Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Earth

Pelorat said, “I suppose the others—the other Solarians—also maintain a local ecological balance and have marshlands, perhaps, or mountainous areas or seafront estates.”

Bander said, “I suppose so. Such things occupy us in the conferences that world affairs sometimes make necessary.”

“How often do you have to get together?” asked Trevize. (They were going through a rather narrow passageway, quite long, and with no rooms on either side. Trevize guessed that it might have been built through an area that did not easily allow anything wider to be constructed, so that it served as a connecting link between two wings that could each spread out more widely.

“Too often. It’s a rare month when I don’t have to pass some time in conference with one of the committees I am a member of. Still, although I may not have mountains or marshlands on my estate, my orchards, my fishponds, and my botanical gardens are the best in the world.”

Pelorat said, “But, my dear fellow—I mean, Bander—I would assume you have never left your estate and visited those of others—”

“Certainly not ,” said Bander, with an air of outrage.

“I said I assumed that,” said Pelorat mildly. “But in that case, how can you be certain that yours are best, never having investigated, or even seen the others?”

“Because,” said Bander, “I can tell from the demand for my products in interestate trade.”

Trevize said, “What about manufacturing?”

Bander said, “There are estates where they manufacture tools and machinery. As I said, on my estate we make the heat-conducting rods, but those are rather simple.”

“And robots?”

“Robots are manufactured here and there. Throughout history, Solaria has led all the Galaxy in the cleverness and subtlety of robot design.”

“Today also, I imagine,” said Trevize, carefully having the intonation make the remark a statement and not a question.

Bander said, “Today? With whom is there to compete today? Only Solaria makes robots nowadays. Your worlds do not, if I interpret what I hear on the hyper-wave correctly.”

“But the other Spacer worlds?”

“I told you. They no longer exist.”

“At all?”

“I don’t think there is a Spacer alive anywhere but on Solaria.”

“Then is there no one who knows the location of Earth?”

“Why would anyone want to know the location of Earth?”

Pelorat broke in, “I want to know. It’s my field of study.”

“Then,” said Bander, “you will have to study something else. I know nothing about the location of Earth, nor have I heard of anyone who ever did, nor do I care a sliver of robot-metal about the matter.”

The car came to a halt, and, for a moment, Trevize thought that Bander was offended. The halt was a smooth one, however, and Bander, getting out of the car, looked its usual amused self as it motioned the others to get out also.

The lighting in the room they entered was subdued, even after Bander had brightened it with a gesture. It opened into a side corridor, on both sides of which were smaller rooms. In each one of the smaller rooms was one or two ornate vases, sometimes flanked by objects that might have been film projectors.

“What is all this, Bander?” asked Trevize.

Bander said, “The ancestral death chambers, Trevize.”

Pelorat looked about with interest. “I suppose you have the ashes of your ancestors interred here?”

“If you mean by ‘interred,’ ” said Bander, “buried in the ground, you are not quite right. We may be underground, but this is my mansion, and the ashes are in it, as we are right now. In our own language we say that the ashes are ‘inhoused.’ ” It hesitated, then said, “ ‘House’ is an archaic word for ‘mansion.’ ”

Trevize looked about him perfunctorily. “And these are all your ancestors? How many?”

“Nearly a hundred,” said Bander, making no effort to hide the pride in its voice. “Ninety-four, to be exact. Of course, the earliest are not true Solarians—not in the present sense of the word. They were half-people, masculine and feminine. Such half-ancestors were placed in adjoining urns by their immediate descendants. I don’t go into those rooms, of course. It’s rather ‘shamiferous.’ At least, that’s the Solarian word for it; but I don’t know your Galactic equivalent. You may not have one.”

“And the films?” asked Bliss. “I take it those are film projectors?”

“Diaries,” said Bander, “the history of their lives. Scenes of themselves in their favorite parts of the estate. It means they do not die in every sense. Part of them remains, and it is part of my freedom that I can join them whenever I choose; I can watch this bit of film or that, as I please.”

“But not into the—shamiferous ones.”

Bander’s eyes slithered away. “No,” it admitted, “but then we all have that as part of the ancestry. It is a common wretchedness.”

“Common? Then other Solarians also have these death chambers?” asked Trevize.

“Oh yes, we all do, but mine is the best, the most elaborate, the most perfectly preserved.”

Trevize said, “Do you have your own death chamber already prepared?”

“Certainly. It is completely constructed and appointed. That was done as my first duty when I inherited the estate. And when I am laid to ash—to be poetic—my successor will go about the construction of its own as its first duty.”

“And do you have a successor?”

“I will have when the time comes. There is as yet ample scope for life. When I must leave, there will be an adult successor, ripe enough to enjoy the estate, and well lobed for power-transduction.”

“It will be your offspring, I imagine.”

“Oh yes.”

“But what if,” said Trevize, “something untoward takes place? I presume accidents and misfortunes take place even on Solaria. What happens if a Solarian is laid to ash prematurely and it has no successor to take its place, or at least not one who is ripe enough to enjoy the estate?”

“That rarely happens. In my line of ancestors, that happened only once. When it does, however, one need only remember that there are other successors waiting for other estates. Some of those are old enough to inherit, and yet have parents who are young enough to produce a second descendant and to live on till that second descendant is ripe enough for the succession. One of these old/young successors, as they are called, would be assigned to the succession of my estate.”

“Who does the assigning?”

“We have a ruling board that has this as one of its few functions—the assignment of a successor in case of premature ashing. It is all done by holovision, of course.”

Pelorat said, “But see here, if Solarians never see each other, how would anyone know that some Solarian somewhere has unexpectedly—or expectedly, for that matter—been laid to ash.”

Bander said, “When one of us is laid to ash, all power at the estate ceases. If no successor takes over at once, the abnormal situation is eventually noticed and corrective measures are taken. I assure you that our social system works smoothly.”

Trevize said, “Would it be possible to view some of these films you have here?”

Bander froze. Then it said, “It is only your ignorance that excuses you. What you have said is crude and obscene.”

“I apologize for that,” said Trevize. “I do not wish to intrude on you, but we’ve already explained that we are very interested in obtaining information on Earth. It occurs to me that the earliest films you have would date back to a time before Earth was radioactive. Earth might therefore be mentioned. There might be details given about it. We certainly do not wish to intrude on your privacy, but would there be any way in which you yourself could explore those films, or have a robot do so, perhaps, and then allow any relevant information to be passed on to us? Of course, if you can respect our motives and understand that we will try our best to respect your feelings in return, you might allow us to do the viewing ourselves.”