He turned and, because he thoroughly expected to see R. Giskard, he was aware at first only of someone who was not R. Giskard. It took a blink or two to realize that he saw a thoroughly human shape, with a broad, high-cheekboned face and with short, bronze hair lying flatly backward, someone dressed in clothing with a conservative cut and color scheme.
“Jehoshaphat!” said Baley in a nearly strangled voice.
“Partner Elijah,” said the other, stepping forward, a small grave smile on his face.
“Daneel!” cried Baley, throwing his arms around the robot and hugging tightly. “Daneel!”
7
Baley continued to hold Daneel, the one unexpected familiar object on the ship, the one strong link to the past. He clung to Daneel in a gush of relief and affection.
And then, little by little, he collected his thoughts and knew that he was hugging not Daneel but R. Daneel—Robot Daneel Olivaw. He was hugging a robot and the robot was holding him lightly, allowing himself to be hugged, judging that the action gave pleasure to a human being and enduring that action because the positronic potentials of his brain made it impossible to repel the embrace and so cause disappointment and embarrassment to the human being.
The insurmountable First Law of Robotics states: “A robot may not injure a human being”—and to repel a friendly gesture would do injury.
Slowly, so, as to reveal no sign of his own chagrin, Baley released his hold. He even gave each upper arm of the robot a final squeeze, so that there might seem to be no shame to the release.
“Haven’t seen you, Daneel,” said Baley, “since you brought that, ship to Earth with the two mathematicians. Remember?”
“Of a certainty, Partner Elijah. It is a pleasure to see you.”
“You feel emotion, do you?” said Baley lightly.
“I cannot say what I feel in any human sense, Partner Elijah. I can say, however, that the sight of you seems to make my thoughts flow more easily, and the gravitational pull on my body seems to assault my senses with lesser insistence, and that there are other changes I can identify. I imagine that what I sense corresponds in a rough way to what it is that you may sense when you feel pleasure.”
Baley nodded. “Whatever it is you sense when, you see me, old partner, that makes it seem preferable to the state in which you are when you don’t see me, suits me well—if you follow my meaning. But how is it you are here?”
“Giskard Reventlov, having reported you—” R. Daneel paused.
“Purified?” asked Baley sardonically.
“Disinfected,” said R. Daneel. “I felt it appropriate to enter then.”
“Surely you would not fear infection otherwise?”
“Not at all, Partner Elijah, but others on the ship might then be reluctant to have me approach them. The people of Aurora are sensitive to the chance of infection, sometimes to a point beyond a rational estimate of the probabilities.”
“I understand, but I wasn’t asking why you were here at this moment. I meant why are you here at all?”
“Dr. Fastolfe, of whose establishment I am part, directed me to board the ship that had been sent to pick you up for several reasons. He felt it desirable that you have one immediate item of the known in what he was certain would be a difficult mission for you.”
“That was a kindly thought on his part. I thank him.”
R. Daneel bowed gravely in acknowledgment. “Dr. Fastolfe also felt that the meeting would give in”—the robot paused “appropriate sensations—”
“Pleasure, you mean, Daneel.”
“Since I am permitted to use the term, yes. And as a third reason—and the most important—”
The door opened again at that point and R. Giskard walked in.
Baley’s head turned toward it and he felt a surge of displeasure. There was no mistaking R. Giskard as a robot and its presence, emphasized, somehow, the robotism of Daneel (R. Daneel, Baley suddenly thought again), even though Daneel was far the superior of the two. Baley didn’t want the robotism of Daneel emphasized; he didn’t want himself humiliated for his inability to regard Daneel as anything but a human being with a somewhat stilted way with the language.
He said impatiently, “What is it, boy?”
R. Giskard said, “I have brought the book-films you wished to see, sir, and the viewer.”
“Well, put them down. Put them down.—And you needn’t stay. Daneel will be here with me.”
“Yes, sir.” The robot’s eyes—faintly glowing, Baley noticed, as Daneel’s were not—turned briefly to R. Daneel, as though seeking orders from a superior being.
R. Daneel said quietly, “It will be appropriate, friend Giskard, to remain just outside the door.”
“I shall, friend Daneel,” said R. Giskard.
It left and Baley said with some discontent, “Why does it have to stay just outside the door? Am I a prisoner?”
“In the sense,” said R. Daneel, “that it would not be permitted for you to mingle with the ship’s company in the course of this voyage, I regret to be forced to say you are indeed a prisoner. Yet that is not the reason for the presence of Giskard.—And I should tell you at this point that it might well be advisable, Partner Elijah, if you did not address Giskard—or any robot—as boy.”
Baley frowned. “Does it resent the expression?”
“Giskard does not resent any action of a human being. It is simply that ‘boy’ is not a customary term of address for robots on Aurora and it would be inadvisable to create friction with the Aurorans, by unintentionally stressing your place of origin through habits of speech that are nonessential.”
“How do I address it, then?”
“As you address me, by the use of his accepted identifying name. That is, after all, merely a sound indicating the particular person you are addressing—and why should one sound be preferable to another? It is merely a matter of convention. And it is also the custom on Aurora to refer to a robot as ‘he’—or sometimes ‘she’—rather than as ‘it.’ Then, too, it is not the custom on Aurora to use the initial ‘R.’ except under formal conditions where the entire name of the robot is appropriate and even then the initial is nowadays often left out.”
“In that case—Daneel,” (Baley repressed the sudden impulse to say “R. Daneel”) “how do you distinguish between robots and human beings?”
“The distinction is usually self-evident, Partner Elijah. There would seem to be no need to emphasize it unnecessarily. At least that is the Auroran view and, since you have asked Giskard for films on Aurora, I assume you wish to familiarize yourself with things Auroran as an aid to the task you have undertaken.”
“The task which has been dumped on me, yes. And what if the distinction between robot and human being is not self evident, Daneel? As in your case?”
“Then why make the distinction, unless the situation is such that it is essential to make it?”
Baley took a deep breath. It was going to be difficult to adjust to this Auroran pretense that robots did not exist. He said, “But then, if Giskard is not here to keep me prisoner, why is it—he—outside the door?”
“Those are according to the instructions of Dr. Fastolfe, Partner Elijah. Giskard is to protect you.”
“Protect me? Against what?—Or against whom?”
“Dr. Fastolfe was not precise on that point, Partner Elijah. Still, as human passions are running high over the matter of Jander Panell—”
“Jander Panell?”
“The robot whose usefulness was terminated.”
“The robot, in other words, who was killed?”
“Killed, Partner Elijah, is a term that is usually applied to human beings.”
“But on Aurora distinctions between robots and human beings are avoided, are they not?”
“So they are! Nevertheless, the possibility of distinction or lack of distinction in the particular case of the ending of functioning has never arisen to my knowledge. I do not know what the rules are.”