Isaac Asimov - The Robots of Dawn

Baley blinked and looked upward. The ceiling was glassed and, through it, the sun could be seen. The sun seemed oddly dim, however, and could be looked at, even though that did not seem to affect the quality of the light within. Presumably, the glass (or whatever the transparent substance was) diffused the light without absorbing it.

He looked down at the woman, who still maintained her pose at the stool, and said, “Dr. Vasilia Fastolfe?”

“Dr. Vasilia Aliena, if you want a full name. I do not borrow the names of others. You may call me Dr. Vasilia. It is the name by which I am commonly known at the Institute.” Her voice, which had been rather harsh, softened, “And how are you, my old friend Giskard?”

Giskard said, in tones oddly removed from his usual one, “I greet you—” He paused and then said, “I greet you, Little Miss.”

Vasilia smiled. “And this, I suppose, is the humaniform robot of whom I have heard—Daneel Olivaw?”

“Yes, Dr. Vasilia.” said Daneel briskly.

“And finally, we have—the Earthman.”

“Elijah Baley, Doctor,” said Baley stiffly.

“Yes, I’m aware that Earthmen have names and that Elijah Baley is yours,” she said coolly. “You don’t look one blasted thing like the actor who played you in the hyperwave, show.”

“I am aware of that, Doctor.”

“The one who played Daneel was rather a good likeness, however, but I suppose we are not here to discuss the show.”

“We are not.”

“I gather we are here, Earthman, to talk, about whatever it is you want to say about Santirix Gremionis and get it over with. Right?”

“Not entirely,” said Baley. “That is not the primary reason for my coming, though I imagine we will get to it.”

“Indeed? Are you under the impression that we are here to engage in a long and complicated discussion on whatever topic you choose to deal with?”

“I think, Dr. Vasilia, you would be well-advised to allow me to manage this interview as I wish.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No.

“Well, I have never met an Earthman and it might be interesting to see how closely you resemble the actor who played your role—that is, in ways other than appearance. Are you really the masterful person you seemed to be in the show?”

“The show,” said Baley with clear distaste, “was overdramatic and exaggerated my personality in every direction. I would rather you accept me as I am and judge me entirely from how I appear to you right now.”

Vasilia laughed: “At least you don’t seem overawed by me. That’s a point in your favor. Or do you think this Gremionis thing you’ve got in mind puts you in a position to order me about?”

“I am not here to do anything but uncover the truth in the matter of the dead humaniform robot, Jander Panell.”

“Dead? Was he ever alive, then?”

“I use one syllable in preference to phrases such as ‘rendered inoperative.’ Does saying ‘dead’ confuse you?”

Vasilia said, “You fence well.—Debrett, bring the Earthman a chair. He will grow weary standing if this is to be a long conversation. Then get into your niche. And you may choose one, too, Daneel.—Giskard, come stand by me.”

Baley sat down. “Thank you, Debrett.—Dr. Vasilia, I have no authority to question you; I have no legal means of forcing you to answer my questions. However, the death of Jander Panell has put your father in a position of some—”

“It has put whom in a position?”

“Your father.”

“Earthman, I sometimes refer to a certain individual as my father, but no one else does. Please use a proper name.”

“Dr. Han Fastolfe. He is your father, isn’t he? As a matter of record?”

Vasilia said, “You are using a biological term. I share genes with him in a manner characteristic of what on Earth would be considered a father-daughter relationship. This is a matter of indifference on Aurora, except in medical and genetic matters. I can conceive of my suffering from certain metabolic states in which it would be appropriate to consider the physiology and biochemistry of those with whom I share genes, parents, siblings, children, and so on. Otherwise these relationships are not generally referred to in polite Auroran society.—I explain this to you because you are an Earthman.”

“If I have offended against custom,” said Baley, “it is through ignorance and I apologize. May I refer to the gentleman under discussion by name?”

“Certainly.”

“In that case, the death of Jander Panell has put Dr. Han Fastolfe into a position of some difficulty and I would assume that you would be concerned enough to desire to help him.”

“You assume that, do you? Why?”

“He is your—He brought you up. He cared for you. You had a profound affection for each other. He still feels a profound affection for you.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“It was obvious from the details of our conversations—even from the fact that he has taken an interest in the Solarian woman, Gladia Delmarre, because of her resemblance to you.”

“Did he tell you that?”

“He did, but even if he hadn’t, the resemblance is obvious.”

“’Nevertheless, Earthman, I owe Dr. Fastolfe nothing. Your assumptions can be dismissed.”

Baley cleared his throat. “Aside from any personal feelings you might or might not have, there is the matter of the future of the Galaxy. Dr. Fastolfe wishes new worlds to be explored and settled by human beings. If the political repercussions of Jander’s death lead to the exploration and settlement of the new worlds by robots, Dr. Fastolfe believes that this will be catastrophic for Aurora and humanity. Surely you would not be a party to such a catastrophe.”

Vasilia said indifferently, watching him closely, “Surely not, if I agreed with Dr. Fastolfe. I do not. I see no harm in having humaniform robots doing the work. I am here at the Institute, in fact, to make that possible. I am a Globalist. Since Dr. Fastolfe is a Humanist, he is my political enemy.”

Her answers were clipped and direct, no longer than they had to be. Each time, there followed a definite silence, as, though she were waiting, with interest, for the next question. Baley had the impression that she was curious about him, amused by him, making wagers with herself as to what the next question might be, determined to give him just the minimum information necessary to force another question.

He said, “Have you long been a member of this Institute?”

“Since its formation.”

“Are there many members?”

“I should judge about a third of Aurora’s roboticists are members, though only about half of these actually live and work on the Institute grounds.”

“Do other members of the Institute share your views on the robotic exploration of other worlds? Do they oppose Dr. Fastolfe’s views one and all?”

“I suspect that most of them are Globalists, but I don’t know that we have taken a vote on the matter or even discussed it formally. You had better ask them all individually.”

“Is Dr. Fastolfe a member of the Institute?”

“No.”

Baley waited a bit, but she said nothing beyond the negative. He said, “Isn’t that surprising? I should think he, of all people, would be a member.”

“As it happens, we don’t want him. What is perhaps less important, he doesn’t want us.”

“Isn’t that even more surprising?”

“I don’t think so.”—And then, as though goaded into saying something more by an irritation within herself, she said, “He lives in the city of Eos. I suppose you know the significance of the name, Earthman?”

Baley nodded and said, “Eos is—the ancient Greek goddess of the dawn, as Aurora is the ancient Roman goddess of the dawn.”