The Robots of Dawn

Baley heard the statement with half of one ear. What he had just said to Fastolfe was fiction and what Fastolfe was saying didn’t matter. It was (as the Chairman would have said) irrelevant. In fact, everything that had happened—everything that Baley had explained—was irrelevant.—But nothing had to be changed because of that.

Except one thing—after a while.

Jehoshaphat! He whispered in the silence of his mind and turned suddenly to the lunch, eating with gusto and with joy.

81

Once again, Baley crossed the lawn between Fastolfe’s establishment and Gladia’s. He would be seeing Gladia for the fourth time in three days—and (his heart seemed to compress into a hard knot in his chest) now for the last time.

Giskard was with him but at a distance, more intent than ever on the surroundings. Surely, with the Chairman in full possession of the facts, there should be a relaxation of any concern for Baley’s safety—if there ever had been any, by rights, when it was Daneel who had been in danger. Presumably, Giskard had not yet been reinstructed in the matter.

Only once did he approach Baley and that was when the latter called out, “Giskard, where’s Daneel?”

Swiftly, Giskard covered the ground between them, as though reluctant to speak in anything but a quiet tone. “Daneel is on his way to the spaceport, sir, in the company of several others, of the staff, in order to make arrangements for your transportation to Earth. When you are taken to the spaceport, he will meet you there and be on the ship with you, taking his final leave of you at Earth.”

“Good news. I treasure every day of companionship with Daneel. And you, Giskard? Will you accompany us?”

“No, sir. I am instructed to remain on Aurora. However, Daneel will serve you well, even in my absence.”

“I am sure of that, Giskard, but I will miss you.”

“Thank you, sir,” said Giskard and retreated as rapidly as he had come. Baley gazed after him speculatively for a moment or so.—No, first things first. He had to see Gladia.

82

She advanced to greet him—and what a world of change had taken place in two days. She was not joyous, she was not dancing, she was not bubbling; there was still the grave look of one who had suffered a shock and a loss—but the troubled aura around her was gone. There was a kind of serenity now, as though she had grown aware of the fact that life continued after all and might even, on occasion, be sweet.

She managed a smile, warm and friendly, as she advanced to him and held out her hand.

“Oh, take it, take it, Elijah,” she said when he hesitated. “It’s ridiculous for you to hang back and pretend you don’t want to touch me after last night. You see, I still remember it and I haven’t come to regret it. Quite the contrary.”

Baley performed the unusual operation (for him) of smiling in return. “I remember it, too, Gladia. And I don’t regret it either. I would even like to do it again, but I have come to say good-bye.”

A shade fell across her face. “Then you’ll be going back, to Earth. Yet the report I got by way of the robot network that always operates between Fastolfe’s establishment and my own is that all went well. You can’t have failed.”

“I did not fail. Dr. Fastolfe, has, in fact, won completely. I don’t believe there, will be, any suggestion at all that he was in any way involved in Jander’s death.”

“Because of what you had to say, Elijah?”

“I believe so.”

“I knew it.” There was a tinge of self-satisfaction to that. “I knew you would do it when I told them to get you on the case.—But then why are you being sent home?”

“Precisely because the case is solved. If I remain here longer, I will be a foreign irritant in the body politic, apparently.”

She looked at him dubiously for a moment and said, “I’m not sure what you mean by that. It sounds like an Earth expression to me. But never mind. Were you able to find out who killed Jander? That is the important part.”

Baley looked around. Giskard was standing in one niche, one of Gladia’s robots in another.

Gladia interpreted the look without trouble. She said, “Now, Elijah, you must learn to stop worrying about robots. You don’t worry about the presence of the chair, do you, or of these drapes?”

Baley nodded. “Well, then, Gladia, I’m sorry—I’m terribly sorry—but I had to tell them of the fact that Jander was your husband.”

Her eyes opened wide and he hastened on. “I had to. It was essential to the case, but I promise it won’t affect your status on Aurora.” As briefly as he might, he summarized the events of the confrontation and concluded, “So, you see, no one killed Jander. The immobilization was the result of a chance change in his positronic pathways, though the probabilities of that chance change may have been enhanced by what had been going on.”

“And I never knew,” she moaned. “I never knew. I co

“Gladia,” said Baley earnestly, “that is uncharitable. He had no intention of doing harm to Jander and what he was doing was, in his own eyes, for the good of Aurora. As it is, he is punished. He is defeated, his plans are in shambles, and the Robotics Institute wilt come under the domination of Dr. Fastolfe. You yourself could not work out a more suitable punishment, no matter how you I tried.”

She said, “I’ll think about that.—But what do I do with Santirix Gremionis, this good-looking young lackey whose job it was to lure me away? No wonder he appeared to cling to hope despite my repeated refusal. Well, he’ll come here again and I will have the pleasure of—”

Baley shook his head violently. “Gladia, no. I have interviewed him and I assure you he had no knowledge of what was going on. He was as much deceived as you were. In fact, you have it reversed. He was not persistent because it was important to lure you away. He was useful to Amadiro because he was so persistent—and that persistence was out of regard or you. Out of love, if the word means on Aurora what it means on Earth.”

“On Aurora, it is choreography. Jander was a robot and you are an Earthman. It is different with the Aurorans.”

“So you have explained. But Gladia, you learned from Jander to take; you learned from me—not that I meant it—to give. If you benefit by learning, is it not only right and fair that you should teach in your turn. Gremionis is sufficiently attracted to you to be willing to learn. He already defies Auroran convention by persisting in the face of your refusal. He will defy more. You can teach him to give and take and you will learn to do both in alternation or together, in company with him.”

Gladia looked searchingly into his eyes. “Elijah, are you trying to get rid of me?”

Slowly, Baley nodded. “Yes, Gladia, I am. It’s your happiness I want at this moment, more than I have ever wanted anything for myself or for Earth. I can’t give you happiness, but if Gremionis can give it to you, I will be as happy—almost as happy as if it were I myself who were making the gift.

“Gladia, he may surprise you with how eagerly he will break through the choreography when you show him how. And the word will somehow spread, so that others will come to swoon at your feet—and Gremionis may find it possible to teach other women. Gladia, it may be that you will revolutionize Auroran sex before you are through. You will have three centuries in which to do so.”

Gladia stared at him and then broke into a laugh. “You are teasing. You are being—I wouldn’t have thought it of you, Elijah. You always look so long-faced and grave. Jehoshaphat!” (And, with the last word, she tried to imitate his somber baritone.)

Baley said, “Perhaps I’m teasing a little, but I mean it in essence. Promise me that you will give Gremionis his chance.”