Robots and Empire (Page 119)

Within the building, there was yet another reception, during which alcoholic drinks and various hors d’oeuvres were served. Gladia fastidiously touched neither. A thousand people milled about and an endless succession of them came up to speak to Gladia. The word had apparently gone out not to offer to shake hands, but some inevitably did, and, trying not to hesitate, Gladia would briefly place two fingers on the hand and then withdraw them.

Eventually, a number of women prepared to leave for the nearest Personal and one of them performed what was obviously a social ritual and tactfully asked Gladia if she would like to accompany them. Gladia didn’t, but there might be a long night ahead and might be more embarrassing to have to interrupt it later.

Within the Personal, there was the usual excited laughing and chattering and Gladia, bowing to the exigencies of the situation and fortified by her experience that morning, made use of the facilities in a small chamber with partitions on either side, but with none in front of her.

No one seemed to mind and Gladia tried to remind herself she must adjust to local customs. At least the place was well-ventilated and seemed spotlessly clean.

Though out, Daneel and Giskard had been ignored. This, Gladia realized, was a kindness. Robots were no longer allowed within City limits, though there were millions in the countryside without. To have made a point of the presence of Daneel and Giskard would have meant raising the legal issue that involved. It was easier to pretend, tactfully, that they weren’t there.

Once the banquet began, they sat quietly at a table with D.G., not too far removed from the dais. At the dais, Gladia sat, eating sparingly and wondering if the food would give her dysentery.

D.G., perhaps not entirely pleased with his relegation to the post of keeper of the robots, kept staring restlessly in Gladia’s direction and, occasionally, she lifted one hand and smiled at him.

Giskard, equally watchful of Gladia, had an opportunity to say to Daneel very quietly, under cover of the relentless and unending background clash of cutlery and babble, "Friend Daneel, these are high officials that sit here in this room. It is possible that one or more may have information of use to us."

"It is possible, friend Giskard. Can you, thanks to your abilities, guide me in this respect?"

"I cannot. The mental background yields me no specific emotional response of interest. Nor does the occasional flash among the nearest show me anything. Yet the climax of the crisis is, I am certain, approaching quickly, even as we sit here, idle."

Daneel said gravely, "I will try to do as Partner Elijah would have done and force the pace."

85

Daneel was not eating. He watched the assemblage with his calm eyes and located the one he was searching for. Quietly, he rose and moved toward another table, his eyes on a woman who was managing to eat briskly and yet maintain a cheerful conversation with the man on her left. She was a stocky woman, with short hair that showed definite traces of gray. Her face, if not youthful, was pleasant.

Daneel waited for a natural break in the conversation and when that did not come, he said with an effort, "Madam, may I interrupt?"

She looked up at him, startled and plainly displeased. "Yes," she said rather briskly, "what is it?"

"Madam," said Daneel, "I ask your pardon for this interruption, but may I have your permission to speak with you for a time?"

She stared at him, frowning for a moment, and then her expression softened. She said, "I should guess, from your excessive politeness, that you’re the robot, aren’t you?"

"I am one of Madam Gladia’s robots, madam."

"Yes, but you’re the human one. You’re R. Daneel Olivaw."

"That is my name, madam."

The woman turned to the man on her left and said, "Please excuse me. I can’t very well refuse this – robot."

Her neighbor smiled uncertainly and transferred his attention to the place before him.

The woman said to Daneel, "If you have a chair, why don’t you bring it here? I will be glad to speak to you."

"Thank you, madam."

When Daneel had returned and seated himself, she said, "You are really R. Daneel Olivaw, aren’t you?"

"That is my name, madam," said Daneel, again.

"I mean the one who worked with Elijah Baley long ago. You’re not a new model of the same line? You’re not R. Daneel the Fourth or something like that?"

Daneel said, "Mere is little of me that has not been replaced in the past twenty decades – or even modernized and improved but my positronic brain is the same as it was when I worked with Partner Elijah on three different worlds – and once on a spaceship. It has not been altered."

"Well!" She looked at – him admiringly. "You’re certainly a good job. If all robots were like you, I’d see no objection to them whatever. – What is it you want to talk to me about?"

"When you were introduced to Lady Gladia, madam, before we all took our seats, you were presented to her as the Undersecretary of Energy, Sophia Quintana."

"You remember well. That is my name and my office."

"Does the office refer to all of Earth or merely to the city?"

"I’m Global Undersecretary, I assure you."

"Then you are knowledgeable in the field of energetics?"

Quintana smiled. She did not seem to object to being questioned. Perhaps she thought it amusing or perhaps she found herself attracted to Daneel’s air of deferential gravity or to the mere fact that a robot could question her so. In any case, she said with a smile, "I majored in energetics at the University of California and have a master’s degree in it. As to how knowledgeable I still am, I’m not certain. I’ve spent too many years as an administrator – something that saps one’s brains, I assure you."