Asimov’s Future History Volume 19

by Isaac Asimov

  “Eventually, then, Earth sent out a new group of Settlers, among whom robots were forbidden. Of the new worlds, Comporellon was among the first. Our own patriots insist it was the first, but there is no evidence of that that a Skeptic can accept. The first group of Settlers died out, and-”

  Trevize said, “Why did the first set die out, Dr. Deniador?”

  “Why? Usually they are imagined by our romantics as having been punished for their crimes by He Who Punishes, though no one bothers to say why He waited so long. But one doesn’t have to resort to fairy tales. It is easy to argue that a society that depends totally on robots becomes soft and decadent, dwindling and dying out of sheer boredom or, more subtly, by losing the will to live.

  “The second wave of Settlers, without robots, lived on and took over the entire Galaxy, but Earth grew radioactive and slowly dropped out of sight. The reason usually given for this is that there were robots on Earth, too, since the first wave had encouraged that.”

  Bliss, who had listened to the account with some visible impatience, said, “Well, Dr. Deniador, radioactivity or not, and however many waves of settlers there might have been, the crucial question is a simple one. Exactly where is Earth? What are its co-ordinates?”

  Deniador said, “The answer to that question is: I don’t know.-But come, it is time for lunch. I can have one brought in, and we can discuss Earth over it for as long as you want.”

  “You don’t know?” said Trevize, the sound of his voice rising in pitch and intensity.

  “Actually, as far as I know, no one knows.”

  “But that is impossible.”

  “Councilman,” said Deniador, with a soft sigh, “if you wish to call the truth impossible, that is your privilege, but it will get you nowhere.”

  7. Leaving Comporellon

  26.

  LUNCHEON CONSISTED OF a heap of soft, crusty balls that came in different shades and that contained a variety of fillings.

  Deniador picked up a small object which unfolded into a pair of thin, transparent gloves, and put them on. His guests followed suit.

  Bliss said, “What is inside these objects, please?”

  Deniador said, “The pink ones are filled with spicy chopped fish, a great Comporellian delicacy. These yellow ones contain a cheese filling that is very mild. The green ones contain a vegetable mixture. Do eat them while they are a quite warm. Later we will have hot almond pie and the usual beverages. I might recommend the hot cider. In a cold climate, we have a tendency to heat our foods, even desserts.”

  “You do yourself well,” said Pelorat.

  “Not really,” said Deniador. “I’m being hospitable to guests. For myself, I get along on very little. I don’t have much body mass to support, as you have probably noticed.” ‘

  Trevize bit into one of the pink ones and found it very fishy indeed, with all overlay of spices that was pleasant to the taste but which, he thought, along with the fish itself, would remain with him for the rest of the day and, perhaps, into the night.

  When he withdrew the object with the bite taken out of it, he found that the crust had closed in over the contents. There was no squirt, no leakage, and, for a moment, he wondered at the purpose of the gloves. These seemed no chance of getting his hands moist and sticky if he didn’t use them, so he decided it was a matter of hygiene. The gloves substituted for a washing of the hands if that were inconvenient and custom, probably, now dictated their use even if the hands were washed. (Lizalor hadn’t used gloves when he had eaten with her the day before.-Perhaps that was because she was a mountain woman.)

  He said, “Would it be unmannerly to talk business over lunch?”

  “By Comporellian standards, Councilman, it would be, but you are my guests, and we will go by your standards. If you wish to speak seriously, and do not think-or care-that that might diminish your pleasure in the food, please do so, and I will join you.”

  Trevize said, “Thank you. Minister Lizalor implied-no, she stated quite bluntly-that Skeptics were unpopular on this world. Is that so?”

  Deniador’s good humor seemed to intensify. “Certainly. How hurt we’d be if we weren’t. Comporellon, you see, is a frustrated world. Without any knowledge of the details, there is the general mythic belief, that once, many millennia ago, when the inhabited Galaxy was small, Comporellon was the leading world. We never forget that, and the fact that in known history we have not been leaders irks us, fills us-the population in general, that is-with a feeling of injustice.

  “Yet what can we do? The government was forced to be a loyal vassal of the Emperor once, and is a loyal Associate of the Foundation now. And the more we are made aware of our subordinate position, the stronger the belief in the great, mysterious days of the past become.

  “What, then, can Comporellon do? They could never defy the Empire in older times and they can’t openly defy the Foundation now. They take refuge, therefore, in attacking and hating us, since we don’t believe the legends and laugh at the superstitions.

  “Nevertheless, we are safe from the grosser effects of persecution. We control the technology, and we fill the faculties of the Universities. Some of us, who are particularly outspoken, have difficulty in teaching classes openly. I have that difficulty, for instance, though I have my students and hold meetings quietly off-campus. Nevertheless, if we were really driven out of public life, the technology would fail and the Universities would lose accreditation with the Galaxy generally. Presumably, such is the folly of human beings, the prospects of intellectual suicide might not stop them from indulging their hatred, but the Foundation supports us. Therefore, we are constantly scolded and sneered at and denounced-and never touched.”

  Trevize said, “Is it popular opposition that keeps you from telling us where Earth is? Do you fear that, despite everything, the anti-Skeptic feeling might turn ugly if you go too far?”

  Deniador shook his head. “No. Earth’s location is unknown. I am not hiding anything from you out of fear-or for any other reason.”

  “But look,” said Trevize urgently. “There are a limited number of planets in this sector of the Galaxy that possess the physical characteristics associated with habitability, and almost all of them must be not only inhabitable, but inhabited, and therefore well known to you. How difficult would it be to explore the sector for a planet that would be habitable were it not for the fact that it was radioactive? Besides that, you would look for such a planet with a large, satellite in attendance. Between radioactivity and a large satellite, Earth would be absolutely unmistakable and could not be missed even with only a casual search. It might take some time but that would be the only difficulty.”

  Deniador said, “The Skeptic’s view is, of course, that Earth’s radioactivity and its large satellite are both simply legends. If we look for them, we look for sparrow-milk and rabbit-feathers.”

  “Perhaps, but that shouldn’t stop Comporellon from at least taking on the search. If they find a radioactive world of the proper size for habitability, with a large satellite, what an appearance of credibility it would lend to Comporellian legendry in general.”

  Deniador laughed. “It may be that Comporellon doesn’t search for that very reason. If we fail, or if we find an Earth obviously different from the legends, the reverse would take place. Comporellian legendry in general would be blasted and made into a laughingstock. Comporellon wouldn’t risk that.”

  Trevize paused, then went on, very earnestly, “Besides, even if we discount those two uniquities-if there is such a word in Galactic-of radioactivity and a large satellite, there is a third that, by definition, must exist, without any reference to legends. Earth must have upon it either a flourishing life of incredible diversity, or the remnants of one, or, at the very least, the fossil record of such a one.”

  Deniador said, “Councilman, while Comporellon has sent out no organized search party for Earth, we do have occasion to travel through space, and we occasionally have reports from ships that have strayed from their intended
routes for one reason or another. Jumps are not always perfect, as perhaps you know. Nevertheless, there have been no reports of any planets with properties resembling those of the legendary Earth, or any planet that is bursting with life. Nor is any ship likely to land on what seems an uninhabited planet in order that the crew might go fossil-hunting. If, then, in thousands of years nothing of the sort has been reported, I am perfectly willing to believe that locating Earth is impossible, because Earth is not there to be located.”

  Trevize said, in frustration, “But Earth must be somewhere. Somewhere there is a planet on which humanity and all the familiar forms of life associated with humanity evolved. If Earth is not in this section of the Galaxy, it must be elsewhere.”

  “Perhaps,” said Deniador cold-bloodedly, “but in all this time, it hasn’t turned up anywhere.”

  “People haven’t really looked for it.”

  “Well, apparently you are. I wish you luck, but I would never bet on your success.”

  Trevize said, “Have there been attempts to determine the possible position of Earth by indirect means, by some means other than a direct search?”

  “Yes,” said two voices at once. Deniador, who was the owner of one of the voices, said to Pelorat, “Are you thinking of Yariff’s project?”

  “I am,” said Pelorat.

  “Then would you explain it to the Councilman? I think he would more readily believe you than me.”

  Pelorat said, “You see, Golan, in the last days of the Empire, there was a time when the Search for Origins, as they called it, was a popular pastime, perhaps to get away from the unpleasantness of the surrounding reality. The Empire was in a process of disintegration at that time, you know.

  “It occurred to a Livian historian, Humbal Yariff, that whatever the planet of origin, it would have settled worlds near itself sooner than it would settle planets farther away. In general, the farther a world from the point of origin the later it would have been settled.

  “Suppose, then, one recorded the date of settlement of all habitable planets in the Galaxy, and made networks of all that were a given number of Millennia old. There could be a network drawn through all planets ten thousand years old; another through those twelve thousand years old, still another through those fifteen thousand years old. Each network would, in theory, be roughly spherical and they should be roughly concentric. The older networks would form spheres smaller in radius than the younger ones, and if one worked out all the centers they should fall within a comparatively small volume of space that would include the planet of origin-Earth.”

  Pelorat’s face was very earnest as he kept drawing spherical surfaces with his cupped hands. “Do you see my point, Golan?”

  Trevize nodded. “Yes. But I take it that it didn’t work.”

  “Theoretically, it should have, old fellow. One trouble was that times of origin were totally inaccurate. Every world exaggerated its own age to one degree or another and there was no easy way of determining age independently of legend.”

  Bliss said, “Carbon-14 decay in ancient timber.”

  “Certainly, dear,” said Pelorat, “but you would have had to get co-operation from the worlds in question, and that was never given. No world wanted its own exaggerated claim of age to be destroyed and the Empire was then in no position to override local objections in a matter so unimportant. It had other things on its mind.

  “All that Yariff could do was to make use of worlds that were only two thousand years old at most, and whose founding had been meticulously recorded under reliable circumstances. There were few of those, and while they were distributed in roughly spherical symmetry, the center was relatively close to Trantor, the Imperial capital, because that was where the colonizing expeditions had originated for those relatively few worlds.

  “That, of course, was another problem. Earth was not the only point of origin of settlement for other worlds. As time went on, the older worlds sent out settlement expeditions of their own, and at the time of the height of Empire, Trantor was a rather copious source of those. Yariff was, rather unfairly, laughed at and ridiculed and his professional reputation was destroyed.”

  Trevize said, “I get the story, Janov.-Dr. Deniador, is there then nothing at all you could give me that represents the faintest possibility of hope? Is there any other world where it is conceivable there may be some information concerning Earth?”

  Deniador sank into doubtful thought for a while. “We-e-ell,” he said at last, drawing out the word hesitantly, “as a Skeptic I must tell you that I’m not sure that Earth exists, or has ever existed. However-” He fell silent again.

  Finally, Bliss said, “I think you’ve thought of something that might be important, Doctor.”

  “Important? I doubt it,” said Deniador faintly. “Perhaps amusing, however. Earth is not the only planet whose position is a mystery. There are the worlds of the first group of Settlers; the Spacers, as they are called in our legends. Some call the planets they inhabited the ‘Spacer worlds’; others call them the ‘Forbidden Worlds.’ The latter name is now the usual one.

  “In their pride and prime, the legend goes, the Spacers had lifetimes stretching out for centuries, and refused to allow our own short-lived ancestors to land on their worlds. After we had defeated them, the situation was reversed. We scorned to deal with them and left them to themselves, forbidding our own ships and Traders to deal with them. Hence those planets became the Forbidden Worlds. We were certain, so the legend states, that He Who Punishes would destroy them without our intervention, and, apparently, He did. At least, no Spacer has appeared in the Galaxy to our knowledge, in many millennia.”

  “Do you think that the Spacers would know about Earth?” said Trevize.

  “Conceivably, since their worlds were older than any of ours. That is, if any Spacers exist, which is extremely unlikely.”

  “Even if they don’t exist, their worlds do and may contain records.”

  “If you can find the worlds.”

  Trevize looked exasperated. “Do you mean to say that the key to Earth, the location of which is unknown, may be found on Spacer worlds, the location of which is also unknown?”

  Deniador shrugged. “We have had no dealings with them for twenty thousand years. No thought of them. They, too, like Earth, have receded into the mists.”

  “How many worlds did the Spacers live on?”

  “The legends speak of fifty such worlds-a suspiciously round number. There were probably far fewer.”

  “And you don’t know the location of a single one of the fifty?”

  “Well, now, I wonder-”

  “What do you wonder?”

  Deniador said, “Since primeval history is my hobby, as it is Dr. Pelorat’s, I have occasionally explored old documents in search of anything that might refer to early time; something more than legends. Last year, I came upon the records of an old ship, records that were almost indecipherable. It dated back to the very old days when our world was not yet known as Comporellon. The name ‘Baleyworld’ was used, which, it seems to me, may be an even earlier form of the ‘Benbally world’ of our legends.”

  Pelorat said, excitedly, “Have you published?”

  “No,” said Deniador. “I do not wish to dive until I am sure there is water in the swimming pool, as the old saying has it. You see, the record says that the captain of the ship had visited a Spacer world and taken off with him a Spacer woman.”

  Bliss said, “But you said that the Spacers did not allow visitors.”

  “Exactly, and that is the reason I don’t publish the material. It sounds incredible. There are vague tales that could be interpreted as referring to the Spacers and to their conflict with the Settlers-our own ancestors.-Such tales exist not only on Comporellon but on many worlds in many variations, but all are in absolute accord in one respect. The two groups, Spacers and Settlers, did not mingle. There was no social contact, let alone sexual contact, and yet apparently the Settler captain and the Spacer woman were held tog
ether by bonds of love. This is so incredible that I see no chance of the story being accepted as anything but, at best, a piece of romantic historical fiction.”

  Trevize looked disappointed. “Is that all?”

  “No, Councilman, there is one more matter. I came across some figures in what was left of the log of the ship that might-or might not-represent spatial co-ordinates. If they were-and I repeat, since my Skeptic’s honor compels me to, that they might not be-then internal evidence made me conclude they were the spatial co-ordinates of three of the Spacer worlds. One of them might be the Spacer world where the captain landed and from which he withdrew his Spacer love.”

  Trevize said, “Might it not be that even if the tale is fiction, the coordinates are real?”

  “It might be,” said Deniador. “I will give you the figures, and you are free to use them, but you might get nowhere.-And yet I have an amusing notion.” His quick smile made its appearance.

  “What is that?” said Trevize.

  “What if one of those sets of co-ordinates represented Earth?”

  27.

  COMPORELLON’S SUN, DISTINCTLY orange, was larger in appearance than the sun of Terminus, but it was low in the sky and gave out little heat. The wind, fortunately light, touched Trevize’s cheek with icy fingers.

  He shivered inside the electrified coat he had been given by Mitza Lizalor, who now stood next to him. He said, “It must warm up sometime, Mitza.”

  She glanced up at the sun briefly, and stood there in the emptiness of the spaceport, showing no signs of discomfort-tall, large, wearing a lighter coat than Trevize had on, and if not impervious to the cold, at least scornful of it.

  She said, “We have a beautiful summer. It is not a long one but our food crops are adapted to it. The strains are carefully chosen so that they grow quickly in the sun and do not frostbite easily. Our domestic animals are well furred, and Comporellian wool is the best in the Galaxy by general admission. Then, too, we have farm settlements in orbit about Comporellon that grow ‘tropical fruit. We actually export canned pineapples of superior flavor. Most people who know us as a cold world don’t know that.”