Asimov’s Future History Volume 4

by Isaac Asimov

  They sat there together quietly. The server cleared the table and left the room. Daneel and Giskard were elsewhere (presumably, they were guarding the house). Baley and Fastolfe were at last alone in a robot-free room.

  Finally, Fastolfe said, “I don’t know what I ought to tell you, but let me go back some decades. I have two daughters. Perhaps you know that. They are by two different mothers–”

  “Would you rather have had sons, Dr. Fastolfe?”

  Fastolfe looked genuinely surprised. “No. Not at all. The mother of my second daughter wanted a son, I believe, but I wouldn’t give my consent to artificial insemination with selected sperm–not even with my own sperm–but insisted on the natural throw of the genetic dice. Before you ask why, it is because I prefer a certain operation of chance in life and because I think, on the whole, I wanted a chance to have a daughter. I would have accepted a son, you understand, but I didn’t want to abandon the chance of a daughter. I approve of daughters, somehow. Well, my second proved a daughter and that may have been one of the reasons that the mother dissolved the marriage soon after the birth. On the other hand, a sizable percentage of marriages are dissolved after a birth in any case, so perhaps I needn’t look for special reasons.”

  “She took the child with her, I take it,”

  Fastolfe bent a puzzled glance at Baley. “Why should she do that?–But I forget. You’re from Earth. No, of course not. The child would have been brought up in a nursery, where she could be properly cared for, of course. Actually, though”–he wrinkled his nose as though in sudden embarrassment over a peculiar memory–” she wasn’t put there. I decided to bring her up myself. It was legal to do so but very unusual. I was quite young, of course, not yet having attained the century mark, but already I had made my mark in robotics.”

  “Did you manage?”

  “You mean to bring her up successfully? Oh yes. I grew quite fond of her. I named her Vasilia. It was my mother’s name, you see.” He chuckled reminiscently. “I get these odd streaks of sentiment–like my affection for my robots. I never met my mother, of course, but her name was on my charts. And she’s still alive, as far as I know, so I could see her–but I think there’s something queasy about meeting someone in whose womb you once were.–Where was I?”

  “You named your daughter Vasilia.”

  “Yes–and I did bring her up and actually grew fond of her. Very fond of her. I could see where the attraction lay in doing something like that, but, of course, I was an embarrassment to my friends and I had to keep her out of their way when there was contact to be made, either social or professional. I remember once–” He paused.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s something I haven’t thought of for decades. She came running out, weeping for some reason, and threw herself into my arms when Dr. Sarton was with me, discussing one of the very earliest design programs for humaniform robots. She was only seven years old, I think and, of course, I hugged her, and kissed her, and ignored the business at hand, which was quite unforgivable of me. Sarton left, coughing and choking–and most indignant. It was a full week before I could renew contact with him and resume deliberation. Children shouldn’t have that effect on people, I suppose, but there are so few children and they are so rarely encountered.”

  “And your daughter–Vasilia–was fond of you?”

  “Oh yes–at least, until–She was very fond of me. I saw to her schooling and made sure her mind was allowed to expand to the fullest.”

  “You said she was fond of you until–something. You did not finish the sentence. There came a time, then, when she was no longer fond of you. When was that?”

  “She wanted to have her own establishment once she grew old enough. It was only natural.”

  “And you did not want it?”

  “What do you mean I did not want it? Of course, I wanted it. You keep assuming I’m a monster, Mr. Baley.”

  “Am I to assume, instead, that once she reached the age when she was to have her own establishment, she no longer felt the same affection for you that she naturally had when she was actively your daughter, living in your establishment as a dependent?”

  “Not quite that simple. In fact, it was rather complicated. You see–” Fastolfe seemed embarrassed. “I refused her when she offered herself to me.”

  “She offered herself to you?” said Baley, horrified.

  “That part was only natural,” said Fastolfe indifferently. “She knew me best. I had instructed her in sex, encouraged her experimentation, taken her to the Games of Eros, done my best for her. It was something to be expected and I was foolish for not expecting it and letting myself be caught.”

  “But incest?”

  Fastolfe said, “Incest? Oh yes, an Earthly term. On Aurora, there’s no such thing, Mr. Baley. Very few Aurorans know their immediate family. Naturally, if marriage is in question and children are applied for, there is a genealogical search, but what has that to do with social sex? No no, the unnatural thing is that I refused my own daughter.” He reddened–his large ears most of all.

  “I should hope so,” muttered Baley.

  “I had no decent reasons for it, either–at least none that I could explain to Vasilia. It was criminal of me not to foresee the matter and prepare a foundation for a rational rejection Of one so young and inexperienced, if that were necessary, that would not wound her and subject her to a fearful humiliation. I am really unbearably ashamed that I took the unusual responsibility of bringing up a child, only to subject her to such an unpalatable experience. It seemed to me that we could continue our relationship as father and daughter–as friend and friend–but she did not give up. Whenever I rejected her, no matter how affectionately I tried to do so, matters grew worse between us.”

  “Until finally–”

  “Finally, she wanted her own establishment. I opposed it at first, not because I didn’t want her to have one, but because I wanted to reestablish our loving relationship before she left. Nothing I did helped. It was, perhaps, the most trying time of my life. Eventually, she simply–and rather violently–insisted on leaving and I could hold out no longer. She was a professional roboticist by then–I am grateful that she didn’t abandon the profession out of distaste for me–and she was. able to found an establishment without any help from me. She did so, in fact, and since then there has been little contact between us.”

  Baley said, “It might be, Dr. Fastolfe, that, since she did not abandon robotics, she does not feel wholly estranged.”

  “It is what she does best and is most interested in. It has nothing to do with me. I know that, for to begin with, I thought as you did and I made friendly overtures, but they were not received.”

  “Do you miss her, Dr. Fastolfe?”

  “Of course I miss her, Mr. Baley.–That is an example of the mistake of bringing up a child. You give into an irrational impulse–an atavistic desire–and it leads to inspiring the child with the strongest possible feeling of love and then subject yourself to the possibility of having to refuse that same child’s first offer of herself and scarring her emotionally for life. And, to add to that, you subject yourself to this thoroughly irrational feeling of regret-of-absence. It’s something I never felt before and have never felt since. She and I have both suffered needlessly and the fault is entirely mine.”

  Fastolfe fell into a kind of rumination and Baley said gently, “And what has all this to do with Gladia?”

  Fastolfe started. “Oh! I had forgotten. Well, it’s rather simple. Everything I’ve said about Gladia is true. I liked her. I sympathized with her. I admired her talent. But, in addition, she resembles Vasilia. I noticed the similarity when I saw the first hyperwave account of her arrival from Solaria. It was quite startling and it made me take an interest.” He sighed. “When I realized that she, like Vasilia, had been sex-scarred, it was more than I could endure. I arranged to have her established near me, as you see. I have been her friend and done my best to cushion the difficulties of adapting to a strange world.�
��

  “She is a daughter-substitute, then.”

  “After a fashion, yes, I suppose you could call it that, Mr. Baley.–And you have no idea how glad I am she never took it~into her head to offer herself to me. To have rejected her would have been to relive my rejection of Vasilia. To have accepted her out of an inability to repeat the rejection would have embittered my life, for then I would have felt that I was doing for this stranger–this faint reflection of my daughter–what I would not do for my daughter herself. Either way–But, never mind, you can see now why I hesitated to answer you at first. Somehow, thinking about it led my mind back to this tragedy in my life.”

  “And your other daughter?”

  “Lumen?” said Fastolfe indifferently. “I never had any contact with her, though I hear of her from time to time.”

  “She’s running for political office, I understand.”

  “A local one. On the Globalist ticket.”

  “What is that?”

  “The Globalists? They favor Aurora alone–just our own globe, you see. Aurorans are to take the lead in settling the Galaxy. Others are to be barred, as far as possible, particularly Earthmen. ‘Enlightened self-interest’ they call it.”

  “This is not your view, of course.”

  “Of course not. I am heading the Humanist party, which believes that all human beings have a right to share in the Galaxy. When I refer to ‘my enemies,’ I mean the Globalists.”

  “Lumen, then, is one of your enemies.”

  “Vasilia is one, also. She is, indeed, a member of the Robotics Institute of Aurora–the RIA–that was founded a few years ago and which is run by roboticists who view me ‘as a demon to be defeated at all costs. As far as I know, however, my various ex-wives are apolitical, perhaps even Humanist.” He smiled wryly and said, “Well, Mr. Baley, have you asked all the questions you wanted to ask?”

  Baley’s hands aimlessly searched for pockets in his smooth, loose Auroran breeches–something he had been doing periodically since he had begun wearing them on the ship–and found none. He compromised, as he sometimes did, by folding his arms across his chest.

  He said, “Actually, Dr. Fastolfe. I’m not at all sure you have yet answered The first question. It seems to me that you never tire of evading that. Why did you give Jander to Gladia? Let’s get all of it into the open, so that we may be able to see light in what now seems darkness.”

  29.

  FASTOLFE REDDENED AGAIN. It might have been anger this time, but he continued to speak softly.

  He said, “Do not bully me, Mr. Baley. I have given you your answer. I was sorry for Gladia and I thought Jander would be company for her. I have spoken more frankly to you than I would to anyone else, partly because of the position I am in and partly because you are not an Auroran. In return, I demand a reasonable respect.”

  Baley bit his lower lip. He was not on Earth. He had no official authority behind him and he had more at stake than his professional pride.

  He said, “I apologize, Dr. Fastolfe, if I have hurt your feelings. I do not mean to imply you are being untruthful or uncooperative. Nevertheless, I cannot operate without the whole truth. Let me suggest the possible answer I am looking for and you can then tell me if I am correct, or nearly correct, or totally wrong. Can it be that you have given Jander to Gladia, in order that he might serve as a focus for her sexual drive and so that she might not have occasion to offer herself to you? Perhaps that was not your conscious reason, but think about it now. Is it possible that such a feeling contributed to the gift?”

  Fastolfe’s hand picked up a light and transparent ornament that had been resting on the dining room table. It turned it over and over, over and over. Except for that motion, Fastolfe seemed frozen. Finally, he said, “That might be so, Mr. Baley. Certainly, after I loaned her Jander–it was never an outright gift, incidentally–I was less concerned about her offering herself to me.”

  “Do you know whether Gladia made use of Jander for sexual purposes?”

  “Did you ask Gladia if she made use of him, Mr. Baley?”

  “That has nothing to do with my question. Do you know? Did you witness any overt sexual actions between them? Did any of your robots inform you of such? Did she herself tell you?”

  “The answer to all those questions, Mr. Baley, is no. If I stop to think about it, there is nothing particularly unusual about the use of robots for sexual purposes by either men or women. Ordinary robots are not particularly adapted to it, but human beings are ingenious in this respect. As for Jander, he is adapted to it because he is as humaniform as we could make him–”

  “So that he might take part in sex.”

  “No, that was never in our minds. It was the abstract problem of building a totally humaniform robot that exercised the late Dr. Sarton and myself.”

  “But such humaniform robots are ideally designed for sex, are they not?”

  “I suppose they are and, now that I allow myself to think of it–and I admit I may have had it hidden in my mind from the start–Gladia might well have used Jander so. If she did, I hope the process gave her pleasure. I would consider my loan to her a good deed, if it had.”

  “Could it have been more of a good deed than you counted upon?”

  “In what way?”

  “What would you say if I told you that Gladia and Jander were wife and husband?”

  Fastolfe’s hand, still holding the ornament, closed convulsively upon it, held it tightly for a moment, then let it drop. “What? That’s ridiculous. It is legally impossible. There is no question of children, so there can’t conceivably be an application for any. Without the intention of such an application, there can be no marriage.”

  “This is not a matter of legality, Dr. Fastolfe. Gladia is a Solarian, remember, and doesn’t have the Auroran outlook. It is a matter of emotion. Gladia herself told me that she considered Jander to have been her husband. I think she considers herself now his widow and that she has had another sexual trauma–and a very severe one. If, in any way, you knowingly contributed to this event–”

  “By all the stars,” said Fastolfe with unwonted emotion, “I didn’t. Whatever else was in my mind, I never imagined that Gladia could fantasize marriage to a robot, however humaniform he might be. No Auroran could have imagined that.”

  Baley nodded and raised his hand. “I believe you. I don’t think you are actor enough to be drowning me in a faked sincerity. But I had to know. It was, after all, just possible that–”

  “No, it was not. Possible that I foresaw this situation? That I deliberately created this abominable widowhood, for some reason? Never. It was not conceivable, so I did not conceive it. Mr. Baley, whatever I meant in placing Jander in her establishment, I meant well. I did not mean this. Meaning well is a poor defense, I know, but it is all that I have to offer.”

  “Dr. Fastolfe, let us refer to that no more,” said Baley. “What I have now to offer is a possible solution to the mystery.”

  Fastolfe breathed deeply and sat back in his chair. “You hinted as much when you returned from Gladia’s.” He looked at Baley with a hint of savagery in his eyes. “Could you not have told me this ‘key’ you have at the start? Need we have gone through all–this?”

  “I’m sorry, Dr. Fastolfe. The key makes no sense without all–this.”

  “Well, then. Get on with it.”

  “I will. Jander was in a position that you, the greatest robotics theoretician in all the world, did not foresee, by your own admission. He was pleasing Gladia so well that she was deeply in love with him and considered him her husband. What if it turns out that, in pleasing her, he was also displeasing her?”

  “I’m not sure as to your meaning.”

  “Well, see here, Dr. Fastolfe. She was rather secretive about the matter. I gather that on Aurora sexual matters are not something one hides at all costs.”

  “We don’t broadcast it over the hyperwave,” said Fastolfe dryly, “but we don’t make a greater secret of it than we do of
any other strictly personal matter. We generally know who’s been whose latest partner and, if one is dealing with friends, we often get an idea of how good, or how enthusiastic, or how much the reverse one or the other partner–or both–might be. It’s a matter of small talk on occasion.”

  “Yes, but you knew nothing of Gladia’s connection with Jander.”

  “I suspected–”

  “Not the same thing. She told you nothing. You saw nothing. Nor could any robots report anything. She kept it secret even from you, her best friend on Aurora. Clearly, her robots were given careful instructions never to discuss Jander and Jander himself must have been thoroughly instructed to give nothing away.”

  “I suppose that’s a fair conclusion.”

  “Why should she do that, Dr. Fastolfe?”

  “A Solarian sense of privacy about sex?”

  “Isn’t that the same as saying she was ashamed of it?”

  “She had no cause to be, although the matter of considering Jander a husband would have made her a laughingstock.”

  “She might have concealed that portion very easily without concealing everything. Suppose, in her Solarian way, she was ashamed.”

  “Well, then?”

  “No one enjoys being ashamed–and she might have blamed Jander for it, in the rather unreasonable way people have of seeking to attribute to others the blame for unpleasantness that is clearly their own fault.”

  “Yes?”

  “There might have been times when Gladia, who has a short-~fused temper, might have burst into tears, let us say, and upbraided Jander for being the source of her shame and her misery. It might not have lasted long and she might have shifted quickly to apologies and caresses, but would not Jander have clearly gotten the idea that he was actually the source of her shame and her misery?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “And might this not have meant to Jander that if he continued the relationship, he would make her miserable, and that if he ended the relationship, he would make her miserable. Whatever he did, he would be breaking the First Law and, unable to act in any way without such a violation, he could only find refuge in not acting at all–and so went into mental freeze-out.–Do you remember the story you told me earlier today of the legendary mind-reading robot who was driven into stasis by that robotics pioneer?”