Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Earth

Bliss reddened slightly. “There might have been something like that in it; but it was not after the fashion of the mocking way in which you say it. It had rational thought behind it, too.”

“I wonder. If there had been rational thought behind it, you might have considered that the child was meeting the common fate inevitable in its own society. Who knows how many thousands of children had been cut down to maintain the low number these Solarians think suitable to their world?”

“There’s more to it than that, Trevize. The child would be killed because it was too young to be a Successor, and that was because it had a parent who had died prematurely, and that was because I had killed that parent.”

“At a time when it was kill or be killed.”

“Not important. I killed the parent. I could not stand by and allow the child to be killed for my deed. —Besides, it offers for study a brain of a kind that has never been studied by Gaia.”

“A child’s brain.”

“It will not remain a child’s brain. It will further develop the two transducer-lobes on either side of the brain. Those lobes give a Solarian abilities that all of Gaia cannot match. Simply to keep a few lights lit, just to activate a device to open a door, wore me out. Bander could have kept all the power going over an estate as great in complexity and greater in size than that city we saw on Comporellon—and do it even while sleeping.”

Trevize said, “Then you see the child as an important bit of fundamental brain research.”

“In a way, yes.”

“That’s not the way I feel. To me, it seems we have taken danger aboard. Great danger.”

“Danger in what way? It will adapt perfectly—with my help. It is highly intelligent, and already shows signs of feeling affection for us. It will eat what we eat, go where we go, and I/we/Gaia will gain invaluable knowledge concerning its brain.”

“What if it produces young? It doesn’t need a mate. It is its own mate.”

“It won’t be of child-bearing age for many years. The Spacers lived for centuries and the Solarians had no desire to increase their numbers. Delayed reproduction is probably bred into the population. Fallom will have no children for a long time.”

“How do you know this?”

“I don’t know it. I’m merely being logical.”

“And I tell you Fallom will prove dangerous.”

“You don’t know that. And you’re not being logical, either.”

“I feel it, Bliss, without reason. —At the moment. And it is you, not I, who insists my intuition is infallible.”

And Bliss frowned and looked uneasy.

Pelorat paused at the door to the pilot-room and looked inside in a rather ill-at-ease manner. It was as though he were trying to decide whether Trevize was hard at work or not.

Trevize had his hands on the table, as he always did when he made himself part of the computer, and his eyes were on the viewscreen. Pelorat judged, therefore, he was at work, and he waited patiently, trying not to move or, in any way, disturb the other.

Eventually, Trevize looked up at Pelorat. It was not a matter of total awareness. Trevize’s eyes always seemed a bit glazed and unfocused when he was in computer-communion, as though he were looking, thinking, living in some other way than a person usually did.

But he nodded slowly at Pelorat, as though the sight, penetrating with difficulty, did, at last, sluggishly impress itself on the optic lobes. Then, after a while, he lifted his hands and smiled and was himself again.

Pelorat said apologetically, “I’m afraid I’m getting in your way, Golan.”

“Not seriously, Janov. I was just testing to see if we were ready for the Jump. We are, just about, but I think I’ll give it a few more hours, just for luck.”

“Does luck—or random factors—have anything to do with it?”

“An expression only,” said Trevize, smiling, “but random factors do have something to do with it, in theory. —What’s on your mind?”

“May I sit down?”

“Surely, but let’s go into my room. How’s Bliss?”

“Very well.” He cleared his throat. “She’s sleeping again. She must have her sleep, you understand.”

“I understand perfectly. It’s the hyperspatial separation.”

“Exactly, old chap.”

“And Fallom?” Trevize reclined on the bed, leaving Pelorat the chair.

“Those books out of my library that you had your computer print up for me? The folk tales? It’s reading them. Of course, it understands very little Galactic, but it seems to enjoy sounding out the words. He’s—I keep wanting to use the masculine pronoun for it. Why do you suppose that is, old fellow?”

Trevize shrugged. “Perhaps because you’re masculine yourself.”

“Perhaps. It’s fearfully intelligent, you know.”

“I’m sure.”

Pelorat hesitated. “I gather you’re not very fond of Fallom.”

“Nothing against it personally, Janov. I’ve never had children and I’ve never been particularly fond of them generally. You’ve had children, I seem to remember.”

“One son. —It was a pleasure, I recall, having my son when he was a little boy. Maybe that’s why I want to use the masculine pronoun for Fallom. It takes me back a quarter of a century or so.”

“I’ve no objection to your liking it, Janov.”

“You’d like him, too, if you gave yourself a chance.”

“I’m sure I would, Janov, and maybe someday I will give myself a chance to do so.”

Pelorat hesitated again. “I also know that you must get tired of arguing with Bliss.”

“Actually, I don’t think we’ll be arguing much, Janov. She and I are actually getting along quite well. We even had a reasonable discussion just the other day—no shouting, no recrimination—about her delay in inactivating the Guardian Robots. She keeps saving our lives, after all, so I can’t very well offer her less than friendship, can I?”

“Yes, I see that, but I don’t mean arguing, in the sense of quarreling. I mean this constant wrangle about Galaxia as opposed to individuality.”

“Oh, that! I suppose that will continue—politely.”

“Would you mind, Golan, if I took up the argument on her behalf?”

“Perfectly all right. Do you accept the idea of Galaxia on your own, or is it that you simply feel happier when you agree with Bliss?”

“Honestly, on my own. I think that Galaxia is what should be forthcoming. You yourself chose that course of action and I am constantly becoming more convinced that that is correct.”

“Because I chose it? That’s no argument. Whatever Gaia says, I may be wrong, you know. So don’t let Bliss persuade you into Galaxia on that basis.”

“I don’t think you are wrong. Solaria showed me that, not Bliss.”

“How?”

“Well, to begin with, we are Isolates, you and I.”

“ Her term, Janov. I prefer to think of us as individuals.”

“A matter of semantics, old chap. Call it what you will, we are enclosed in our private skins surrounding our private thoughts, and we think first and foremost of ourselves. Self-defense is our first law of nature, even if that means harming everyone else in existence.”

“People have been known to give their lives for others.”

“A rare phenomenon. Many more people have been known to sacrifice the dearest needs of others to some foolish whim of their own.”

“And what has that to do with Solaria?”

“Why, on Solaria, we see what Isolates—or individuals, if you prefer—can become. The Solarians can hardly bear to divide a whole world among themselves. They consider living a life of complete isolation to be perfect liberty. They have no yearning for even their own offspring, but kill them if there are too many. They surround themselves with robot slaves to which they supply the power, so that if they die, their whole huge estate symbolically dies as well. Is this admirable, Golan? Can you compare it in decency, kindness, and mutual concern with Gaia? —Bliss has not discussed this with me at all. It is my own feeling.”