“That has been imprinted in our memory banks, Partner Elijah—”
“Well, then, lead the way.”
The orange sun was well up in the sky now and it was clearly nearing midday. As they approached Vasilia’s establishment, they stepped into the shadow of the factory and Baley twitched a little as he felt the temperature drop immediately.
His lips tightened at the thought of occupying and settling worlds without Cities, where the temperature was uncontrolled and subject to unpredictable, idiotic changes.—And, he noted uneasily, the line of clouds at the horizon had advanced somewhat. It could also rain whenever it wished, with water cascading down.
Earth! He longed for the Cities.
Giskard had walked into the establishment first and Daneel held out his arm to prevent Baley from following.
Of course! Giskard was reconnoitering.
So was Daneel, for that matter. His eyes traversed the landscape with an intentness no human being could have duplicated. Baley was certain that those robotic eyes missed nothing. (He wondered why robots were not equipped with four eyes equally distributed about the perimeter of the head—or an optic strip totally circumnavigating it. Daneel could not be expected to, of course, since he had to be human in appearance, but why not Giskard? Or did that introduce complications of vision that the positronic pathways could not handle? For a moment, Baley had a faint vision of the complexities that burdened the life of a roboticist.)
Giskard reappeared in the doorway, and nodded. Daneel’s arm exerted a respectful pressure and Baley moved forward. The door stood ajar.
There was no lock on Vasilia’s establishment, but there had also been none (Baley suddenly remembered) on those of Gladia and of Dr. Fastolfe. A sparse population and separation helped insure privacy and, no doubt, the custom of noninterference helped, too. And, come to think of it, the ubiquitous robot guards were more efficient than any lock could be.
The pressure of Daneel’s hand on Baley’s upper arm brought the latter to a halt. Giskard, ahead of them, was speaking in a low voice to two robots, who were themselves rather Giskardlike.
A sudden coldness struck the pit of Baley’s stomach. What if some rapid maneuver substituted another robot for Giskard? Would he be able to recognize the substitution? Tell two such robots apart? Would he be left with a robot without special instructions to guard him, one who might innocently lead him into danger and then react with insufficient quickness when protection was necessary?
Controlling his voice, he said calmly to Daneel, “Remarkable the similarity in those robots, Daneel. Can you tell them apart?”
“Certainly, Partner Elijah. Their clothing designs are different and their code numbers are different, as well.”
“They don’t look different to me.”
“You are not accustomed to notice that sort of detail.”
Baley stared again. “What code numbers?”
“They are easily visible, Partner Elijah, when you know where to look and when your eyes are sensitive farther into the infrared than human eyes are.”
“Well, then, I would be in trouble if I had to do the identifying, wouldn’t I?”
“Not at all, Partner Elijah. You had but to ask a robot for its full name and serial number. It would tell you.”
“Even if instructed to give me a false one?”
“Why should any robot be so instructed?”
Baley decided not to explain.
Giskard was, in any case, returning. He said to Baley, “Sir, you will be received. Come this way, please.”
The two robots of the establishment led. Behind them came Baley and Daneel, the latter retaining his grip protectively.
Following in the rear was Giskard.
The two robots stopped before a double door which opened, apparently automatically, in both directions. The room within was suffused with a dim, grayish light—daylight diffusing through thick drapery.
Baley could make out, not very clearly, a small human figure in the room, half-seated on a tall stool, with one elbow resting on a table that ran the length of the wall.
Baley and Daneel entered, Giskard coming up behind them. The door closed, leaving the room dimmer than ever.
A female voice said sharply, “Come no closer! Stay where you are!”
And the room burst into full daylight.
38
Baley blinked and looked upward. The ceiling was glassed and, through it, the sun could be seen. The sun seemed oddly dim, however, and could be looked at, even though that did not seem to affect the quality of the light within. Presumably, the glass (or whatever the transparent substance was) diffused the light without absorbing it.
He looked down at the woman, who still maintained her pose at the stool, and said, “Dr. Vasilia Fastolfe?”
“Dr. Vasilia Aliena, if you want a full name. I do not borrow the names of others. You may call me Dr. Vasilia. It is the name by which I am commonly known at the Institute.” Her voice, which had been rather harsh, softened, “And how are you, my old friend Giskard?”
Giskard said, in tones oddly removed from his usual one, “I greet you—” He paused and then said, “I greet you, Little Miss.”
Vasilia smiled. “And this, I suppose, is the humaniform robot of whom I have heard—Daneel Olivaw?”
“Yes, Dr. Vasilia.” said Daneel briskly.
“And finally, we have—the Earthman.”
“Elijah Baley, Doctor,” said Baley stiffly.
“Yes, I’m aware that Earthmen have names and that Elijah Baley is yours,” she said coolly. “You don’t look one blasted thing like the actor who played you in the hyperwave, show.”
“I am aware of that, Doctor.”
“The one who played Daneel was rather a good likeness, however, but I suppose we are not here to discuss the show.”
“We are not.”
“I gather we are here, Earthman, to talk, about whatever it is you want to say about Santirix Gremionis and get it over with. Right?”
“Not entirely,” said Baley. “That is not the primary reason for my coming, though I imagine we will get to it.”
“Indeed? Are you under the impression that we are here to engage in a long and complicated discussion on whatever topic you choose to deal with?”
“I think, Dr. Vasilia, you would be well-advised to allow me to manage this interview as I wish.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No.
“Well, I have never met an Earthman and it might be interesting to see how closely you resemble the actor who played your role—that is, in ways other than appearance. Are you really the masterful person you seemed to be in the show?”
“The show,” said Baley with clear distaste, “was overdramatic and exaggerated my personality in every direction. I would rather you accept me as I am and judge me entirely from how I appear to you right now.”
Vasilia laughed: “At least you don’t seem overawed by me. That’s a point in your favor. Or do you think this Gremionis thing you’ve got in mind puts you in a position to order me about?”
“I am not here to do anything but uncover the truth in the matter of the dead humaniform robot, Jander Panell.”
“Dead? Was he ever alive, then?”
“I use one syllable in preference to phrases such as ‘rendered inoperative.’ Does saying ‘dead’ confuse you?”
Vasilia said, “You fence well.—Debrett, bring the Earthman a chair. He will grow weary standing if this is to be a long conversation. Then get into your niche. And you may choose one, too, Daneel.—Giskard, come stand by me.”
Baley sat down. “Thank you, Debrett.—Dr. Vasilia, I have no authority to question you; I have no legal means of forcing you to answer my questions. However, the death of Jander Panell has put your father in a position of some—”
“It has put whom in a position?”
“Your father.”
“Earthman, I sometimes refer to a certain individual as my father, but no one else does. Please use a proper name.”