Quemot said, “The positronic robot.”

For a moment Baley went cold. The positronic robot was the symbol of Spacer superiority over Earthmen. That was weapon enough.

He kept his voice steady. “It’s an economic weapon. Solaria is important to the other Outer Worlds as a source of advanced models and so it will not be harmed by them.”

“That’s an obvious point,” said Quemot indifferently. “That helped us establish our independence. What I have in mind is something else, something more subtle and more cosmic.” Quemot’s eyes were fixed on his fingers’ ends and his mind was obviously fixed on abstractions.

Baley said, “Is this another of your sociological theories?”

Quemot’s poorly suppressed look of pride all but forced a short smile out of the Earthman.

The sociologist said, “It is indeed mine. Original, as far as I know, and yet obvious if population data on the Outer Worlds is carefully studied. To begin with, ever since the positronic robot was invented, it has been used more and more intensively everywhere.”

“Not on Earth,” said Baley.

“Now, now, Plainclothesman. I don’t know much of your Earth, but I know enough to know that robots are entering your economy. You people live in large Cities and leave most of your planetary surface unoccupied. Who runs your farms and mines, then?”

“Robots,” admitted Baley. “But if it comes to that, Doctor, Earthmen invented the positronic robot in the first place.”

“They did? Are you sure?”

“You can check. It’s true.”

“Interesting. Yet robots made the least headway there.” The sociologist said thoughtfully, “Perhaps that is because of Earth’s large population. It would take that much longer. Yes… Still, you have robots even in your Cities.”

“Yes,” said Baley.

“More now than, say, fifty years ago.”

Baley nodded impatiently. “Yes.”

“Then it fits. The difference is only one of time. Robots tend to displace human labor. The robot economy moves in only one direction. More robots and fewer humans. I’ve studied population data very carefully and I’ve plotted it and made a few extrapolations.” He paused in sudden surprise. “Why, that’s rather an application of mathematics to sociology, isn’t it?”

“It is,” said Baley.

“There may be something to it, at that. I will have to give the matter thought. In any case, these are the conclusions I have come to, and I am convinced there is no doubt as to their correctness. The robot-human ratio in any economy that has accepted robot labor tends continuously to increase despite any laws that are passed to prevent it. The increase is slowed, but never stopped. At first the human population increases, but the robot population increases much more quickly. Then, after a certain critical point is reached…

Quemot stopped again, then said, “Now let’s see. I wonder if the critical point could be determined exactly; if you could really put a figure to it. There’s your mathematics again.”

Baley stirred restlessly. “What happens after the critical point is reached, Dr. Quemot?”

“Eh? Oh, the human population begins actually to decline. A planet approaches a true social stability. Aurora will have to. Even your Earth will have to. Earth may take a few more centuries, but it is inevitable.”

“What do you mean by social stability?”

“The situation here. In Solaria. A world in which the humans are the leisure class only. So there is no reason to fear the other Outer Worlds. We need only wait a century perhaps and they shall all be Solarians. I suppose that will be the end of human history, in a way; at least, its fulfillment. Finally, finally, all men will have all they can need and want. You know, there is a phrase I once picked up; I

don’t know where it comes from; something about the pursuit of happiness.”

Baley said thoughtfully, “All men are ‘endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights… among these are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness.”

“You’ve hit it. Where’s that from?”

“Some old document,” said Baley.

“Do you see how that is changed here on Solaria and eventually in all the Galaxy? The pursuit will be over. The rights mankind will be heir to will be life, liberty, and happiness. Just that. Happiness.”

Baley said dryly, “Maybe so, but a man has been killed on your Solaria and another may yet die.”

He felt regret almost the moment he spoke, for the expression on Quemot’s face was as though he had been struck with an open palm. The old man’s head bowed. He said without looking up, “I have answered your questions as well as I could. Is there anything else you wish?”

“I have enough. Thank you, sir. I am sorry to have intruded on your grief at your friend’s death.”

Quemot looked up slowly. “It will be hard to find another chess partner. He kept our appointments most punctually and he played an extraordinarily even game. He was a good Solarian.”

“I understand,” said Baley softly. “May I have your permission to use your viewer to make contact with the next person I must see?”

“Of course,” said Quemot. “My robots are yours. And now I will leave you. Done viewing.”

A robot was at Baley’s side within thirty seconds of Quemot’s disappearance and Baley wondered once again how these creatures were managed. He had seen Quemot’s fingers move toward a contact as he had left and that was all.

Perhaps the signal was quite a generalized one, saying only, “Do your duty!” Perhaps robots listened to all that went on and were always aware of what a human might desire at any given moment, and if the particular robot was not designed for a particular job in either mind or body, the radio web that united all robots went into action and the correct robot was spurred into action.

For a moment Baley had the vision of Solaria as a robotic net with holes that were small and continually growing smaller, with every

human being caught neatly in place. He thought of Quemot’s picture of worlds turning into Solarias; of nets forming and tightening even on Earth, until—His thoughts were disrupted as the robot who had entered spoke

with the quiet and even respect of the machine. “I am ready to help you, master.”

Baley said, “Do you know how to reach the place where Rikaine Delmarre once worked?”

“Yes, master.”

Baley shrugged. He would never teach himself to avoid asking useless questions. The robots knew. Period. It occurred to him that, to handle robots with true efficiency, one must needs be expert, a sort of roboticist. How well did the average Solarian do, he wondered? Probably only so-so.

He said, “Get Delmarre’s place and contact his assistant. If the assistant is not there, locate him wherever he is.”

“Yes, master.”

As the robot turned to go, Baley called after it, “Wait! What time is it at the Delmarre work place?”

“About 0630, master.”

“In the morning?”

“Yes, master.”

Again Baley felt annoyance at a world that made itself victim of the coming and going of a sun. It was what came of living on bare planetary surface.

He thought fugitively of Earth, then tore his mind away. While he kept firmly to the matter in hand, he managed well. Slipping into homesickness would ruin him.

He said, “Call the assistant, anyway, boy, and tell him it’s government business—and have one of the other boys bring something to eat. A sandwich and a glass of milk will do.”

He chewed thoughtfully at the sandwich, which contained a kind of smoked meat, and with half his mind thought that Daneel Olivaw would certainly consider every article of food suspect after what had happened to Gruer. And Daneel might be right, too.

He finished the sandwich without ill effects, however (immediate ill effects, at any rate), and sipped at the milk. He had not learned from Quemot what he had come to learn, but he had learned something. As he sorted it out in his mind, it seemed he had learned a good deal.