Isaac Asimov - The Robots of Dawn

He no longer feared the entrance of enemies, just the entrance of anyone.

And then he thought: The robots will at least delay anyone approaching.

With that, he managed to relax—

He was quite done, greatly relieved, and about to turn to a washbasin, when he heard a moderately high-pitched, rather tense voice. “Are you Elijah Baley?”

Baley froze. After all his apprehension and all his precautions, he had been unaware of someone entering. In the end, he had been entirely wrapped up in the simple act of emptying his bladder, something that should not have taken up even the tiniest fraction of his conscious mind. (Was he getting old?)

To be sure, there seemed no threat of any kind in the voice he heard. It seemed empty of menace. It may have been that Baley simply felt certain—and had the sure confidence within him—that Daneel, at least, if not Giskard, would not have allowed a threat to enter.

What bothered Baley was merely the entrance. In his whole life, he had never been approached—let alone addressed—by a man in a Personal. On Earth that was the most strenuous taboo and on Solaria (and, until now, on Aurora) he had used only one-person Personals.

The voice came again. Impatient. “Come! You must be Elijah Baley.”

Slowly, Baley turned. It was a man of moderate height, delicately dressed in well-fitted clothing in various shades of blue. He was light-skinned, light-haired, and had a small mustache that was a shade darker than the hair on his head. Baley found himself staring with fascination at the small strip of hair on the upper lip. It was the first time he had seen a Spacer with a mustache.

Baley said (and was filled with shame at speaking in a Personal), “I am Elijah Baley.” His voice, even in, his own, ears, seemed a scratchy and unconvincing whisper.

The Spacer seemed to find it unconvincing, certainly. He said, narrowing his eyes and staring, “The robots outside said Elijah Baley was in here, but you don’t look at all the way you looked on hyperwave. Not at all.”

That foolish dramatization! thought Baley fiercely. No one would meet him to the end of time without having been preliminarily poisoned by that impossible representation. No one would accept him as a human being at the start, as a fallible human being—and when they discovered the fallibility, they would, in disappointment, consider him a fool.

He turned resentfully to the washbasin and splashed water, then shook his hands vaguely in the air, while wondering where the hot-air jet might be found. The Spacer touched a contact and seemed to pluck a thin bit of absorbent fluff out of midair.

“Thank you,” said Baley, taking it. “That was not me in the hyperwave show. It was an actor.”

“I know that, but they might have picked one that looked more like you, mightn’t they?” It seemed to be a source of grievance to him. “I want to speak to you.”

“How did you get past my robots?”

That was another source of grievance, apparently. “I nearly didn’t,” said the Spacer. “They tried to stop me and I only had one robot with me. I had to pretend I had to get in here on an emergency basis and they searched me. They absolutely laid hands on me to see if I was carrying anything dangerous. I’d have you up on charges—if you weren’t an Earthman. You can’t give robots the kind of orders that embarrass a human being.”

“I’m sorry,” said Baley stiffly, “but I am not the one who gave them their orders. What can I do for you?”

“I want to speak to you.”

“You are speaking to me.—Who are you?”

The other seemed to hesitate, then said, “Gremionis.”

“Santirix Gremionis?”

“That’s right.”

“Why do you want to speak to me?”

For a moment, Gremionis stared at Baley, apparently with embarrassment. Then he mumbled, “Well, as long as I’m here if you don’t mind—I might as well—” and he stepped toward the line of urinals.

Baley realized, with the—last refinement of horrified queasiness, what it was Gremionis intended to do. He turned hastily and said, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

“No no, don’t go,” said Gremionis desperately, in what was almost a squeak. “This won’t take a second. Please!”

It was only that Baley now wanted, just as desperately, to talk to Gremionis and did not want to do anything that might offend the other and make him unwilling to talk; otherwise he would not have been willing to accede to the request.

He kept his back turned and squinted his eyes nearly shut in a sort of horrified reflex. It was only when Gremionis came up around him, his hands kneading a fluffy towel of his own, that Baley could relax again, after a fashion.

“Why do you want to speak to me?” he said again.

“Gladia—the woman from Solaria—” Gremionis looked dubious and stopped.

“I know Gladia,” said Baley coldly.

“Gladia viewed me—trimensionally, you know—and told me you had asked about me. And she asked me if I had, in any way, mistreated a robot she owned—a human-looking robot like one of those outside—”

“Well, did you, Mr. Gremionis?”

“No! I didn’t even know she owned a robot like that, until—Did you tell her I did?”

“I was only asking questions, Mr. Gremionis.”

Gremionis had made a fist of his right hand and was grinding it nervously into his left. He said intensely, “I don’t want to be falsely accused of anything—and especially where such a false accusation would affect my relationship with Gladia.”

Baley said, “How did you find me?”

Gremionis said, “She asked me about that robot and said you had asked about me. I had heard you—had been called to Aurora by Dr. Fastolfe to solve this—puzzle—about the robot. It was on the hyperwave news. And—” The words ground out as though they were emerging, from him with the utmost difficulty.

“Go on,” said Baley.

“I had to talk to you and explain that I had had nothing to do with that robot. Nothing! Gladia didn’t know where you were, but I thought Dr. Fastolfe would know.”

“So you called him?”

“Oh no, I—I don’t think I’d have the nerve to—He’s such an important scientist. But Gladia called him for me. She’s that kind of person. He told her you had gone to see his daughter, Dr. Vasilia Aliena. That was good because I know her.”

“Yes, I know you do,” said Baley.

Gremionis looked uneasy. “How did you—Did you ask her about me, too?” His uneasiness seemed to be degenerating to misery. “I finally called Dr. Vasilia and she said you had just left and I’d probably find you at some Community Personal and this one is the closest to her establishment. I was sure there would be no reason for you to delay in order to find a farther one. I mean why should you?”

“You reason quite correctly, but how is it you got here so quickly?”

“I work at the Robotics Institute and my establishment is on the Institute grounds. My scooter brought me here in minutes.

“Did you come here alone?”

“Yes! With only one robot. The scooter is a two-seater, you see.”

“And your robot is waiting outside?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me again why you want to see me.”

“I’ve got to make sure you don’t think I’ve had anything to do with that robot. I never even heard of him till this whole thing exploded in the news. So can I talk to you now?”

“Yes, but not here,” said Baley firmly. “Let’s get out.”

How strange it was, thought Baley, that he was so pleased to get out from behind walls and into the Outside—There was something more totally alien to this Personal than anything else he had encountered on either Aurora or Solaria. Even more disconcerting, than the fact of planet-wide indiscriminate use had been the horror of being openly and casually addressed of behavior that drew no distinction between this place and its purpose and any other place and purpose.