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Hari sat in a plush chair near the view screen while Gornon strapped Mors Planch in and quickly made sure of the others.
“I have business in the control cabin, Professor. We’ll talk later. Meanwhile, why don’t you enjoy the view? Nothing like it has been seen for a thousand human generations, and perhaps nothing like it ever will.”
With that, Vlimt left the lounge.
Hari had a sudden, wild urge to shout a warning ahead to Biron Maserd, but then felt overwhelmed by fatigue. Anyway, if his guess was right, a warning wouldn’t make much difference.
The spectacle outside was indeed memorable-a flare of individual archives exploding ever more rapidly to become a virtual fireworks display. I
I wonder what happened to the other ship.Hari peered about until he spied the Ktlina vessel. It should just be lying there in space, a derelict with no one aboard. But as Hari watched, the sleek craft began to glow with pent-up energies. Maneuvering jets fired, and it began moving in the opposite direction from the course taken by thePride of Rhodia. Soon its glimmering wake was all that remained. Then Hari lost sight even of that, as an entirely new zone of destruction came into view.
The terraformers,he thought, staring, as gigantic tilling machines began their own cycle of demolition. Prehistoric starcraft, so ancient and primitive, and yet, so awesomely powerful that they had transformed whole planets, began to shrivel into dust as if they were being crushed by the weight of years.
A moan escaped Horis Antic as the soils expert pointed at the vivid scene. He was recovered enough from the drugged stupor to understand what this meant. The proof of his hypothesis-a discovery that would be his sole claim to fame among quadrillions of anonymous galactic citizens-was vanishing before his eyes.
Hari felt sympathy for the little man.
It would have felt good and right for the truth about this to come out. Daneel claims the tillers were sent forth by a different kind of robot. Programmed by an Auroran fanatic whose fierce notion of service to humanity meant a
Hari felt little but a pessimistic certainty. Life brought him nothing but defeats. No sign of his missing grandchild. No validity for psychohistory. And now, for the greater good, he had consented to the destruction of a treasure.
“Whatever you have in mind for us, Daneel…it had better be worth all of this. It had better be really special.”
A while later, after the explosions had been left far behind, Hari was dozing when someone dropped heavily into the seat next to his.
“Well, I’ll be damned if this universe makes the slightest bit of sense,” grumbled Biron Maserd.
Hari rubbed his eyes.
“Who is piloting-”
Maserd answered with a sour expression. “That fancypants artiste, Gornon Vlimt. Seems the controls won’t respond to me any more, only to him.”
“How…Where is he taking us?”
“Says he’ll explain later. I thought about giving him a knock on the head and trying to take back control. Then I realized.”
“What?”
“Vlimt must be responsible for what happened to Kers Kantun, back on the station. Vlimt was left drugged, like the others, but now look at him! I figure there’s just one explanation. He must be another-”
“-another kind of robot?”
This time the voice came from the passageway, where Gornon Vlimt stood, looking as foppish as ever, in the wild clothing of Ktlina’s New Renaissance.
“I apologize for the inconvenience, gentlemen. But the operation that has just been completed required great delicacy and timing. Clarifications had to wait until success was achieved.”
“What success?” Hari asked. “If your aim was to recover and use the archives, you failed! They’ve all been destroyed.”
“Perhaps not all of them. Anyway, the archives were never my principal objective,” Gornon answered. “First, I should elucidate one point. I am not the Gornon Vlimt whom you knew. That man is still in a drugged stupor, riding the Ktlina ship out to a false rendezvous, where he will tell his fellow chaos agents a hypnotically induced story.”
“Then youare a robot,” Biron Maserd growled.
The Gornon-duplicate nodded.
“As you might guess, I represent a different faction than the followers of R. Daneel Olivaw.”
“Are you one of theCalvinians?”
The robot did not answer directly.
“Let’s just say that what took place recently was another skirmish in a war that stretches beyond the reach of even the lost archives.”
“So you don’t share the aims of the human you replaced? The real Gornon Vlimt?”
“That’s right, Professor. Gornon wanted to copy and scatter the archives willy-nilly among vulnerable cultures of the empire, creating chaos infections in a million random locales. A catastrophic notion. Your own psychohistory equations would be utterly torn apart, and Daneel’s alternate destiny-whatever he has secretly pla
Maserd grunted. “Then you approve of destroying the archives?”
“It is not a matter of approval, but necessity.”
“Then what’s the difference between you and Kers Kantun!” the nobleman demanded. Maserd was evidently reaching the limit of his tolerance for mysteries.
“There are many sects and sub sects among robotkind, my lord. One faction believes we should not be closing doors or sealing our options right now. To this end, we have a favor to ask of Dr. Seldon.”
Hari laughed out loud.
“I don’t believe this! You all keep acting as if I’m your god-or at least a convenient representative for ten quadrillion gods-but all youreally want is for me to excuse and sanctify plans you’ve already chosen!”
The robot Gornon confirmed this with a nod.
“You were bred for such a role, Professor. On Helicon, ten thousand boys and girls were specially conceived, inoculated, and prepped as you were. And yet only a few hundred then qualified for a careful series of conditionings, from education to home environment, aimed toward a specific end. After a long wi
Hari shivered. He had long suspected, but never heard it confirmed.Perhaps this enemy of Daneel’s has a reason for revealing it right now? He decided to stay wary.
“So I was raised to be mathematically creative and unconventional, in a civilization whose every social characteristic encourages conservatism and conformity. But my creativity was guided, eh?”
Vlimt nodded. “You had to be immune to all the normal damping mechanisms in order for your creativity to flower, and yet a sense of direction was essential, guiding you always toward the same ideal.”
Hari nodded.
“Predictability.I hated the way my parents kept bouncing around. All emotions, no reason. I longed to predict what people would do. My lifelong obsession.” He sighed. “But even a neurotic can understand his neurosis. I knew this about myself decades ago, robot. Don’t you think I figured out that Daneel helped make me what I am? Do you imagine that revealing these facts will lessen my loyalty and friendship toward him?”