watch most assiduously for any sign of official preference in Baley’s direction.
Baley said, “No promotion. Believe me. It’s nothing. Nothing. And if it’s the Commissioner you’re wanting, I wish I could give him to you. Jehoshaphat! Take him!”
Norris said, “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t care if you get promoted. I just mean that if you’ve got any pull with the Commish, how about using it for the kid?”
“What kid?”
There was no need of any answer to that. Vincent Barrett, the youngster who had been moved out of his job to make room for R. Sammy, was shuffling up from an unnoticed corner of the room. A skull cap turned restlessly in his hands and the skin over his high cheekbones moved as he tried to smile.
“Hello, Mr. Baley.”
“Oh, hello, Vince. How’re you doing?”
“Not so good, Mr. Baley.”
He was looking about hungrily. Baley thought: He looks lost, half dead–declassified.
Then, savagely, his lips almost moving with the force of his emotion, he thought: But what does he want from me?
He said, “I’m sorry, kid.” What else was there to say?
“I keep thinking–maybe something has turned up.”
Norris moved in close and spoke into Baley’s ear. “Someone’s got to stop this sort of thing. They’re going to move out Chen-low now.”
“What?”
“Haven’t you heard?”
“No, I haven’t. Damn it, he’s a C-3. He’s got ten years behind him.”
“I grant that. But a machine with legs can do his work. Who’s next?”
Young Vince Barrett was oblivious to the whispers. He said out of the depths of his own thinking, “Mr. Baley?”
“Yes, Vince?”
“You know what they say? They say Lynane Millane, the subetherics dancer, is really a robot.”
“That’s silly.”
“Is it? They say they can make robots look just like humans; with a special plastic skin, sort of.”
Baley thought guiltily of R. Daneel and found no words. He shook his head.
The boy said, “Do you suppose anyone will mind if I just walk around. It makes me feel better to see the old place.”
“Go ahead, kid.”
The youngster wandered off. Baley and Norris watched him go. Norris said, “It looks as though the Medievalists are right.”
“You mean back to the soil? Is that it, Phil?”
“ No . I mean about the robots. Back to the soil. Huh! Old Earth has an unlimited future. We don’t need robots, that’s all.”
Baley muttered, “Eight billion people and the uranium running out! What’s unlimited about it?”
“What if the uranium does run out. We’ll import it. Or we’ll discover other nuclear processes. There’s no way you can stop mankind, Lije. You’ve got to be optimistic about it and have faith in the old human brain. Our greatest resource is ingenuity and we’ll never run out of that, Lije.”
He was fairly started now. He went on, “For one thing, we can use sunpower and that’s good for billions of years. We can build space stations inside Mercury’s orbit to act as energy accumulators. We’ll transmit energy to Earth by direct beam.”
This project was not new to Baley. The speculative fringe of science had been playing with the notion for a hundred and fifty years at least. What was holding it up was the impossibility so far of projecting a beam tight enough to reach fifty million miles without dispersal to uselessness. Baley said as much.
Norris said, “When it’s necessary, it’ll be done. Why worry?”
Baley had the picture of an Earth of unlimited energy. Population could continue to increase. The yeast farms could expand, hydroponic culture intensify. Energy was the only thing indispensable. The raw minerals could be brought in from the uninhabited rocks of the System. If ever water became a bottleneck, more could be brought in from the moons of Jupiter. Hell, the oceans could be frozen and dragged out into Space where they could circle Earth as moonlets of ice. There they would be, always available for use, while the ocean bottoms would
Baley said, “No promotion. Believe me. It’s nothing. Nothing. And if it’s the Commissioner you’re wanting, I wish I could give him to you. Jehoshaphat! Take him!”
Norris said, “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t care if you get promoted. I just mean that if you’ve got any pull with the Commish, how about using it for the kid?”
“What kid?”
There was no need of any answer to that. Vincent Barrett, the youngster who had been moved out of his job to make room for R. Sammy, was shuffling up from an unnoticed corner of the room. A skull cap turned restlessly in his hands and the skin over his high cheekbones moved as he tried to smile.
“Hello, Mr. Baley.”
“Oh, hello, Vince. How’re you doing?”
“Not so good, Mr. Baley.”
He was looking about hungrily. Baley thought: He looks lost, half dead–declassified.
Then, savagely, his lips almost moving with the force of his emotion, he thought: But what does he want from me?
He said, “I’m sorry, kid.” What else was there to say?
“I keep thinking–maybe something has turned up.”
Norris moved in close and spoke into Baley’s ear. “Someone’s got to stop this sort of thing. They’re going to move out Chen-low now.”
“What?”
“Haven’t you heard?”
“No, I haven’t. Damn it, he’s a C-3. He’s got ten years behind him.”
“I grant that. But a machine with legs can do his work. Who’s next?”
Young Vince Barrett was oblivious to the whispers. He said out of the depths of his own thinking, “Mr. Baley?”
“Yes, Vince?”
“You know what they say? They say Lynane Millane, the subetherics dancer, is really a robot.”
“That’s silly.”
“Is it? They say they can make robots look just like humans; with a special plastic skin, sort of.”
Baley thought guiltily of R. Daneel and found no words. He shook his head.
The boy said, “Do you suppose anyone will mind if I just walk around. It makes me feel better to see the old place.”
“Go ahead, kid.”
The youngster wandered off. Baley and Norris watched him go. Norris said, “It looks as though the Medievalists are right.”
“You mean back to the soil? Is that it, Phil?”
“ No . I mean about the robots. Back to the soil. Huh! Old Earth has an unlimited future. We don’t need robots, that’s all.”
Baley muttered, “Eight billion people and the uranium running out! What’s unlimited about it?”
“What if the uranium does run out. We’ll import it. Or we’ll discover other nuclear processes. There’s no way you can stop mankind, Lije. You’ve got to be optimistic about it and have faith in the old human brain. Our greatest resource is ingenuity and we’ll never run out of that, Lije.”
He was fairly started now. He went on, “For one thing, we can use sunpower and that’s good for billions of years. We can build space stations inside Mercury’s orbit to act as energy accumulators. We’ll transmit energy to Earth by direct beam.”
This project was not new to Baley. The speculative fringe of science had been playing with the notion for a hundred and fifty years at least. What was holding it up was the impossibility so far of projecting a beam tight enough to reach fifty million miles without dispersal to uselessness. Baley said as much.
Norris said, “When it’s necessary, it’ll be done. Why worry?”
Baley had the picture of an Earth of unlimited energy. Population could continue to increase. The yeast farms could expand, hydroponic culture intensify. Energy was the only thing indispensable. The raw minerals could be brought in from the uninhabited rocks of the System. If ever water became a bottleneck, more could be brought in from the moons of Jupiter. Hell, the oceans could be frozen and dragged out into Space where they could circle Earth as moonlets of ice. There they would be, always available for use, while the ocean bottoms would
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