by Isaac Asimov
But before he could speak further, Amadiro moved to the attack.
“Are you sure you’re not pro-Earth?”
Mandamus looked startled. “I am coming to you with a proposal to destroy Earth.”
“And yet you are a descendant of the Solarian woman in the fifth generation, I understand.”
“Yes, sir, it is on public record. What of that?”
“The Solarian woman is, and has been for a long time, a close associate—friend—protegee—of Fastolfe. I wonder you do not sympathize with his pro-Earth views, therefore.”
“Because of my ancestry?” Mandamus seemed honestly astonished. For a moment, what might have been a flash of annoyance or even anger seemed to tighten his nostrils, but that vanished and he said quietly, “An equally longtime close associate—friend—protegee—of your own is Dr. Vasilia Fastolfe, who is Dr. Fastolfe’s daughter. She is a descendant in the first generation. I wonder she does not sympathize with his views.”
“I have in the past also wondered,” said Amadiro, “but she doesn’t sympathize with them and, in her case, I have ceased wondering.”
“You may cease wondering in my case, too, sir. I am a Spacer and I want to see the Spacers in control of the Galaxy.”
“Very well, then. Go on with the description of your plan.”
Mandamus said, “I will, but—if you don’t mind—from the beginning.
“Dr. Amadiro, astronomers agree that there are millions of Earthlike planets in our Galaxy, planets on which human beings can live after necessary adjustments to the environment but without any need for geological terraforming. Their atmospheres are breathable, an ocean of water is present, the land and climate is suitable, life exists. Indeed, the atmospheres would not contain free oxygen without the presence of ocean plankton at the very least.
“The land is often barren, but once it and the ocean undergo biological terraforming—that is, once they are seeded with Earth life—such life flourishes and the planet can then be settled. Hundreds of such planets have been recorded and studied and about half of them are already occupied by Settlers.
“And yet not one habitable planet of all those which have been discovered to date has the enormous variety and excess of life that Earth has. Not one has anything larger or more complex than a small array of wormlike or insect like invertebrates or, in the plant world, anything more advanced than some fernlike shrubbery. No question of intelligence, of anything even approaching intelligence.”
Amadiro listened to the stiff sentences and thought: He’s speaking by rote. He’s memorized all this.—He stirred and said, “I am not a planetologist, Dr. Mandamus, but I ask you to believe that you are telling me nothing I don’t already know.”
“As I said, Dr. Amadiro, I am starting from the beginning.—Astronomers are increasingly of the belief that we have a fair sample of the habitable planets of the Galaxy and that all—or almost all—are markedly different from Earth. For some reason, Earth is a surprisingly unusual Planet and evolution has proceeded on it at a radically rapid pace and m a radically abnormal manner.”
Amadiro said, “The usual argument is that if there were another intelligent species in the Galaxy that was as advanced as we are, it would have become aware of our expansion by now and have made themselves known to us one way or another.”
Mandamus said, “Yes, sir. In fact, if there were another intelligent species in the Galaxy that was more advanced than we are, we would not have had a chance to expand in the first place. That we are the only species in the Galaxy capable of traveling in hyperspace would seem certain, then. That we are the only species in the Galaxy that is intelligent is perhaps not quite certain, but there is a very good chance that we are.”
Amadiro was now listening with a weary half-smile. The young man was being didactic, like a man stamping out the rhythm of his monomania in a dull beat. It was one of the marks of the crank and the mild hope Amadiro had had that Mandamus might actually have something that would turn the tide of history was beginning to fade.
He said, “You continue to tell me the known, Dr. Mandamus. Everyone knows Earth seems unique and that we are probably the only intelligent species in the Galaxy.”
“But no one seems to ask the simple question: ‘Why?’ The Earthpeople and the Settlers don’t ask it. They accept it. They have a mystic attitude toward Earth and consider it a holy world, so that its unusual nature is taken as a matter of course. As for the Spacers, we don’t ask it. We ignore it. We do our best not to think of Earth at all, since if we do, we are liable to go further and think of ourselves as having descended from Earthpeople.”
Amadiro said, “I see no virtue in the question. We need not seek for complex answers to the ‘Why?’ Random processes play an important role in evolution and, to some extent, in all things. If there are millions of habitable worlds, evolution may proceed on each of them at a different rate. On most, the rate will have some intermediate value; on some the rate will be distinctly slow, on others distinctly fast; on perhaps one it would proceed exceedingly slow and on another exceedingly fast. Earth happens to be the one on which it proceeded exceedingly fast and we are here because of that. Now if we ask ‘Why?’ the natural—and sufficient—answer is ‘Chance.’”
Amadiro waited for the other to betray the crank by exploding in rage at a preeminently logical statement presented in an amused way, that served to shatter his thesis completely. Mandamus, however, merely stared at him for a few moments out of his deep-set eyes and then said quietly, “NO.”
Mandamus let that stand for perhaps two beats and then said, “It takes more than a lucky chance or two to speed evolution a thousand fold. On every planet but Earth, the speed of evolution is closely related to the flux of cosmic radiation in which that planet is bathed. That speed is not the result of chance at all but the result of cosmic radiation producing mutations at a slow rate. On Earth, something produces many more mutations than are produced on other habitable planets and that has nothing to do with cosmic rays, for they do not strike Earth in any remarkable profusion. Perhaps you see a little more clearly, now, why the ‘Why?’ could be important.”
“Well, then, Dr. Mandamus, since I am still listening, with rather more patience than I would have expected myself to possess, answer the question you so insistently raise. Or do you merely have the question and no answer?”
“I have an answer,” said Mandamus, “and it depends upon the fact that Earth is unique in a second way.”
Amadiro said, “Let me anticipate. You are referring to its large satellite. Surely, Dr. Mandamus, you are not advancing this as a discovery of yours.”
“Not at all,” said Mandamus stiffly, “but consider that large satellites seem to be common. Our planetary system has five, Earth’s has seven and so on. All the known large satellites but one, however, circle gas giants. Only Earth’s satellite, the moon, circles a planet not much larger than itself.”
“Dare I use the word ‘chance’ again, Dr. Mandamus?”
“In this case, it may be chance, but the moon remains unique.”
“Even so. What possible connection can the satellite have with Earth’s profusion of life?”
“That may not be obvious and a connection may be unlikely—but it is far more unlikely that two such unusual examples of uniqueness in a single planet can have no connection at all. I have found such a connection.”
“Indeed?” said Amadiro alertly. Now ought to come unmistakable evidence of crackpotism. He looked casually at the time strip on the wall. There really wasn’t much more time he could possibly spend on this, for all that his curiosity continued to be aroused.
“The moon,” said Mandamus, “is slowly receding from Earth, due to its tidal effect on the Earth. Earth’s large tides are a unique consequence of the existence of this large satellite. Earth’s sun produces tides, too, but to only a third of the extent of the moon’s tides—just as our sun produces small tides on Aurora.
“Since the moon recedes becaus
e of its tidal action, it was far closer to Earth during the early history of its planetary system. The closer the moon to the Earth, the higher the tides on Earth. These tides had two important effects on Earth. It flexed the Earth’s crust continually as the Earth rotated and it slowed the Earth’s rotation, both through that flexing and through the friction of the ocean’s water tides on shallow sea bottoms—so that rotational energy was converted to heat.
“The Earth, therefore, has a thinner crust than any other habitable planet we know of and it is the only habitable planet that displays volcanic action and that has a lively system of plate tectonics.”
Amadiro said, “But even all this can have nothing to do with Earth’s profusion of life. I think you must either get to the point, Dr. Mandamus, or leave.”
“Please bear with me, Dr. Amadiro, for just a little while longer. It is important to understand the point once we get to it. I have made a careful computer simulation of the chemical development of Earth’s crust, allowing for the effect of tidal action and plate tectonics, something that no one has ever done before in as meticulous and elaborate a way as I have managed to do—if I may praise myself.”
“Oh, by all means,” murmured Amadiro.
“And it turns out, quite clearly—I will show you all the necessary data at any time you wish—that uranium and thorium collect in Earth’s crust and upper mantle in concentrations of up to a thousand times as high as in any other habitable world. Moreover, they collect unevenly, so that scattered over the Earth are occasional pockets where uranium and thorium are even more concentrated.”
“And, I take it, dangerously high in radioactivity?”
“No, Dr. Amadiro. Uranium and thorium are very weakly radioactive and even where they are relatively concentrated, they are not very concentrated in an absolute sense.—All this, I repeat, is because of the presence of a large moon.”
“I assume, then, that the radioactivity, even if not intense enough to be dangerous to life, does suffice to increase the mutation rate. Is that it, Dr. Mandamus?”
“That is it. There would be more rapid extinctions now and then, but also more rapid development of new species—resulting in an enormous variety and profusion of life-forms. And, eventually, on Earth alone, this would have reached the point of developing an intelligent species and a civilization.”
Amadiro nodded. The young man was not a crank. He might be wrong, but he was not a crank. And he might be right, too—
Amadiro was not a planetologist, so he would have to check books on the subject to see whether Mandamus had perhaps discovered only the already-known, as so many enthusiasts did. There was, however, a more important point he had to check at once.
He said in a soft voice, “You’ve spoken of the possible destruction of Earth. Is there some connection between that and Earth’s unique properties?”
“One can take advantage of unique properties in a unique manner,” said Mandamus just as softly.
“In this particular case—in what way?”
“Before discussing the method, Dr. Amadiro, I must explain that, in one respect, the question as to whether destruction is physically possible depends on you.”
“On me?”
“Yes,” said Mandamus firmly. “On you. Why, otherwise, should I come to you with this long story if not to persuade you that I know what I’m talking about, so that you would be willing to cooperate with me in a manner that will be essential to my success?”
Amadiro drew a long breath. “And if I refused, would anyone else serve your purpose?”
“It might be possible for me to turn to others if you refuse. Do you refuse?”
“Perhaps not, but I am wondering how essential I am to you.”
“The answer is, not quite as essential as I am to you. You must cooperate with me.”
“Must?”
“I would like you to—if you prefer it phrased in that fashion. But if you wish Aurora and the Spacers to triumph, now and forever, over Earth and the Settlers, then you must cooperate with me, whether you like the phrase or not.”
Amadiro said, “Tell me what it is, exactly, that I must do.”
“Begin by telling me if it is not true that the Institute has, in the past, designed and constructed humanoid robots.”
“Yes, we did. Fifty of them all together. That was between fifteen and twenty decades ago.”
“That long ago? And what happened to them?”
“They failed,” said Amadiro indifferently.
Mandamus sat back in his chair with a horrified expression on his face. “They were destroyed?”
Amadiro’s eyebrows shot upward. “Destroyed? No one destroys expensive robots. They are in storage. The power units are removed and a special long-lived microfusion battery is in each to keep the positronic paths minimally alive.”
“Then they can be brought back to full action?”
“I am sure they can.”
Mandamus’s right hand beat out a tightly controlled rhythm against the arm of the chair. He said grimly, “Then we can win!”
12. THE PLAN AND THE DAUGHTER
52
It had been a long time since Amadiro had thought of the humanoid robots. It was a painful thought and he had, with some difficulty, trained himself to keep his mind away from that topic. And now Mandamus had unexpectedly brought it up.
The humanoid robot had been Fastolfe’s great trump card in those long-gone days when Amadiro had been within a millimeter of taking the game, trump card and all. Fastolfe had designed and built two humanoid robots (of which one still existed) and no one else could build any. The entire membership of the Robotics Institute, working together, could not build them.
All that Amadiro had salvaged out of his great defeat had been that trump card. Fastolfe had been forced to make public the nature of the humanoid design.
That meant humanoid robots could be built and were built and—behold—they were not wanted. The Aurorans would not have them in their society.
Amadiro’s mouth twisted in the remnant of remembered chagrin. The tale of the Solarian woman had somehow come to be known—the fact that she had had the use of Jander, one of Fastolfe’s two humanoid robots, and that the use had been sexual. Aurorans had no objection to such a situation in theory. When they stopped to think of it, however, Auroran women simply did not enjoy the thought of having to compete with robot women. Nor did Auroran men wish to compete with robot men.
The Institute had labored mightily to explain that the humanoid robots were not intended for Aurora itself, but were meant to serve as the initial wave of pioneers who would seed and adjust new habitable planets for Aurorans to occupy later, after they had been terraformed.
That, too, was rejected, as suspicion and objection fed on itself. Someone had called the humanoids “the entering wedge.” The expression spread and the Institute was forced to give up.
Stubbornly, Amadiro had insisted on mothballing those which existed for possible future use—a use that had never yet materialized.
Why had there been this objection to the humanoids?
Amadiro felt a faint return of the irritation that had all but poisoned his life those n any decades ago. Fastolfe himself, though reluctant, had agreed to back the project and, to do him justice, had done so, though without quite the eloquence he devoted to those matters to which his heart was truly given.—But it had not helped.
And yet—and yet—if Mandamus now really had some project in mind that would work and would require the robots.
Amadiro had no great fondness for mystical cries of: “It was better so. It was meant to be.” Yet it was only with an effort that he kept himself from thinking this, as the elevator took them down to a spot well below ground level the only place in Aurora that might be similar, in a tiny way, to Earth’s fabled Caves of Steel.
Mandamus stepped out of the elevator at Amadiro’s gesture and found himself in a dim corridor. It was chilly and there was a soft ventilating wind. He shivered slightly. Am
adiro joined him. But a single robot followed each.
“Few people come here,” Amadiro said matter-of-factly.
“How far underground are we?” asked Mandamus.
“About fifteen meters. There are a number of levels. It is on this one that the humanoid robots are stored.”
Amadiro stopped a moment, as though in thought, then turned firmly to the left. “This way!”
“No directing signs?”
“As I said, few people come here. Those who do know where they should go to find what they need.”
As he said that, they came to a door that looked solid and formidable in the dim light. On either side stood a robot. They were not humanoid.
Mandamus regarded them critically and said, “These are simple models.”
“Very simple. You wouldn’t expect us to waste anything elaborate on the task of guarding a door.” Amadiro raised his voice, but kept it impassive. “I am Kelden Amadiro.”
The eyes of both robots glowed briefly. They turned outward, away from the door, which opened noiselessly, rising upward.
Amadiro directed the other through and, as he passed the robots, said calmly, “Leave it open and adjust the lighting to personal need.”
Mandamus said, “I don’t suppose just anyone could enter here.”
“Certainly not. Those robots recognize my appearance and voiceprint and require both before opening the door.” Half to himself, he added, “No need for locks or keys or combinations anywhere on the Spacer worlds. The robots guard us faithfully and always.”
“I had sometimes thought,” said Mandamus broodingly, “that if an Auroran were to borrow one of those blasters that Settlers seem to carry with them wherever they go, there would be no locked doors for him. He could destroy robots in an instant, then go wherever he wished, do whatever he wanted.”
Amadiro darted a fiery glance at the other. “But what Spacer would dream of using such weapons on a Spacer world? We live our lives without weapons and without violence. Don’t you understand that that is why I have devoted my life to the defeat and destruction of Earth and its poisoned brood.—Yes, we had violence once, but that was long ago, when the Spacer worlds were first established and we had not yet rid ourselves of the poison of the Earth from which we came, and before we had learned the value of robotic security.
