Isaac Asimov - The Naked Sun

Kiorissa pulled off the sheet and climbed out of bed without any self consciousness. She was wearing a one-piece sleeping suit and her hand went to the notch of the seam, where it ended at the neck.

Baley said hurriedly, “Just one moment. If you’ll agree to see me, that will end my business with you for now and you may dress in privacy.”

“In privacy?” She put out her lower lip and stared at Baley curiously. “You’re finicky, aren’t you? Like the boss.”

“Will you see me? I would like to look over the farm.”

“I don’t get this business about seeing, but if you want to view the farm I’ll tour you. If you’ll give me a chance to wash and take care of a few things and wake up a little, I’ll enjoy the break in routine.”

“I don’t want to view anything. I want to see.”

The woman cocked her head to one side and her keen look had something of professional interest in it. “Are you a pervert or something? When was the last time you underwent a gene analysis?”

“Jehoshaphat!” muttered Baley. “Look, I’m Elijah Baley. I’m from Earth.”

“From Earth?” She cried vehemently. “Skies above! Whatever are you doing here? Or is this some kind of complicated joke?”

“I’m not joking. I was called in to investigate Delmarre’s death. I’m a plainclothesman, a detective.”

“You mean that kind of investigation. But I thought everyone knew his wife did it.”

“No, ma’am, there’s some question about it in my mind. May I have your permission to see the farm and you. As an Earthman, you understand, I’m not accustomed to viewing. It makes me uncomfort

able. I have permission from the Head of Security to see people who might help me. I will show you the document, if you wish.”

“Let’s see it.”

Baley held the official strip up before her imaged eyes.

She shook her head. “Seeing! It’s filthy. Still, skies above, what’s a little more filth in this filthy job? Look here, though, don’t you come close to me. You stay a good distance away. We can shout or send messages by robot, if we have to. You understand?”

“I understand.”

Her sleeping suit split open at the seam just as contact broke off and the last word he heard from her was a muttered: “Earthman!”

“That’s close enough,” said Klorissa.

Baley, who was some twenty-five feet from the woman, said, “It’s all right this distance, but I’d like to get indoors quickly.”

It had not been so bad this time, somehow. He had scarcely minded the plane trip, but there was no point in overdoing it. He kept himself from yanking at his collar to allow himself to breathe more freely.

Klorissa said sharply, “What’s wrong with you? You look kind of beat.”

Baley said, “I’m not used to the outdoors.”

“That’s right! Earthman! You’ve got to be cooped up or something. Skies above!” Her tongue passed over her lips as though it tasted something unappetizing. “Well, come in, then, but let me move out of the way first. All right. Get in.”

Her hair was in two thick braids that wound about her head in a complicated geometrical pattern. Baley wondered how long it took to arrange like that and then remembered that, in all probability, the unerring mechanical fingers of a robot did the job.

The hair set off her oval face and gave it a kind of symmetry that made it pleasant if not pretty. She did not wear any facial makeup, nor, for that matter, were her clothes meant to do more than cover her serviceably. For the most part they were a subdued dark blue except for her gloves, which covered her to mid-arm and were a badly clashing lilac in color. Apparently they were not part of her ordinary costume. Baley noted the thickening of one finger of the gloves owing to the presence of the ring underneath.

They remained at opposite ends of the room, facing one another.

Baley said, “You don’t like this, do you, ma’am?”

Kiorissa shrugged. “Why should I like it? I’m not an animal. But I can stand it. You get pretty hardened, when you deal with—with”—she paused, and then her chin went up as though she had made up her mind to say what she had to say without mincing—“with children.” She pronounced the word with careful precision.

“You sound as though you don’t like the job you have.”

“It’s an important job. It must be done. Still, I don’t like it.”

“Did Pdkaine Delmarre like it?”

“I suppose he didn’t, but he never showed it. He was a good Solarian.”

“And he was finicky.”

Klorissa looked surprised.

Baley said, “You yourself said so. When we were viewing and I said you might dress in private, you said I was finicky like the boss.”

“Oh. Well, he was finicky. Even viewing he never took any liberties. Always proper.”

“Was that unusual?”

“It shouldn’t be. Ideally, you’re supposed to be proper, but no one ever is. Not when viewing. There’s no personal presence involved so why take any pains? You know? I don’t take pains when viewing, except with the boss. You had to be formal with him.”

“Did you admire Dr. Delmarre?”

“He was a good Solarian.”

Baley said, “You’ve called this place a farm and you’ve mentioned children. Do you bring up children here?”

“From the age of a month. Every fetus on Solaria comes here.”

“Fetus?”

“Yes.” She frowned. “We get them a month after conception. Does this embarrass you?”

“No,” Baley said shortly. “Can you show me around?”

“I can. But keep your distance.”

Baley’s long face took on a stony grimness as he looked down the length of the long room from above. There was glass between the room and themselves. On the other side, he was sure, was perfectly controlled heat, perfectly controlled humidity, perfectly controlled asepsis. Those tanks, row on row, each contained its little creature floating in a watery fluid of precise composition, infused with a nutrient mixture of ideal proportions. Life and growth went on.

Little things, some smaller than half his fist, curled on themselves, with bulging skulls and tiny budding limbs and vanishing tails.

Klorissa, from her position twenty feet away, said, “How do you like it, Plainclothesman?”

Baley said, “How many do you have?”

“As of this morning, one hundred and fifty-two. We receive fifteen to twenty each month and we graduate as many to independence.”

“Is this the only such institution on the planet?”

“That’s right. It’s enough to keep the population steady, counting on a life expectancy of three hundred years and a population of twenty thousand. This building is quite new. Dr. Delmarre supervised its construction and made many changes in our procedures. Our fetal death rate now is virtually zero.”

Robots threaded their way among the tanks. At each tank they stopped and checked controls in a tireless, meticulous way, looking in at the tiny embryos within.

“Who operates on the mother?” asked Baley. “I mean, to get the little things.”

“Doctors,” answered Klorissa.

“Dr. Delmarre?”

“Of course not. Medical doctors. You don’t think Dr. Delmarre would ever stoop to—Well, never mind.”

“Why can’t robots be used?”

“Robots in surgery? First Law makes that very difficult, Plainclothesman. A robot might perform an appendectomy to save a human life, if he knew how, but I doubt that he’d be usable after that without major repairs. Cutting human flesh would be quite a traumatic experience for a positronic brain. Human doctors can manage to get hardened to it. Even to the personal presence required.”

Baley said, “I notice that robots tend the fetuses, though. Do you and Dr. Delmarre ever interfere?”