Isaac Asimov - The Robots of Dawn

“No! Finish!”

“The third point is this. It may be that the Master Roboticist, who surely has a great deal on his mind that is of much moment, does not remember who Personnel Artist Santirix Gremionis is. In that case, please identify him as someone living on the Institute grounds who has, in the last year, taken many long walk’s with Gladia, a woman from Solaria who now lives on Aurora.”

“I cannot deliver a message so ridiculous and offensive, Earthman.”

“In that case, would you tell him I will go straight to the legislature and I will announce that I cannot continue with my investigation because one Maloon Cicis takes it upon himself to assure me, that Master Roboticist Kelden Amadiro will not assist me in the investigation of the destruction of Robot Jander Panell and will not defend himself against accusations of being responsible for that destruction?”

Cicis reddened. “You wouldn’t dare say anything of the sort.”

“Wouldn’t I? What would I have to lose? On the other hand, how will it sound to the general public? After all, Aurorans are perfectly aware that Dr. Amadiro is second only to Dr. Fastolfe himself in expertise in robotics and that, if Fastolfe himself is not responsible for the roboticide—Is it necessary to continue?”

“You will find, Earthman, that the laws of Aurora against slander are strict.”

“Undoubtedly, but if Dr. Amadiro is effectively slandered, his punishment is likely to be greater than mine. But why don’t you simply deliver my message now? Then, if he explains just a few minor points, we can avoid all question of slander or accusation or anything of the sort.”

Cicis scowled and said stiffly, “I will tell Dr. Amadiro this and I will strongly advise him to refuse to see you.” He disappeared.

Again, Baley waited patiently, while Gremionis gestured fiercely and said in a loud whisper, “You can’t do that, Baley. You can’t do it.”

Baley waved him quiet.

After some five minutes (it seemed much longer to Baley), Cicis reappeared, looking enormously angry. He said, “Dr. Amadiro will take my place here in a few minutes and will talk to you. Wait!”

And Baley said at once, “There is no point in waiting. I will come directly to Dr. Amadiro’s office and I will see him there.”

He stepped off the gray circle and made a cutting gesture to Daneel, who promptly broke the connection.

Gremionis said, with a kind of strangled gasp, “You can’t talk to Dr. Amadiro’s people that way, Earthman.”

“I just have,” said Baley.

“He’ll have you thrown off the planet within twelve hours.”

“If I don’t make progress in straightening out this mess, I may in any case be thrown off the planet within twelve hours.”

Daneel said, “Partner Elijah, I fear that Mr. Gremionis is justified in his alarm. The Auroran World Legislature cannot do more than evict you, since you are not an Auroran citizen. Nevertheless, they can insist that the Earth authorities punish you severely and Earth will do so. They could not resist an Auroran demand, in this case. I would not wish you to be punished in this way, Partner Elijah.”

Baley said heavily, “Nor do I wish the punishment, Daneel, but I must take the chance.—Mr. Gremionis, I am sorry that I had to tell him I was calling from your establishment. I had to do something to persuade him to see me and I felt he might attach importance to that fact. What I said was, after all, the truth.”

Gremionis shook his head. “If I had known what you were going to do, Mr. Baley, I would not have permitted you to call from my establishment. I feel sure that I’m going to lose my position here and”—with bitterness—“What are you going to do for me that will make up for that—”

“I will do my best, Mr. Gremionis, to see that you do not lose your position. I feel confident that you will be in no trouble. If I fail, however, you are free to describe me as a madman who made wild accusations against you and frightened you with threats of slander, so that you had to let me use your viewer. I’m sure Dr. Amadiro will believe you. After all, you have already sent him a memo complaining that I have been slandering you, have you not?”

Baley lifted his hand in farewell. “Good-bye, Mr. Gremionis. Thank you again. Don’t worry and—remember what I said about Gladia.”

With Daneel and Giskard sandwiching him fore and aft, Baley stepped out of Gremionis’ establishment, scarcely conscious of the fact that he was moving out into the open once more.

Once out in the open, it was a different matter. Baley stopped and looked up.

“Odd,” he said. “I didn’t think that that much time had passed, even allowing for the fact that the Auroran day is a little shorter than standard.”

“What is it, Partner Elijah?” asked Daneel solicitously.

“The sun has set. I wouldn’t have thought it.”

“The sun has not yet set, sir,” put in Giskard. “It is about two hours before sunset.”

Daneel said, “It is the gathering storm, Partner Elijah. The clouds are thickening, but the storm will not actually break for some time yet.”

Baley shivered. Dark, in itself, did not disturb him. In fact, when Outside, night, with its suggestion of enclosing walls, was far more soothing than the day, which broadened the horizons and opened space in every direction.

The trouble was that this was neither day nor night.

Again, he tried to remember what it had been like that time it had rained when he had been Outside.

It suddenly occurred to him that he had never been out when it snowed and that he wasn’t even sure what the rain of crystalline solid water was like. Descriptions in words were surely insufficient. The younger ones sometimes went out to go sliding or sledding—or whatever—and returned shrieking with excitement—but always glad to get within the City walls. Ben had once tried to make a pair of skis, according to directions in some ancient book or other, and had gotten himself half buried in a drift of the white stuff. And even Ben’s descriptions of what it was like to see and feel snow were distressingly vague and unsatisfying.

Then, too, no one went out when it was actually snowing, as opposed to having the material merely lying about on the ground. Baley told himself, at this point, that the one thing everyone agreed on was that it only snowed when it was very cold. It was not very cold now; it was merely cool. Those clouds did not mean it was going to snow.—Somehow, he felt only minimally consoled.

This was not like the cloudy days on Earth, which he had seen on Earth, the clouds were lighter; he was sure of that. They were grayish-white, even when they covered the sky solidly. Here, the light—what there was of it—was rather bilious, a ghastly yellowish-slate.

Was that because Aurora’s sun was more orange than Earth’s was?

He said, “Is the color of the sky—unusual?”

Daneel looked up at the sky. “No, Partner Elijah. It is a storm.”

“Do you often have storms like this?”

“At this time of year, yes. Occasional thunderstorms. This is no surprise. It was predicted in the weather forecast yesterday and again this morning. It will be over well before daybreak and the fields can use the water. We’ve been a bit subnormal in rainfall lately.”

“And it gets this cold, too? Is that normal, too?”

“Oh yes.—But let us get into the airfoil, Partner Elijah. It can be heated.”

Baley nodded and walked toward the airfoil, which lay on the grassy plot where it had been brought to rest before lunch. He paused.

“Wait. I did not ask Gremionis for directions to Amadiro’s establishment—or office.”

“No need, Partner Elijah,” said Daneel immediately, his hand in the crook of Baley’s elbow, propelling him gently but unmistakably onward. “Friend Giskard has the map of the institute clearly in his memory banks and he will take us to the Administration Building. It is very likely that Dr. Amadiro has his office there.”