Isaac Asimov - The Robots of Dawn

But there was no Outside. Fastolfe climbed into the front seat and, as the door closed behind him, the windows blanked out, and a soft, artificial light suffused the interior.

Fastolfe said, “I don’t generally drive this way, Mr. Baley, but I don’t mind a great deal and you may find it more comfortable. The car is completely computerized, knows where it’s going, and can deal with any obstructions or emergencies. We need interfere in no way.”

There was the faintest feeling of acceleration and then a vague, barely noticeable sensation of motion.

Fastolfe said, “This is a secure passage, Mr. Baley. I have gone to considerable trouble to make certain that as few people as possible know you will be in this car and certainly you will not be detected within it. The trip by car—which rides on airjets, by the way, so that it is an airfoil, actually—will not take long, but, if you wish, you can seize the opportunity to rest. You are quite safe now.”

“You speak,” said Baley, “as though you think I’m in danger. I was protected to the point of imprisonment on the ship and again now.” Baley looked about the small, enclosed interior of the car, within which he was hemmed by the frame of metal and opacified glass, to say nothing of the metallic frame of two robots.

Fastolfe laughed lightly. “I am overreacting, I know, but feeling runs high on Aurora. You arrive here at a time of crisis for us and I would rather be made to look silly by overreacting than to run the terrible risk that underreacting entails.”

Baley said, “I believe you understand, Dr. Fastolfe, that my failure here would be a blow to Earth.”

“I understand that well. I am as determined as you are to prevent your failure. Believe me.”

“I do. Furthermore, my failure here, for whatever reason, will also be my personal and professional ruin on Earth.”

Fastolfe turned in his seat to look at Baley with a shocked expression. “Really? That would not be warranted.”

Baley shrugged. “I agree, but it will happen. I will be the obvious target for a desperate Earth government.”

“This was not in my mind when I asked for you, Mr. Baley. You may be sure I will do what I can. Though, in all honesty”—his eyes fell away—“that will be little enough, if we lose.”

“I know that,” said Baley dourly. He leaned back against the soft upholstery and closed his eyes. The motion of the car was limited to a gentle lulling sway, but Baley did not sleep. Instead, he thought hard—for what that was worth.

Baley did not experience the Outside at the other end of the trip, either. When he emerged from the airfoil, he was in an underground garage and a small elevator brought him up to ground level (as it turned out).

He was ushered into a sunny room and, as he passed through the direct rays of the sun (yes, faintly orange), he shrank away a bit.

Fastolfe noticed. He said, “The windows are not opacifiable, though they can be darkened. I will do that, if you like. In fact, I should have thought of that—”

“No need,” said Baley gruffly. “I’ll just sit with my back to it. I must—acclimate myself.”

“If you wish, but let me know if, at any time, you grow too uncomfortable.—Mr. Baley, it is late morning here on this part of Aurora. I don’t know your personal time on the ship. If you have been awake for many hours and, would like to sleep, that can be arranged. If you are wakeful but not hungry you need not eat. However, if you feel you can manage it, you are welcome to have lunch with me in a short while.”

“That would fit in well with my personal time, as it happens.”

“Excellent. I’ll remind you that our day is about seven percent shorter than Earth’s. It shouldn’t involve you in too much biorhythmic difficulty, but if it does, we will try to adjust ourselves to your needs.”

“Thank you.”

“Finally—I have no clear idea what your food preferences might be.”

“I’ll manage to eat whatever is put before me.”

“Nevertheless, I won’t feel offended if anything seems not palatable.”

“Thank you.”

“And you won’t mind if Daneel and Giskard join us?”

Baley smiled faintly. “Will they be eating, too?”

There was no answering smile—from Fastolfe. He said seriously, “No, but I want them to be with you at all times.”

“Still danger? Even here?”

“I trust nothing entirely. Even here.”

A robot entered. “Sir, lunch is served.”

Fastolfe nodded. “Very good, Faber. We will be at the table in a few moments.”

Baley said, “How many robots do you have?”

“Quite a few. We are not at the Solarian level of ten thousand robots to a human being, but I have more than the average number—fifty-seven. The house is a large one and it serves as my office and my workshop as well. Then, too, my wife, when I have one, must have space, enough to be insulated from my work in a separate wing and must be served independently.”

“Well, with fifty-seven robots, I imagine you can spare two. I feel the less guilty at your having sent Giskard and Daneel to escort me to Aurora.”

“It was no casual choice, I assure you, Mr. Baley. Giskard is my majordomo and my right hand. He has been with me all my adult life.”

“Yet you sent him on the trip to get me. I am honored,” said Baley.

“It is a measure of your importance, Mr. Baley. Giskard is the most reliable of my robots, strong and sturdy.”

Baley’s eyes flickered toward Daneel and Fastolfe added, “I don’t include my friend Daneel in these calculations. He is not my servant, but an achievement of which I have the weakness to be extremely proud. He is the first of his class and, while Dr. Roj Nemennuh Sarton was his designer and model, the man who—”

He paused delicately, but Baley nodded brusquely and said, “I understand.”

He did not require the phrase to be completed with a reference to Sarton’s murder on Earth.

“While Sarton supervised the actual construction,” Fastolfe went on, “it was I whose theoretical calculations made Daneel possible,”

Fastolfe smiled at Daneel, who bowed his head in acknowledgment.

Baley said, “There was Jander, too.”

“Yes.” Fastolfe shook his head and looked downcast. “I should perhaps have kept him with me, as I do Daneel. But he was my second humaniform and that makes a difference. It is Daneel who is my first-born, so to speak—a special case.”

“And you construct no more humaniform robots now?”

“No more. But come,” said Fastolfe, rubbing his hands. “We must have our lunch. I do not think, Mr. Baley, that on Earth the population is accustomed to what I might term natural food. We are having shrimp salad, together with bread and cheese, milk, if you wish, or any of an assortment of fruit juices. It’s all very simple. Ice cream for dessert.”

“All traditional Earth dishes,” said Baley, “which exist now in their original form only in Earth’s ancient literature.”

“None of it is entirely common here on Aurora, but I didn’t think it made sense to subject you to our own version of gourmet dining, which involves food items and spices of Auroran varieties. The taste would have to be acquired.”

He rose. “Please come with me, Mr. Baley. There will just be the two of us and we will not stand on ceremony or indulge in unnecessary dining ritual.”

“Thank you,” said Baley. “I accept that as a kindness. I have relieved the tedium of the trip here by a rather intensive viewing of material relating to Aurora and I know that proper politeness requires many aspects to a ceremonial meal that I would dread.”

“You need not dread.”

Baley said, “Could we break ceremony even to the extent of talking business over the meal, Dr. Fastolfe? I must not lose time unnecessarily.”