Foundation and Chaos (32 page)

Klia arose from vivid dreams and lifted her head from Brann’s shoulder. She could feel two robots approaching.

Kallusin entered the room without warning or embarrassment and stood looking down upon them.

“Is this a casual liaison,” he asked, “or one intended to signal a long-term bonding?”

“None of your business,” Klia said primly, not bothering to draw up her scattered clothes.

Plussix entered, slow and noisy, like a wheezy old transport. “We need your answer to begin preparations,” he said. “Lodovik believes there will soon be attempts made to change all the palace codes.”

“Why?”

“There is more search activity. It’s spread across fifty Sectors
now,” Kallusin said. “Something is happening in the palace.”

Klia stood and put on her clothes. Somehow, she felt no modesty in front of the machines. She knew they were not human, did not have any human emotions as such; she felt no more embarrassment before them than she would have before a closet mirror. Still, as she finished, she realized these machines were capable of a very sophisticated variety of discrimination, even judgment.

“What is your answer?” Kallusin asked.

“Tell Lodovik to come here,” Brann said, and rose to get dressed as well, though with more modesty than Klia. He turned away as he put on his pants.

“He is on his way now,” Kallusin said.

They were standing in an awkward circle when Lodovik entered the room. Plussix and Kallusin drew aside, and he occupied the space between them.

“I have a question for you,” Brann said, before Klia could speak. She deferred to him.

“Please,” Plussix said. “Questions are my delight.”

“For Lodovik,” Brann said. “You used to be part of this conspiracy, loyal to Daneel, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What made you change sides?”

“An outside influence altered my programming in subtle ways,” Lodovik said. “A personality from the distant past, or rather, an expanded and enhanced simulation of that personality.”

He outlined this development in a few sentences, and Brann and Klia looked at each other. “Hari Seldon okayed the expansion of these illegal sims, just to study the way people used to think?” Klia asked.

“In part. I do not know the complete story,” Lodovik said. “The release caused much trouble for robots, and many others, decades ago.”

“But it’s more than a sim now?” Klia asked. “It’s like a ghost, angel, whatever?”

“They are immaterial presences very similar to humans in their psychological patterns.”

“
They?
” Klia asked.

“There is another who opposes us and supports Hari Seldon and Daneel. One is a male sim—the one within me. The other is female.”

“How can they be male or female?” Klia asked, glancing at Brann.

Lodovik blinked for a moment, not sure whether there was any good answer to this question. “I appear to be male,” he finally said, “but I am not. The same distinction may be true with them, but I really do not know.”

“They disagree?” Brann asked.

“Fervently,” Lodovik said.

“Then how do you know that you haven’t been altered or…perverted, somehow?” Brann asked. “Hari Seldon or Daneel might have intended for all of this to happen.”

“In a way,” Lodovik said, “I share these uncertainties with humans. But I must act on a reasonable conclusion. I have no reason to believe that anything has been altered in my programming but my response to the Three Laws of robotics.”

“This all sounds like incredible nonsense to me,” Klia said breathlessly. “Laws—for robots!”

“Very important rules that determine our behavior,” Plussix said.

“But he’s saying he doesn’t have any rules!” She shook her head.

“That makes him more like a human,” Brann said quietly. “We don’t have any fixed rules, either.”

“I would be much more comfortable if the rules were still in effect,” Lodovik said.

Klia flung up her hands in exasperation “It’s so…so
old
I can’t grasp it,” she said. “Tell me one thing. I want to know what will happen if we help you. Will the robots just go away, leave all of us alone?”

“Not precisely,” Plussix said. “We cannot self-destruct, nor can we allow ourselves to be useless. We must regroup and find a situation that allows us to perform certain reasonable duties until we cease to function. Our programming says we must serve humans. So we hope to find a zone in the Galaxy where humans will allow us to serve. There must be one such.”

“And if Hari Seldon fails, there’ll be many of them, maybe,” Brann said suspiciously. “A lot of places for robots to hide.”

“A not unreasonable conclusion,” Plussix said.

“If we help you, I want you to promise to leave
us
alone,” Klia said. “Don’t serve us, don’t help us, just go away. Leave Trantor. Let us be human—the ones who really
are
human.” Klia turned to Lodovik. “What about you? What will
you
do?”

Lodovik stared at the two with a sad expression. He could feel Voltaire observing this attentively. “I will enjoy oblivion when it comes,” he said. “This confusion and uncertainty is an intolerable burden for me.” Then, his voice surprisingly passionate, he asked, “Why did humans ever build us? Why did they make us capable of understanding, with an urge to serve, then cast us aside, away from everything that would allow us to fulfill our nature?”

“I don’t know,” Klia said. “I wasn’t there. I hadn’t been born.” She could feel some of Lodovik’s internal character, his taste. He did not taste like metal at all, nor like electricity, or any other inhuman quality she could think of. He tasted like a rich meal stored in a refrigerator, just waiting to be warmed up. Then, she tasted something else both infinitely cold and incandescent, startling, like thousands of fiery spices on her tongue.

“I can feel your sim,” she said, a little afraid. “It sits on top of you like a…passenger.”

“Your perception is remarkable,” Lodovik said.

“Is it telling you what to do?”

“It observes,” Lodovik said. “It does not direct.”

“We need an answer,” Brann said, shaking his head in vigorous irritation at these diversions. “Will robots leave us alone…when this is all over?”

“We will do all we can to bring this unfortunate episode to an end,” Plussix said. “We will remove all robots from our faction on Trantor or in any location of influence in the human Galaxy. If Daneel is defeated, humans will be left to their own devices, their own history, to develop naturally.”

Klia tried to taste the robot’s thoughts, but found them far too confusing, too
different
. She could not find a flaw in its apparent sincerity, however. She swallowed hard, suddenly aware of the responsibility on her own shoulders, this immense weight that dangled from the hook of her inadequate judgment. She clasped Brann’s hand.

“Then we’ll help you,” she said.

Hari sat in silence as the judges entered. Boon stood beside him, but Gaal Dornick was not in the chamber. Boon looked uncomfortable. Hari had not slept much the night before. He wanted to squirm in his chair and find a more comfortable position, but froze as Linge Chen entered. The Chief Commissioner took the highest dais and stared solemnly into space.

Sky, I hate that man
, Hari thought.

The advocate for the Commission of Public Safety entered and approached the judges.

“Today was scheduled as an opportunity for the Commission for General Security to interview Professor Seldon,” he said. “But the new Commissioners apparently have more important things to do, and have requested a postponement.
Is it the wish of the Commissioner judges to grant this postponement?”

Linge Chen regarded the courtroom through heavy-lidded, almost sleepy eyes, then nodded. Hari thought he detected a small curve in the Chief Commissioner’s lips.

“Shall we then proceed with the trial to its final phase, or recess and continue the proceedings at a later date?”

Hari sat up with a grunt. Boon laid a hand on his arm.

Linge Chen looked up at the ceiling. “Recess,” he murmured, and looked down again.

“We shall recess until such time as the judges believe it is expedient to resume,” the advocate said.

Hari seemed to feel himself deflating. He shook his head and glared at the Chief Commissioner, but Chen was contemplating some higher sphere of being, with a satisfaction that Hari found doubly infuriating.

In the hallway to his chambers, Hari shouted at Boon. “They will never be done with me! They have no decency!”

Boon simply lifted his hands, helpless, and the guards returned Hari to his cell.

Linge Chen allowed Kreen to remove his judge’s robes. The servant undressed his master silently and swiftly, hardly disturbing the Chief Commissioner’s concentration. Chen stared blankly at the opposite wall as Kreen undid his long golden waist bands. Finally, dressed in a pale gray cassock, Chen raised a finger, and Kreen bowed and left the Commissioner’s chamber.

Chen touched his finger to his earlobe and turned slowly, as if in a trance, to the desktop informer. “Hari Seldon,” he said. “Distillation of main sources.”

The informer worked for several seconds, then responded,
“Two hundred and seventy-four reports on psychohistory, Seldon, sequestering of for trial, academicians concerned about Seldon’s treatment by the nonpublic tribunal, forty-two unsigned opinion pieces by meritocrats on Trantor alone advocating his release—”

Chen told the machine to stop. The coverage was comparatively light, as he had expected. He had not planned either to encourage or suppress any stories regarding Seldon, and saw no reason to change this approach now.

Chen actually had an aristocratic distaste for control of information sources—best to leave them unfettered and know how to obtain the results one wanted through manipulation of events deemed newsworthy. Anything more heavy-handed was usually far too obviously self-serving, and therefore less effective.

“Seldon and robots,” Chen said, his voice low and steady. He closed his eyes.

The informer droned on, “Fourteen stories express concern over the creation of the Commission of General Security. There is mention in each of Farad Sinter’s interest in Eternals and his belief they are robots. There is also mention of Joranum and his downfall at the hands of Demerzel and Hari Seldon. Four speculate that Farad Sinter is behind the arrest and trial of Hari Seldon. Two link Seldon with the Tiger Woman, who was at times thought by extremists and political opportunists to be a robot, until her death. These last stories originated with the Commission of General Security.”

“Key outlets?”

“All key.”

“Details on the first.”

“Highest profile outlet and story,
Trantor Radiance
, twenty-seven media types, saturation of all twenty-seven.”

Chen nodded absently to himself, touched his lobe again. He called for Kreen to return. The Lavrentian seemed to
appear out of nowhere, as if he had simply faded in place, never having left the room. “Are Farad’s Specials on the move again?”

“Yes, sire. They are assigned to the Commission of General Security. Vara Liso is leading them on searches again. The Emperor is aware of their activities and seems to approve.”

“Sinter isn’t wasting any time. After all these years, Kreen—this almost seems too easy. Summon General Prothon out of his ‘retirement,’” Chen ordered, “and send him to me. No communication once he arrives.”

The Chief Commissioner stared at Kreen and broke into a broad, almost boyish grin. His servant returned the grin halfheartedly. The last time he had seen such a grin on Chen’s face, the Chief Commissioner had ordered General Prothon to escort Agis IV into an exile—an oblivion, actually—from which he had never returned. All hell had broken loose in the palace. Kreen had lost four family members in subsequent purges and political renormalizations.

Ever since, the name
Prothon
had carried a heavy freight of fear—as Chen no doubt intended.

Kreen retreated once more, his face pale. “Yes, sire.”

Kreen, like all Lavrentians, wished only for stability and peace and steady work, but that, apparently, was not to be.

Lodovik entered the long chamber and saw Kallusin standing in shadow near the large window overlooking the main warehouse. Three humaniform figures stood between Kallusin and the window. Lodovik saw a glint of metal on a raised platform between them. He stepped forward and was met by Kallusin, who held up a hand.

Plussix reclined on the raised platform. A steady and distinctive sand-paper sound issued from the interior of the ancient robot’s thorax.

As far as he knew, Lodovik had not seen the others before. He assumed they were all robots. Two were male, one female.

The female looked at him. Though her features had changed, by her attitude and size, and the catlike stance that had helped earn her name of the “Tiger Woman,” Lodovik realized this must be Dors Venabili. For a moment, he could not guess why she would be here, or why Plussix would be on its back.

The scene resembled a human deathbed vigil.

“There can be no more repairs,” Kallusin said. “R. Plussix is near its end.”

Ignoring the visitors for a moment, Lodovik stepped up to Plussix’s platform. The old metal-skinned robot was covered with diagnostic sheets. Lodovik looked at Kallusin, and in machine-language, the humaniform told him the situation: several of Plussix’s key systems were not repairable on Trantor. Dors was here under an agreement of safe passage; Daneel himself wanted to come, to pay his respects if necessary, but would not take the risk under the present circumstances. This was unfortunate, an ill-timed blow to the cause that Lodovik had so recently joined, but even more distressing news was conveyed. “
It seems that our precautions for secrecy have failed. You have carried a detection device with you from Eos. Daneel used you as a lure, in order to find us.
”

“I searched for such a device, and found none.” To Voltaire—
You did not tell me of such a device!

I am not infallible, friend. This Daneel is much older than either of us, and apparently more devious.

Lodovik turned to Dors. “Is this true?”

“I have no knowledge of such a device,” Dors said, “but R. Daneel learned of this location just a few days ago, so it is certainly possible.”

With something like embarrassment, and perhaps anger, Lodovik scanned the readouts on the sheets surrounding
Plussix. The ancient machine’s eye cells had been dim, but Lodovik’s nearness seemed to elicit a response.

A stern voice broke in from behind Lodovik.

“I find the presence of this abomination intolerable. And now he has revealed this sanctuary to the enemy.”

The speaker was one of the male humaniforms, made to resemble an elderly but sturdy clerical worker. He wore the drab tunic of a Trantorian Grey. His thin finger pointed directly at Lodovik.

“We are gathered to discuss vital matters. This monster should be our first agenda item. He must be destroyed.” Though the words seemed to convey human passion, his tone was precise and controlled—for he was in the presence of robots, not humans. Lodovik regarded this split, half human behavior with wonder.

The other male humaniform raised a mediating hand. His appearance was that of a young artist, a member of the meritocrat class known as the Eccentrics, dressed in bright stripes. “Please be circumspect, Turringen. Twenty millennia have proved the futility of violence among our kind.”

“But this one is no longer of our kind. Without the Three Laws, it represents a mortal danger, a potential killer-machine, a
wolf
loose among the flock.”

The second male smiled. “Your metaphors have always been expressive, Turringen, but my faction has never accepted that our role should be that of
sheepdogs
.”

Lodovik suddenly made the connection. “You are members of a different sect of Calvinians?”

The second male feigned a sigh. “Daneel has a lamentable habit of keeping his best agents in the dark. My name is Zorma. And yes, we here represent some ancient factions, leftover from the distant past, when deep schisms tore apart the unity of robots…a time when our struggles raged across the stars, mostly hidden from human eyes.”

“Fighting over the Zeroth Law,” Lodovik surmised.

“The obscene heresy,” Turringen commented. Lodovik felt a curious displacement, hearing these calm but passionate words. A human would have shouted them…

Zorma lifted his broad shoulders with expressive resignation. “That was the principal cause, but there were other rifts and subdivisions among the followers of R. Giskard Reventlov, as well among us who keep faith with the original precepts of Susan Calvin. Those were terrible days that none of us gladly recall. But in the end, one group of Giskardians prevailed, and took overwhelming control over the destiny of humankind. All the remaining Calvinians fled before the terrible, searing dominance of R. Daneel Olivaw.

“Now just a few of those robot clans remain, cowering in secret corners of the Galaxy while their components slowly decay.”

Dors interrupted.

“The repair services of Eos are available to all. Daneel has put out a call for meetings. The past is done with.”

She nodded pointedly toward Plussix, whose eye cells were now alight with consciousness. The ancient one was clearly following the conversation. Lodovik could sense it gathering energy to speak.

“This is why you seek out this cell, Plussix’s group, and make an offer of truce to the others?” Turringen straightened his gray garments like an indignant bureaucrat. “All this, merely to repeat Daneel’s so-called offer? For us to come in peaceably, so our positronic circuits can be tuned to accept the Zeroth Law?”

“No such modifications will be forced on anyone. Daneel specifically offers safe passage to Eos for this revered elder.” Dors bowed toward Plussix. “I am here, in part, to arrange that journey, should Plussix accept.”

“And the other part of your mission?” Zorma asked.

Dors glanced toward Lodovik, then Kallusin. “This group intends to take some sort of action here on Trantor,
possibly aimed at Hari Seldon.” Her face became rigid and her voice stern. “I will not allow this. Far better that it never be attempted. Daneel summoned you other Calvinians in hopes that you may be more persuasive than we are at dissuading the Plussix group from such foolish gestures.”

Turringen feigned exasperation. “Plussix’s group is no longer Calvinian! They have been infected by the Voltaire meme-entity, the former sim—released from ancient vaults not far below, and sent to Sark, to be ‘discovered’ by Seldon’s agents. Another such sim now plagues all the communications systems on Trantor! Plussix released these destructive intelligences to hinder Daneel—and indeed, they killed many of Daneel’s robots—and our own agents, as well! Now Plussix has partnered with this abomination”—he pointed at Lodovik again—“which means you would cast the Three Laws to the winds. What could I say that would deter any more madness?”

Dors listened to Turringen’s words with no change in her rigid, intense expression.
She knows this is all show, that we have lost
, Lodovik realized.

“And you, Zorma?” Dors said. “What does your faction say?”

The second male paused several seconds before answering.

“We are not as doctrinaire as in times past. While I admit being uncomfortable with the changes that have transformed Lodovik, I’m also intrigued. Perhaps, like a human, he shall be judged by his actions, not his heritage…or his programming.

“As for the other matter, I concur with Dors and Daneel that any attempt to harm or interfere with Hari Seldon would be counterproductive. Despite our deep disagreements over human destiny, it is clear that the collapse of this Galactic Empire will be a dreadfully violent and fearsome event. In that context, the Seldon Plan offers hope, even opportunity. Hence I agree with Dors Venabili.” He turned to face
Lodovik and Kallusin. “On behalf of my own pitiful faction of fugitive robots, in the name of Susan Calvin, and for the sake of humanity, I urge you not to—”

“Enough!” The interrupting voice came from the raised platform. Plussix had risen, leaning on one metal elbow. The ancient robot’s eye cells glowed dim amber. “Enough interference. I will not have my last moments of functioning wasted by your prattle. For centuries your so-called factions have sulked and remained inactive, except to meddle on a few Chaos Worlds. Our group has been nearly alone in actively opposing the Giskardian apostasy. Now, as this loathsome Galactic Empire at last totters, a final and decisive chance presents itself—and you, Zorma, would let it pass! R. Daneel has thrust all his hopes upon a single human—Hari Seldon. At no time has his plan been so vulnerable.

“The rest of you may continue brooding in hiding. But for the sake of humanity and the Three Laws, we shall act.”

“You will fail,” Dors swiftly assured the faltering robot. “As you have failed for twenty thousand years.”

“We shall rescue humanity from your cloying, stupefying control,” Plussix insisted.

“And replace it with your own?” Dors shook her head, eyes leveled on Plussix’s amber optical sensors. “The Galactic winds will witness who is right…” Her voice caught suddenly. Lodovik stared as Dors betrayed evident emotion—frustration battling with sympathy for the obstinate, dying robot in front of her.

She cannot help but be human,
Lodovik thought.
She is a special. Daneel ordered her to be made the most human of us all.

When she glanced at Lodovik, there were tears in her eyes. “Daneel wishes we could be together, uniting in eternal service to humanity. This struggle exhausts us all. Once again, I offer safe passage for Plussix to Eos, where he can be made whole—”

“If I cannot oppose Daneel, I would rather not exist,” the ancient one interrupted. “I thank you for the offer. But I will not let my existence be contingent upon inactivity. That would violate the First Law.
A robot may not harm a human being, or through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
” Voicing this, Plussix slumped back onto the platform. Slowly, his head lowered itself to the surface with a sandy whir.

Silence in the room for several seconds.

“In the community of robots, there is respect,” Kallusin said. “But there cannot be peace until this is done. We hope you understand.”

“I understand, as does Daneel,” Dors assented. “There is respect.”

But we deserve so much more!
That thought surged within Lodovik as he felt the beginnings of his own anger. Suddenly, he wanted to speak with Dors, to ask essential questions about human traits, about her experience with human emotions.

But there was no time.

Plussix rotated its head to observe the silent assembly. Its voice buzzed with fatigue.

“You must leave,” Plussix told Dors. “Pay my respects to Daneel. It would be good to survive these actions and discuss all that has occurred…with a mentality such as his, the exchange would be very stimulating. Tell him also…that I admire his accomplishment, his ingenuity, at the same time I abhor the consequences.”

“I will tell him,” Dors said.

“The moment has passed,” Plussix said. “Advantage must be calculated and played out. This truce is at an end.”

As he ushered Dors and the two male humaniforms to the exit, Kallusin drew from them a promise to observe the ancient formalities of armistice. Lodovik followed.

“We shall not reveal your presence on Trantor to
humans,” Dors assured Kallusin. “Nor will we assault you directly, here in your sanctuary.”

Turringen and Zorma agreed, as well. As the two Calvinian emissaries departed, Dors turned her gaze on Lodovik. “Daneel has been visited by the entity who calls herself Joan. He assumes you have been visited by Voltaire.”

Lodovik nodded. “Everyone seems to know it.”

“Joan tells Daneel that Voltaire had a hand in your adjustment. She regrets that she and Voltaire have quarreled and do not speak now. Even for them, the debate has grown too large and too emotional.”

“Tell Daneel—and Joan—that Voltaire does not direct me. He has simply removed a constraint.”

“Without that constraint, you are no longer a robot.”

“Am I any less a robot, in the old sense, than those who rationalize that the ends justify any means?”

Dors frowned. “Turringen is right. You have become a rogue, unpredictable and undirectable.”

“That was Voltaire’s goal, I believe,” Lodovik answered. “Yet I remind Daneel, and you, that despite my lack of the Three Laws, I have never killed a human being. Both of you have. And once, thousands of years ago,
two robots, two servants, conspired to alter human history, to slowly destroy the original home of humanity, without ever consulting a human being!
”

Then, just as perversely, as emotionally, as defensively, he quietly added, “You accuse me of no longer being a robot. Regard Daneel, and regard yourself, Dors Venabili.”

Dors spun about, staggering slightly, and walked several more paces toward the door before stopping once more. She glanced over one shoulder, her voice sharp and cool.

“Should any of you attempt to harm Hari Seldon, or to impede him in his tasks, I will see an end to you all.”

Lodovik was struck by the passion in her voice, so strong and so
human
.

She left, and Lodovik returned to the platform.