Foundation and Earth (Foundation 5)

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.”

The child smiled. It looked very attractive when it smiled. “Bliss,” it said, hissing the “s” a bit imperfectly.

Trevize said, “Bliss, if you can activate the robot, Jemby, it might be able to tell us what we want to know. Pelorat can speak to it as easily as to the child.”

“No,” said Bliss. “That would be wrong. The robot’s first duty is to protect the child. If it is activated and instantly becomes aware of us, aware of strange human beings, it may as instantly attack us. No strange human beings belong here. If I am then forced to inactivate it, it can give us no information, and the child, faced with a second inactivation of the only parent it knows—Well, I just won’t do it.”

“But we were told,” said Pelorat mildly, “that robots can’t harm human beings.”

“So we were,” said Bliss, “but we were not told what kind of robots these Solarians have designed. And even if this robot were designed to do no harm, it would have to make a choice between its child, or the nearest thing to a child it can have, and three objects whom it might not even recognize as human beings, merely as illegal intruders. Naturally, it would choose the child and attack us.”

She turned to the child again. “Fallom,” she said, “Bliss.” She pointed, “Pel—Trev.”

“Pel. Trev,” said the child obediently.

She came closer to the child, her hands reaching toward it slowly. It watched her, then took a step backward.

“Calm, Fallom,” said Bliss. “Good, Fallom. Touch, Fallom. Nice, Fallom.”

It took a step toward her, and Bliss sighed. “Good, Fallom.”

She touched Fallom’s bare arm, for it wore, as its parent had, only a long robe, open in front, and with a loincloth beneath. The touch was gentle. She removed her arm, waited, and made contact again, stroking softly.

The child’s eyes half-closed under the strong, calming effect of Bliss’s mind.

Bliss’s hands moved up slowly, softly, scarcely touching, to the child’s shoulders, its neck, its ears, then under its long brown hair to a point just above and behind its ears.

Her hands dropped away then, and she said, “The transducer-lobes are still small. The cranial bone hasn’t developed yet. There’s just a tough layer of skin there, which will eventually expand outward and be fenced in with bone after the lobes have fully grown. —Which means it can’t, at the present time, control the estate or even activate its own personal robot. —Ask it how old it is, Pel.”

Pelorat said, after an exchange, “It’s fourteen years old, if I understand it rightly.”

Trevize said, “It looks more like eleven.”

Bliss said, “The length of the years used on this world may not correspond closely to Standard Galactic Years. Besides, Spacers are supposed to have extended lifetimes and, if the Solarians are like the other Spacers in this, they may also have extended developmental periods. We can’t go by years, after all.”

Trevize said, with an impatient click of his tongue, “Enough anthropology. We must get to the surface and since we are dealing with a child, we may be wasting our time uselessly. It may not know the route to the surface. It may not ever have been on the surface.”

Bliss said, “Pel!”

Pelorat knew what she meant and there followed the longest conversation he had yet had with Fallom.

Finally, he said, “The child knows what the sun is. It says it’s seen it. I think it’s seen trees. It didn’t act as though it were sure what the word meant—or at least what the word I used meant—”

“Yes, Janov,” said Trevize, “but do get to the point.”

“I told Fallom that if it could get us out to the surface, that might make it possible for us to activate the robot. Actually, I said we would activate the robot. Do you suppose we might?”

Trevize said, “We’ll worry about that later. Did it say it would guide us?”

“Yes. I thought the child would be more anxious to do it, you see, if I made that promise. I suppose we’re running the risk of disappointing it—”

“Come,” said Trevize, “let’s get started. All this will be academic if we are caught underground.”

Pelorat said something to the child, who began to walk, then stopped and looked back at Bliss.

Bliss held out her hand and the two then walked hand in hand.

“I’m the new robot,” she said, smiling slightly.

“It seems reasonably happy over that,” said Trevize.

Fallom skipped along and, briefly, Trevize wondered if it were happy simply because Bliss had labored to make it so, or if, added to that, there was the excitement of visiting the surface and of having three new robots, or whether it was excitement at the thought of having its Jemby foster-parent back. Not that it mattered—as long as the child led them.

There seemed no hesitation in the child’s progress. It turned without pause whenever there was a choice of paths. Did it really know where it was going, or was it all simply a matter of a child’s indifference? Was it simply playing a game with no clear end in sight?

But Trevize was aware, from the slight burden on his progress, that he was moving uphill, and the child, bouncing self-importantly forward, was pointing ahead and chattering.

Trevize looked at Pelorat, who cleared his throat and said, “I think what it’s saying is ‘doorway.’ ”

“I hope your thought is correct,” said Trevize.

The child broke away from Bliss, and was running now. It pointed to a portion of the flooring that seemed darker than the sections immediately neighboring it. The child stepped on it, jumping up and down a few times, and then turned with a clear expression of dismay, and spoke with shrill volubility.

Bliss said, with a grimace, “I’ll have to supply the power. —This is wearing me out.”

Her face reddened a bit and the lights dimme

d, but a door opened just ahead of Fallom, who laughed in soprano delight.

The child ran out the door and the two men followed. Bliss came last, and looked back as the lights just inside darkened and the door closed. She then paused to catch her breath, looking rather worn out.

“Well,” said Pelorat, “we’re out. Where’s the ship?”

All of them stood bathed in the still luminous twilight.

Trevize muttered, “It seems to me that it was in that direction.”

“It seems so to me, too,” said Bliss. “Let’s walk,” and she held out her hand to Fallom.

There was no sound except those produced by the wind and by the motions and calls of living animals. At one point they passed a robot standing motionless near the base of a tree, holding some object of uncertain purpose.

Pelorat took a step toward it out of apparent curiosity, but Trevize said, “Not our business, Janov. Move on.”

They passed another robot, at a greater distance, who had tumbled.

Trevize said, “There are robots littered over many kilometers in all directions, I suppose.” And then, triumphantly, “Ah, there’s the ship.”

They hastened their steps now, then stopped suddenly. Fallom raised its voice in an excited squeak.

On the ground near the ship was what appeared to be an air-vessel of primitive design, with a rotor that looked energy-wasteful, and fragile besides. Standing next to the air-vessel, and between the little party of Outworlders and their ship, stood four human figures.

“Too late,” said Trevize. “We wasted too much time. Now what?”

Pelorat said wonderingly, “Four Solarians? It can’t be. Surely they wouldn’t come into physical contact like that. Do you suppose those are holo-images?”

“They are thoroughly material,” said Bliss. “I’m sure of that. They’re not Solarians either. There’s no mistaking the minds. They’re robots.”

55.

“WELL, THEN,” SAID TREVIZE WEARILY, “ONWARD!” He resumed his walk toward the ship at a calm pace and the others followed.

Pelorat said, rather breathlessly, “What do you intend to do?”

“If they’re robots, they’ve got to obey orders.”

The robots were awaiting them, and Trevize watched them narrowly as they came closer.

Yes, they must be robots. Their faces, which looked as though they were made of skin underlain with flesh, were curiously expressionless. They were dressed in uniforms that exposed no square centimeter of skin outside the face. Even the hands were covered by thin, opaque gloves.

Trevize gestured casually, in a fashion that was unquestionably a brusque request that they step aside.

The robots did not move.

In a low voice, Trevize said to Pelorat, “Put it into words, Janov. Be firm.”

Pelorat cleared his throat and, putting an unaccustomed baritone into his voice, spoke slowly, gesturing them aside much as Trevize had done. At that, one of the robots, who was perhaps a shade taller than the rest, said something in a cold and incisive voice.

Pelorat turned to Trevize. “I think he said we were Outworlders.”

“Tell him we are human beings and must be obeyed.”

The robot spoke then, in peculiar but understandable Galactic. “I understand you, Outworlder. I speak Galactic. We are Guardian Robots.”

“Then you have heard me say that we are human beings and that you must therefore obey us.”

“We are programmed to obey Rulers only, Outworlder. You are not Rulers and not Solarian. Ruler Bander has not responded to the normal moment of Contact and we have come to investigate at close quarters. It is our duty to do so. We find a spaceship not of Solarian manufacture, several Outworlders present, and all Bander robots inactivated. Where is Ruler Bander?”

Trevize shook his head and said slowly and distinctly, “We know nothing of what you say. Our ship’s computer is not working well. We found ourselves near this strange planet against our intentions. We landed to find our location. We found all robots inactivated. We know nothing of what might have happened.”

“That is not a credible account. If all robots on the estate are inactivated and all power is off, Ruler Bander must be dead. It is not logical to suppose that by coincidence it died just as you landed. There must be some sort of causal connection.”

Trevize said, with no set purpose but to confuse the issue and to indicate his own foreigner’s lack of understanding and, therefore, his innocence, “But the power is not off. You and the others are active.”

The robot said, “We are Guardian Robots. We do not belong to any Ruler. We belong to all the world. We are not Ruler-controlled but are nuclear-powered. I ask again, where is Ruler Bander?”

Trevize looked about him. Pelorat appeared anxious; Bliss was tight-lipped but calm. Fallom was trembling, but Bliss’s hand touched the child’s shoulder and it stiffened somewhat and lost facial expression. (Was Bliss sedating it?)

The robot said, “Once again, and for the last time, where is Ruler Bander?”

“I do not know,” said Trevize grimly.

The robot nodded and two of his companions left quickly. The robot said, “My fellow Guardians will search the mansion. Meanwhile, you will be held for questioning. Hand me those objects you wear at your side.”

Trevize took a step backward. “They are harmless.”

“Do not move again. I do not question their nature, whether harmful or harmless. I ask for them.”

“No.”

The robot took a quick step forward, and his arm flashed out too quickly for Trevize to realize what was happening. The robot’s hand was on his shoulder; the grip tightened and pushed downward. Trevize went to his knees.

The robot said, “Those objects.” It held out its other hand.

“No,” gasped Trevize.

Bliss lunged forward, pulled the blaster out of its holster before Trevize, clamped in the robot’s grip, could do anything to prevent her, and held it out toward the robot. “Here, Guardian,” she said, “and if you’ll give me a moment—here’s the other. Now release my companion.”

The robot, holding both weapons, stepped back, and Trevize rose slowly to his feet, rubbing his left shoulder vigorously, face wincing with pain.

(Fallom whimpered softly, and Pelorat picked it up in distraction, and held it tightly.)

Bliss said to Trevize, in a furious whisper, “Why are you fighting him? He can kill you with two fingers.”

Trevize groaned and said, between gritted teeth, “Why don’t you handle him?”

“I’m trying to. It takes time. His mind is tight, intensely programmed, and leaves no handle. I must study it. You play for time.”

“Don’t study his mind. Just destroy it,” said Trevize, almost soundlessly.

Bliss looked quickly toward the robot. It was studying the weapons intently, while the one other robot that still remained with it watched the Outworlders. Neither seemed interested in the whispering that was going on between Trevize and Bliss.

Bliss said, “No. No destruction. We killed one dog and hurt another on the first world. You know what happened on this world.” (Another quick glance at the Guardian Robots.) “Gaia does not needlessly butcher life or intelligence. I need time to work it out peacefully.”

She stepped back and stared at the robot fixedly.

The robot said, “These are weapons.”

“No,” said Trevize.

“Yes,” said Bliss, “but they are no longer useful. They are drained of energy.”

“Is that indeed so? Why should you carry weapons that are drained of energy? Perhaps they are not drained.” The robot held one of the weapons in its fist and placed its thumb accurately. “Is this the way it is activated?”

“Yes,” said Bliss; “if you tighten the pressure, it would be activated, if it contained energy—but it does not.”

“Is that certain?” The robot pointed the weapon at Trevize. “Do you still say that if I activate it now, it will n

ot work?”

“It will not work,” said Bliss.

Trevize was frozen in place and unable to articulate. He had tested the blaster after Bander had drained it and it was totally dead, but the robot was holding the neuronic whip. Trevize had not tested that.

If the whip contained even a small residue of energy, there would be enough for a stimulation of the pain nerves, and what Trevize would feel would make the grip of the robot’s hand seem to have been a pat of affection.

When he had been at the Naval Academy, Trevize had been forced to take a mild neuronic whipblow, as all cadets had had to. That was just to know what it was like. Trevize felt no need to know anything more.

The robot activated the weapon and, for a moment, Trevize stiffened painfully—and then slowly relaxed. The whip, too, was thoroughly drained.

The robot stared at Trevize and then tossed both weapons to one side. “How do these come to be drained of energy?” it demanded. “If they are of no use, why do you carry them?”

Trevize said, “I am accustomed to the weight and carry them even when drained.”

The robot said, “That does not make sense. You are all under custody. You will be held for further questioning, and, if the Rulers so decide, you will then be inactivated. —How does one open this ship? We must search it.”

“It will do you no good,” said Trevize. “You won’t understand it.”

“If not I, the Rulers will understand.”

“They will not understand, either.”

“Then you will explain so that they will understand.”

“I will not.”

“Then you will be inactivated.”

“My inactivation will give you no explanation, and I think I will be inactivated even if I explain.”

Bliss muttered, “Keep it up. I’m beginning to unravel the workings of its brain.”

The robot ignored Bliss. (Did she see to that? thought Trevize, and hoped savagely that she had.)

Keeping its attention firmly on Trevize, the robot said, “If you make difficulties, then we will partially inactivate you. We will damage you and you will then tell us what we want to know.”