Chapter Text
Elijah threw the sheet of paper that R. Godfrey had given him onto the desk. He locked his hands behind back, striding as best he could in the small space. "It proves nothing."
Daneel stood with his hands behind his back, watching Elijah pace. His friend was clearly distressed; this was evident even without the evidence of his vibrant aura. "How so, Partner Elijah?"
"He ate a dinner elsewhere now and then." The more likely possibilities were legion. "It could have been with friends. He could have been having an affair with another woman - you have to admit that it's more likely."
"Given societal norms, yes, but there are even fewer facts to support that supposition."
Elijah shrugged. "This isn't a case on Thomas's marital fidelity. It's about murder."
A pleasing turn of events! He had not expected Elijah to shed his prejudices so quickly. "I am glad you agree, partner Elijah. And so, speculating if Thomas had an affair with a woman is besides the point, is it not?"
"As is speculating on an affair with another man," Elijah grated. "Never mind all of that. We have more data. A yeast worker came forward to say that he saw Stephan slip a yeast tine into his bag as they were preparing to go home."
"One would have assumed that was where he had gotten the tine from, yes."
"Yes, we did assume that. Now we have proof. We don't need much - we just need enough to wrangle a confession out of Thomas." Thomas's means of knowing of the plot was still the only point on which Elijah was hazy. He did not believe that Thomas would simply wander the halls at night. It was not forbidden, but it was not socially accepted, and Elijah knew well that the latter was the stronger incentive.
"Surely his fingerprints were on the tine?" Stephan's fingerprints on the tine, as well as the fact that he was carrying it when he had easy access to them at his place of work would sufficiently indicative that he had, in fact, taken it. There would be no reason for anyone to keep such an instrument on their person unless they were planning to use it for something other than its intended use.
"Yes, but that's in keeping with the story he's given. I believe he's guilty of murder. But if he did it to protect his wife, that mitigates his guilt." Elijah paused in his pacing to face Daneel. "If we can make him believe that we believe that, he might come clean."
Elijah's mistake was negligible, so Daneel ignored it. He did note that it was not the type of mistake normally made by the plainclothesman, a fact he filed away for consideration later. "What does he believe at present? Does he still keep to his story?"
Elijah shrugged slightly. "Last we checked, yes, but that was when I read the report. When you came by."
It would be interesting indeed, to see this man, Daneel pondered. Much could be gleaned by reading his aura too, no doubt. He was surprised Elijah had not suggested it yet. Perhaps he should himself? "Partner Elijah, might I see him?"
Elijah quirked his mouth. "I was going to suggest a visit."
Daneel's pathways ran smoothly once again. He should not have doubted his friend's abilities. "Then we are in agreement."
The cells at the Central Prison were stark, but not unnecessarily unpleasant. The one Thomas Burner waited in was small and plastic, but clean. The cot on which he rested, his head in his hands, was the only furniture in the cell; it was also small and plastic. The room was depressing more for its status as a cell than by any stereotype of darkness or dankness that the idea of cells evokes.
Elijah was not, by nature, the infallible, tough-as-nails, commanding plainclothesman of legend. He therefore knew the importance of pretending to be; making a confident entrance, taking control of a situation immediately, making his voice the only one it was possible to believe. He therefore strode into the cell, wearing as much of his rank as he could stuff into a walk, his hand pointedly on the blaster at his hip. "Thomas Burner!" he said, loudly. Thomas looked up. His eyes were red; he looked ten years older than the picture on his sheet, although it was current, Baley knew.
"Yes?" he croaked. He was a tall man, and would have looked healthily athletic had he been ten pounds or so heftier. The ill-fit of his excellently tailored suit spoke of recent weight-loss; it bunched unattractively as Thomas hunched over. He gave the vague impression of a depressed vulture.
Baley stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, one hand on his blaster, the other on his own hip. He could feel Daneel walk in behind him, watching. "Murder and self-defense are very different things, Thomas Burner."
"Don't I know it," Thomas mumbled.
"But murder in defense of another is not exactly the same thing as murder, either - is it?"
"I wouldn't know." There was anger in his voice, and something else - confusion? That could indicate innocence, but it might as well be uncertainty about how he should lie. "I'm not a law-man."
"No, you're not, are you. But I am." Baley walked a little closer, hunkering down a little to look Thomas in the face. "And I know." Daneel was still watching the proceedings as though it was the best etherics show in town. Elijah wished he wouldn't stare so.
Elijah watched coolly as Thomas looked at him, exuding misery. "Fine. What do you want from me?" There was no anger now, just tired resignation.
"I know that the Medievalists had plans against your wife, Thomas Burner."
There was no humor in Thomas's laugh. "You and the goddamm rest of the City."
"And I know that you killed Stephan Linkslighter to stop those plans." Elijah frowned. He hated people who swore. It was vile. It was filler for when someone could not think of something halfway intelligent to say.
Thomas sighed. "I killed Stephan. I admit it. It was an accident."
"You impaled a man by accident?"
"Yes." It was a snarl more than a word. "That can happen when there's a struggle with a pointed stick involved."
Elijah held his eye. "And you just happened to be wandering the halls."
"Yes. What of it." Thomas pushed out his lip stubbornly.
Elijah did not move. "You do that a lot? Are you observing the lovely spectacle of the robots emptying the waste-bins? Enjoying the dimming of the lights? That's about all that goes on in the City at night. Most citizens are inside, sleeping. With their wives."
"I have trouble sleeping," Thomas said, wearily.
If he did not have trouble before, he certainly would now. "Why is that? Why didn't you see a doctor?"
"I have," Thomas muttered. "They say I just need to stress down, take some days off. But I've had my quota of vacation time this year, so I just have wait it out." His short laugh was almost amusingly forced. "Guess that won't be a problem anymore."
Elijah did not move or break eye contact. "Don't give me that. Don't give me that I-was-just-wandering-the-corridors-for-my-mental health."
"Why, is that a common defense these days?" Thomas sniped.
"No. Most people know better than to even try it."
The agitation in the room made Daneel stir. The two men's anger and frustration hung like a thick smog in the tiny cell. His mechanical body tensed, preparing to jump into action should anyone need to be protected from harm.
"You have a lot to lose, Thomas," Elijah continued, firmly. He could feel the man slipping. He had to keep him in reality, in consequences, in choice. "Do you want to be declassified? Work out in the yeast vats for the rest of your life? Or would you rather come clean and just spend a few months in jail and knock a few grades off of your rating?"
"If I may?"
Daneel's clear voice interrupted smoothly, and Elijah turned to face him, irate. The robot had broken the atmosphere he was attempting to build up. Elijah started to say so, but bit his own tongue. It was done, and there was nothing to be gained by arguing in front of the prisoner. Daneel waited, patiently, and Elijah finally let go of his tongue and said, "What?" quietly.
"Sir..." Daneel turned to Thomas, "do you love your wife very much?"
What little had been left of Thomas's smooth E-5 facade vanished in the blink of an eye. He straightened up, shooting Daneel a look of pure disgust. Spacer, that look said, Elijah noted. No surprise there. Many highly rated citizens despised the Spacers for pushing them further down, as it were, on the social ladder. What did it matter how high a rating you had when there were rich, eternally beautiful long-lived supermen whom you could never best? If Thomas belonged to that demographic, that would certainly be something to consider in the case. "Now what kind of a question is that?" Thomas raged. "Damn straight I love my wife, mister! Married her as soon as we were old enough to apply for a permit. We had just gotten one for a kid, too; we're still young enough for that."
Elijah crossed his arms, frowning. The man was getting quite agitated. His carefully honed accent less voice began to slip, now and then, into the common dialect of the City. Daneel was likely harping on his bizarre theory, but his questioning, delivered with his robotic calm, might help. Elijah watched.
"You would do anything to protect her, then?" Daneel asked, carefully observing the visible and - to the others in the room - invisible changes in the man.
Thomas asked, warily, "What's yer game?" He looked at Elijah. "Who is this guy?" he asked, indicating Daneel.
"Answer him," Elijah said, flatly.
Thomas hesitated. "Well, that's a no-brainer, isn't it? Of course I'd do anything for her. And yes, I know what that sounds like. But I'll tell you what; I don't care!" His voice rose as he spoke, and by the end of it he had half-risen from the cot. Standing there with his fists clenched, he seemed to realize what he was doing, blinking a few times as though dazed by a sudden, bright light. After a pause, he sat down again, awkwardly. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, though still slipping into New York-speak. "It was an accident. I already told ya. And yes, I love my wife. Now would you leave me the hell alone? I'll take what's coming to me."
Elijah stepped forward again. "And you don't care about what will happen to her if you're declassified. That's what will happen if we say you murdered Stephan. Give us something to work with. Do you really think she'll keep her position if her spouse is convicted and sent to the vats?"
"I'll release her from the marriage-contract," Thomas said, desperately. "She's damn good at her job, that's gotta count for something?"
Elijah looked down at Thomas. He probably was a handsome man, when not stuck in a cell, accused of murder. As it was, his clear-cut features seemed dull and lifeless. Grey, like the tufts of hairs at his temples. "It doesn't matter what you do now. You were married when you committed the crime."
In a move that was almost spastic, Thomas tore at his hair, his teeth gritting. For a moment Elijah thought he may finally have lost the man, but Thomas quieted down eventually. "It was an accident."
"Prove it. Tell us what really happened." Elijah continued to stare. Break, he almost willed at Thomas. Break, man, and confess!
Thomas was shaking a little. His hands were all over the place, gesturing at things and people that weren't really there. "I told you! I told you everything.... we struggled; there was this sharp... I felt the blood. Oh hell, the blood!" The last word spat out of his lips as he collapsed into a fit of crying; the helpless, desolate crying of a lost child.
Daneel stirred. The emotions in the room were becoming blurred to the point where he could no longer distinguish between them. This was most disturbing, considering that the last clear reading he had gotten from Thomas was a feeling of intense desperation - of being without options, having nowhere to turn. If this progressed, he might even hurt himself.
Elijah felt any sympathy he might have had for the man start to slip away. If he had known of a plot against his wife, he had nothing to lose by saying so. Holding on like this - he must have been out for some illicit purpose, and held that as more important than his wife's well-being, more important than truth. Just another petty monster of a man. Elijah felt his face go blank. "You didn't tell us everything. Why were you there? How did you know he was coming?"
Thomas muttered to himself, shivering. That appeared to be all he had to offer for the moment.
First Law potential tingling, Daneel put his hand on Elijah's shoulder and softly said, "Partner Elijah... He seems distraught."
Elijah looked at Daneel. "Really," he said, flatly. Yes, First Law would make Daneel care for the welfare of any human. Even a murderer. Daneel cared as much for this foul-mouthed wretch as he did for Elijah. He had to. Elijah pulled away from Daneel and crouched in front of Thomas, his hands on the man's shoulders. Thomas was trying to focus, and Elijah tried to make himself the object of that focus.
Thomas's emotional radiation was garbled and murky, almost unreadable. Saturated with First Law, Daneel turned to Elijah, almost plaintive. "Partner Elijah..." At times, he reflected, the ability to read emotions was a much a hindrance as a help. It made him aware of harm-potential that might never come into existence, hampering him in situations other robots would experience no difficulty. Then again, what could be wrong with something that promoted First Law?
Elijah ignored the robot nursemaid, willing Thomas to look at him. "Why did you eat away from your home district, those nights your wife was at work late?" Yes, Daneel's strange ideas had made Elijah cross-check that, as much as he was able. "How did you know who Stephan was? You knew him already, didn’t you?" Daneel's hypothesis was making horrible, chilling sense. Elijah wanted Thomas to disprove it. To give some other explanation. Any other explanation.
"Accident," Thomas insisted, through a series of coughs and chokes. He wasn't looking at Elijah. He wasn't looking at anything.
"Jehosephat. You keep saying accident. You’re on a narrow strip that’s moving fast, my friend."
"What do you want me to do," Thomas barely managed to get out, "lie?"
"No, I want you to start telling the truth. How did you know Stephan would be there?"
Thomas was sobbing now, in a rather disconcerting way. It was something born not of sadness, but some other, more primitive emotion. "I didn't!"
Elijah stood and let go. "Well, if that's what you want. It will be great consolation to your wife when she's lost her position to know that you stick to a story so well."
Daneel voice, loud and forceful, sounded as he rose. "Partner Elijah, this man is very distraught. That can be a terrible strain both physically and emotionally."
Elijah strode away, towards the door. "You're so kind to think of the well-being of the murderer." Anger was welling up in him, at Thomas's pointless stubbornness, at Daneel's indiscriminate caring.
Daneel stayed for a moment, looking at the shivering man in the corner. He had killed someone, yes; possibly murdered him. If so, he should be punished. So said the laws of Earth. That did not mean he was not a human being, was not subject to the protection of First Law. So said the Laws of Robotics. Denying that would be like denying the color of his eyes or hair, or the fact that gravity prevented him from floating away into space. That did not mean Daneel approved of his actions. Why could Elijah not see that? Pondering this, he followed his very human friend and partner to his office.
Elijah turned as soon as Daneel walked in and closed the door. "I would certainly think that the prospect of losing his rating and his wife losing her position would be enough to make him confess to... what you are proposing, wouldn’t you?" He sat at the desk, irate. "I will write it as I originally conceived it. Killing to protect his wife. It'll go easier on him if he goes along, but I can dig up enough evidence to sustain it."
"Why would his wife lose her position, Partner Elijah? She was not involved beyond being the intended victim."
"No, but there's a certain..." Elijah drummed his fingers on the desk, "taint to corruption. It isn't logical, but it's predictable. Just as if I had blown the case on the murder of Doctor Sarton, my family would have shared my down-grading."
"A certain taint," Daneel said, thoughtfully. The concept had no logic to it, and seemed so serve no productive purpose. It did serve to enhance the social stigma of committing a crime, but surely Earth society would suffer more from losing productive members than it would from crimes they may commit in the future, particularly when they were not statistically likely to commit them.
"Yes." Elijah pulled his pocket computer out from his desk. He would have to make a list of leads to follow up on.
"And now your family is sharing your new status."
"Yes, they are." Elijah shuffled through the papers on his desk, noting names and locations.
"Your system is certainly different from ours," Daneel said, neutrally.
Elijah looked up. "Really?" he said, pouring as much sarcasm into the word as he could. Spacers and Earthmen were different? Yes, they needed a hyperintelligent robot to figure that out, did they?
The sarcasm was lost on Daneel. "Oh, yes." A significantly larger population would need a more complicated system to support itself, of course, but so many of the details of Earth's system seemed to Daneel redundant, nonsensical, illogical or all of the above.
Elijah smiled slightly and started to move his fingers through the magnetic field on the computer, shaping an itinerary. "Sorry your time off was so... unfruitful, but not all cases can be wrapped up so neatly." He looked up to see Daneel sitting down on the edge of his desk in a very human gesture. The robot's stance was almost self-consciously humaniform. It was disconcerting.
"Why did you ask him if he knew Stephan?" It had surprised Daneel during the interview. It did not fit Elijah's resistance to the idea of a relationship between the two men.
Elijah shrugged. "Well, that's the loose end, isn't it? What he was doing wandering the halls at that time of night."
"Yes, indeed. And you still do not find my suggestion plausible?"
Elijah sighed. The robot had a monomania on this theory. "It doesn't matter, Daneel. The man won't talk. So we'll hang this on the Medievalist assassin being caught by the spouse. I'll bet my position on it."
Daneel turned to look at Elijah, one hand resting on the desk. Elijah had turned back to his computer, tapping away at it. It was of a type Daneel had only seen in book-films, and even those had been more efficient models. So much of Earth was stagnation, he reflected. There was so much wasted potential. What would not someone like Elijah, for example, have been able to achieve in Spacer society? "He was telling the truth, you know."
Elijah shook his head. "He just happened to be wandering the halls? And you know this how?"
"That, I cannot be certain of. But it was an accident."
Elijah stopped typing, looking up at Daneel. "Oh, yes - your built-in cerebroanalyzer." A surge of panic rose in him, and he pushed it down. Daneel could not read minds. He could only determine generalities of states of mind, and the probabilities of truths and falsehoods. "I keep forgetting that. But it’s not admissible as evidence."
"Sadly, no. But perhaps it could still be of some assistance to you?"
"How so?" Elijah leaned back, putting his computer on the desk.
"If it was an accident, then it follows that it cannot be premeditated. This narrows down his potential reasons for lying in the rest of his statement." Daneel paused, but Elijah merely looked at him with interest. "There was another strange discrepancy. He lied when he told me he loved his wife, but he was telling the truth when he said he would do anything to protect her." His emotions had been strong at the time, and there had been a hint of trying to disguise them. But he could not have know about Daneel's cerebroanalyzer, could he? Another puzzling facet to the picture.
Elijah looked at his arms and frowned. "What are you getting at? If he doesn’t love his wife, why would he..." Elijah plowed to a halt, a new thought coming to mind. "Because she had something he loved."
"I do not understand, partner Elijah," Daneel said, confused. "Don't husband and wife have shared assets?"
Elijah felt the urge for another smoke. He pushed it aside. "Yes, but you can’t share a child."
After a slight hesitation, Daneel echoed the word. "A child..." There were so many of them, on this crowded world, and yet Earthers treasured each and every child born, refusing to control their population with anything beyond contraceptives. It was fascinating, and would certainly go some ways towards explaining Thomas's behavior. Earth people did not behave rationally when their children's safety was involved.
"Perhaps she's pregnant already, and Thomas is lying to protect the child." It made some sense. He would still want to protect his wife, even if he did not love her.
"That would give him motive, would it not?"
Elijah pondered, then shook his head. "No, it still doesn't hang together. Lying about wandering the halls," he said, reflectively.
In Elijah's current emotional make-up Daneel saw an opening; the man's curiosity and professional pride seemed to have fought off the need to preserve societal norms. Perhaps now he would be more receptive to the ideas he rejected earlier? "Partner Elijah," Daneel began carefully, "you told me earlier today about a man who got caught by the police because he would not speak in the Personals."
"Yes, I did."
"What if a man had done something just as bad as, or even worse than, speaking in the Personals. To what lengths would he go to prevent that knowledge from coming out?"
Elijah ran his finger through the cleft in his chin. "You keep harping on that." But Thomas was in his early thirties. He did not have the excuse of being reckless and unknowing as teenagers did. Young boys might let a word or two slip in the Personals when they were still new to the Men's, after their time spent as prepubescents in the chatty Women's personals with their mothers. But they learned, quickly, as Elijah had. Just as young boys... Elijah shook his head again.
There was a shift in Elijah's aura, a closing in; a hint of remorse and pain. Daneel could not read or analyze it accurately, and so he did not try. His communications link to Spacetown sparked into sudden life, and he slid off of the desk to stand upright. It was time to go.
Elijah caught Daneel's eye. "But none of it matters. If..." he shook a finger, "even if it's true, it's all moot anyway. There's no evidence that we can use."
"That is certainly true." Daneel paused. "Doctor Fastolfe is requesting my presence. May I take your leave and rejoin you later?"
Elijah said his farewell to Daneel and watched the man leave. No, he watched the robot leave. The robot who, thank the stars, could not read minds. He could not know about the unpleasant memories his hypothesis had evoked. They had not been unpleasant at the time, to be sure. James... something. Elijah could not even remember the boy's last name. But the boy had hung with Lije through a particularly intense strip-run that had crossed the city twice. Everyone else was left far behind. The cops had caught wind of the ridiculous lengths Lije had been going to in order to shake James, and had come after the boys. Jehosephat, they had run the strips well enough to shake the cops. Lije had lead James down to the old motorways to wait until the chase died down, and there they had stopped to rest, breathless and laughing. They were hanging onto each other, and with all of the poor sense of teenage boys, they had kissed and fondled in the dark - neither quite sure of what they were doing, but both enjoying the sticky mess they had ended up creating. They had returned to that spot, twice more - but the third time that Lije tried to lead them there, James had looked at him with disgust and hopped back on the strips. Of course, Elijah had learned in good time how wrong it was, and had almost managed to forget it all. But no, Daneel had brought the subject up.
If that was indeed Thomas's motive, Elijah would not hold back. The man was too old to claim ignorance. He had no excuse.
Jessie harangued Ben gently about getting ready for school. He was at a lassitude-heavy stage of teenager-hood, and needed rather a lot of haranguing. She had time, though; she would not be able to use the bedroom sink until Lije was done shaving and brushing his teeth. She had just sent Ben into his room to get his shoes on and his satchel packed when the doorbell rang.
"Who's that?" Lije called in from the bedroom, his voice muffled by toothpaste.
Jessie answered the door, then stepped back in surprise at the tall, handsome, dark-skinned man who stood outside, a faint, polite smile on his face. "Oh. Mister Olivaw." Jessie struggled to maintain her equanimity. She did not trust that robot. She could not exactly put her finger on why, but he tingled her women's intuition. And he was on Earth! At their home! She had breathed a sigh of relief when Lije's Spacer case was closed - partly because she thought the robot was being shipped off of the planet, or turned off, or... something.
"Good morning, Jessie." Elijah Baley's wife did not like Daneel; he did not need a cerebroanalyzer to see that. His memories of their time spent together was enough, coupled with her body language and tone of voice, both of which she tried to disguise. Using her first name and thus implying intimacy was one of the ways in which Daneel knew to diffuse such tension. It was not without risk. She might well resent the implication, and become even more hostile. It seemed, however, not to have made matters worse, at any rate.
Jessie worked at making her voice polite. "Are you here to see L... my husband?"
"Yes, I am. I'm sorry to have come at such an inconvenient hour. However, my schedule is somewhat tight."
Elijah stepped out of the bedroom, mopping his face with a towel, his shirt over one arm. "Who is..." he paused at the sight of Daneel in his entry room. "Oh. Hello, Daneel."
Daneel gave a very friendly smile. An impulse to do so struck whenever he greeted the Earthman. "Hello, partner Elijah."
Jessie noted her husband's surprise. It was a very mild surprise, not one in keeping with seeing someone who he thought was off of the planet. She was going to have to talk to Lije that evening. He was not telling her a thing or two. Her voice was frosty as she said, "I'll just leave you two. Make sure Ben is getting his shoes on." She turned on her toe and walked into Ben's bedroom.
"What is it, Daneel?" Elijah was suddenly conscious of his half-dressed state. He pulled his shirt on.
"How is your case going, partner Elijah?" Daneel was pleased to note Elijah looked healthy. He knew his friend would eventually sicken and die, much sooner than the Spacers with whom he associated, but it seemed to Daneel that having this happen later rather than sooner was a much more satisfying prospect.
"The Thomas Burner case? I picked up a little more evidence." Elijah ran his finger up the magneto-seal that closed the front of the shirt.
An interesting turn of events, all things considered. "What kind of evidence?"
Elijah finished tucking his shirt in. "I found out that one of the strip implementation engineers who worked under Thomas is a Medievalist. He was convicted of some minor public disorderliness in connection with one of their riots some years ago. He liked his boss, and was quite talkative when I spoke to him. He thinks he mentioned something about Thomas being cautious in the next few days, some days ago. Split loyalties, you see. So Thomas did have a reason to wander the halls. And to cover it up - to protect a good employee."
Daneel nodded. "That would seem to fit perfectly, partner Elijah." All very logical. Assuming the facts checked out - which was very likely, as Elijah always checked these things thoroughly - the case would seem solved. All in all, a satisfactory conclusion. It would be interesting then, to see what Elijah would make of what Daneel had to show him later.
Elijah smiled, then glanced at Ben's door. He had not missed Jessie's frosty manner. Whatever it was that was bothering her, he did not have time to deal with it. "Let’s head out to my office, shall we?"
"Certainly. I have something to show you when we get there that you might find of interest."
Elijah picked up his blaster and strapped it on, then pulled his ident-case off of the side table. "Really? What?"
"Something not without relevance to your case. We can discuss it further there."
"Not without." Elijah walked out of the door. "I love that phrase. You could just say it's relevant, you know."
"Yes, I could."
It was clearly a statement, no layers behind it. Once again, Elijah reminded himself that sarcasm is lost on a robot. He walked down the corridor towards the strips. "How long are you here?"
"Assuming deconstruction goes according to schedule, I will be leaving tomorrow at midnight." He and Fastolfe would be among the last to leave. A few others would remain, and then, finally, there would be only robots. And then nothing more. Only Earth people. Like Elijah.
Elijah sighed. "Not much time here, then." Daneel could be maddening, but he readily confess to himself that he enjoyed the robot's company. He had such a strange perspective on the world. It made Elijah think.
"No." Daneel looked towards Elijah, calculating scenarios in his mind of what life would be like for his friend with Spacetown gone. With Daneel gone. "I am glad that there was, nevertheless, time enough for me to see you, my friend."
"Briefly. Still, better than no time at all." On impulse, Elijah reached out and squeezed Daneel's arm. Daneel watched the squeeze with friendly curiosity. Well, of course. Affection was as wasted on a robot as sarcasm was. Elijah pulled his arm back. "Well."
"It would have been nice to have you visit my home at some point, partner Elijah."
"Your home?" Elijah asked as he walked towards the strips. Home? Robots owned property on Spacer worlds?
"Yes."
"I thought you lived with Fastolfe."
"I do." Nothing much had changed since Daneel had last been in the City. There had been upkeep, trivial changes in the colors of facades, blinking signs and storefront displays. Daneel took it all in, wanting his recording of these final moments of this, his presumably last visit to the planet, to be as complete and accurate as possible. "He often talks about you."
Elijah stepped onto a strip, Daneel following close behind. "Does he. What on Earth does he have to say?" He did not think Spacers had anything to say about Earthmen aside from how offensive their presence was.
"He finds you interesting."
Elijah laughed as he walked to faster strips. Interesting. Such a perfect word to cover a huge range of responses, without offering any real offense. Such a First Law word.
Daneel looked at Elijah, seeing every detail of the way his feet and legs moved, copying it perfectly. "As do I."
Elijah's laugh stopped. He could laugh off how Fastolfe thought of him, but Daneel - finding him interesting? In a way that would merit a dissection, perhaps. "Interesting."
"Yes. For myself, I find that the time I spend with you is most educational and agreeable." The pathways of his mind seemed to flow more easily; he judged himself to be more energized, though his energy levels were at a constant optimum unless there was something wrong with him. Yet, there it was; when he was with Elijah, Daneel found himself functioning better.
Elijah looked at Daneel, pondering that comment. Agreeable. That was perhaps the most emotionally connotative word Elijah had heard Daneel use with respect to himself. Could a robot's positronic pathways create a sensation that would be a parallel to human pleasure? When did the distinction between the electrical currents of the positronic brain and the electrical currents carried by sodium and potassium in his own brain break down? Was Daneel actually capable of something as basic as liking another human - or was the preference of one human over another too un-First Law? Elijah suddenly realized where the strips had taken them, and rushed to leave the strips before they had flown past police headquarters.
Daneel followed at same measured distance as before, down to the micrometer, as Elijah made his way to his office. and closed the door behind him. Elijah turned, but did not sit. He wanted a better view of Daneel as the robot reached into his pocket and pulled out a watch. It was digital, in an intentionally retrograde styling, as well as Elijah could tell from where he stood.
"I took the liberty of speaking with some of the garbage collection robots that had patrolled the area around the scene of the crime. One of them had picked up this." Daneel handed it over.
Elijah took it from Daneel and inspected it, turning it over and over. The watch was common enough, but there was an inscription on the back. In simple writing, it said, "To Stephan, my enduring love." Elijah looked up to find that Daneel was looking at him. Elijah could quibble about how it might have been entirely unrelated to the case, but that instinct that told him what was relevant and what was not sounded in his bones, telling him that this threaded very neatly through the homicide. "I can find out where it was bought, and who engraved it."
"I have no doubt you can, partner Elijah." He was very good at his job, Daneel knew. He had solved this case, had he not? This was merely an added detail.
"And if I do - well, Thomas might not have to worry about the case anymore. He would be convicted of a different crime, but the penalties would be societal, not legal. He would lose his rank and his social status, and his wife and child would likely lose theirs, as well." Elijah bit his lower lip and released it. "On the other hand, if I tell him the story his underling gave, Thomas might take that as an out."
"They both may be true."
Elijah shrugged and put the watch in his pocket. "Well. Truth is what’s written up in the report. The rest is speculation." Thomas was not the only one who had made a bad decision in his life. He was only human, and humans were imperfect. Like Elijah.
It seemed such a waste, for a society to treat its people like that. "Would it really be so bad?" Daneel said, a touch more softly than normal. "For Thomas and his wife?"
"I don't know for certain. No two cases are identical." Elijah felt his voice grow bitter. "Men have lost everything for less." His father, after all, had not jammed a sharp spike into another man, or gone behind the back of his mother to try to be with another man.
Daneel studied him. The vibrant, violent swirling of emotions in his aura was not visible on his face, hid to everyone but Daneel. But Daneel was the only one here. "I do not see the logic in it."
"There is not any logic in it."
Daneel considered that. "Then perhaps there should be."
Elijah sat and thought about logic. "Too much logic isn’t good for humans, I think. Logic would dictate that we'd," Elijah thought of inhuman, logical ideas, "well, kill the infirm, for starters."
Daneel pointedly said nothing. While Elijah might come to understand the reasoning behind Spacer ethics and morals, he would not agree with them. This understanding without agreement - so very human. Daneel let him go on.
"Take reproduction away from how we do it naturally. Breed children with sperm and eggs specially selected to be disease-free and possessed of wanted traits, and mixed together."
Daneel remained silent. What would happen, he wondered, should Elijah ever visit a place like Solaria, for example? He tried to calculate an answer, but nothing came to him.
Elijah smiled as he carried the thought through to its logical conclusion. "Grow them in big communes with only people who have been screened for the position as guardians." He shook his head. "Jehosephat, love is probably the least logical thing humans have - and it's the best thing we have, as well."
"So I am told," Daneel said, rather quietly.
"No, you wouldn’t know, would you." Elijah stuck his hands into his pockets, feeling the watch. Daneel was perfectly capable of evoking love. He had evoked it in Jenian, almost immediately. He had evoked some kind of feeling in Elijah, as well. Love? No, but a certain friendship, even an affection. Something that Daneel would not be able to return. Steady brown eyes Daneel looked at Elijah.
"That is one of the things I find interesting about you, friend Elijah. There are things I cannot know firsthand. But you can. And I can learn." And he wished to learn, he found. He was programmed to learn, yes, but these things carried with them an inherent fascination that struck him like a power surge.
Elijah found it hard to look away. Those eyes had such a compelling appearance of humanity, only betraying their robotic nature in the utter steadiness of their gaze. "That's nothing particular to me. Most humans have some kind of knowledge of love. Or are you telling me that the Spacers bred it out?"
"Your emotions are... highly visible. I find that agreeable. Pleasing."
"Visible? And here I thought I had finally managed a decent detective façade." Oh, but Daneel had that system of his, didn't he? How sensitive was it? Elijah kept hid hands in his pockets, not sure what else to do with them. He was suddenly very conscious of his stance, his expressions, his movements, knowing that they were being analyzed, and knowing they might show - well, what he had foolishly yelled at Clousarr. How godlike, how handsome he found Daneel; how intelligent, how alluring. The adjectives came with startling ease, once he let them.
Daneel moved a little closer. Closeness was somehow required in this situation. Where this knowledge came from, he did not know. "I will have to return soon. They may need my help with the loading of some sensitive information into the ship's data-banks."
"Ah, well. I would have offered to show you around once I made my report."
"I would have liked that." Daneel held out his hand. A different form of closeness, coupled with the performance of social ritual. The receptors in his hand tingled in anticipation of input.
Elijah grasped the hand. "It's not likely that I'll see you again, with Spacetown gone." He felt a certain paradoxical gratitude at that, as his initial reaction had been a rather significant distress. The machine bred far too much emotion in him. Daneel held his hand firmly.
"That would be a shame, if it were so. Although I agree with your assessment."
Elijah shook Daneel's hand, preparing for the release of pressure that would naturally follow. It seemed to be delayed, and he took the moment to concentrate on the feel of the plastic skin-substitute. It felt just like human skin. It felt just like human contact.
Daneel patted Elijah's arm in a mimicry of something he had seen Elijah do earlier. Another social ritual. More closeness. It was, for some reason, required.
The hand, so indistinguishable from human, on his arm. Daneel had claimed that the only relevant distinction was between intelligence and non-intelligence - but that was an inhuman argument. The difference between feeling intelligence and unfeeling intelligence was just as profound. Elijah was a feeling intelligence, and he was feeling warmth and affection. He had to remind himself that Daneel was not a feeling intelligence, that he could not feel anything like what Elijah did. "You know your way from here?" Elijah's voice was hoarse.
"I always know my way, Elijah." But he did not wish to leave.
"Yes, that’s right."
Daneel let go of Elijah's arm. His hand slid down it, collecting sensory data as it did so. Elijah's aura was shining with confusion, and it made Daneel hesitate. Did Elijah wish him to stay, too?
Affection. It was madness to feel affection for a robot - but it was something far worse to feel it for another man. Elijah swayed internally between those two unacceptable states. It was a quandary that would only be solved when Daneel left. "Go ahead. Fastolfe is probably going crazy wondering where you are."
"I am sure he is fine, but yes. I should go." The verbal near-order simplified things. He should go. It was true. Daneel turned and walked to the door.
Elijah watched Daneel leave, his whole universe boiled down to the moment when Daneel would leave the office, leave his life, and Elijah would not have to worry about this quandary anymore. But no - he would. The thoughts and memories would not leave him alone, he knew; they would dance about in his head, surfacing intermittently to interrupt his work, until he resolved them.
Daneel turned and looked back. "I wish I did know, Elijah." He opened the door. He would leave now. This would end. It would take him considerable time to process it all.
Regretting his curiosity even as he spoke, Elijah asked, "Know?"
Daneel hesitated, sensing regret and a certain unwillingness to know the answer from Elijah, but the opposite was also true. How could the human mind work with such conflict? "How to love as you do."
"Yes. Well. You don't." Elijah sat.
He did not understand. How could he understand? He could not, unless Daneel explained it to him. Yes. That was what needed to be done. What was required. Daneel closed the door, and walked over to the desk. "Do you know how I was programmed, Elijah?"
"I'm no roboticist."
"You don't have to be. The basic set up was hard-wired into me - the Three Laws, basic cognitive functions, a knowledge base, all of those things. But I learn from experience."
"You would hardly be a good humaniform prototype if you didn't. Or a good detective, either."
He did not understand. The imperative to make Elijah understand flowed through Daneel, becoming his uppermost priority. "But I cannot learn if there is no one willing to teach me." He leaned over desk, gripping the sides; he was still in complete control, but felt oddly disheveled - for him.
The need of an unfeeling intelligence. But if it were unfeeling, why would it care? "Teach you? Teach you what? How to love? It isn't taught. It just happens. At the worst times, often." Elijah pulled the watch out of his pocket and looked at it.
Just a watch. An inferior chronometer. Primitive. How could it hold such importance? "Like Stephan and Thomas?"
"Yes. Like them." Elijah could not tear his gaze away from those dark brown eyes. "You look human. You," he reached out his hand to touch Daneel's cheek, "feel human. But the entire point of a robot is for it to not be susceptible to human frailty. And not to unseat humans, either!" he added, moving his hand to Daneel's satiny hair.
"I am not human." Elijah must not think he was. It would cause him harm. There was, Daneel found, confusion on both sides. "Elijah... I do not understand. I do not understand why I wish to be with you."
Elijah did, finally. "First Law. You can read me, with that cerebroanalyzer you've been outfitted with. You see what I'm capable of. And First Law makes you want to help. Well, don't. It isn't what I want." No normal, decent Earthman would.
Daneel had sensed nothing beyond confusion and unclear, undirected want. "I don't have to be with you to help you. And I want to be with you. I feel... out of sync without you. This should not be."
"Well, tell Fastolfe you have a glitch somewhere. He'll fix that out-of-sync." Elijah made his hand, which had been hovering around Daneel's face, fall. It fell to the collar of Daneel's shirt and remained there.
"I am not certain I want him to." And there was no logic to that. No logic at all.
"Your logic is failing. Stop trying to be human." Elijah's voice was wry, and he was startled that it sounded so much calmer than he felt.
"I am not human," Daneel repeated.
"I know."
"I do not want to be." He had few wants, in all, beyond this; beyond seeking out and being with Elijah, and in such a short time, he no longer could. Daneel stared, taking in the emotion filling the room now, surging into him in all its incomprehensibility.
"Good. You shouldn't." Daneel turned his head towards Elijah's hand; his cheek brushed against it. That contact brought Elijah back to some semblance of coherence. He let his hand fall to the desk. This situation was headed nowhere good. Daneel would think nothing of indulging him. He would think nothing of indulging any human, however; all one had to do was ask. Second Law.
Daneel watched the hand fall. He looked at the desk. It was pleasing. Simple. It had no thoughts, and certainly no emotions. Why could he not form an attachment to it? It would be so much simpler.
"Go, Daneel. Go." Elijah's voice was choked. "Second Law."
The order nudged at him to leave, but there was another, much stronger force keeping him there. Daneel's voice was a little slurred. "First Law." Elijah wanted him there.
Elijah closed his eyes, shaking his head. Whatever the robot was reading in his emotional state, it would harm him far more to be indulged than to just let this go. Tobacco, he thought, and considered making the parallel for Daneel. But he did not trust himself to open his mouth. He grasped the desk firmly, breathing heavily. Daneel straightened, as though some internal corrective system had finally caught up with itself.
"Good bye Elijah." Daneel's voice was slurred, mechanical, his systems devoted to processing the delicate balancing of First and Second Law without shutting down. His hands let go of desk as though they had been glued there with cheap paste.
Elijah stood, fully intending to order Daneel out more firmly. Almost as if hypnotized, however, he leaned across the desk, pressing his lips to Daneel's. They were warm, soft, and dry. He spoke against them. "Go, Daneel, please." Daneel's lips moved as Lije spoke; from words or not, it was hard to tell. There was no sound. His hands moved to either side of Elijah's face.
"Your mind..." Such want. It was as though Daneel was experiencing it himself. It was analogous to intoxication in human beings - he wanted more.
"What about it?" Elijah asked, the question as much a reason to move his lips as anything else.
The movement, the enjoyment Elijah felt from it - it was as good as an order. A metaphorical lever was finally pulled, and Daneel kissed him. He kissed Elijah Baley.
Elijah let himself be kissed, feeling some excuse in his passivity. Daneel's tongue was as dry as his lips - of course; what use had a robot for salivary glands? - but was not parched or rough like a human's mouth, when dry; it was some kind of plastic, Elijah knew, but it had a velvety texture, one that thrilled him as it rubbed his own tongue. Elijah was somewhat bewildered at the turn events had taken, but in retrospect, his entire association with the android had lead to this point, as naturally as the light-cycles of the City. He reached out one hand to take Daneel's shirt front. The android's tongue became wet as it picked up saliva from his own mouth, and Elijah finally kissed the android back, licking a mouth that was, if a little dry, as human as any he had touched. As human as Jessie's, and a pang hit him in the viscera. It was not a significant enough pang to dam the flood of emotion that was making Elijah open his mouth wider, however.
A knocking sounded at the door. The Commissioner's voice came through it. "Plainclothesman Baley!"
Daneel's mouth and shirt disappeared before Elijah could come to terms with the interruption. He looked at the door with some desperation, then back at Daneel. The android stood halfway across the small room, his hair neat, his expression impassive, his cheeks unflushed. Looking at him, one would think nothing had happened - and, Elijah realized, nothing had happened, as far as Daneel was concerned. The potential of harm to Elijah from not indulging his strange desires could not match the potential of harm from being discovered indulging them by his superior, and Daneel had responded to the change in potentials. Nothing more.
A chill came over Elijah, and he felt some gratitude for it, knowing that it would suck the heat from his cheeks. He straightened his shirt, breathing heavily.
Harm, echoed the Law-potential in Daneel; possible harm. He glanced at Elijah, his own thought processes filed away for the time being. There would be time enough for that later.
"I told you to go." Elijah wiped the saliva off of his lips with his fingers.
Daneel nodded curtly and walked towards the door. He opened it to reveal the Commissioner waiting outside, impatiently.
Elijah tried to arrange himself in a dignified manner. "Commissioner."
The Commissioner looked at Daneel with surprise. "Who are you?"
"Please forgive the delay," Daneel said in his most polite and impeccable manner. "I was engaged in intercourse with the Plainclothesman."
Elijah choked. Someone was going to have to teach that robot the meaning of connotation. Or perhaps, he thought with a faint dread, someone already had.
The Commissioner muttered, too quietly for anyone with hearing not as sensitive as Daneel's to notice, "Spacers." He said, more loudly, "You people are supposed to check in with the authorities when you leave Spacetown. It's the only way we can ensure your safety."
"You have my sincerest apologies. I was in somewhat of a hurry to speak with the Plainsclothesman on an urgent matter, and as I am leaving tomorrow..."
The Commissioner visibly relaxed. "Good, good. Let me assign a robot to take you back to Spacetown."
"That would be most..." Daneel did not really pause, but he took a moment to look towards Elijah, "agreeable."
Agreeable. Agreement. Amenable. It had been agreeable to kiss another man, even if he had not really been another man. Elijah nodded. "Safe journey, Mister Olivaw."
"Thank you, Commissioner." Daneel inclined his head at Lije. "Mister Baley."
The Commissioner barked out into the main office. "R. Sammee! Escort this... gentleman to Spacetown. Then return immediately. Stop for nothing on the way. Got that, boy?"
Elijah sat and rubbed his jaw. He composed himself, thinking about the case, arranging in his mind how he would present it to the Commissioner. It was as reasonable a resolution as could be asked for in so short a time. Yes, back to his job, back to the regular routine. No more Spacers, no more robots. Well, aside from the inanely smiling kind, the kind who were too free with his first name - one of whom was arriving to escort Daneel, who was too free with his desires, out of Elijah's life.
For the best, all things considered, Elijah thought. He would grow to believe that in time, he was sure.
Daneel smiled politely at R. Sammee, in the Spacer way. He was, as he had told Elijah earlier, fitted with a pair of perfectly capable legs, and for the journey to Spacetown, he let them carry him along the path he was pretending to R. Sammee he did not know. Meanwhile he quietly went about reorganizing his memories for long-term storage. Elijah, he thought. And a new, very particular kind of potential stirred.