Isaac Asimov - The Robots of Dawn

“You honestly never knew of the relationship, Mr. Gremionis? You never suspected?”

“I never gave it any thought,” insisted Gremionis.

“Didn’t know? Or did know, but paid it no mind?”

Gremionis scowled. “You’re pushing again. What do you want me to say? Now that you put it into my head and push, it seems to me, if I look back, that maybe I was wondering about something like that. Just the same, I never felt anything was happening before you started asking questions.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Don’t badger me.”

“I’m not badgering you. I’m just wondering if it were possible that you did know that Gladia was regularly engaging in sex with Jander, that you knew that you would never be accepted as her lover as long as that was so, that you wanted her, so much that you would stop at nothing to eliminate Jander, that, in short, you were so jealous that you—”

And at that moment, Gremionis—as though some tightly coiled spring, held back with difficulty for some minutes, had suddenly twitched loose—hurled himself at Baley with a loud and incoherent cry. Baley, taken completely by surprise, pushed backward instinctively and his chair went over.

There were strong arms upon him at once. Baley felt himself lifted, the chair righted, and was aware that he was in the grip of a robot. How easy it was to forget they were in the room when they stood silent and motionless in their niches.

It was neither Daneel nor Giskard who had come to his rescue, however. It was Gremionis’ robot, Brundij.

“Sir,” said Brundij, his voice just a bit unnatural, “I hope you are not hurt.”

Where were Daneel and Giskard?

The question answered itself at once. The robots had divided the labor neatly and quickly. Daneel and Giskard, estimating instantly that an overturned chair offered less chance of harm to Baley than a maddened Gremionis, had launched themselves at the host. Brundij, seeing at once that he was not needed in that direction, saw to the welfare of the guest.

Gremionis—still standing, his breath heaving—was completely immobilized in the careful double-grasp of Baley’s robots.

Gremionis said, in very little above a whisper, “Release me. I am in control of myself.”

“Yes, sir,” said Giskard.

“Of course, Mr. Gremionis,” said Daneel with what was almost suavity.

But although their arms released their hold, neither moved back for a period of time. Gremionis looked right and left, adjusted the smoothness of his clothing, and then, deliberately, sat down. His breathing was still rapid and his hair was—to a small extent, in disarray.

Baley now stood, one hand on the back of the chair on which he had been sitting.

Gremionis said, “I am sorry, Mr. Baley, for losing control. It is something I have not done in my adult life. You accused me of being j-jealous. It is a word no respectable Auroran, use of another, but I should have remembered you are an Earthman. It is a word we encounter only in historical romances and even then the word is usually spelled with a followed by a dash. Of course, that is not so on your world.”

“I understand that.”

“I am sorry, too, Mr. Gremionis,” said Baley gravely, “that my forgetfulness of Auroran custom led me astray in this instance. I assure you that such a lapse will not happen again.” He seated himself and said, “I don’t know that there is much more to discuss—”

Gremionis did not seem to be listening. “When I was a child,” he said, “I would sometimes push against another, and be pushed, and it would be awhile before the robots would take the trouble to separate us, of course—”

Daneel said, “If I may explain, Partner Elijah. It has been well-established that total suppression of aggression in the very young has undesirable consequences. A certain amount of youthful play involving physical competition is permitted—even encouraged—provided no real hurt is involved. Robots in charge of the young are carefully programmed to be able to distinguish the chance’s and level of harm that may take place. I, for instance, am not properly programmed in this respect and would not qualify as a guardian of the young except under emergency conditions for brief periods.—Nor would Giskard.”

Baley said, “Such aggressive behavior is stopped during adolescence, I suppose.”

“Gradually,” said Daneel, “as the level of harm that maybe inflicted increases and as the desirability of self-control becomes more pronounced.”

Gremionis said, “By the time I was ready for higher schooling, I, like all Aurorans, knew quite well that all competition rested on the comparison of mental capacity and talent—”

“No physical competition?” said Baley.

“Certainly, but only in fashions that do not involve deliberate physical contact with intent to injure.”

“But since you’ve been an adolescent—”

“I’ve attacked no one. Of course I haven’t. I’ve had the urge to do so on a number of occasions, to be sure. I suppose I wouldn’t be entirely normal if I hadn’t, but until this moment, I’ve been able to control it. But then, no one ever called me that before.”

Baley said, “It would do no good to attack, in any case, if you are going to be stopped by robots, would it? I presume there is always a robot within reach on both sides of both the attacker and the attacked.”

“Certainly.—All the more reason for me to be ashamed of having lost my self-control. I trust that this won’t have to go into your report.”

“I assure you I will tell no one of this. It has nothing to do with the case.”

“Thank you. Did you say that the interview is over?”

“I think, it is.”

“In that case, will you do as I have asked you to do?”

“What is that?”

“To tell Gladia I had nothing to do with Jander’s immobilization.”

Baley hesitated. “I will tell her that that is my opinion.”

Gremionis said, “Please make it stronger than that. I want her to be absolutely certain that I had nothing to do with it; all the more so if she was fond of the robot from a sexual standpoint. I couldn’t bear to have her think I was j-j—Being a Solarian, she might think that.”

“Yes, she might,” said Baley thoughtfully.

“But look,” said Gremionis, speaking quickly and earnestly. “I don’t know anything about robots and no one—Dr. Vasilia or anyone else—has told me anything about them—how they work, I mean. There is just no way in which I could have destroyed Jander.”

Baley seemed, for a moment, to be deep in thought. Then he said, with clear reluctance, “I can’t help but believe you. To be sure, I don’t know everything. And it is possible—I say this without meaning offense—that either you or Dr. Vasilia both—are lying. I know surprisingly little about the intimate nature of Auroran society and I can perhaps be easily fooled. And yet, I can’t help but believe you. Nevertheless, I can’t do more than tell Gladia that, in my opinion, you are completely innocent. I must say ‘in my opinion,’ however. I am sure she will find that strong enough.”

Gremionis said gloomily, “Then I will have to be satisfied with that—if it will help, though, I assure you, on the word of an Auroran citizen, that I am innocent.”

Baley smiled slightly. “I wouldn’t dream of doubting your word, but my training forces me to rely on objective evidence alone.”

He stood up, stared solemnly at Gremionis for a moment, then said, “What I am about to say should not be taken amiss, Mr. Gremionis. I take it that you are interested in having me give Gladia this reassurance because you want to retain her friendship.”

“I want that very much, Mr. Baley.”