Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Earth

“In what way?”

“There is no physical part of my body, sir, that has escaped replacement, not only once but many times. Even my positronic brain has been replaced on five different occasions. Each time the contents of my earlier brain were etched into the newer one to the last positron. Each time, the new brain had a greater capacity and complexity than the old, so that there was room for more memories, and for faster decision and action. But—”

“But?”

“The more advanced and complex the brain, the more unstable it is, and the more quickly it deteriorates. My present brain is a hundred thousand times as sensitive as my first, and has ten million times the capacity; but whereas my first brain endured for over ten thousand years, the present one is but six hundred years old and is unmistakably senescent. With every memory of twenty thousand years perfectly recorded and with a perfect recall mechanism in place, the brain is filled. There is a rapidly declining ability to reach decisions; an even more rapidly declining ability to test and influence minds at hyperspatial distances. Nor can I design a sixth brain. Further miniaturization will run against the blank wall of the uncertainty principle, and further complexity will but assure decay almost at once.”

Pelorat seemed desperately troubled. “But surely, Daneel, Gaia can carry on without you. Now that Trevize has judged and selected Galaxia—”

“The process simply took too long, sir,” said Daneel, as always betraying no emotion. “I had to wait for Gaia to be fully established, despite the unanticipated difficulties that arose. By the time a human being—Mr. Trevize—was located who was capable of making the key decision, it was too late. Do not think, however, that I took no measure to lengthen my life span. Little by little I have reduced my activities, in order to conserve what I could for emergencies. When I could no longer rely on active measures to preserve the isolation of the Earth/moon system, I adopted passive ones. Over a period of years, the humaniform robots that have been working with me have been, one by one, called home. Their last tasks have been to remove all references to Earth in the planetary archives. And without myself and my fellow-robots in full play, Gaia will lack the essential tools to carry through the development of Galaxia in less than an inordinate period of time.”

“And you knew all this,” said Trevize, “when I made my decision?”

“A substantial time before, sir,” said Daneel. “Gaia, of course, did not know.”

“But then,” said Trevize angrily, “what was the use of carrying through the charade? What good has it been? Ever since my decision, I have scoured the Galaxy, searching for Earth and what I thought of as its ‘secret’—not knowing the secret was you —in order that I might confirm the decision. Well, I have confirmed it. I know now that Galaxia is absolutely essential—and it appears to be all for nothing. Why could you not have left the Galaxy to itself—and me to myself?”

Daneel said, “Because, sir, I have been searching for a way out, and I have been carrying on in the hope that I might find one. I think I have. Instead of replacing my brain with yet another positronic one, which is impractical, I might merge it with a human brain instead; a human brain that is not affected by the Three Laws, and will not only add capacity to my brain, but add a whole new level of abilities as well. That is why I have brought you here.”

Trevize looked appalled. “You mean you plan to merge a human brain into yours? Have the human brain lose its individuality so that you can achieve a two-brain Gaia?”

“Yes, sir. It would not make me immortal, but it might enable me to live long enough to establish Galaxia.”

“And you brought me here for that? You want my independence of the Three Laws and my sense of judgment made part of you at the price of my individuality? —No!”

Daneel said, “Yet you said a moment ago that Galaxia is essential for the welfare of the human—”

“Even if it is, it would take a long time to establish, and I would remain an individual in my lifetime. On the other hand, if it were established rapidly, there would be a Galactic loss of individuality and my own loss would be part of an unimaginably greater whole. I would, however, certainly never consent to lose my individuality while the rest of the Galaxy retains theirs.”

Daneel said, “It is, then, as I thought. Your brain would not merge well and, in any case, it would serve a better purpose if you retained an independent judgmental ability.”

“When did you change your mind? You said that it was for merging that you brought me here.”

“Yes, and only by using the fullest extent of my greatly diminished powers. Still, when I said, ‘That is why I have brought you here,’ please remember that in Galactic Standard, the word ‘you’ represents the plural as well as the singular. I was referring to all of you.”

Pelorat stiffened in his seat. “Indeed? Tell me then, Daneel, would a human brain that was merged with your brain share in all your memories—all twenty thousand years of it, back to legendary times?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Pelorat drew a long breath. “That would fulfill a lifetime search, and it is something I would gladly give up my individuality for. Please let me have the privilege of sharing your brain.”

Trevize asked softly, “And Bliss? What about her?”

Pelorat hesitated for no more than a moment. “Bliss will understand,” he said. “She will, in any case, be better off without me—after a while.”

Daneel shook his head. “Your offer, Dr. Pelorat, is a generous one, but I cannot accept it. Your brain is an old one and it cannot survive for more than two or three decades at best, even in a merger with my own. I need something else. —See!” He pointed and said, “I’ve called her back.”

Bliss was returning, walking happily, with a bounce to her steps.

Pelorat rose convulsively to his feet. “Bliss! Oh no!”

“Do not be alarmed, Dr. Pelorat,” said Daneel. “I cannot use Bliss. That would merge me with Gaia, and I must remain independent of Gaia, as I have already explained.”

“But in that case,” said Pelorat, “who—”

And Trevize, looking at the slim figure running after Bliss, said, “The robot has wanted Fallom all along, Janov.”

Bliss returned, smiling, clearly in a state of great pleasure.

“We couldn’t pass beyond the bounds of the estate,” she said, “but it all reminded me very much of Solaria. Fallom, of course, is convinced it is Solaria. I asked her if she didn’t think that Daneel had an appearance different from that of Jemby—after all, Jemby was metallic—and Fallom said, ‘No, not really.’ I don’t know what she meant by ‘not really.’ ”

She looked across to the middle distance where Fallom was now playing her flute for a grave Daneel, whose head nodded in time. The sound reached them, thin, clear, and lovely.

“Did you know she took the flute with her when we left the ship?” asked Bliss. “I suspect we won’t be able to get her away from Daneel for quite a while.”

The remark was met with a heavy silence, and Bliss looked at the two men in quick alarm. “What’s the matter?”

Trevize gestured gently in Pelorat’s direction. It was up to him, the gesture seemed to say.

Pelorat cleared his throat and said, “Actually, Bliss, I think that Fallom will be staying with Daneel permanently.”

“Indeed?” Bliss, frowning, made as though to walk in Daneel’s direction, but Pelorat caught her arm. “Bliss dear, you can’t. He’s more powerful than Gaia even now, and Fallom must stay with him if Galaxia is to come into existence. Let me explain—and, Golan, please correct me if I get anything wrong.”