Foundation and Earth 16 страница

“And the films?” asked Bliss. “I take it those are film projectors?”

“Diaries,” said Bander, “the history of their lives. Scenes of themselves in their favorite parts of the estate. It means they do not die in every sense. Part of them remains, and it is part of my freedom that I can join them whenever I choose; I can watch this bit of film or that, as I please.”

“But not into the—shamiferous ones.”

Bander's eyes slithered away. “No,” it admitted, “but then we all have that as part of the ancestry. It is a common wretchedness.”

“Common? Then other Solarians also have these death chambers?” asked Trevize.

“Oh yes, we all do, but mine is the best, the most elaborate, the most perfectly preserved.”

Trevize said, “Do you have your own death chamber already prepared?”

“Certainly. It is completely constructed and appointed. That was done as my first duty when I inherited the estate. And when I am laid to ash-to be poetic-my successor will go about the construction of its own as its first duty.”

“And do you have a successor?”

“I will have when the time comes. There is as yet ample scope for life. When I must leave, there will be an adult successor, ripe enough to enjoy the estate, and well lobed for power-transduction.”

“It will be your offspring, I imagine.”

“Oh yes.”

“But what if,” said Trevize, “something untoward takes place? I presume accidents and misfortunes take place even on Solaria. What happens if a Solarian is laid to ash prematurely and it has no successor to take its place, or at least not one who is ripe enough to enjoy the estate?”

“That rarely happens. In my line of ancestors, that happened only once. When it does, however, one need only remember that there are other successors waiting for other estates. Some of those are old enough to inherit, and yet have parents who are young enough to produce a second descendant and to live on till that second descendant is ripe enough for the succession. One of these old/young successors, as they are called, would be assigned to the succession of my estate.”

“Who does the assigning?”

“We have a ruling board that has this as one of its few functions-the assignment of a successor in case of premature aching. It is all done by holovision, of course.”

Pelorat said, “Hut see here, if Solarians never see each other, how would anyone know that some Solarian somewhere has unexpectedly-or expectedly, for that matter-been laid to ash.”

Bander said, “When one of us is laid to ash, all power at the estate ceases. If no successor takes over at once, the abnormal situation is eventually noticed and corrective measures are taken. I assure you that our social system works smoothly.”

Trevize said, “Would it be possible to view some of these films you have here?”

Bander froze. Then it said, “It is only your ignorance that excuses you. What you have said is crude and obscene.”

“I apologize for that,” said Trevize. “I do not wish to intrude on you, but we've already explained that we are very interested in obtaining information on Earth. It occurs to me that the earliest films you have would date back to a time before Earth was radioactive. Earth might therefore be mentioned. There might be details given about it. We certainly do not wish to intrude on your privacy, but would there be any way in which you yourself could explore those films, or have a robot do so, perhaps, and then allow any relevant information to be passed on to us? Of course, if you can respect our motives and understand that we will try our best to respect your feelings in return, you might allow us to do the viewing ourselves.”

Bander said frigidly, “I imagine you have no way of knowing that you are becoming more and more offensive. However, we can end all this at once, for I can tell you that there are no films accompanying my early half-human ancestors.”

“None?” Trevize's disappointment was heart-felt.

“They existed once. But even you can imagine what might have been on them. Two half-humans showing interest in each other or, even,” Hander cleared its throat, and said, with an effort, “interacting. Naturally, all halfhuman films were destroyed many generations ago.”

“What about the records of other Solarians?”

“All destroyed.”

“Can you be sure?”

“It would be mad not to destroy them.”

“It might be that some Solarians were mad, or sentimental, or forgetful. We presume you will not object to directing us to neighboring estates.”

Bander looked at Trevize in surprise. “Do you suppose others will be as tolerant of you as I have been?”

“Why not, Bander?”

“You'll find they won't be.”

“It's a chance we'll have to take.”

“No, Trevize. No, any of you. Listen to me.”

There were robots in the background, and Bander was frowning.

“What is it, Bander?” said Trevize, suddenly uneasy.

Bander said, “I have enjoyed speaking to all of you, and observing you in all your-strangeness. It was a unique experience, which I have been delighted with, but I cannot record it in my diary, nor memorialize it in film.”

“Why not?”

“My speaking to you; my listening to you; my bringing you into my mansion; my bringing you here into the ancestral death chambers; are shameful acts.”

“We are not Solarians. We matter to you as little as these robots do, do we not?”

“I excuse the matter to myself in that way. It may not serve as an excuse to others.”

“What do you care? You have absolute liberty to do as you choose, don't you?”

“Even as we are, freedom is not truly absolute. If I were the only Solarian on the planet, I could do even shameful things in absolute freedom. But there are other Solarians on the planet, and, because of that, ideal freedom, though approached, is not actually reached. There are twelve hundred Solarians on the planet who would despise me if they knew what I had done.”

“There is no reason they need know about it.”

“That is true. I have been aware of that since you've arrived. I've been aware of it all this time that I've been amusing myself with you. The others must not find out.”

Pelorat said, “If that means you fear complications as a result of our visits to other estates in search of information about Earth, why, naturally, we will mention nothing of having visited you first. That is clearly understood.”

Bander shook its head. “I have taken enough chances. I will not speak of this, of course. My robots will not speak of this, and will even be instructed not to remember it. Your ship will be taken underground and explores for what information it can give us—”

“Wait,” said Trevize, “how long do you suppose we can wait here while you inspect our ship? That is impossible.”

“Not at all impossible, for you will have nothing to say about it. I am sorry. I would like to speak to you longer and to discuss many other things with you, but you see the matter grows more dangerous.”

“No, it does not,” said Trevize emphatically.

“Yes, it does, little half-human. I'm afraid the time has come when I must do what my ancestors would have done at once. I must kill you, all three.”

Chapter 12

To the Surface

51.

TREVIZE turned his head at once to look at Bliss. Her face was expressionless, but taut, and her eyes were fixed on Bander with an intensity that made her seem oblivious :to all else.

Pelorat's eyes were wide, disbelieving.

Trevize, not knowing what Bliss would-or could-do, struggled to fight down an overwhelming sense of loss (not so much at the thought of dying, as of dying without knowing where Earth was, without knowing why he had chosen Gaia as humanity's future). He had to play for time.

He said, striving to keep his voice steady, and his words clear, “You have shown yourself a courteous and gentle Solarian, Bander. You have not grown angry at our intrusion into your world. You have been kind enough to show us over your estate and mansion, and you have answered our questions. It would suit your character better to allow us to leave now. no one need ever know we were on this world and we would have no cause to return. We arrived in all innocence, seeking merely information.”

“What you say is so,” said Bander lightly, “and, so far, I have given you life. Your lives were forfeit the instant you entered our atmosphere. What I might have done-and should have done-on making close contact with you, would be to have killed you at once. I should then have ordered the appropriate robot to dissect your bodies for what information on Outworlders that might yield me.

“I have not done that. I have pampered my own curiosity and given in to my own easygoing nature, but it is enough. I can do it no longer. I have, in fact, already compromised the safety of Solaria, for if, through some weakness, I were to let myself be persuaded to let you go, others of your kind would surely follow, however much you might promise that they would not.

“There is, however, at least this. Your death will be painless. I will merely heat your brains mildly and drive them into inactivation. You will experience no pain. Life will merely cease. Eventually, when dissection and study are over, I will convert you to ashes in an intense flash of heat and all will be over.”

Trevize said, “If we must die, then I cannot argue against a quick painless death, but why must we die at all, having given no offense?”

“Your arrival was an offense.”

“Not on any rational ground, since we could not know it was an offense.”

“Society defines what constitutes an offense. To you, it may seem irrational and arbitrary, but to us it is not, and this is our world on which we have the full right to say that in this and that, you have done wrong and deserve to die.”

Bander smiled as though it were merely making pleasant conversation and went on, “Nor have you any right to complain on the ground of your own superior virtue. You have a blaster which uses a beam of microwaves to induce intense killing heat. It does what I intend to do, but does it, I am sure, much more crudely and painfully. You would have no hesitation in using it on me right now, had I not drained its energy, and if I were to be so foolish as to allow you the freedom of movement that would enable you to remove the weapon from its holster.”

Trevize said despairingly, afraid even to glance again at Bliss, lest Bander's attention be diverted to her, “I ask you, as an act of mercy, not to do this.”

Bandar said, turning suddenly grim, “I must first be merciful to myself and to my world, and to do that, you must die.”

He raised his hand and instantly darkness descended upon Trevize.

52.

For a moment, Trevize felt the darkness choking him and thought wildly, Is this death?

And as though his thoughts had given rise to an echo, he heard a whispered, “Is this death?” It was Pelorat's voice.

Trevize tried to whisper, and found he could. “Why ask?” he said, with a sense of vast relief. “The mere fact that you can ask shows it is not death.”

“Mere are old legends that there is life after death.”

“Nonsense,” muttered Trevize. “Bliss? Are you here, Bliss?”

There was no answer to that.

Again Pelorat echoed, “Bliss? Bliss? What happened, Golan?”

Trevize said, “Bender must be dead. He would, in that case, be unable to supply the power for his estate. The lights would go out.”

“But how could? You mean Bliss did it?”

“I suppose so. I hope she did not come to harm in the process.” He was on his hands and knees crawling about in the total darkness of the underground (if one did not count the occasional subvisible flashing of a radioactive atom breaking down in the walls).

Then his hand came on something warm and soft. He felt along it and recognized a leg, which he seized. It was clearly too small to be Bander's. “Bliss?”

The leg kicked out, forcing Trevize to let go.

He said, “Bliss? Say something!”

“I am alive,” came Bliss's voice, curiously distorted.

Trevize said, “But are you well?”

“No.” And, with that, light returned to their surroundings-weakly. The walls gleamed faintly, brightening and dimming erratically.

Bander lay crumpled in a shadowy heap. At its side, holding its head, was Bliss.

She looked up at Trevize and Pelorat. “The Solarian is dead,” she said, and her cheeks glistened with tears in the weak light.

Trevize was dumbfounded. “Why are you crying?”

“Should I not cry at having killed a living thing of thought and intelligence? That was not my intention.”

Trevize leaned down to help her to her feet, but she pushed him away.

Pelorat knelt in his turn, saying softly, “Please, Bliss, even you can't bring it back to life. Tell us what happened.”

She allowed herself to be pulled upward and said dully, “Gaia can do what Bander could do. Gaia can make use of the unevenly distributed energy of the Universe and translate it into chosen work by mental power alone.”

“I knew that,” said Trevize, attempting to be soothing without quite knowing how to go about it. “I remember well our meeting in space when you-or Gaia, rather-held our spaceship captive. I thought of that when Bander held me captive after it had taken my weapons. It held you captive, too, but I was confident you could have broken free if you had wished.”

“No. I would have failed if I had tried. When your ship was in my/our/ Gaia's grip,” she said sadly, “I and Gaia were truly one. Now there is a hyperspatial separation that limits my/our/Gaia's efficiency. Besides, Gaia does what it does by the sheer power of massed brains. Even so, all those brains together lack the transducer-lobes this one Solarian has. We cannot make use of energy as delicately, as efficiently, as tirelessly as he could. You see that I cannot make the lights gleam more brightly, and I don't know how long I can make them gleam at all before tiring. Bander could supply the power for an entire vast estate, even when it was sleeping.”

“But you stopped it,” said Trevize.

“Because it didn't suspect my powers,” said Bliss, “and because I did nothing that would give it evidence of them. It was therefore without suspicion of me and gave me none of its attention. It concentrated entirely on you, Trevize, because it was you who bore the weapons-again, how well it has served that you armed yourself-and I had to wait my chance to stop Hander with one quick and unexpected blow. When it was on the point of killing us, when its whole mind was concentrated on that, and on you, I was able to strike.”

“And it worked beautifully.”

“How can you say something so cruel, Trevize? It was only my intention to stop it. I merely wished to block its use of its transducer. In the moment of surprise when it tried to blast us and found it could not, but found, instead, that the very illumination about us was fading into darkness, I would tighten my grip and send it into a prolonged normal sleep and release the transducer. The power would then remain on, and we could get out of this mansion, into our ship, and leave the planet. I hoped to so arrange things that, when Bander finally woke, it would have forgotten all that had happened from the instant of its sighting us. Gaia has no desire to kill in order to accomplish what can be brought about without killing.”

“What went wrong, Bliss?” said Pelorat softly.

“I had never encountered any such thing as those transducer-lobes and I lacked any time to work with them and learn about them. I merely struck out forcefully with my blocking maneuver and, apparently, it didn't work correctly. It was not the entry of energy into the lobes that was blocked, but the exit of that energy. Energy is always pouring into those lobes at a reckless rate but, ordinarily, the brain safeguards itself by pouring out that energy just as quickly. Once I blocked the exit, however, energy piled up within the lobes at once and, in a tiny fraction of a second, the temperature had risen to the point where the brain protein inactivated explosively and it was dead. The lights went out and I removed my block immediately, but, of course, it was too late.”

“I don't see that you could have done anything other than that which you did, dear,” said Pelorat.

“Of what comfort is that, considering that I have killed.”

“Bander was on the point of killing us,” said Trevize.

“That was cause for stopping it, not for killing it.”

Trevize hesitated. He did not wish to show the impatience he felt for he was unwilling to offend or further upset Bliss, who was, after all, their only defense against a supremely hostile world.

He said, “Bliss, it is time to look beyond Bander's death. Because it is dead, all power on the estate is blanked out. This will be noticed, sooner or later, probably sooner, by other Solarians. They will be forced to investigate. I don't think you will be able to hold off the perhaps combined attack of several. And, as you have admitted yourself, you won't be able to supply for very long the limited power you are managing to supply now. It is important, therefore, that we get back to the surface, and to our ship, without delay.”

“But, Golan,” said Pelorat, “how do we do that? We came for many kilometers along a winding path. I imagine it's quite a maze down here and, for myself, I haven't the faintest idea of where to go to reach the surface. I've always had a poor sense of direction.”

Trevize, looking about, realized that Pelorat was correct. He said, “I imagine there are many openings to the surface, and we needn't find the one we entered.”

“But we don't know where any of the openings are. How do we find them?”

Trevize turned again to Bliss. “Can you detect anything. mentally, that will help us find our way out?”

Bliss said, “The robots on this estate are all inactive. I can detect a thin whisper of subintelligent life straight up, but all that tells us is that the surface is straight up, which we know.”

“Well, then,” said Trevize, “we'll just have to look for some opening.”

“Hit-and-miss,” said Pelorat, appalled. “We'll never succeed.”

“We might, Janov,” said Trevize. “If we search, there will be a chance, however small. The alternative is simply to stay here, and if we do that then we will never succeed. Come, a small chance is better than none.”

“Wait,” said Bliss. “I do sense something.”

“What?” said Trevize.

“A mind.”

“Intelligence?”

“Yes, but limited, I think. What reaches me most clearly, though, is something else.”

“What?” said Trevize, again fighting impatience.

“Fright! Intolerable fright!” said Bliss, in a whisper.

53.

TREVIZE looked about ruefully. He knew where they had entered but he had no illusion on the score of being able to retrace the path by which they had come. He had, after all, paid little attention to the turnings and windings. Who would have thought they'd be in the position of having to retrace the route alone and without help, and with only a flickering, dim light to be guided by?

He said, “Do you think you can activate the car, Bliss?”

Bliss said, “I'm sure I could, Trevize, but that doesn't mean I can run it.”

Pelorat said, “I think that Bander ran it mentally. I didn't see it touch anything when it was moving.”

Bliss said gently, “Yes, it did it mentally, Pel, but how, mentally? You might as well say that it did it by using the controls. Certainly, but if I don't know the details of using the controls, that doesn't help, does it?”

“You might try,” said Trevize.

“If I try, I'll have to put my whole mind to it, and if I do that, then I doubt that I'll be able to keep the lights on. The car will do us no good in the dark even if I learn how to control it.”

“Then we must wander about on foot, I suppose?”

“I'm afraid so.”

Trevize peered at the thick and gloomy darkness that lay beyond the dim light in their immediate neighborhood. He saw nothing, heard nothing.

He said, “Bliss, do you still sense this frightened mind?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Can you tell where it is? Can you guide us to it?”

“The mental sense is a straight line. It is not refracted sensibly by ordinary matter, so I can tell it is coming from that direction.”

She pointed to a spot on the dusky wall, and said, “But we can't walk through the wall to it. The best we can do is follow the corridors and try to find our way in whatever direction will keep the sensation growing stronger. In short, we will have to play the game of hot-and-cold.”

“Then let's start right now.”

Pelorat hung back. “Wait, Golan; are we sure we want to find this thing, whatever it is? If it is frightened, it may be that we will have reason to be frightened, too.”

Trevize shook his head impatiently. “We have no choice, Janov. It's a mind, frightened or not, and it may be willing to-or may be made to-direct us to the surface.”

“And do we just leave Bander lying here?” said Pelorat uneasily.

Trevize took his elbow. “Come, Janov. We have no choice in that, either. Eventually some Solarian will reactivate the place, and a robot will find Bander and take care of it-I hope not before we are safely away.”

He allowed Bliss to lead the way. The light was always strongest in her immediate neighborhood and she paused at each doorway, at each fork in the corridor, trying to sense the direction from which the fright came. Sometimes she would walk through a door, or move around a curve, then come back and try an alternate path, while Trevize watched helplessly.

Each time Bliss came to a decision and moved firmly in a particular direction, the light came on ahead of her. Trevize noticed that it seemed a bit brighter now-either because his eyes were adapting to the dimness, or because Bliss was learning how to handle the transduction more efficiently. At one point, when she passed one of the metal rods that were inserted into the ground, she put her hand on it and the lights brightened noticeably. She nodded her head as though she were pleased with herself.

Nothing looked in the least familiar; it seemed certain they were wandering through portions of the rambling underground mansion they had not passed through on the way in.

'Trevize kept looking for corridors that led upward sharply, and he varied that by studying the ceilings for any sign of a trapdoor. Nothing of the sort appeared, and the frightened mind remained their only chance of getting out.

They walked through silence, except for the sound of their own steps; through darkness, except for the light in their immediate vicinity; through death, except for their own lives. Occasionally, they made out the shadowy bulk of a robot, sitting or standing in the dusk, with no motion. Once they saw a robot lying on its side, with legs and arms in queer frozen positions. It had been caught off-balance, Trevize thought, at the moment when power had been turned off, and it had fallen. Bander, either alive or dead, could not affect the force of gravity. Perhaps all over the vast Bander estate, robots were standing and lying inactive and it would be that that would quickly be noted at the borders.

Or perhaps not, he thought suddenly. Solarians would know when one of their number would be dying of old age and physical decay. The world would be alerted and ready. Bander, however, had died suddenly, without possible foreknowledge, in the prime of its existence. Who would know? Who would expect? Who would be watching for inactivation?

But no (and Trevize thrust back optimism and consolation as dangerous lures into overconfidence). The Solarians would note the cessation of all activity on the Bander estate and take action at once. They all had too great an interest in the succession to estates to leave death to itself.

Pelorat murmured unhappily, “Ventilation has stopped. A place like this, underground, must be ventilated, and Bander supplied the power. Now it has stopped.”

“It doesn't matter, Janov,” said Trevize. “We've got enough air down in this empty underground place to last us for years.”

“It's close just the same. It's psychologically bad.”

“Please, Janov, don't get claustrophobic. Bliss, are we any closer?”

“Much, Trevize,” she replied. “The sensation is stronger and I am clearer as to its location.”

She was stepping forward more surely, hesitating less at points of choice of direction.

“There! There!” she said. “I can sense it intensely.”

Trevize said dryly, “Even I can hear it now.”

All three stopped and, automatically, held their breaths. They could hear a soft moaning, interspersed with gasping sobs.

They walked into a large room and, as the lights went on, they saw that, unlike all those they had hitherto seen, it was rich and colorful in furnishings.

In the center of the room was a robot, stooping slightly, its arms stretched out in what seemed an almost affectionate gesture and, of course, it was absolutely motionless.

Behind the robot was a flutter of garments. A round frightened eye edged to one side of it, and there was still the sound of a brokenhearted sobbing.

Trevize darted around the robot and, from the other side, a small figure shot out, shrieking. It stumbled, fell to the ground, and lay there, covering its eyes, kicking its legs in all directions, as though to ward off some threat from whatever angle it might approach, and shrieking, shrieking-Bliss said, quite unnecessarily, “It's a child!”

54.

TREVIZE drew back, puzzled. What was a child doing here? Bander had been so proud of its absolute solitude, so insistent upon it.

Pelorat, less apt to fall back on iron reasoning in the face of an obscure event, seized upon the solution at once, and said, “I suppose this is the successor.”

“Bander's child,” said Bliss, agreeing, “but too young, I think, to be a successor. The Solarians will have to find one elsewhere.”

She was gazing at the child, not in a fixed glare, but in a soft, mesmerizing way, and slowly the noise the child was making lessened. It opened its eyes and looked at Bliss in return. Its outcry was reduced to an occasional soft whimper.

Bliss made sounds of her own, now, soothing ones, broken words that made little sense in themselves but were meant only to reinforce the calming effect of her thoughts. It was as though she were mentally fingering the child's unfamiliar mind and seeking to even out its disheveled emotions.

Slowly, never taking its eyes off Bliss, the child got to its feet, stood there swaying a moment, then made a dash for the silent, frozen robot. It threw its arms about the sturdy robotic leg as though avid for the security of its touch.

Trevize said, “I suppose that the robot is its-nursemaid-or caretaker. I suppose a Solarian can't care for another Solarian, not even a parent for a child.”

Pelorat said, “And I suppose the child is hermaphroditic.”

“It would have to be,” said Trevize.

Bliss, still entirely preoccupied with the child, was approaching it slowly, hands held half upward, palms toward herself, as though emphasizing that there was no intention of seizing the small creature. The child was now silent, watching the approach, and holding on the more tightly to the robot.

Bliss said, “There, child-warm, child-soft, warm, comfortable, safe, child—safe-safe.”

She stopped and, without looking round, said in a low voice, “Pel, speak to it in its language. Tell it we're robots come to take care of it because the power failed.”

“Robots!” said Pelorat, shocked.

“We must be presented as robots. It's not afraid of robots. And it's never seen a human being, maybe can't even conceive of them.”

Pelorat said, “I don't know if I can think of the right expression. I don't know the archaic word for ‘robot.’ ”

“Say ‘robot,’ then, Pel. If that doesn't work, say ‘iron thing.’ Say whatever you can.”

Slowly, word by word, Pelorat spoke archaically. The child looked at him, frowning intensely, as though trying to understand.

Trevize said, “You might as well ask it how to get out, while you're at it.”

Bliss said, “No. Not yet. Confidence first, then information.”

The child, looking now at Pelorat, slowly released its hold on the robot and spoke in a high-pitched musical voice.

Pelorat said anxiously, “It's speaking too quickly for me.”

Bliss said, “Ask it to repeat more slowly. I'm doing my best to calm it and remove its fears.”

Pelorat, listening again to the child, said, “I think it's asking what made Jemby stop. Jemby must be the robot.”

“Check and make sure, Pel.”

Pelorat spoke, then listened, and said, “Yes, Jemby is the robot. The child calls itself Fallom.”

“Good!” Bliss smiled at the child, a luminous, happy smile, pointed to it, and said, “Fallom. Good Fallom. Brave Fallom.” She placed a hand on her chest and said, “Bliss.”