Robots and Empire

“I’m relieved to hear that and will therefore go on. The matter of differences in power sources has its roots in history. At the time that hyperspatial travel was developed, we had microfusion, so that people leaving Earth took microfusion power sources with them. It was necessary on spaceships and on planets, too, in the generations during which they were being adapted for human occupation. It takes many years to build an adequate complex of solar power stations—and rather than undertake such a task, the emigrants remained with microfusion. So it was with the Spacer’s in their time, and so it is now with the Settlers.

“On Earth, however, microfusion and solar power in space were developed at roughly the same time and both were used more and more. Finally, we could make our choice and use either microfusion or solar power or, of course, both. And we chose solar power.”

Daneel said, “That seems strange to me, Madam Quintana. Why not both?”

“Actually, that’s not a very difficult question to answer, R. Daneel. Earth, in prehyperspatial days, had had experience with a primitive form of nuclear energy, and it wasn’t a happy experience. When the time came to choose between solar power and microfusion, Earthpeople saw microfusion as a form of nuclear energy and turned away from it. Other worlds, which did not have our direct experience with the primitive form of nuclear energy, had no reason to turn away from microfusion.”

“May I ask what this primitive form of nuclear energy to which you refer might be, madam?”

“Uranium fission,” said Quintana. “It’s completely different from microfusion. Fission involves the splitting of massive nuclei, such as those of uranium. Microfusion involves the joining of light nuclei, such as those of hydrogen. They’re both forms of nuclear energy, however.”

“I presume that uranium would be the fuel for fission devices.”

“Yes—or other massive nuclei, such as those of thorium or plutonium.”

“But uranium and these others are exceedingly rare metals. Could they support a fission-using society?”

“Those elements are rare on other worlds. On Earth, they are not exactly common, but neither are they terribly rare. Uranium and thorium are widely spread in the crust in small quantities and are concentrated in a few places.”

“And are there any fission-power devices on Earth now, madam?”

“No,” said Quintana flatly. “Nowhere and in no fashion. Human beings would far sooner burn oil—or even wood—than fission uranium. The very word ‘uranium’ is taboo in polite society. You wouldn’t be asking me these questions or I giving you these answers if you were a human being and an Earthman.”

Daneel persisted. “But are you certain, madam? Is there no secret device that makes use of fission that, for the sake of national security—”

“No, robot,” said Quintana, frowning. “I tell you—no such device. None!”

Daneel rose. “I thank you, madam, and I ask your pardon for taking your time and for probing what would seem to be a sensitive subject. With your permission, I shall leave you now.”

Quintana waved a careless hand. “You’re welcome, R. Daneel.”

She turned again to her neighbor, secure in the knowledge that in the crowds of Earth, people never attempted to overhear a nearby conversation or, if they did, never admitted the fact. She said, “Would you imagine having a discussion on energetics with a robot?”

As for Daneel, he returned to his original place and said softly to Giskard, “Nothing, friend Giskard. Nothing helpful.”

Then he added sadly, “Perhaps I asked the wrong questions. Partner Elijah would have asked the right ones.”

17. THE ASSASSIN

86

Secretary-General Edgar Andrev, chief executive of Earth, was a rather tall and imposing man, clean-shaven in the Spacer style. He moved always in a measured fashion, as though on constant display, and he had a twinkling way about him as though he was always very pleased with himself. His voice was a bit too high-pitched for his body but it fell well short of being squeaky. Without seeming obdurate, he was not easily swayed.

And he wasn’t this time. “Impossible,” he said firmly to D.G. “She must make her appearance.”

“She’s had a hard day, Secretary-General,” said D.G. “She is not accustomed to crowds or to these surroundings. I am responsible to Baleyworld for her well-being and my personal honor is at stake.”

“I appreciate your position,” said Andrev, “but I represent, and I ca

“Her comfort must be cared for,” said D.G., tacitly abandoning his position. “She has to be kept at some distance from the crowd.”

“There will be a cordon of security guards that will give her ample breathing space. The front row of the crowd will be kept well back. They’re out there now. If we don’t a

D.G. said, “It shouldn’t have been arranged. It isn’t safe. There are Earthpeople who aren’t fond of Spacers.”

The Secretary-General shrugged. “I wish you could tell me how I could possibly have kept it from being arranged. At the present moment she is a heroine and she ca

D.G. backed away discontentedly. He caught Gladia’s eye. She looked tired and more than a little unhappy.

He said, “You must, Gladia. There’s no way out.”

For a moment, she stared down at her hands as though wondering if they could do anything to protect her, then she straightened herself and lifted her chin—a small Spacer amid this horde of barbarians. “If I must, I must. Will you remain with me?”

“Unless they remove me physically.”

“And my robots?”

D.G. hesitated. “Gladia, how will two robots be able to help you in the midst of millions of human beings?”

“I know, D.G. And I also know that I will have to do without them eventually if I am to continue this mission of mine. But not just yet, please. For the moment, I will feel safer with them, whether that makes sense or not. If these Earth officials want me to acknowledge the crowd, to smile, to wave, to do whatever it is I am supposed to do, the presence of Daneel and Giskard will comfort me.—Look, D.G., giving in to them on a very big thing, even though I am so uneasy that I think nothing would be so nice as to run away. Let them give in to me on this very little thing.”

“I’ll try,” said D.G., in clear discouragement and, as he stepped toward Andrev, Giskard moved quietly with him.

A few minutes later, when Gladia, surrounded by a carefully picked contingent of officials, moved forward toward an open balcony, D.G. remained a little behind Gladia, flanked on his left by Giskard and on his right by Daneel.

The Secretary-General had said ruefully, “All right, all right. I don’t know how you managed to make me agree, but all right.” He rubbed his forehead, aware of a small vague ache in his right temple. For some reason he caught Giskard’s eye and turned away with a stifled shudder. “But you must keep them motionless, Captain, remember. And please keep the one that looks like a robot as unobtrusive as you can. He makes me uneasy and I don’t want people any more aware of him than they have to be.”

D.G. said, “They will be looking at Gladia, Secretary General. They will see no one else.”

“I hope so,” said Andrev waspishly. He paused to take a message capsule someone placed in his hand. He put it into his pocket, then walked on and didn’t think of it again till they had reached the balcony.