from the blow you gave them. But how are things with you and with Earth?”
“Well enough.—Tell me, Dr. Fastolfe,” Baley’s face twitched slightly, as though with embarrassment—“have you brought Daneel with you?”
Fastolfe said slowly, “I’m sorry, Baley. I did, but I left him back on the ship. I felt it might not be politic to be accompanied by a robot who looked so much like a human being. With Earth as antirobot as it has become, I felt a humanoid robot might seem a deliberate provocation to them.”
Baley sighed. “I understand.”
Fastolfe said, “Is it true that your government is planning to prohibit the use of robots within the Cities?”
“I suspect it will soon come to that, with a period of grace, of course, to minimize financial loss and inconvenience. Robots will be restricted to the countryside, where they are needed for agriculture and mining. There, too, they may eventually be phased out and the plan is to have no robots at all on the new worlds.”
“Since you mention the new worlds, has your son left Earth yet?”
“Yes, a few months ago. We have heard from him and he’s arrived at a new world safely, along with several hundred Settlers, as they call themselves. The world has some native vegetation upon it and a low-oxygen atmosphere. Apparently, with time it can be made quite Earthlike. Meanwhile, some makeshift domes have been put up, new Settlers are advertised for, and everyone is busily engaged in terraforming. Bentley’s letters and occasional hyperwave contact are very hopeful, but they don’t keep his mother from missing him badly.”
“And will you be going there, Baley?”
“I’m not sure that living on a strange world under a dome is my idea of happiness, Dr. Fastolfe—I haven’t Ben’s youth and enthusiasm but I think I’ll have to in two or three years. In any case, I’ve already given notice to the Department of my intention to emigrate.”
“I imagine they must be upset over that.”
“Not at all. They say they are, but they’re glad to get rid of me. I’m too notorious.”
“And how does Earth’s government react to this drive for expansion into the Galaxy?”
“Nervously. They do not forbid it altogether, but certainly they are not cooperative. They continue to suspect that the Spacers are opposed to it and will do something unpleasant to stop it.”
“Social inertia,” said Fastolfe. “They judge us according to our behavior of years past.—Surely we have made it plain that we now encourage Earth’s colonization of new planets and that we intend to colonize new planets of our own.”
“I hope you explain this to our government, then.—But, Dr. Fastolfe, another question on a smaller point. How is—” And with that, he stalled.
“Gladia?” said Fastolfe, hiding his amusement. “Have you forgotten her name?”
“No, no. I merely hesitated to—to—”
“She’s well,” said Fastolfe, “and living comfortably. She has asked me to remember her to you, but I imagine you need no nudging to recall her to mind.”
“The fact of her Solarian origin is not used against her, I hope?”
“No, nor is her role in the undoing of Dr. Amadiro. Rather the reverse. I take care of her, I assure you.—And yet I do not care to allow you to get off the subject altogether, Baley. What if Earth’s officialdom continues to be opposed to immigration and expansion? Could the process continue despite such opposition?”
“Possibly,” said Baley, “but not certainly. There’s substantial opposition among Earthmen generally. It’s hard to break away from the huge underground Cities that are our homes—”
“Your wombs.”
“Or our wombs, if you prefer. Going to new worlds and having to live with the most primitive facilities for decades never seeing comfort in one’s own lifetime—that is difficult. When I think of it sometimes, I just decide not to go especially if I’m passing a sleepless night. I’ve decided not to go a hundred times and one day I may just stick to that decision. And if I have trouble when, in a way, I originated the entire notion, then who else is likely to go freely and gladly? Without government encouragement—or, to be brutally frank—without the government shoe applied to the seat of the pants of the population, the whole project may fail.”
Fastolfe nodded. “I will try to persuade your government. But if I fail?”
Baley said in a low voice, “If you fail—and if, therefore, our people fail—there remains only one alternative. The Spacers themselves must settle the Galaxy. The job must be done.”