Foundation and Earth (59 page)

“When did you change your mind? You said that it was for merging that you brought me here.”

“Yes, and only by using the fullest extent of my greatly diminished powers. Still, when I said, ‘That is why I have brought you here,’ please remember that in Galactic Standard, the word ‘you’ represents the plural as well as the singular. I was referring to all of you.”

Pelorat stiffened in his seat. “Indeed? Tell me then, Daneel, would a human brain that was merged with your brain share in all your memories—all twenty thousand years of it, back to legendary times?”

“Certainly, sir.”

Pelorat drew a long breath. “That would fulfill a lifetime search, and it is something I would gladly give up my individuality for. Please let me have the privilege of sharing your brain.”

Trevize asked softly, “And Bliss? What about her?”

Pelorat hesitated for no more than a moment.
“Bliss will understand,” he said. “She will, in any case, be better off without me—after a while.”

Daneel shook his head. “Your offer, Dr. Pelorat, is a generous one, but I cannot accept it. Your brain is an old one and it cannot survive for more than two or three decades at best, even in a merger with my own. I need something else. —See!” He pointed and said, “I’ve called her back.”

Bliss was returning, walking happily, with a bounce to her steps.

Pelorat rose convulsively to his feet. “Bliss! Oh no!”

“Do not be alarmed, Dr. Pelorat,” said Daneel. “I cannot use Bliss. That would merge me with Gaia, and I must remain independent of Gaia, as I have already explained.”

“But in that case,” said Pelorat, “who—”

And Trevize, looking at the slim figure running after Bliss, said, “The robot has wanted Fallom all along, Janov.”

BLISS RETURNED, SMILING, CLEARLY IN A STATE of great pleasure.

“We couldn’t pass beyond the bounds of the estate,” she said, “but it all reminded me very much of Solaria. Fallom, of course, is convinced it
is
Solaria. I asked her if she didn’t think that Daneel had an appearance different from that of Jemby—after all, Jemby was metallic—and Fallom said, ‘No, not really.’ I don’t know what she meant by ‘not really.’ ”

She looked across to the middle distance where Fallom was now playing her flute for a grave Daneel, whose head nodded in time. The sound reached them, thin, clear, and lovely.

“Did you know she took the flute with her when we left the ship?” asked Bliss. “I suspect we won’t be able to get her away from Daneel for quite a while.”

The remark was met with a heavy silence, and Bliss looked at the two men in quick alarm. “What’s the matter?”

Trevize gestured gently in Pelorat’s direction. It was up to him, the gesture seemed to say.

Pelorat cleared his throat and said, “Actually, Bliss, I think that Fallom will be staying with Daneel permanently.”

“Indeed?” Bliss, frowning, made as though to walk in Daneel’s direction, but Pelorat caught her arm. “Bliss dear, you can’t. He’s more powerful than Gaia even now, and Fallom must stay with him if Galaxia is to come into existence. Let me explain—and, Golan, please correct me if I get anything wrong.”

Bliss listened to the account, her expression sinking into something close to despair.

Trevize said, in an attempt at cool reason, “You see how it is, Bliss. The child is a Spacer and Daneel was designed and put together by Spacers. The child was brought up by a robot and knew nothing else on an estate as empty as this one. The child has transductive powers which Daneel will need, and she will live for three or four centuries, which may be what is required for the construction of Galaxia.”

Bliss said, her cheeks flushed and her eyes moist, “I suppose that the robot maneuvered our trip to Earth in such a way as to make us pass through Solaria in order to pick up a child for his use.”

Trevize shrugged. “He may simply have taken advantage of the opportunity. I don’t think his powers are strong enough at the moment to make complete puppets of us at hyperspatial distances.”

“No. It was purposeful. He made certain that I would feel strongly attracted to the child so that I would take her with me, rather than leave her to be killed; that I would protect her even against you when you showed nothing but resentment and annoyance at her being with us.”

Trevize said, “That might just as easily have been
your Gaian ethics, which Daneel could have strengthened a bit, I suppose. Come, Bliss, there’s nothing to be gained. Suppose you
could
take Fallom away. Where could you then take her that would make her as happy as she is here? Would you take her back to Solaria where she would be killed quite pitilessly; to some crowded world where she would sicken and die; to Gaia, where she would wear her heart out longing for Jemby; on an endless voyage through the Galaxy, where she would think that every world we came across was her Solaria? And would you find a substitute for Daneel’s use so that Galaxia could be constructed?”

Bliss was sadly silent.

Pelorat held out his hand to her, a bit timidly. “Bliss,” he said, “I volunteered to have my brain fused with Daneel’s. He wouldn’t take it because he said I was too old. I wish he had, if that would have saved Fallom for you.”

Bliss took his hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Pel, but the price would be too high, even for Fallom.” She took a deep breath, and tried to smile. “Perhaps, when we get back to Gaia, room will be found in the global organism for a child for me—and I will place Fallom in the syllables of its name.”

And now Daneel, as though aware that the matter was settled, was walking toward them, with Fallom skipping along at his side.

The youngster broke into a run and reached them first. She said to Bliss, “Thank you, Bliss, for taking me home to Jemby again and for taking care of me while we were on the ship. I shall always remember you.” Then she flung herself at Bliss and the two held each other tightly.

“I hope you will always be happy,” said Bliss. “I will remember you, too, Fallom dear,” and released her with reluctance.

Fallom turned to Pelorat, and said, “Thank you, too, Pel, for letting me read your book-films.” Then,
without an additional word, and after a trace of hesitation, the thin, girlish hand was extended to Trevize. He took it for a moment, then let it go.

“Good luck, Fallom,” he muttered.

Daneel said, “I thank you all, sirs and madam, for what you have done, each in your own way. You are free to go now, for your search is ended. As for my own work, it will be ended, too, soon enough, and successfully now.”

But Bliss said, “Wait, we are not quite through. We don’t know yet whether Trevize is still of the mind that the proper future for humanity is Galaxia, as opposed to a vast conglomeration of Isolates.”

Daneel said, “He has already made that clear a while ago, madam. He has decided in favor of Galaxia.”

Bliss’s lips tightened. “I’d rather hear that from him. —Which is it to be, Trevize?”

Trevize said calmly, “Which do you want it to be, Bliss? If I decide against Galaxia, you may get Fallom back.”

Bliss said, “I am Gaia. I must know your decision, and its reason, for the sake of the truth and nothing else.”

Daneel said, “Tell her, sir. Your mind, as Gaia is aware, is untouched.”

And Trevize said, “The decision is for Galaxia. There is no further doubt in my mind on that point.”

BLISS REMAINED MOTIONLESS FOR THE TIME ONE might take to count to fifty at a moderate rate, as though she were allowing the information to reach all parts of Gaia, and then she said, “Why?”

Trevize said, “Listen to me. I knew from the start that there were two possible futures for humanity—Galaxia, or else the Second Empire of Seldon’s Plan. And it seemed to me that those two possible futures
were mutually exclusive. We couldn’t have Galaxia unless, for some reason, Seldon’s Plan had some fundamental flaw in it.

“Unfortunately, I knew nothing about Seldon’s Plan except for the two axioms on which it is based: one, that there be involved a large enough number of human beings to allow humanity to be treated statistically as a group of individuals interacting randomly; and second, that humanity not know the results of psychohistorical conclusions before the results are achieved.

“Since I had already decided in favor of Galaxia, I felt I must be subliminally aware of flaws in Seldon’s Plan, and those flaws could only be in the axioms, which were all I knew of the plan. Yet I could see nothing wrong with the axioms. I strove, then, to find Earth, feeling that Earth could not be so thoroughly hidden for no purpose. I had to find out what that purpose was.

“I had no real reason to expect to find a solution once I found Earth, but I was desperate and could think of nothing else to do. —And perhaps Daneel’s desire for a Solarian child helped drive me.

“In any case, we finally reached Earth, and then the moon, and Bliss detected Daneel’s mind, which he, of course, was deliberately reaching out to her. She described that mind as neither quite human nor quite robotic. In hindsight, that proved to make sense, for Daneel’s brain is far advanced beyond any robot that ever existed, and would not be sensed as simply robotic. Neither would it be sensed as human, however. Pelorat referred to it as ‘something new’ and that served as a trigger for ‘something new’ of my own; a new thought.

“Just as, long ago, Daneel and his colleague worked out a fourth law of robotics that was more fundamental than the other three, so I could suddenly see a third basic axiom of psychohistory that was more fundamental than the other two; a third axiom so fundamental that no one ever bothered to mention it.

“Here it is. The two known axioms deal with human
beings, and they are based on the unspoken axiom that human beings are the
only
intelligent species in the Galaxy, and therefore the only organisms whose actions are significant in the development of society and history. That is the unstated axiom: that there is only one species of intelligence in the Galaxy and that it is
Homo sapiens
. If there were ‘something new,’ if there were other species of intelligence widely different in nature, then their behavior would not be described accurately by the mathematics of psychohistory and Seldon’s Plan would have no meaning. Do you see?”

Trevize was almost shaking with the earnest desire to make himself understood. “Do you see?” he repeated.

Pelorat said, “Yes, I see, but as devil’s advocate, old chap—”

“Yes? Go on.”

“Human beings
are
the only intelligences in the Galaxy.”

“Robots?” said Bliss. “Gaia?”

Pelorat thought awhile, then said hesitantly, “Robots have played no significant role in human history since the disappearance of the Spacers. Gaia has played no significant role until very recently. Robots are the creation of human beings, and Gaia is the creation of robots—and both robots and Gaia, insofar as they must be bound by the Three Laws, have no choice but to yield to human will. Despite the twenty thousand years Daneel has labored, and the long development of Gaia, a single word from Golan Trevize, a human being, would put an end to both those labors and that development. It follows, then, that humanity is the only significant species of intelligence in the Galaxy, and psychohistory remains valid.”

“The only form of intelligence in the Galaxy,” repeated Trevize slowly. “I agree. Yet we speak so much and so often of the Galaxy that it is all but impossible
for us to see that this is not enough. The Galaxy is not the Universe. There are other galaxies.”

Pelorat and Bliss stirred uneasily. Daneel listened with benign gravity, his hand slowly stroking Fallom’s hair.

Trevize said, “Listen to me again. Just outside the Galaxy are the Magellanic Clouds, where no human ship has ever penetrated. Beyond that are other small galaxies, and not very far away is the giant Andromeda Galaxy, larger than our own. Beyond that are galaxies by the billions.

“Our own Galaxy has developed only one species of an intelligence great enough to develop a technological society, but what do we know of the other galaxies? Ours may be atypical. In some of the others—perhaps even in all—there may be many competing intelligent species, struggling with each other, and each incomprehensible to us. Perhaps it is their mutual struggle that preoccupies them, but what if, in some galaxy, one species gains domination over the rest and then has time to consider the possibility of penetrating other galaxies.

“Hyperspatially, the Galaxy is a point—and so is all the Universe. We have not visited any other galaxy, and, as far as we know, no intelligent species from another galaxy has ever visited us—but that state of affairs may end someday. And if the invaders come, they are bound to find ways of turning some human beings against other human beings. We have so long had only ourselves to fight that we are used to such internecine quarrels. An invader that finds us divided against ourselves will dominate us all, or destroy us all. The only true defense is to produce Galaxia, which cannot be turned against itself and which can meet invaders with maximum power.”

Bliss said, “The picture you paint is a frightening one. Will we have time to form Galaxia?”

Trevize looked up, as though to penetrate the thick layer of moonrock that separated him from the surface
and from space; as though to force himself to see those far distant galaxies, moving slowly through unimaginable vistas of space.

He said, “In all human history, no other intelligence has impinged on us, to our knowledge. This need only continue a few more centuries, perhaps little more than one ten thousandth of the time civilization has already existed, and we will be safe. After all,” and here Trevize felt a sudden twinge of trouble, which he forced himself to disregard, “it is not as though we had the enemy already here and among us.”

And he did not look down to meet the brooding eyes of Fallom—hermaphroditic, transductive, different—as they rested, unfathomably, on him.

I
SAAC
A
SIMOV
began his Foundation series at the age of twenty-one, not realizing that it would one day be considered a cornerstone of science fiction. During his legendary career, Asimov penned over 470 books on subjects ranging from science to Shakespeare to history, though he was most loved for his award-winning science fiction sagas, which include the Robot, Empire, and Foundation series. Named a Grand Master of Science Fiction by the Science Fiction Writers of America, Asimov entertained and educated readers of all ages for close to five decades. He died, at the age of seventy-two, in April 1992.