Isaac Asimov - The Naked Sun

“Thank you,” said Baley stiffly.

“Do you know why I encouraged you to describe your views to me?” He was almost like a little boy, hugging his pleasure. He went on without waiting for an answer. “Your report has already undergone preliminary analysis by our sociologists and I was wondering if you had any idea yourself as to the excellent news for Earth you had brought with you. I see you have.”

“But wait,” said Baley. “There’s more to this.”

“There is, indeed,” agreed Minnim jubilantly. “Solaria cannot possibly correct its stagnation. It has passed a critical point and their dependence on robots has gone too far. Individual robots can’t discipline an individual child, even though discipline may do the child eventual good. The robot can’t see past the immediate pain. And robots collectively cannot discipline a planet by allowing its institutions to collapse when the institutions have grown harmful. They can’t see past the immediate chaos. So the only end for the Outer Worlds is perpetual stagnation and Earth will be freed of their domination. This new data changes everything. Physical revolt will not even be necessary. Freedom will come of itself.”

“Wait,” said Baley again, more loudly. “It’s only Solaria we’re discussing, not any other Outer World.”

“It’s the same thing. Your Solarian sociologist—Kimot—”

“Quemot, sir.”

“Quemot, then. He said, did he not, that the other Outer Worlds were moving in the direction of Solaria?”

“He did, but he knew nothing about the other Outer Worlds firsthand, and he was no sociologist. Not really. I thought I made that clear.”

“Our own men will check.”

“They’ll lack data too. We know nothing about the really big Outer Worlds. Aurora, for instance; Daneel’s world. To me, it doesn’t seem reasonable to expect them to be anything like Solaria. In fact, there’s only one world in the Galaxy which resembles Solaria—”

Minnim was dismissing the subject with a small, happy wave of his neat hand. “Our men will check. I’m sure they will agree with Quemot.”

Baley’s stare grew somber. If Earth’s sociologists were anxious enough for happy news, they would find themselves agreeing with Quemot, at that. Anything could be found in figures if the search were long enough and hard enough and if the proper pieces of information were ignored or overlooked.

He hesitated. Was it best now to speak while he had the ear of a man high in the government or—He hesitated a trifle too long. Minnim was speaking again, shuffling a few papers and growing more matter-of-fact. “A few minor matters, Plainclothesman, concerning the Delmarre case itself and then you will be free to go. Did you intend to have Leebig commit suicide?”

“I intended to force a confession, sir. I had not anticipated suicide at the approach, ironically, of someone who was only a robot and who would not really be violating the taboo against personal presence. But, frankly, I don’t regret his death. He was a dangerous man. It will be a long time before there will be another man who will combine his sickness and his brilliance.”

“I agree with that,” said Minnim dryly, “and consider his death fortunate, but didn’t you consider your danger if the Solarians had stopped to realize that Leebig couldn’t possibly have murdered Delmarre?”

Baley took his pipe out of his mouth and said nothing.

“Come, Plainclothesman,” said Minnim. “You know he didn’t. The murder required personal presence and Leebig would die rather than allow that. He did die rather than allow it.”

Baley said, “You’re right, sir. I counted on the Solarians being too horrified at his misuse of robots to stop to think of that.”

“Then who did kill Delmarre?”

Baley said slowly, “If you mean who struck the actual blow, it was the person everyone knew had done so. Gladia Delmarre, the man’s wife.”

“And you let her go?”

Baley said, “Morally, the responsibility wasn’t hers. Leebig knew Gladia quarreled bitterly with her husband, and often. He must have known how furious she could grow in moments of anger. Leebig wanted the death of the husband under circumstances that would incriminate the wife. So he supplied Delmarre with a robot and, I imagine, instructed it with all the skill he possessed to hand Gladia one of its detachable limbs at the moment of her full fury. With a weapon in her hand at the crucial moment, she acted in a temporary black-out before either Delmarre or the robot could stop her. Gladia was as much Leebig’s unwitting instrument as the robot itself.”

Minnim said, “The robot’s arm must have been smeared with blood and matted hair.”

“It probably was,” said Baley, “but it was Leebig who took the murder robot in charge. He could easily have instructed any other robots who might have noticed the fact to forget it. Dr. Thool might have noticed it, but he inspected only the dead man and the unconscious woman. Leebig’s mistake was to think that guilt would rest so obviously on Gladia that the matter of the absence of an obvious weapon at the scene wouldn’t save her. Nor could he anticipate that an Earthman would be called in to help with the investigation.”

“So with Leebig dead, you arranged to have Gladia leave Solaria. Was that to save her in case any Solarians began thinking about the case?”

Baley shrugged. “She had suffered enough. She had been victimized by everyone; by her husband, by Leebig, by the world of Solaria.”

Minnim said, “Weren’t you bending the law to suit a personal whim?”

Baley’s craggy face grew hard. “It was not a whim. I was not bound by Solarian law. Earth’s interests were paramount, and for

the sake of those interests, I had to see that Leebig, the dangerous one, was dealt with. As for Mrs. Delmarre.” He faced Minnim now, and felt himself taking a crucial step. He had to say this. “As for Mrs. Delmarre, I made her the basis of an experiment.”

“What experiment?”

“I wanted to know if she would consent to face a world where personal presence was permitted and expected. I was curious to know if she had the courage to face disruption of habits so deeply settled in her. I was afraid she might refuse to go; that she might insist on remaining on Solaria, which was purgatory to her, rather than bring herself to abandon her distorted Solarian way of life. But she chose change and I was glad she did, because to me it seemed symbolic. It seemed to open the gates of salvation for us.”

“For us?” said Minnim with energy. “What the devil do you mean?”

“Not for you and me, particularly, sir,” said Baley gravely, “but for all mankind. You’re wrong about the other Outer Worlds. They have few robots; they permit personal presence; and they have been investigating Solaria. R. Daneel Olivaw was there with me, you know, and he’ll bring back a report. There is a danger they may become Solarias someday, but they will probably recognize that danger and work to keep themselves in a reasonable balance and in that way remain the leaders of mankind.”

“That is your opinion,” said Minnim testily.

“And there’s more to it. There is one world like Solaria and that’s Earth.”

“Plainclothesman Baley!”

“It’s so, sir. We’re Solaria inside out. They retreated into isolation from one another. We retreated into isolation from the Galaxy. They are at the dead end of their inviolable estates. We are at the dead end of underground Cities. They’re leaders without followers, only robots who can’t talk back. We’re followers without leaders, only enclosing Cities to keep us safe.” Baley’s fists clenched.

Minnim disapproved. “Plainclothesman, you have been through an ordeal. You need a rest and you will have one. A month’s vacation, full pay, and a promotion at the end of it.”