The Naked Sun

“I agree with that,” said Mi

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

“Come, Plainclothesman,” said Mi

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.”

Mi

“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.”

Mi

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 Mi

“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 Mi

“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 Mi

“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.

Mi

“Thank you, but that’s not all I want. I want you to listen. There’s only one direction out of our dead end and that’s outward, toward Space. There are a million worlds out there and the Spacers own

only fifty. They are few and long-lived. We are many and short lived. We: are better suited than they for exploration and colonization. We have population pressure to push us and a rapid turnover of generation to keep us supplied with the young and restless. It was our ancestors who colonized the Outer Worlds in the first place.”

“Yes, I see—but I’m afraid our time is up.”

Baley could feel the other’s anxiety to be rid of him and he remained stolidly in place. He said, “When the original colonization established worlds superior to our own in technology, we escaped by building wombs beneath the ground for ourselves. The Spacers made us feel inferior and we hid from them. That’s no answer. To avoid the destructive rhythm of rebellion and suppression, we must compete with them, follow them, if we must, lead them, if we can. To do that, we must face the open; we must teach ourselves to face the open. If it is too late to teach ourselves, then we must teach our children. It’s vital!”

“You need a rest, Plainclothesman.”

Baley said violently, “Listen to me, sir. If the Spacers are strong and we remain as we are, then Earth will be destroyed within a century. That has been computed, as you yourself told me. If the Spacers are really weak and are growing weaker, then we may escape, but who says the Spacers are weak? The Solarians, yes, but that’s all we know.”

“But—”

“I’m not through. One thing we can change, whether the Spacers are weak or strong. We can change the way we are. Let us face the open and we’ll never need rebellion. We can spread out into our own crowd of worlds and become Spacers ourselves. If we stay here on Earth, cooped up, then useless and fatal rebellion can’t be stopped. It will be all the worse if the people build any false hopes because of supposed Spacer weakness. Go ahead, ask the sociologists. Put my argument to them. And if they’re still in doubt, find a way to send me to Aurora. Let me bring back a report on the real Spacers, and you’ll see what Earth must do.”

Mi

Baley left with a feeling of exaltation. He had not expected an open victory over Mi

of pensive uncertainty that had crossed Mi

He felt he could see into the future. Ma

Give it one year, thought Baley, one year, and I’ll be on my way to Aurora. One generation, and we’ll be out in space once more.

Baley stepped onto the northbound Expressway. Soon he would see Jessie. Would she understand? And his son, Bentley, now seventeen. When Ben had a seventeen-year-old of his own, would he be standing on some empty world, building a spacious life?

It was a frightening thought. Baley still feared the open. But he no longer feared the fear! It was not something to run from, that fear, but something to fight.