“We say ‘mental freeze-out’.”

“Either way, it is the same phenomenon being described.”

“It might be wise, Partner Elijah, to use our expression or the Aurorans you speak to may not understand; conversation may be impeded. You stated a short while ago that different words make a difference.”

“Very well. I will say ‘freeze-out’.—Could such a thing happen spontaneously?”

“Yes, but the chances are infinitesimally small, roboticists say. As a humaniform robot, I can report that I have never myself experienced any effect that could even approach mental freeze-out.”

“Then one must assume that a human being deliberately set up a situation in which mental freeze-out would take place.”

“That is precisely what Dr. Fastolfe’s opposition contends, Partner Elijah.”

“And since this would take robotic training, experience, and skill, the unintelligent, the inexperienced, and the young cannot have been responsible.”

“That is the natural reasoning, Partner Elijah.”

“It might even be possible to list the number of human beings on Aurora with sufficient skill and thus set up a group of suspects that might not be very large in number.”

“That has, in actual fact, been done, Partner Elijah.”

“And how long is the list?”

“The longest list suggested contains only one name.”

It was Baley’s turn to pause. His brows drew together in an angry frown and he said, quite explosively, “Only one name?”

Daneel said quietly, “Only one name, Partner Elijah. That is the judgment of Dr. Han Fastolfe, who is Aurora’s greatest theoretical roboticist.”

“But what is, then, the mystery in all this? Whose is the one name?”

R. Daneel said, “Why, that of Dr. Han Fastolfe, of course. I have just stated that he is Aurora’s greatest theoretical roboticist and, in Dr. Fastolfe’s professional opinion, he himself, is the only one who could possibly have maneuvered Jander Panell into total mental freeze-out without leaving any sign of the process. However, Dr. Fastolfe also states that he did not do it.”

“But that no one else could have, either?”

“Indeed, Partner Elijah. There lies the mystery.”

“And what if Dr. Fastolfe—” Baley paused. There would be no point in asking Daneel if Dr. Fastolfe was lying or was somehow mistaken, either in his own judgment that no one but he could have done it or in the statement that he himself had not done it. Daneel had been programmed by Fastolfe and there would be no chance that the programming included the ability to doubt the programmer.

Baley said, therefore, with as close an approach to mildness as he could manage, “I will think about this, Daneel, and we will talk again.”

“That is well, Partner Elijah, It is, in any case, time for sleep. Since, it is possible that, on Aurora, the pressure of events may force an irregular schedule upon you, it would be wise to seize the opportunity for sleep now. I will show you how one produces a bed and how one manages the bedclothes.”

“Thank you, Daneel,” muttered Baley.

He was under no illusion that sleep would come easily. He was being sent to Aurora for the specific purpose of demonstrating that—Fastolfe was innocent of roboticide—and success in that was required for Earth’s continued security and (much less important but equally dear to Baley’s heart) for the continued prospering of Baley’s own career—yet, even before reaching Aurora, he had discovered that Fastolfe had virtually confessed to the crime.

Baley did sleep—eventually, after Daneel demonstrated how to reduce the field intensity that served as a form of pseudogravity. This was not true antigravity and it consumed so much energy that the process could only be used at restricted times and under unusual conditions.

Daneel was not programmed to be able to explain the manner in which this worked and, if he had, Baley was quite certain he would not have understood it. Fortunately, the controls could be operated without any understanding of the scientific Justification.

Daneel said, “The field intensity cannot be reduced to zero at least, not by these controls. Sleeping under zero-gravity is not, in any case, comfortable, certainly not for those inexperienced in space travel. What one needs is an intensity low enough to give one a feeling of freedom from the—pressure of one’s own weight, but high enough to maintain an up-down orientation. The level varies with the individual. Most people would feel most comfortable at the minimum intensity allowed by the control, but, you might find that, on first use, you would wish a higher intensity, so that you might retain the familiarity of the weight sensation to a somewhat greater extent. Simply experiment with different levels and find the one that suits.”

Lost in the novelty of the sensation, Baley found his mind drifting away from the problem of Fastolfe’s affirmation/denial, even as his body drifted away from wakefulness. Perhaps the two were one process.

He dreamed he was back on Earth (of course), moving along an Expressway but not in one of the seats. Rather, he was—floating along beside the high-speed strip, just over the head of the moving people, gaining on, them slightly. None of the ground-bound people seemed surprised; none looked up at him. It was a rather pleasant sensation and he missed it upon waking.

After breakfast the following morning—

Was it morning actually? Could it be morning—or any other time of day—in space?

Clearly, it couldn’t. He thought awhile and decided he would define morning as the time after waking, and he would define breakfast as the meal eaten after waking, and abandon specific timekeeping as objectively unimportant.—For him, at least, if not for the ship.

After breakfast, then, the following morning, he studied the news sheets offered him only long enough to see that they said nothing about the roboticide on Aurora and then turned to those book-films that had been brought to him the previous day (“wake period”?) by Giskard.

He chose those whose titles sounded historical and, after viewing through several hastily, he decided that Giskard had brought him books for adolescents. They were heavily illustrated and simply written. He wondered if that was Giskard’s estimate of Baley’s intelligence—or, perhaps, of his needs. After some thought, Baley decided that Giskard, in his robotic innocence, had chosen well, and that there was no point, in brooding over a possible insult.

He settled down to viewing with greater concentration and noted at once that Daneel was viewing the book-film with him. Actual curiosity? Or just to keep his eyes occupied?

Daneel did not once ask to have a page repeated. Nor did he stop to ask a question. Presumably, he merely accepted what he read with robotic trust and did not permit himself the luxury of either doubt or curiosity.

Baley did not ask Daneel any questions concerning what he read, though he did ask for instructions on the operation of the print-out mechanism of the Auroran viewer, with which he was not familiar.

Occasionally, Baley stopped to make use of the small room that adjoined his room and could be used for the various private physiological functions, so private that the room was referred to as “the Personal,” with the capital letter always understood, both on Earth and—as Baley discovered when Daneel referred to it—on Aurora. It was just large enough for one person which made it bewildering to a City-dweller accustomed to huge banks of urinals, excretory seats, washbasins, and showers.

In viewing the book-films, Baley did not attempt to memorize details. He had no intention of becoming an expert on Auroran society, nor even of passing a high school test on the subject. Rather, he wished to get the feel of it.

He noticed, for instance, even through the hagiographic attitude of historians writing for young people, that the Auroran pioneers—the founding fathers, the Earthpeople who had first come to Aurora to settle in the early days of interstellar travel had been very much Earthpeople. Their politics, their quarrels, every facet of their behavior had been Earthish; what happened on Aurora was, in ways, similar to the events that took place when the relatively empty sections of Earth had been settled a couple of thousand years before.