Isaac Asimov - The Robots of Dawn

“You did not, at that time, use robots for relief in any way?”

“No, it didn’t occur to me. Or any inanimate object. There were occasional whispers of such things, but with such horror—or pretended horror—that I would never dream of doing anything like that. Of course, I had dreams and sometimes something that, as I look back on it, must have been incipient orgasms would wake me. I never understood them, of course, or dared talk of it. I was bitterly ashamed of it, in fact. Worse, I was frightened of the pleasure they brought me. And then, of course, I came to Aurora.”

“You told me of that. Sex with Aurorans was unsatisfactory.”

“Yes. It made me think that Solarians were right after all. Sex was not like my dreams at all. It was not until Jander that I understood. It is not sex that they have on Aurora; it—is, it is—choreography. Every step of it is dictated by fashion, from the method of approach to the moment of departure. There is nothing unexpected, nothing spontaneous. On Solaria, since there was so little sex, nothing was given or taken. And on Aurora, sex was so stylized that, in the end, nothing was given or take neither. Do you understand?”

“I’m not sure, Gladia, never having experienced sex with an Auroran woman or, for that matter, never having been an Auroran man. But it’s not necessary to explain. I have a dim notion of what you mean.”

“You’re terribly embarrassed, aren’t you?”

“Not to the point of being unable to listen.”

“But then I met Jander and learned to use him. He was not an Auroran man. His only aim, his only possible aim, was to please me. He gave and I took and, for the first time, I experienced sex as it should be experienced. Do you understand that? Can you imagine what it must be like suddenly to know that you are not mad, or distorted, or perverted, or even simply wrong—but to know that you are a woman and have a satisfying sex partner?”

“I think I can imagine that.”

“And then, after so short a time, to have it all taken away from me. I thought—I thought—that that was the end. I was doomed. I was never again, through centuries of life, to have a good sexual relationship again. Not to have had it to start with—and then never to have had it at all—was bad enough. But to get it against all expectation and to have it, then suddenly to lose it and go back to nothing—that was unbearable.—You see how important, therefore, last night was.”

“But why me, Gladia? Why not someone else?”

“No, Elijah, it had to be you. We came and found you, Giskard and I, and you were helpless. Truly helpless. You were not unconscious, but you did not rule your body. You had to be lifted and carried and placed in the car. I was there when you were warned and treated, bathed and dried, helpless throughout. The robots did it all with marvelous efficiency, intent on caring for you and preventing harm from coming to you but totally without actual feeling. I, on the other hand, watched and I felt.”

Baley bent his head, gritting his teeth at the thought of his public helplessness. He had luxuriated in it when it had happened, but now he could only feel the disgrace of being observed under such conditions.

She went on. “I wanted to do it all for you. I resented the robots for reserving for themselves the right to be kind to you and to give. And as I thought of myself doing it, I felt a growing sexual excitement, something I hadn’t felt since Jander’s death. And it occurred to me then that, in my only successful sex, what I had done was to take. Jander gave whatever I wished, but he never took. He was incapable of taking his only, since pleasure lay in pleasing me. And it never occurred to me to give because I was brought up with robots and knew they couldn’t take.

“And as I watched, it came to me that I knew only half of sex and I desperately wanted to experience the other half. But then, at the dinner table with me afterward, when you were eating your hot soup, you seemed recovered, you seemed strong. You were strong enough to console me and because I had had that feeling for you, when you were being cared for, I no longer feared your being from Earth and I was willing to move into your embrace. I wanted it. But even as you held me, I felt a sense of loss, for I was taking again and not giving.

“And you said to me, ‘Gladia, please, I must sit down.’ Oh, Elijah, it was the most wonderful thing you could have said to me.”

Baley felt himself flush. “It embarrassed me hideously at the time. Such a confession of weakness.”

“It was just what I wanted. It drove me wild with desire. I forced you to bed and came to you and, for the first time in my life, I gave. I took nothing. And the spell of Jander passed, for I knew that he had not been enough, either. It must be possible to take and give both.—Elijah, stay with me.”

Baley shook his head. “Gladia, if I tore my heart in two, it wouldn’t change the facts. I cannot remain on Aurora. I must return to Earth. You cannot come to Earth.”

“Elijah, what if I can come to Earth?”

“Why do you say such a foolish thing? Even if you could, I would age quickly and soon be useless to you. In twenty years, thirty at the most, I will be an old man, probably dead, while you will stay as you are for centuries.”

“But that is what I mean, Elijah. On Earth, I will catch your infections and I will grow old quickly, too.”

“You wouldn’t want that. Besides, old age isn’t an infection. You will me rely grow sick, very quickly, and die. Gladia, you can find another man.”

“An Auroran?” She said it with contempt.

“You can teach. Now that you know how to take and to give, teach them how to do both as well.”

“If I teach, will they learn?”

“Some will. Surely some will. You have so much time to find the one who will. There is—” (No, he thought, it is not wise to mention Gremionis now, but perhaps if he comes to her—less politely and with a little more determination—)

She seemed thoughtful. “Is it possible?” Then, looking at Baley, with her gray-blue eyes moist, “Oh, Elijah, do you remember anything at all of what happened last night?”

“I must admit,” said Baley a little sadly, “that some of it is distressingly hazy.”

“If you remembered, you would not want to leave me.”

“I don’t want to leave you as it is, Gladia. It is just that I must.”

“And afterward,” she said, “you seemed so quietly happy, so rested. I lay nestled on your shoulder and felt your heart beat rapidly at first, then more and more slowly, except when you sat up so suddenly. Do you remember that?”

Baley started and leaned a little away from her, gazing into her eyes, wildly. “No, I don’t remember that. What do you mean? What did I do?”

“I told you. You sat up suddenly.”

“Yes, but what else?” His heart was beating rapidly now, as rapidly as it, must have in the wake of last night’s sex. Three times, something that had seemed the truth had come to, him, but the first two times he had been entirely alone. The third time, last night, however, Gladia had been with him. He had had a witness.

Gladia said, “Nothing else, really. I said, ‘What is it, Elijah?’ But you paid no attention to me. You said, ‘I have it. I have it.’ You didn’t speak clearly and your eyes were unfocused. It was a little frightening.”

“Is that all I said? Jehoshaphat, Gladia! Didn’t I say anything more?”

Gladia frowned. “I don’t remember. But then you lay back and I said, ‘Don’t be frightened, Elijah. Don’t be frightened. You’re safe now.’ And I stroked you and you settled—back and fell asleep—and snored.—I never heard anyone snore before, but that’s what it must have been—from the descriptions.” The thought clearly amused her.