Asimov’s Future History Volume 13

by Isaac Asimov

  Relieved to learn about his dismissal, he needed just a few minutes to collect his things and to order a hoo-cap. When he left the building, the vehicle was already waiting for him. The door of the completely streamlined vehicle opened smoothly in front of him and he sat on the passenger’s bench in the rear, throwing his suitcase in the spacious footwell. It was a hoo-cap of Spacer origin, quite common on Inferno. Its form resembled that of a sideways raindrop, although with a slightly more pointed front. The regular size allowed four passengers. Like all transport capsules of Spacer origin, it was equipped with a robotic pilot system.

  “Your destination, please?” the metallic voice of the pilot system asked as the door closed.

  “Twelve, Dr. Susan Calvin Boulevard,” Gordan replied. This was the address of his new domicile, and at the time, the only thing he knew about it. The place was rented and paid for by the police department of Janus Metropolis. Gordan was curious about what would await him.

  The capsule imperceptibly lifted half a meter and began moving quickly. In front of him was a global positioning system which indicated that the capsule was flying south on one of the main flyways. The speed was exactly eighty miles per hour. The estimated time of arrival was announced to be twenty-eight minutes and twenty-one seconds. Obviously, his new home was at the rim of the southern sector of Janus Metropolis. When shifting his view away from the screen, he became aware of an additional front seat.

  “What is this seat for, computer?” Gordan asked.

  “This feature results from a demand of the negotiators in the Committee of Integrating Affairs that were of Settler origin, sir. A statute has been passed that allows humans to operate a hover capsule by themselves. All capsules, therefore, have been converted accordingly.”

  “Mmh!” Gordan decided not to give this information too much thought. He leaned back and looked through the windows of the hoo-cap at the unfamiliar scenery of the city. From what he saw, he was not impressed, but astonished. There were no high-rise buildings and only a very few distinguishing landmarks to be seen. The density of development was relatively scarce. Almost everywhere, a shimmer of lush green would meet his eye. Was this really a city with more than ten million inhabitants? He thought of the compact building measures on his home planet of Inferno and shook his head in disbelief. It resembled the building methods in the beginning stages of Spacer developments, he concluded. Inferno was so different because habitable land on the planet was so scarce.

  The traffic was sparse, too, and the capsule sped up accordingly. It was only a few minutes later that the voice of the pilot system articulated once again.

  “Destination reached, sir.”

  The capsule suddenly stopped, and subsequently, the door opened. Gordan stepped out slowly, letting his surroundings sink in. As on the way here, there was nothing spectacular: a few buildings, extensive greenery, and ‘space.’

  The building in front of him - number twelve - was a small complex, about three stories high. It was standing next to an inviting park. The building itself had no exceptional features apart from its triangular architecture in general. Gordan estimated it to enclose thirty apartments or less. The outside walls were colored in a friendly white tone with occasional breaks of bright but non-aggressive yellow. The balconies looked quite spacious.

  He fetched his bags and walked toward the entrance of the building. Obviously, the computer-controlled door had been programmed to recognize him. It opened with no effort on his part. He got inside and looked for any notice indicating the way to his apartment. He did not have to search very long. A row of tiny lights on the floor pointed the way. Following them, he reached his apartment. He took some time to investigate his new home and had just started to unpack when his telecommunicator beeped. Gordan fetched it from his pocket.

  “Yes? Gordan Kresh speaking.”

  “Hello. This is Dorothy Rudchinson. Sorry to disturb you. The hospital told me you had already left and…”

  “I was eager to leave my cell,” Gordan interrupted sarcastically.

  Dorothy’s voice remained solemn. “I guess you should come over immediately.”

  “Why? What happened?”

  “Well, there has just been a murder.”

  Databank-Chapter Nine

  THE SET-UP OF THE CIA, THE COMMITTEE OF INTEGRATING AFFAIRS, HAD BEEN A TIME-CONSUMING AND STRENUOUS TASK. POLITICIANS ON BOTH SIDES HAD WORKED ON THE PROJECT FOR DECADES. IT HAD BEEN AN ESPECIALLY CRUCIAL ASSIGNMENT FOR THE SPACERS, SINCE THE PROGRESSIVE TECHNOLOGIES OF THE SETTLERS SEVERELY ENDANGERED THEIR INDEPENDENCE IN THE GALAXY. THE SETTLERS HAD BEEN IN A DISSIMILAR, BUT NEVERTHELESS CHALLENGING SITUATION.

  WHILE SOME ACADEMICS HAD WARNED THAT THE CONTINUING PARTITION OF HUMANITY WOULD EVENTUALLY CULMINATE IN SEVERE DISPUTES IN THE FUTURE, THE POLITICIANS ON BOTH SIDES HAD BEEN ALARMED BY EVENTS CONCERNING A MORE ECONOMIC BACKGROUND. DESPITE THE DIFFERENCES IN IDEOLOGY, TRADE BETWEEN THE TWO CIVILIZATIONS HAD FLOURISHED. MERCHANDISE FROM SPACER PLANETS HAD BEEN CHEAP DUE TO THE ROBOTIC WORK INVOLVED AND THE RANGE OF GOODS HAD ATTRACTED CONSUMERS FROM THE SETTLERS’ PLANETS. THE SPACERS, ON THE OTHER HAND, HAD MOSTLY BEEN INTERESTED IN THE SETTLERS’ NEWEST TECHNOLOGICAL INVENTIONS.

  THIS EAGER TRADE HAD BECOME THREATENED WHEN DESTRUCTIVE ORGANIZATIONS HAD EVOLVED ON SEVERAL OF THE SETTLER WORLDS. THEIR UNIVOCAL AND FUNDAMENTAL BELIEF WAS THAT THE CREATION OF ROBOTS HAD BEEN THE MOST DECAYING DEVELOPMENT IN HUMAN HISTORY. THEY FEARED AN ADULTERATION OF MANKIND. THIS TENET RESULTED IN REGULAR RAVAGES AGAINST THE SPACERS’ TRADE SHIPS AT THE STARPORTS OF THE SETTLER COLONIES. IN VARIOUS CASES, WHOLE SHIPS HAD BEEN DESTROYED. BESIDES THE ROBOTS PRESENT ON THESE SHIPS, HUMAN CASUALTIES HAD ALSO BEEN REPORTED. CONSEQUENTLY, THE GOVERNMENTS OF THE SPACER PLANETS HAD DEMANDED SWIFT ACTION AND MORE SECURITY FOR THEIR STARSHIPS. OTHERWISE, THEY WOULD HAVE BEEN FORCED TO SUSPEND THEIR FLIGHTS. THE SETTLER POLITICIANS FEARED NEGATIVE EFFECTS ON THEIR LOCAL ECONOMIES AND THUS HAD PROCLAIMED THE OFFICIAL BANISHMENT AND PERSECUTION OF THESE ANTI-ROBOT GROUPS. THEN AGAIN, SOME POLITICIANS SECRETLY SUPPORTED THEM.

  SIMILAR DECRYING - ALTHOUGH NOT AS VIGOROUS - HAD BEEN NOTICED ON SEVERAL SPACER PLANETS. HERE, ORGANIZATIONS HAD FORMED WITH THE AMBITION TO STRENGTHEN THE POSITION OF THE ROBOT IN THE GALAXY. THE MOST INFLUENTIAL OF THESE WAS THE IRONHEAD FOUNDATION. EVENTUALLY, THESE GROUPS HAD BECOME PROHIBITED, TOO.

  NEVERTHELESS, THE THREATS INCREASED. QUITE LOGICALLY, IT HAD BEEN EXPECTED THAT THESE GROUPS WOULD TRY TO STUNT THE INTEGRATING PROCESSES IF NOT DISRUPT THEM TOTALLY. CONSEQUENTLY, THE CIA HAD BEEN FORCED TO DELEGATE MANY MORE POLICE UNITS TO JANUS THAN ORIGINALLY PLANNED. FURTHERMORE, IMMIGRATION HAD BEEN RESTRICTED TO PEOPLE WITH INDISPUTABLE REPUTATION. EVEN SO, OFFICIAL REPORTS STATED EVIDENCES THAT VARIOUS FORMATIONS HAD MANAGED TO INFILTRATE THE JANUS SOCIETY WITH SOME OF THEIR MEMBERS.

  Chapter Nine

  THE HOO-CAP STOPPED with ease in front of the police headquarters, which was located near the starport. Gordan quickly stepped out and entered the massive but otherwise unimpressive-looking building through the main gate. The large information screen in the entrance hall indicated the sheriff’s office to be on the third floor. He faced the elevating platforms to his left.

  After Rudchinson’s call, it had taken just a couple of seconds for him to order a hoo-cap and rush out of the building. A murder. Quite unbelievable. And unprecedented, too. Since the beginning of the colonization of Janus, there had not been a single murder. Gordan knew that from the official statistics. Moreover, its crime rate in comparison to other settlements was amazingly low.

  Most people thought the reason for this was the massive police force on Janus. Gordan considered the low crime ratio to have originated from a combination of several additional factors. One relevant aspect aside from the immense presence of the police was undeniably the fact that the inhabitants had come from different planets. Since they were all starting a completely new life on Janus, they were much too busy arranging and organizing their own affairs. Until now, there had simply not been enough time for cr
iminal formations to evolve.

  Furthermore, space was plentiful. Each individual possessed an ample personal sphere and independence, which resulted in less social tension among people. Usual problems of urban culture thus did not occur on Janus - not yet.

  Then again, Gordan judged the most important reason for the phenomenon to be that the immigrants had been carefully chosen. Despite the rather sparse enlistments, the immigrating offices had not accepted every applicant.

  The platform halted. Gordan stepped off and marched across the floor. A sign indicated the sheriff’s office to be at the other end. On his way there, Gordan passed several offices occupied by some unfamiliar staff members whom he greeted anyway. When he reached his destination, he rapidly knocked on the door and entered. Rudchinson was sitting at her desk.

  “Hi,” he said simply.

  “Ah! Hello, Mr. Kresh. That was quite fast.” She stood up and they shook hands. She was not wearing the cap she had worn before, and Gordan secretly decided that she looked much better without it. Her previously hidden hair seemed to shimmer smoothly in the daylight.

  “Please, call me Gordan.”

  “You’re right. Colleagues should not be that formal. I am Dorothy.” She giggled kindly. “How are you feeling? Still got a headache?”

  “Well, a little. It’s much better now.” Gordan sat on the chair next to her desk and studied the office that would be his - their - working place. But since the room offered no special details, he turned quickly to Dorothy. “Tell me what happened. You made it sound rather urgent but mysterious.”

  “Exactly so.” Dorothy’s face revealed a solemn expression when she continued. “The victim is no one less than Abraham Philemon.”

  “Abraham Philemon… the Executive?” Gordan noticed an abrupt sensation of disbelief.

  “Yes, the Executive. He was killed during a meeting of the Executive Committee approximately two and a half hours ago.”

  “During a meeting? Hell, that sounds odd.”

  “It is.”

  Gordan frowned. “But… how did it happen?”.

  “Well, that is the strangest part of the story. The Committee was in discussion when suddenly the lights went out. By the time they came back on, Philemon was dead.”

  “So it must have been somebody who was present in the room. An Executive?”

  Dorothy nodded. “It may be so - we have to find out. The specialists say that Philemon was killed by an injection of a large amount of thiopental sodium - a narcotic mainly used…”

  “… for medical purposes,” Gordan interrupted, “An uncle of mine was a doctor, you know.”

  “I see. Well, death must have come instantly, they explained.”

  “In the meantime, the device used for this deed has also been identified.”

  Gordan shrugged. The voice had came from behind him. When he turned around, he saw Calvin standing motionless in his robot-niche.

  “Calvin!”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Ah, nothing. Just continue. And come on over here, for goodness’ sake!” He gestured the robot to join them.

  Calvin maneuvered slowly towards the desk. While doing so, he continued: “As I just mentioned, we have been able to define the instrument used: a syringe, a model commonly used in the medical centers on this planet. Unfortunately, during our examinations we have not been able to implicate any suspects. I was at the scene of the crime seventeen minutes after the incident was reported to the police, but I regret to inform you that not a single piece of evidence concerning the murderer could be found.”

  “Humph!”

  Dorothy interrupted the robot’s explanation. “I have not been to the meeting room yet. But again, since the only ones present at the time of the murder were the other seven Executives…”

  “… besides the malfunctioning robot, Madam,” Calvin added before Dorothy could finish her sentence.

  “A malfunctioning robot?” Gordan asked. Another peculiarity.

  “Correct, sir. Present at the scene of crime was service robot AX 35-1Z. When I addressed him to recall his memory of the incident, he was not in operational mode. As the Executives explained, he had been in this condition before: not responding to the orders given.”

  “That robot is now in the Institute of Technological Intelligence for closer examination,” Dorothy said.

  “My colleagues have not been able to detect any obvious reason for his defect, sir, aside from being induced by the murder,” Calvin explained.

  Gordan thought he saw a short expression of annoyance in Dorothy’s eyes when Calvin interrupted her (he had done so repeatedly), but then waived the idea aside.

  “So far, so good. What about the lights? Why did they go out?” Gordan asked, “Has somebody checked up on that?”

  “Sure,” Dorothy answered. She took a short glance at Calvin, but this time the robot remained silent. “As detected, it only occurred in the meeting room. Nobody else in the building reported any kind of power failure. As for why the room darkened, or why it only happened in the meeting room, we are not yet certain. But our team is still investigating as we speak.”

  “So, we have a corpse, a weapon, and seven possible perpetrators,” Gordan summarized.

  “Correct. And since this is a highly political matter, we should be extremely careful. Nothing of this should leak until we know exactly what happened. Therefore, I advised our press department to announce that Executive Philemon died from a heart attack.”

  Gordan did not find a suitable remark and looked around indecisively. “I guess we should have a look at this meeting room.”

  “In fact, we were just waiting for you to ask that,” Dorothy said.

  “And the other Executives - are they being observed?”

  “Every one of them has his or her own observation team, and all seem to be cooperating with our efforts.”

  “Perfect. Good work. Let’s go.”

  Databank-Chapter Ten

  THIOPENTAL SODIUM (STANDARD GALACTIC, N.) - A COMMON NAME FOR THE SODIUM SALT OF 5-ETHYL-5-(1-METHYLBUTYL)-2-THIOBARBITURACID, C11H17N2NAO2S , MOLECULAR WEIGHT 264.33, ALSO KNOWN AS THIOMEBUMALUM AND THIOPENTONE. IT IS A YELLOW-WHITE, HYGROSCOPIC POWDER WITH AN UNPLEASANT GARLIC-LIKE ODOR. SOLUBLE IN WATER AND ALCOHOL, INSOLUBLE IN ETHANE, BENZENE AND LIGROIN; THE SOLUTION DISSOLVES WHILE STANDING.

  USAGE: MEDICAL AND VETERINARIAN-MEDICAL, AS A SHORT-TERM NARCOTIC. IS SUPPOSED TO HAVE POSITIVE EFFECTS ON PSYCHOSES AND HAS BEEN USED IN PSYCHIATRY TO RETRIEVE REPRESSED COMPLEXES FROM THE SUBCONSCIOUS OF PATIENTS. THEREFORE, IT HAS ALSO BEEN MISUSED FOR RETRIEVING CONFESSIONS.

  PHARMACOLOGY: THIOPENTAL SODIUM IS AN INJECTION NARCOTIC THAT DIFFUSES VERY QUICKLY INTO THE BRAIN SINCE IT IS MOSTLY LIPOPHIL. A FEW SECONDS AFTER INJECTION, THE PATIENT LOSES CONSCIOUSNESS. IN CONTRAST TO OTHER BARBITURATES, IT HAS A RELATIVELY LOW THERAPEUTICAL SPECTRUM, I.E. IT IS EASY TO OVERDOSE.

  DOSAGE: THERAPEUTICAL, I.E. NARCOTIC DOSAGE IS 2-8 MG PER KG BODYWEIGHT. LETHAL DOSAGE IS ONLY 5-8 TIMES ABOVE THE NARCOTIC ONE. THUS, A DOSAGE OF 100 MG PER KG BODYWEIGHT IS DEADLY. AFTER 5-10 SECONDS OF UNCONSCIOUSNESS, DEATH COMES, DEPENDING ON DOSAGE, BETWEEN 30 MINUTES AND 4 HOURS DUE TO A TOTAL PARALYSIS OF THE BREATHING CENTER. ALSO, HEARTBEAT DROPS STRONGLY WITH OVERDOSES (NEGATIVE INOTROPE EFFECT).

  SINCE THE SUBSTANCE IN LARGER AMOUNTS CAN BE EXTREMELY HARMFUL, PROFESSIONAL CARE AND EXPERT HANDLING IS MANDATORY.

  - ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

  Chapter Ten

  ALTHOUGH CALVIN HAD already been at the scene of crime, Gordan ordered him to join their examination of the meeting room. “Maybe he could be of help,” Gordan reasoned aloud. He could hear Dorothy’s disapproving grumble, but he preferred to show no reaction. Still, he was taken by surprise. Being a Spacer, he was used to the helpful attendance of robots in investigations. He reminded himself that Settlers did not use robots and usually fled from their presence. He looked at Dorothy, who was gazing out of the window. This subject would definitely require some closer attention.


  “Say, do you know anything about the meeting room?” he asked, “Maybe from an earlier occasion?”

  Dorothy turned around. “No, although I’ve been to the parliament building before. They have a museum there, you know.” She shook her head. “But the official rooms of the government are heavily secured. If not for ‘business,’ they would not even us let in.”

  “Does that mean it wouldn’t have been easy for someone else to sneak into the meeting room?”

  “Simply impossible, I would say. There are intricate security systems and numerous guards around. The murderer must have had the right to get in there.”

  “That narrows the list of suspects. What about the act itself? Was the syringe shot at Philemon from a distance?”

  “There is absolutely no sign of that, sir,” Calvin answered, “From the angle and point of entry of the syringe, we can deduct that it was used by hand.”

  “Okay. Are robots part of the security system, as well?” Gordan asked.

  “Yes, there are several robots, sir.”

  “Then I agree with your reasoning, Dorothy. A robot would not have let somebody in who did not belong there. The first two Laws would guarantee that. So the murderer must be one of the Executives.” Gordan took a deep breath before continuing. “But why did he - or she - choose that location? Because of these security features, the suspicion quite naturally falls on the remaining Executives. A murder anywhere else would have been less suspicious. Anywhere!”

  “Maybe the murderer feels sure for some reason that he will not be accused,” Dorothy remarked.

  “Well, maybe…”

  The hoo-cap stopped right at the entrance. Together they walked inside, passing through the immense portal. Gordan was still thinking about Dorothy’s last remark, The murderer feels sure that he will not be accused. Yes, that had to be it. The murderer had to be very sure about it. Or was this explanation too simple? Was there anything they had not thought of? Maybe if…