Asimov's Future History Volume 4 (30 page)

Baley said, “I don’t ask about your feelings out of curiosity only. This is essential to the investigation.”

“I don’t see how.”

“I’ve got to know as much as I can about this world. I must understand how Solarians feel about ordinary matters. Do you see that?”

Quemot did not look at Baley at all now. He said slowly, “Ten years ago, my wife died. Seeing her was never very easy, but, of course, it is something one learns to bear in time and she was not the intrusive sort. I have been assigned no new wife since I am past the age of–of”, he looked at Baley as though requesting him to supply the phrase, and when Baley did not do so, he continued in a lower voice–” siring. Without even a wife, I have grown quite unused to this phenomenon of seeing.”

“But how does it feel?” insisted Baley. “Are you in panic?” He thought of himself on the plane.

“No. Not in panic.” Quemot angled his head to catch a glimpse of Baley and almost instantly withdrew. “But I will be frank, Mr. Baley. I imagine I can smell you.”

Baley automatically leaned back in his chair, painfully self conscious. “Smell me?”

“Quite imaginary, of course,” said Quemot. “I cannot say whether you do have an odor or how strong it is, but even if you had a strong one, my nose filters would keep it from me. Yet, imagination...” He shrugged.

“I understand.”

“It’s worse. You’ll forgive me, Mr. Baley, but in the actual presence of a human, I feel strongly as though something slimy were about to touch me. I keep shrinking away. It is most unpleasant.”

Baley rubbed his ear thoughtfully and fought to keep down annoyance. After all, it was the other’s neurotic reaction to a simple state of affairs.

He said, “If all this is so, I’m surprised you agreed to see me so readily. Surely you anticipated this unpleasantness.”

“I did. But you know, I was curious. You’re an Earthman.” Baley thought sardonically that that should have been another argument against seeing, but he said only, “What does that matter?”

A kind of jerky enthusiasm entered Quemot’s voice. “It’s not something I can explain easily. Not even to myself, really. But I’ve worked on sociology for ten years now. Really worked. I’ve developed propositions that are quite new and startling, and yet basically true. It is one of these propositions that makes me most extraordinarily interested in Earth and Earthmen. You see, if you were to consider Solaria’s society and way of life carefully, it will become obvious to you that the said society and way of life is modeled directly and closely on that of Earth itself.”

10: A Culture Is Traced

B
ALEY
COULD
NOT
prevent himself from crying out, “What!”

Quemot looked over his shoulder as the moments of silence passed and said finally, “Not Earth’s present culture. No.”

Baley said, “Oh.”

“But in the past, yes. Earth’s ancient history. As an Earthman, you know it, of course.”

“I’ve viewed books,” said Baley cautiously.

“Ah. Then you understand.”

Baley, who did not, said, “Let me explain exactly what I want, Dr. Quemot. I want you to tell me what you can about why Solaria is so different from the other Outer Worlds, why there are so many robots, why you behave as you do. I’m sorry if I seem to be changing the subject.”

Baley most definitely wanted to change the subject. Any discussion of a likeness or unlikeness between Solaria’s culture and Earth’s would prove too absorbing by half. He might spend the day there and come away none the wiser as far as useful information was concerned.

Quemot smiled. “You want to compare Solaria and the other Outer Worlds and not Solaria and Earth.”

“I know Earth, sir.”

“As you wish.” The Solarian coughed slightly. “Do you mind if I turn my chair completely away from you? It would be more–more comfortable.”

“As you wish, Dr. Quemot,” said Baley stiffly.

“Good.” A robot turned the chair at Quemot’s low voiced order, and as the sociologist sat there, hidden from Baley’s eyes by the substantial chair back, his voice took on added life and even deepened and strengthened in tone.

Quemot said, “Solaria was first settled about three hundred years ago. The original settlers were Nexonians. Are you acquainted with Nexon?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“It is close to Solaria, only about two parsecs away. In fact, Solaria and Nexon represent the closest pair of inhabited worlds in the Galaxy. Solaria, even when uninhabited by man, was life bearing and eminently suited for human occupation. It represented an obvious attraction to the well-to-do of Nexon, who found it difficult to maintain a proper standard of living as their own planet filled up.”

Baley interrupted. “Filled up? I thought Spacers practiced population control.”

“Solaria does, but the Outer Worlds in general control it rather laxly. Nexon was completing its second million of population at the time I speak of. There was sufficient crowding to make it necessary to regulate the number of robots that might be owned by a particular family. So those Nexonians who could established summer homes on Solaria, which was fertile, temperate, and without dangerous fauna.

“The settlers on Solaria could still reach Nexon without too much trouble and while on Solaria they could live as they pleased. They could use as many robots as they could afford or felt a need for. Estates could be as large as desired since, with an empty planet, room was no problem, and with unlimited robots, exploitation was no problem.

“Robots grew to be so many that they were outfitted with radio contact and that was the beginning of our famous robot industries. We began to develop new varieties, new attachments, new capabilities. Culture dictates invention; a phrase I believe I have invented.” Quemot chuckled.

A robot, responding to some stimulus Baley could not see beyond the barrier of the chair, brought Quemot a drink similar to that Baley had had earlier. None was brought to Baley, and he decided not to ask for one.

Quemot went on, “The advantages of life on Solaria were obvious to all who watched. Solaria became fashionable. More Nexonians established homes, and Solaria became what I like to call a ‘villa planet.’ And of the settlers, more and more took to remaining on the planet all year round and carrying on their business on Nexon through proxies. Robot factories were established on Solaria. Farms and mines began to be exploited to the point where exports were possible.

“In short, Mr. Baley, it became obvious that Solaria, in the space of a century or less, would be as crowded as Nexon had been. It seemed ridiculous and wasteful to find such a new world and then lose it through lack of foresight.

“To spare you a great deal of complicated politics, I need say only that Solaria managed to establish its independence and make it stick without war. Our usefulness to other Outer Worlds as a source of specialty robots gained us friends and helped us, of course.

“Once independent, our first care was to make sure that population did not grow beyond reasonable limits. We regulate immigration and births and take care of all needs by increasing and diversifying the robots we use.”

Baley said, “Why is it the Solarians object to seeing one another?” He felt annoyed at the manner in which Quemot chose to expound sociology.

Quemot peeped around the corner of his chair and retreated almost at once. “It follows inevitably. We have huge estates. An estate ten thousand square miles in area is not uncommon, although the largest ones contain considerable unproductive areas. My own estate is nine hundred fifty square miles in area but every bit of it is good land.

“In any case, it is the size of an estate, more than anything else, that determines a man’s position in society. And one property of a large estate is this: You can wander about in it almost aimlessly with little or no danger of entering a neighbor’s territory and thus encountering your neighbor. You see?”

Baley shrugged. “I suppose I do.”

“In short, a Solarian takes pride in not meeting his neighbor. At the same time, his estate is so well run by robots and so self sufficient that there is no reason for him to have to meet his neighbor. The desire not to do so led to the development of ever more perfect viewing equipment, and as the viewing equipment grew better there was less and less need ever to see one’s neighbor. It was a reinforcing cycle, a kind of feed back. Do you see?”

Baley said, “Look here, Dr. Quemot. You don’t have to make all this so simple for me. I’m not a sociologist but I’ve had the usual elementary courses in college. It’s only an Earth college, of course,” Baley added with a reluctant modesty designed to ward off the same comment, in more insulting terms, from the other, “but I can follow mathematics.”

“Mathematics?” said Quemot, his voice squeaking the last syllable.

“Well, not the stuff they use in robotics, which I
wouldn’t
follow, but sociological relationships I can handle. For instance, I’m familiar with the Teramin Relationship.”

“The what, sir?”

“Maybe you have a different name for it. The differential of inconveniences suffered with privileges granted: dee eye sub jay taken to the nth–”

“What are you talking about?” It was the sharp and peremptory tone of a Spacer that Baley heard and he was silenced in bewilderment.

Surely the relationship between inconveniences suffered and privileges granted was part of the very essentials of learning how to handle people without an explosion. A private stall in the community bathroom for one person, given for cause, would keep
x
persons waiting patiently for the same lightning to strike them, the value of
x
varying in known ways with known variations in environment and human temperament, as quantitatively described in the Teramin Relationship.

But then again, in a world where all was privilege and nothing inconvenience, the Teramin Relationship might reduce to triviality. Perhaps he had chosen the wrong example.

He tried again. “Look, sir, it’s one thing to get a qualitative fill-in on the growth of this prejudice against seeing, but it isn’t helpful for my purposes. I want to know the exact analysis of the prejudice so I can counteract it effectively. I want to persuade people to see me, as you are doing now.”

“Mr. Baley,” said Quemot, “you can’t treat human emotions as though they were built about a positronic brain.”

“I’m not saying you can. Robotics is a deductive science and sociology an inductive one. But mathematics can be made to apply in either case.”

There was silence for a moment. Then Quemot spoke in a voice that trembled. “You have admitted you are not a sociologist.”

“I know. But I was told you were one. The best on the planet.”

“I am the only one. You might almost say I have invented the science.”

“Oh?” Baley hesitated over the next question. It sounded impertinent even to himself. “Have you viewed books on the subject?”

“I’ve looked at some Auroran books.”

“Have you looked at books from Earth?”

“Earth?” Quemot laughed uneasily. “It wouldn’t have occurred to me to read any of Earth’s scientific productions. No offense intended.”

“Well, I’m sorry. I had thought I would be able to get specific data that would make it possible for me to interview others face to face without having to–”

Quemot made a queer, grating, inarticulate sound and the large chair in which he sat scraped backward, then went over with a crash.

A muffled “My apologies” was caught by Baley.

Baley had a momentary glimpse of Quemot running with an ungainly stride, then he was out the room and gone.

Baley’s eyebrows lifted. What the devil had he said this time? Jehoshaphat! What wrong button had he pushed?

Tentatively he rose from his seat, and stopped halfway as a robot entered.

“Master,” said the robot, “I have been directed to inform you that the master will view you in a few moments.”

“
View
me, boy?”

“Yes, master. In the meanwhile, you may desire further refreshment.”

Another beaker of the pink liquid was at Baley’s elbow and this time a dish of some confectionery, warm and fragrant, was added.

Baley took his seat again, sampled the liquor cautiously and put it down. The confectionery was hard to the touch and warm, but the crust broke easily in the mouth and the inner portion was at once considerably warmer and softer. He could not identify the components of the taste and wondered if it might not be a product of the native spices or condiments of Solaria.

Then he thought of the restricted, yeast derived dietary of Earth and wondered if there might be a market for yeast strains designed to imitate the tastes of Outer World products.

But his thoughts broke off sharply as sociologist Quemot appeared out of nowhere and faced him.
Faced
him this time! He sat in a smaller chair in a room in which the walls and floor clashed sharply with those surrounding Baley. And he was smiling now, so that fine wrinkles in his face deepened and, paradoxically, gave him a more youthful appearance by accentuating the life in his eyes.

He said, “A thousand pardons, Mr. Baley. I thought I was enduring personal presence so well, but that was a delusion. I was quite on edge and your phrase pushed me over it, in a manner of speaking.”

“What phrase was that, sir?”

“You said something about interviewing people face to–” He shook his head, his tongue dabbing quickly at his lips. “I would rather not say it. I think you know what I mean. The phrase conjured up the most striking picture of the two of us breathing–breathing one another’s breath.” The Solarian shuddered. “Don’t you find that repulsive?”

“I don’t know that I’ve ever thought of it so.”

“It seems so filthy a habit. And as you said it and the picture arose in my mind, I realized that after all we
were
in the same room and even though I was not facing you, puffs of air that had been in your lungs must be reaching me and entering mine. With my sensitive frame of mind–”

Baley said, “Molecules all over Solaria’s atmosphere have been in thousands of lungs. Jehoshaphat! They’ve been in the lungs of animals and the gills of fish.”