Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Earth

Bliss “listened.” At least, a curiously intent look came across her face. She said, “Oh yes—rich in animal life.”

“Mammalian?”

“Must be.”

“Human?”

Now she seemed to concentrate harder. A full minute passed, and then another, and finally she relaxed. “I can’t quite tell. Every once in a while it seemed to me that I detected a whiff of intelligence sufficiently intense to be considered human. But it was so feeble and so occasional that perhaps I, too, was only sensing what I desperately wanted to sense. You see—”

She paused in thought, and Trevize nudged her with a “Well?”

She said, “The thing is I seem to detect something else. It is not something I’m familiar with, but I don’t see how it can be anything but—”

Her face tightened again as she began to “listen” with still greater intensity.

“Well?” said Trevize again.

She relaxed. “I don’t see how it can be anything but robots.”

“Robots!”

“Yes, and if I detect them, surely I ought to be able to detect human beings, too. But I don’t.”

“Robots!” said Trevize again, frowning.

“Yes,” said Bliss, “and I should judge, in great numbers.”

Pelorat also said “robots!” in almost exactly Trevize’s tone when he was told of them. Then he smiled slightly. “You were right, Golan, and I was wrong to doubt you.”

“I don’t remember your doubting me, Janov.”

“Oh well, old man, I didn’t think I ought to express it. I just thought, in my heart, that it was a mistake to leave Aurora while there was a chance we might interview some surviving robot. But then it’s clear you knew there would be a richer supply of robots here.”

“Not at all, Janov. I didn’t know . I merely chanced it. Bliss tells me their mental fields seem to imply they are fully functioning, and it seems to me they can’t very well be fully functioning without human beings about for care and maintenance. However, she can’t spot anything human so we’re still looking.”

Pelorat studied the viewscreen thoughtfully. “It seems to be all forest, doesn’t it?”

“Mostly forest. But there are clear patches that may be grasslands. The thing is that I see no cities, or any lights at night, or anything but thermal radiation at any time.”

“So no human beings after all?”

“I wonder. Bliss is in the galley trying to concentrate. I’ve set up an arbitrary prime meridian for the planet which means that it’s divided into latitude and longitude in the computer. Bliss has a little device which she presses whenever she encounters what seems an unusual concentration of robotic mental activity—I suppose you can’t say ‘neuronic activity’ in connection with robots—or any whiff of human thought. The device is linked to the computer, which thus gets a fix on all the latitudes and longitudes, and we’ll let it make the choice among them and pick a good place for landing.”

Pelorat looked uneasy. “Is it wise to leave the matter of choice to the computer?”

“Why not, Janov? It’s a very competent computer. Besides, when you have no basis on which to make a choice yourself, where’s the harm in at least considering the computer’s choice?”

Pelorat brightened up. “There’s something to that, Golan. Some of the oldest legends include tales of people making choices by tossing cubes to the ground.”

“Oh? What does that accomplish?”

“Each face of the cube has some decision on it—yes—no—perhaps—postpone—and so on. Whichever face happens to come upward on landing would be taken as bearing the advice to be followed. Or they would set a ball rolling about a slotted disc with different decisions scattered among the slots. The decision written on the slot in which the ball ends is to be taken. Some mythologists think such activities represented games of chance rather than lotteries, but the two are much the same thing in my opinion.”

“In a way,” said Trevize, “we’re playing a game of chance in choosing our place of landing.”

Bliss emerged from the galley in time to hear the last comment. She said, “No game of chance. I pressed several ‘maybes’ and then one sure-fire ‘yes,’ and it’s to the ‘yes’ that we’ll be going.”

“What made it a ‘yes’?” asked Trevize.

“I caught a whiff of human thought. Definite. Unmistakable.”

It had been raining, for the grass was wet. Overhead, the clouds were scudding by and showing signs of breaking up.

The Far Star had come to a gentle rest near a small grove of trees. (In case of wild dogs, Trevize thought, only partly in jest.) All about was what looked like pasture land, and coming down from the greater height at which a better and wider view had been possible, Trevize had seen what looked like orchards and grain fields—and this time, an unmistakable view of grazing animals.

There were no structures, however. Nothing artificial, except that the regularity of the trees in the orchard and the sharp boundaries that separated fields were themselves as artificial as a microwave-receiving power station would have been.

Could that level of artificiality have been produced by robots, however? Without human beings?

Quietly, Trevize was putting on his holsters. This time, he knew that both weapons were in working order and that both were fully charged. For a moment, he caught Bliss’s eye and paused.

She said, “Go ahead. I don’t think you’ll have any use for them, but I thought as much once before, didn’t I?”

Trevize said, “Would you like to be armed, Janov?”

Pelorat shuddered. “No, thank you. Between you and your physical defense, and Bliss and her mental defense, I feel in no danger at all. I suppose it is cowardly of me to hide in your protective shadows, but I can’t feel proper shame when I’m too busy feeling grateful that I needn’t be in a position of possibly having to use force.”

Trevize said, “I understand. Just don’t go anywhere alone. If Bliss and I separate, you stay with one of us and don’t dash off somewhere under the spur of a private curiosity.”

“You needn’t worry, Trevize,” said Bliss. “I’ll see to that.”

Trevize stepped out of the ship first. The wind was brisk and just a trifle cool in the aftermath of the rain, but Trevize found that welcome. It had probably been uncomfortably warm and humid before the rain.

He took in his breath with surprise. The smell of the planet was delightful. Every planet had its own odor, he knew, an odor always strange and usually distasteful—perhaps only because it was strange. Might not strange be pleasant as well? Or was this the accident of catching the planet just after the rain at a particular season of the year. Whichever it was—

“Come on,” he called. “It’s quite pleasant out here.”

Pelorat emerged and said, “Pleasant is definitely the word for it. Do you suppose it always smells like this?”

“It doesn’t matter. Within the hour, we’ll be accustomed to the aroma, and our nasal receptors will be sufficiently saturated, for us to smell nothing.”

“Pity,” said Pelorat.

“The grass is wet,” said Bliss, with a shade of disapproval.

“Why not? After all, it rains on Gaia, too!” said Trevize, and as he said that a shaft of yellow sunlight reached them momentarily through a small break in the clouds. There would soon be more of it.

“Yes,” said Bliss, “but we know when and we’re prepared for it.”

“Too bad,” said Trevize; “you lose the thrill of the unexpected.”

Bliss said, “You’re right. I’ll try not to be provincial.”

Pelorat looked about and said, in a disappointed tone, “There seems to be nothing about.”