13
Giskard had never found it possible to flip through the sharp images of that one visit to Earth, without then following it with the images of the key visit to Amadiro at the Institute of Robotics.
It had not been an easy conference to arrange. Amadiro, with the bitterness of defeat heavy upon him, would not exacerbate his humiliation by going to Fastolfe’s establishment.
“Well, then,” Fastolfe had said to Giskard. “I can afford to be magnanimous in victory. I will go to him. Besides, I must see him.”
Fastolfe had been a member of the Institute of Robotics since Baley had made possible the crushing of Amadiro and of his political ambitions. In return, Fastolfe had passed over to the Institute all the data for the building and maintenance of humaniform robots. A number had been manufactured and then the project had come to an end and Fastolfe had chafed.
It had been Fastolfe’s intention, at first, to arrive at the Institute without any robot companion. He would have placed himself, without protection and (so to speak) naked, into the midst of what was still the stronghold of the enemy’s camp. It would have been a sign of humility and trust, but it would also have been an indication of complete selfconfidence and Amadiro would have understood that. Fastolfe, entirely alone, would be demonstrating his certainty that Amadiro, with all the resources of the Institute at his command, would not dare to touch his single enemy coming carelessly and defenselessly within reach of his fist.
And yet in the end, Fastolfe, not quite knowing how, chose to have Giskard accompany him.
Amadiro seemed to have lost a little weight since last Fastolfe had seen him, but he was still a formidable specimen; tall and heavyset. He lacked the self-confident smile that had once been his hallmark and when he attempted it at Fastolfe’s entrance, it seemed more like a snarl that faded into a look of somber dissatisfaction.
“Well, Kelden,” said Fastolfe, making free with the other’s familiar name, “we don’t see each other often, despite the fact that we have now been colleagues for four years.”
“Let’s not have any false bonhomie, Fastolfe,” said Amadiro in a clearly annoyed and low-pitched growl, “and address me as Amadiro. We are not colleagues except in name and I make no secret—and never have—of my belief that your foreign policy is suicidal for us.”
Three of Amadiro’s robots, large and gleaming, were present and Fastolfe studied them with raised eyebrows, “You are well protected, Amadiro, against one man of peace together with his single robot.”
“They will not attack you, Fastolfe, as you well know. But why did you bring Giskard? Why not your masterpiece, Daneel?”
“Would it be safe to bring Daneel within your reach, Amadiro?”
“I take it you intend that as humor. I no longer need Daneel. We build our own humaniforms.”
“On the basis of my design.”
“With improvements.”
“And yet you do not use the humaniforms. That is why I have come to see you. I know that my position in the Institute is a name-only thing and that even my presence is unwelcome, let alone my opinions and recommendations. However, I must, as an Institute member, protest your failure to use the humaniforms.”
“How do you wish me to use them?”
“The intention was to have the humaniforms open up new worlds into which Spacers could eventually emigrate, after those worlds had been terraformed and made completely habitable, wasn’t it?”
“But that was something you opposed, Fastolfe, wasn’t it?”
Fastolfe said, “Yes, I did. I wanted Spacers themselves to emigrate to new worlds and to do their own terraforming. That, however, is not happening and, I now see, is not likely to happen. Let us send the humaniforms, then. That would be better than nothing.”
“All our alternatives come to nothing, as long as your views dominate the Council, Fastolfe. Spacers will not travel to rude and unformed worlds; nor, it seems, do they like humaniform robots.”
“You have scarcely given the Spacers a chance to like them. Earthpeople are beginning to settle new planets, even rude and unformed ones. And they do it without robotic help.”
“You know very well the differences between Earthpeople and ourselves. There are eight billion Earthpeople, plus a large number of Settlers.”
“And there are five and a half billion Spacers.”
“Numbers are not the sole difference,” said Amadiro bitterly. “They breed like insects.”
“They do not. Earth’s population has been fairly stable for centuries.”
“The potential is there. If they put all their heart into emigration, they can easily produce one hundred and sixty million new bodies each year and that number will rise as the new worlds fill up.
“We have the biological capability of producing one hundred million new bodies each year.”
“But not the sociological capability. We are long-lived, we do not wish ourselves replaced so quickly.”
“We can send a large portion of the new bodies to other worlds.”
“They won’t go. We value our bodies, which are strong, healthy, and capable of surviving in strength and health for nearly forty decades. Earthmen can place no value on bodies that wear out in less than ten decades and that are riddled with disease and degeneration even over that short period of time. It doesn’t matter to them if they send out millions a year to certain misery and probable death. In fact, even the victims needn’t fear misery and death, for what else do they have on Earth? The Earthpeople who emigrate are fleeing from their pestilential world knowing well that any change can scarcely be for the worse. We, on the other hand, value our well-wrought and comfortable planets and would not lightly give them up.”
Fastolfe sighed and said, “I’ve heard all these arguments so often—May I point out the simple fact, Amadiro, that Aurora was originally a rude and unformed world that had to be terraformed into acceptability and that so was every Spacer world?”
Amadiro said, “And I have heard all your arguments to the point of nausea, but I will not weary of answering them. Aurora may have been primitive when first settled, but Aurora was settled by Earthpeople—and other Spacer worlds, when, not settled by Earthpeople, were settled by Spacers that had not yet outgrown their Earth heritage. The times are no longer suitable for that. What could be done then, cannot be done now.”
Amadiro lifted a corner of his mouth in a snarl and went on, “No, Fastolfe, what your policy has accomplished has been to begin the creation of a Galaxy that will be populated by Earthmen only, while Spacers must wither and decline. You can see it happening now. Your famous trip to Earth, two years ago, was the turning point. Somehow, you betrayed your own people by encouraging those half-humans to begin an expansion. In only two years there are at least some Earthpeople on each of twenty-four worlds and new ones are being added steadily.”
Fastolfe said, “Do not exaggerate. Not one of those Settler worlds is truly fit for human occupation yet and won’t be for some decades. Not all are likely to survive and, as the nearer worlds are occupied, the chances for settling farther worlds diminish so that the initial surge will slow down. I encouraged their expansion because I counted on ours as well. We can still keep up with them if we make the effort and, in healthy competition, we can fill the Galaxy together.”
“No,” said Amadiro. “What you have in mind is that most destructive of all policies, a foolish idealism. The expansion is one-sided and will remain so despite anything you can do. The people of Earth swarm unhindered and they will have to be stopped before they get too strong to stop.”
“How do you propose to do that? We have a treaty of friendship with Earth in which we specifically agree not to stop their expansion into space as long as no planet within twenty light-years of a Spacer world is touched. They have adhered to this scrupulously.”