“Why shouldn’t I come back?”
“The Council seems to want you rather urgently.”
“They can’t hold me. I’m a free Auroran citizen and I go where I please.”
“There are always emergencies when a government wishes to manufacture one—and in an emergency, rules can always be broken.”
“Nonsense. Giskard, am I going to be kept there?”
Giskard said, “Madam Gladia, you will not be kept there. The captain need not be concerned with respect to that.”
“There you are, D.G. And your Ancestor, the last time he saw me, told me I was always to trust Giskard.”
“Good! Excellent! Just the same, the reason I came down with you, Gladia, was to make sure I get you back. Remember that and tell it to your Dr. Amadiro if you have to. If they try to keep you against your will, they will have to try to keep me as well—and my ship, which is in orbit, is fully capable of reacting to that.”
“No, please,” said Gladia, disturbed. “Don’t think of doing that. Aurora has ships as well and I’m sure yours is under observation.”
“There’s a difference, though, Gladia. I doubt very much that Aurora would want to go to war over you. Baleyworld, on the other hand, would be quite prepared to.”
“Surely not. I wouldn’t want them to go to war on my account. And why should they, anyway? Because I was a friend of your Ancestor?”
“Not exactly. I don’t think anyone can quite believe that you were that friend. Maybe your great-grandmother, not you. Even I don’t believe it was you.”
“You know it was I.”
“Intellectually, yes. Emotionally, I find it impossible. That was twenty decades ago.”
Gladia shook her head. “You have the short-lived view.”
“Maybe we all do, but it doesn’t matter. What makes you important to Baleyworld is the speech you gave. You’re a heroine and they will decide you must be presented at Earth. Nothing will be allowed to prevent that.”
Gladia said, a trifle alarmed, “Presented at Earth? With full ceremony?”
“The fullest.”
“Why should that be thought so important as to be worth a war?”
“I’m not sure I can explain that to a Spacer. Earth is a special world. Earth is a—holy world. It’s the only real world. It’s where human beings came into being and it’s the only world in which they evolved and developed and lived against a full background of life. We have trees on Baleyworld and insects—but on Earth they have a wild riot of trees and insects that none of us ever see except on Earth. Our worlds are imitations, pale imitations. They don’t exist and can’t exist except for the intellectual, cultural, and spiritual strength they draw from Earth.”
Gladia said, “This is quite opposed to the opinion of Earth held by Spacers. When we refer to Earth, which we seldom do, it is as a world that is barbarous and in decay.”
D.G. flushed. “That is why the Spacerworlds have been growing steadily weaker. As I said before, you are like plants that have pulled themselves loose from their roots, like animals that have cut out their hearts.”
Gladia said, “Well, I look forward to seeing Earth for myself, but I will have to go now. Please treat this as your own establishment till I return.” She walked briskly toward the door, stopped, then turned. “There are no alcoholic drinks in this establishment or anywhere on Aurora, no tobacco, no alkaloidal stimulants, nothing of any artificial kinds of—of whatever you may be used to.”
D.G. grinned sourly. “We Settlers are aware of that. Very puritanical, you people.”
“Not puritanical at all,” said Gladia, frowning. “Thirty to forty decades of life must be paid for—and that’s one of the ways. You don’t suppose we do it by magic, do you?”
“Well, I’ll make do on healthful fruit juices and sanitized near-coffee—and I’ll smell flowers.”
“You’ll find an ample supply of such things,” said Gladia coldly, and when you get back to your ship, I’m sure you can compensate for any withdrawal symptoms you will now suffer.”
“I will suffer only from your withdrawal, my lady,” said D.G. gravely.
Gladia found herself forced to smile. “You’re an incorrigible liar, my captain. I’ll be back.—Daneel.—Giskard.”
68
Gladia sat stiffly in Amadiro’s office. In many decades, she had seen Amadiro only in the distance or on a viewing screen and on such occasions, she had made it a practice to turn away. She remembered him only as Fastolfe’s great enemy and now that she found herself, for the first time, in the same room with him—in face-to-face confrontation she had to freeze her face into expressionlessness, in order not to allow hate to peep through.
Although she and Amadiro were the only palpable human beings in the room, there were at least a dozen high officials—the Chairman himself among them—who were present by way of sealed-beam holovision. Gladia had recognized the Chairman and some of the others, but not all.
It was rather a grisly experience. It seemed so like the viewing that was universal of Solaria and to which she had been so accustomed as a girl—and which she recalled with such distaste.
She made an effort to speak clearly, undramatically, and concisely. When asked a question, she was as brief as was consistent with clarity and as noncommittal as was consistent with courtesy.
The Chairman listened impassively and the others took their cue from him. He was clearly elderly—Chairmen always were, somehow, for it was usually late in life that they attained the position. He had a long face, a still thick head of hair, and prominent eyebrows. His voice was mellifluous, but in no way friendly.
When Gladia was done, he said, “It is your suggestion, then, that the Solarians, had redefined ‘human being’ in a narrow sense that restricted it to Solarians.”
“I do not suggest anything, Mr. Chairman. It is merely that no one has been able to think of another explanation that would account for the events.”
“Are you aware, Madam Gladia, that in all the history of robotic science, no robot has ever been designed with a narrowed definition of ‘human being’?”
“I am not a roboticist, Mr. Chairman, and I know nothing of the mathematics of positronic pathways. Since you say it has never been done, I, of course, accept that. I cannot say, of my own knowledge, however, whether the fact that it has never been done means that it can never be done in the future.”
Her eyes had never looked as wide and innocent as they did now and the Chairman flushed and said, “It is not theoretically impossible to narrow the definition, but it is unthinkable.”
Gladia said, with a downcast glance at her hands, which were loosely clasped in her lap, “People can think such peculiar things sometimes.”
The Chairman changed the subject and said, “An Auroran ship was destroyed. How do you account for that?”
“I was not present at the site of the incident, Mr. Chairman. I have no idea what happened, so I can’t account for it.”
“You were on Solaria and you were born on the planet. Given your recent experience and early background, what would you say happened?” The Chairman showed signs of a badly strained patience.
“If I must guess,” said Gladia, “I should say that our warship was exploded by the use of a portable nuclear intensifier similar to the one that was almost used on the Settler ship.”
“Does it not strike you, however, that the two cases are different. In one, a Settler ship invaded Solaria to confiscate Solarian robots; in the other, an Auroran vessel came to Solaria to help protect a sister planet.”
“I can only suppose, Mr. Chairman, that the overseers—the humanoid robots left to guard the planet—were insufficiently well-instructed to know the difference.”
The Chairman looked offended. “It is inconceivable that they would not be instructed in the difference between Settlers and fellow Spacers.”