by Isaac Asimov
It had been Fastolfe’s intention, at first, to arrive at the Institute without any robot companion. He would have placed himself, without protection and (so to speak) naked, into the midst of what was still the stronghold of the enemy’s camp. It would have been a sign of humility and trust, but it would also have been an indication of complete selfconfidence and Amadiro would have understood that. Fastolfe, entirely alone, would be demonstrating his certainty that Amadiro, with all the resources of the Institute at his command, would not dare to touch his single enemy coming carelessly and defenselessly within reach of his fist.
And yet in the end, Fastolfe, not quite knowing how, chose to have Giskard accompany him.
Amadiro seemed to have lost a little weight since last Fastolfe had seen him, but he was still a formidable specimen; tall and heavyset. He lacked the self-confident smile that had once been his hallmark and when he attempted it at Fastolfe’s entrance, it seemed more like a snarl that faded into a look of somber dissatisfaction.
“Well, Kelden,” said Fastolfe, making free with the other’s familiar name, “we don’t see each other often, despite the fact that we have now been colleagues for four years.”
“Let’s not have any false bonhomie, Fastolfe,” said Amadiro in a clearly annoyed and low-pitched growl, “and address me as Amadiro. We are not colleagues except in name and I make no secret—and never have—of my belief that your foreign policy is suicidal for us.”
Three of Amadiro’s robots, large and gleaming, were present and Fastolfe studied them with raised eyebrows, “You are well protected, Amadiro, against one man of peace together with his single robot.”
“They will not attack you, Fastolfe, as you well know. But why did you bring Giskard? Why not your masterpiece, Daneel?”
“Would it be safe to bring Daneel within your reach, Amadiro?”
“I take it you intend that as humor. I no longer need Daneel. We build our own humaniforms.”
“On the basis of my design.”
“With improvements.”
“And yet you do not use the humaniforms. That is why I have come to see you. I know that my position in the Institute is a name-only thing and that even my presence is unwelcome, let alone my opinions and recommendations. However, I must, as an Institute member, protest your failure to use the humaniforms.”
“How do you wish me to use them?”
“The intention was to have the humaniforms open up new worlds into which Spacers could eventually emigrate, after those worlds had been terraformed and made completely habitable, wasn’t it?”
“But that was something you opposed, Fastolfe, wasn’t it?”
Fastolfe said, “Yes, I did. I wanted Spacers themselves to emigrate to new worlds and to do their own terraforming. That, however, is not happening and, I now see, is not likely to happen. Let us send the humaniforms, then. That would be better than nothing.”
“All our alternatives come to nothing, as long as your views dominate the Council, Fastolfe. Spacers will not travel to rude and unformed worlds; nor, it seems, do they like humaniform robots.”
“You have scarcely given the Spacers a chance to like them. Earthpeople are beginning to settle new planets, even rude and unformed ones. And they do it without robotic help.”
“You know very well the differences between Earthpeople and ourselves. There are eight billion Earthpeople, plus a large number of Settlers.”
“And there are five and a half billion Spacers.”
“Numbers are not the sole difference,” said Amadiro bitterly. “They breed like insects.”
“They do not. Earth’s population has been fairly stable for centuries.”
“The potential is there. If they put all their heart into emigration, they can easily produce one hundred and sixty million new bodies each year and that number will rise as the new worlds fill up.
“We have the biological capability of producing one hundred million new bodies each year.”
“But not the sociological capability. We are long-lived, we do not wish ourselves replaced so quickly.”
“We can send a large portion of the new bodies to other worlds.”
“They won’t go. We value our bodies, which are strong, healthy, and capable of surviving in strength and health for nearly forty decades. Earthmen can place no value on bodies that wear out in less than ten decades and that are riddled with disease and degeneration even over that short period of time. It doesn’t matter to them if they send out millions a year to certain misery and probable death. In fact, even the victims needn’t fear misery and death, for what else do they have on Earth? The Earthpeople who emigrate are fleeing from their pestilential world knowing well that any change can scarcely be for the worse. We, on the other hand, value our well-wrought and comfortable planets and would not lightly give them up.”
Fastolfe sighed and said, “I’ve heard all these arguments so often—May I point out the simple fact, Amadiro, that Aurora was originally a rude and unformed world that had to be terraformed into acceptability and that so was every Spacer world?”
Amadiro said, “And I have heard all your arguments to the point of nausea, but I will not weary of answering them. Aurora may have been primitive when first settled, but Aurora was settled by Earthpeople—and other Spacer worlds, when, not settled by Earthpeople, were settled by Spacers that had not yet outgrown their Earth heritage. The times are no longer suitable for that. What could be done then, cannot be done now.”
Amadiro lifted a corner of his mouth in a snarl and went on, “No, Fastolfe, what your policy has accomplished has been to begin the creation of a Galaxy that will be populated by Earthmen only, while Spacers must wither and decline. You can see it happening now. Your famous trip to Earth, two years ago, was the turning point. Somehow, you betrayed your own people by encouraging those half-humans to begin an expansion. In only two years there are at least some Earthpeople on each of twenty-four worlds and new ones are being added steadily.”
Fastolfe said, “Do not exaggerate. Not one of those Settler worlds is truly fit for human occupation yet and won’t be for some decades. Not all are likely to survive and, as the nearer worlds are occupied, the chances for settling farther worlds diminish so that the initial surge will slow down. I encouraged their expansion because I counted on ours as well. We can still keep up with them if we make the effort and, in healthy competition, we can fill the Galaxy together.”
“No,” said Amadiro. “What you have in mind is that most destructive of all policies, a foolish idealism. The expansion is one-sided and will remain so despite anything you can do. The people of Earth swarm unhindered and they will have to be stopped before they get too strong to stop.”
“How do you propose to do that? We have a treaty of friendship with Earth in which we specifically agree not to stop their expansion into space as long as no planet within twenty light-years of a Spacer world is touched. They have adhered to this scrupulously.”
Amadiro said, “Everyone knows about the treaty. Everyone also knows that no treaty has ever been kept once it begins to work against the national interests of the more powerful signatory. I attach no value to that treaty.”
“I do. It will be held to.”
Amadiro shook his head. “You have touching faith. How will it be held to after you are out of power?”
“I don’t intend to be out of power for a while.”
“As Earth and its Settlers grow stronger, the Spacers will grow fearful and, you will not remain long in power after that.”
Fastolfe said, “And if you tear up the treaty and destroy the Settler worlds and slam the gates shut on Earth, will the Spacers then emigrate and fill the Galaxy?”
“Perhaps not. But if we decide not to, if we decide we are comfortable as we are, what difference will that make?”
“The Galaxy will not, in that case, become a human empire.”
“And if it does not, what then?”
“Then the Spacers will stultify and degener
ate, even if Earth is kept in prison and also stultifies and degenerates.”
“That is just the claptrap your party puts out, Fastolfe. There is no actual evidence that such a thing would happen. And even if it does, that will be our choice. At least we will not see the barbarian short-lifers fall heir to the Galaxy.”
Fastolfe said, “Are you seriously suggesting, Amadiro, that you would be willing to see the Spacer civilization die, provided you can prevent Earth from expanding?”
“I’m not counting on our death, Fastolfe, but if the worst happens, why, yes, to me our own death is a less fearful thing than the triumph of a subhuman disease-riddled set of short-lived beings.”
“From whom we are descended.”
“And with whom we are no longer truly related genetically. Are we worms because a billion years ago, worms were among our ancestors?”
Fastolfe, lips pressed together, rose to go. Amadiro, glowering, made no move to stop him.
14
Daneel had no way of telling, directly, that Giskard was lost in memory. For one thing, Giskard’s expression did not change and for another, he was not lost in memory as humans might be. It took no substantial period of time.
On the other hand, the line of thought that had caused Giskard to think of the past had caused Daneel to think of the same events, of that past as they had long ago been recounted to him by Giskard. Nor was Giskard surprised at that.
Their conversation carried on with no unusual pause, but in a markedly new manner, as though each had thought of the past on behalf of both.
Daneel said, “It might seem, friend Giskard, that since the people of Aurora now recognize that they are weaker than Earth and its many Settler worlds, the crisis that Elijah Baley foresaw has been safely passed.”
“It might seem so, friend Daneel.”
“You labored to bring that about.”
“I did. I kept the Council in Fastolfe’s hand. I did what I could to mold those who, in turn, molded public opinion.
“Yet I am uneasy,” Giskard said, “I have been uneasy through every stage of the process, although I endeavored to do no harm to anyone. I have touched—mentally—not one human being who required anything more than the lightest touch. On Earth, I had merely to lighten the fear of reprisal and chose those, particularly, in which the fear was already light and broke a thread that was, in any case, frayed and on the point of breaking. On Aurora, it was reversed. The policy makers here were reluctant to espouse policies that would lead to an exit from their comfortable world and I merely confirmed that and made the sturdy cord that held them a bit stronger. And doing this has immersed me in a constant—if faint turmoil.”
“Why? You encouraged the expansion of Earth and discouraged the expansion of the Spacers. Surely that is as it should be.”
“As it should be? Do you think, friend Daneel, that an Earthperson counts for more than a Spacer, even though both are human beings?”
“There are differences. Elijah Baley would rather see his own Earthpeople defeated than see the Galaxy uninhabited. Dr. Amadiro would rather see both Earth and Spacers dwindle than see Earth expand. The first looks with hope to the triumph of either, the second is content to see the triumph of neither. Should we not choose the first, friend Giskard?”
“Yes, friend Daneel. So it would seem. And yet how far are you influenced by your feeling of the special worth of your onetime partner, Elijah Baley?”
Daneel said, “I value the memory of Partner Elijah and the people of Earth are his people.”
“I see you do. I have been saying for many decades that you tend to think like a human being, friend Daneel, but I wonder if that is necessarily a compliment. Still, though you tend to think like a human being, you are not a human being and, in the end, you are bound to the Three Laws. You may not harm a human being, whether that human being is an Earthman or a Spacer.”
“There are times, friend Giskard, when one must choose one human being over another. We have been given special orders to protect Lady Gladia. I would be forced, on occasion, to harm a human being in order to protect Lady Gladia and I think that, all things being equal, I would be willing to harm a Spacer just a little in order to protect an Earthperson.”
“So you think. But in the actual event, you would have to be guided by specific circumstances. You will find you cannot generalize,” said Giskard. “And so it is with me. In encouraging Earth and discouraging Aurora, I have made it impossible for Dr. Fastolfe to persuade the Auroran government to sponsor a policy of emigration and to set up two expanding powers in the Galaxy. I could not help but realize that that portion of his labors was brought to nothing. This was bound to fill him with gathering despair and perhaps it hastened his death. I have felt this in his mind and that has been painful. And yet, friend Daneel—”
Giskard paused and Daneel said, “Yes?”
“To have not done as I had done might have greatly lowered Earth’s ability to expand, without greatly improving Aurora’s moves in that direction. Dr. Fastolfe would then have been frustrated—in both ways—Earth and Aurora and would moreover have been ousted from his seat of power by Dr. Amadiro. His sense of frustration would have been greater. It was Dr. Fastolfe, during his lifetime, to whom I owed my greatest loyalty and I chose that course of action which frustrated him less, without measurably harming other individuals I dealt with. If Dr. Fastolfe was continually disturbed by his inability to persuade Aurorans—and Spacers generally—to expand to new worlds, he was at least delighted by the activity of the emigrating Earthpeople.”
“Could you not have encouraged both the people of Earth and of Aurora, friend Giskard, and thus have satisfied Dr. Fastolfe in both respects?”
“That, of course, had occurred to me, friend Daneel. I considered the possibility and decided it would not do. I could encourage Earthpeople to emigrate by means of a trifling change that would do no harm. To have attempted the same for Aurorans would have required a great enough change to do much harm. The First Law prevented that.”
“A pity.”
“True. Think what might have been done if I could have radically altered the mind-set of Dr. Amadiro. Yet how could I have changed his fixed determination to oppose Dr. Fastolfe? It would have been much like trying to force his head to make a one hundred and eighty degree turn. So complete a turnabout of either the head itself or of its emotional content would kill with, I think, equal efficiency.
“The price of my power, friend Daneel,” Giskard went on, “is the greatly increased dilemma into which I am constantly plunged. The First Law of Robotics, which forbids injury to human beings, deals, ordinarily, with the visible physical injuries that we can, all of us, easily see and concerning which we can easily make judgments. I, alone, however, am aware of human emotions and of casts of mind, so that I know of more subtle forms of injury without being able to understand them completely. I am forced on many occasions to act without true certainty and this puts a continuing stress on my circuits.
“And yet I feel I have done well. I have carried the Spacers past the crisis point. Aurora is aware of the gathering strength of the Settlers and will now be forced to avoid conflict. They must recognize it to be too late for retaliation and our promise to Elijah Baley is, in that respect, fulfilled. We have put Earth on the course toward the filling of the Galaxy and the establishment of a Galactic Empire.”
They were, at this point, walking back to Gladia’s house, but now, Daneel stopped and the gentle pressure of his hand on Giskard’s shoulder caused the other to stop as well.
Daneel said, “The picture you draw is attractive. It would make Partner Elijah proud of us if, as you say, we have accomplished that. ‘Robots and Empire,’ Elijah would say and perhaps he would clap me on the shoulder. And yet, as I said, I am uneasy, friend Giskard.”
“Concerning what, friend Daneel?”
“I cannot help but wonder if indeed we have actually passed the crisis that Partner Elijah spoke of so many decades ago. Is it, in actual
fact, too late for Spacer retaliation?”
“Why do you have these doubts, friend Daneel?”
“I have been made doubtful by the behavior of Dr. Mandamus in the course of his conversation with Madam Gladia.”
Giskard’s gaze was fixed on Daneel for a few moments, and in the quiet they could hear leaves rustling in the cool breeze. The clouds were breaking and the sun would make its appearance soon. Their conversation, in its telegraphic fashion, had taken little time and Gladia, they knew, would not yet be wondering at their absence.
Giskard said, “What was there in the conversation that would give you cause for uneasiness?”
Daneel said, “I have had the opportunity, on four separate occasions, to observe Elijah Baley’s handling of a puzzling problem. On each of those four occasions, I have noted the manner in which he managed to work out useful conclusions from limited—and even misleading—information. I have since always tried, within my limitations, to think as he did.”
“It seems to me, friend Daneel, you have done well in this respect. I have said you tend to think like a human being.
“You will have noticed, then, that Dr. Mandamus had two matters he wished to discuss with Madam Gladia. He emphasized that fact himself. One was the matter of his own descent, whether from Elijah Baley or not. The second was the request that Madam Gladia see a Settler and report on the event afterward. Of these, the second might be viewed as a matter that would be important to the Council. The first would be a matter of importance only to himself.”
Giskard said, “Dr. Mandamus presented the matter of his descent as being of importance to Dr. Amadiro as well.”
“Then it would be a matter of personal importance to two people rather than one, friend Giskard. It would still not be a matter of importance to the Council and, therefore, to the planet generally.”
