Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Earth

Trevize took a step backward. “I’m afraid not, Bander.”

Bander seemed amused. “I asked only out of politeness. I need not have asked at all.”

It held out its hand and from Trevize’s right holster, there emerged his blaster, while from his left holster, there rose up his neuronic whip. Trevize snatched at his weapons but felt his arms held back as though by stiffly elastic bonds. Both Pelorat and Bliss started forward and it was clear that they were held as well.

Bander said, “Don’t bother trying to interfere. You cannot.” The weapons flew to its hands and it looked them over carefully. “This one,” it said, indicating the blaster, “seems to be a microwave beamer that produces heat, thus exploding any fluid-containing body. The other is more subtle, and, I must confess, I do not see at a glance what it is intended to do. However, since you mean no harm and offer no harm, you don’t need arms. I can, and I do, bleed the energy content of the units of each weapon. That leaves them harmless unless you use one or the other as a club, and they would be clumsy indeed if used for that purpose.”

The Solarian released the weapons and again they drifted through the air, this time back toward Trevize. Each settled neatly into its holster.

Trevize, feeling himself released, pulled out his blaster, but there was no need to use it. The contact hung loosely, and the energy unit had clearly been totally drained. That was precisely the case with the neuronic whip as well.

He looked up at Bander, who said, smiling, “You are quite helpless, Outworlder. I can as easily, if I so desired, destroy your ship and, of course, you.”

Trevize felt frozen. Trying to breathe normally, he turned to look at Bliss.

She was standing with her arm protectively about Pelorat’s waist, and, to all appearances, was quite calm. She smiled slightly and, even more slightly, nodded her head.

Trevize turned back to Bander. Having interpreted Bliss’s actions as signifying confidence, and hoping with dreadful earnestness that he was correct, he said grimly, “How did you do that, Bander?”

Bander smiled, obviously in high good humor. “Tell me, little Outworlders, do you believe in sorcery? In magic?”

“No, we do not, little Solarian,” snapped Trevize.

Bliss tugged at Trevize’s sleeve and whispered, “Don’t irritate him. He’s dangerous.”

“I can see he is,” said Trevize, keeping his voice low with difficulty. “You do something, then.”

Her voice barely heard, Bliss said, “Not yet. He will be less dangerous if he feels secure.”

Bander paid no attention to the brief whispering among the Outworlders. It moved away from them uncaringly, the robots separating to let it pass.

Then it looked back and crooked a finger languidly. “Come. Follow me. All three of you. I will tell you a story that may not interest you, but that interests me.” It continued to walk forward leisurely.

Trevize remained in place for a while, uncertain as to the best course of action. Bliss walked forward, however, and the pressure of her arm led Pelorat forward as well. Eventually, Trevize moved; the alternative was to be left standing alone with the robots.

Bliss said lightly, “If Bander will be so kind as to tell the story that may not interest us—”

Bander turned and looked intently at Bliss as though he were truly aware of her for the first time. “You are the feminine half-human,” he said, “aren’t you? The lesser half?”

“The smaller half, Bander. Yes.”

“These other two are masculine half-humans, then?”

“So they are.”

“Have you had your child yet, feminine?”

“My name, Bander, is Bliss. I have not yet had a child. This is Trevize. This is Pel.”

“And which of these two masculines is to assist you when it is your time? Or will it be both? Or neither?”

“Pel will assist me, Bander.”

Bander turned his attention to Pelorat. “You have white hair, I see.”

Pelorat said, “I have.”

“Was it always that color?”

“No, Bander, it became so with age.”

“And how old are you?”

“I am fifty-two years old, Bander,” Pelorat said, then added hastily, “That’s Galactic Standard Years.”

Bander continued to walk (toward the distant mansion, Trevize assumed), but more slowly. It said, “I don’t know how long a Galactic Standard Year is, but it can’t be very different from our year. And how old will you be when you die, Pel?”

“I can’t say. I may live thirty more years.”

“Eighty-two years, then. Short-lived, and divided in halves. Unbelievable, and yet my distant ancestors were like you and lived on Earth. —But some of them left Earth to establish new worlds around other stars, wonderful worlds, well organized, and many.”

Trevize said loudly, “Not many. Fifty.”

Bander turned a lofty eye on Trevize. There seemed less humor in it now. “Trevize. That’s your name.”

“Golan Trevize in full. I say there were fifty Spacer worlds. Our worlds number in the millions.”

“Do you know, then, the story that I wish to tell you?” said Bander softly.

“If the story is that there were once fifty Spacer worlds, we know it.”

“We count not in numbers only, little half-human,” said Bander. “We count the quality, too. There were fifty, but such a fifty that not all your millions could make up one of them. And Solaria was the fiftieth and, therefore, the best. Solaria was as far beyond the other Spacer worlds, as they were beyond Earth.

“We of Solaria alone learned how life was to be lived. We did not herd and flock like animals, as they did on Earth, as they did on other worlds, as they did even on the other Spacer worlds. We lived each alone, with robots to help us, viewing each other electronically as often as we wished, but coming within natural sight of one another only rarely. It is many years since I have gazed at human beings as I now gaze at you but, then, you are only half-humans and your presence, therefore, does not limit my freedom any more than a cow would limit it, or a robot.

“Yet we were once half-human, too. No matter how we perfected our freedom; no matter how we developed as solitary masters over countless robots; the freedom was never absolute. In order to produce young there had to be two individuals in co-operation. It was possible, of course, to contribute sperm cells and egg cells, to have the fertilization process and the consequent embryonic growth take place artificially in automated fashion. It was possible for the infant to live adequately under robotic care. It could all be done, but the half-humans would not give up the pleasure that went with biological impregnation. Perverse emotional attachments would develop in consequence and freedom vanished. Do you see that that had to be changed?”

Trevize said, “No, Bander, because we do not measure freedom by your standards.”

“That is because you do not know what freedom is. You have never lived but in swarms, and you know no way of life but to be constantly forced, in even the smallest things, to bend your wills to those of others or, which is equally vile, to spend your days struggling to force others to bend their wills to yours. Where is any possible freedom there? Freedom is nothing if it is not to live as you wish! Exactly as you wish!

“Then came the time when the Earthpeople began to swarm outward once more, when their clinging crowds again swirled through space. The other Spacers, who did not flock as the Earthpeople did, but who flocked nevertheless, if to a lesser degree, tried to compete.

“We Solarians did not. We foresaw inevitable failure in swarming. We moved underground and broke off all contact with the rest of the Galaxy. We were determined to remain ourselves at all costs. We developed suitable robots and weapons to protect our apparently empty surface, and they did the job admirably. Ships came and were destroyed, and stopped coming. The planet was considered deserted, and was forgotten, as we hoped it would be.