“They have seen it throughout the Spacer worlds, Partner Elijah. It was a most popular program and has made it quite plain that you are a most extraordinary investigator.”

“So that whoever might be behind the roboticide may well have exaggerated fears of what I might accomplish and might therefore risk a great deal to prevent my arrival—or to kill me.”

“Dr. Fastolfe,” said Daneel calmly, “is quite convinced that no one is behind the roboticide, since no human being other than himself could have carried it through. It was a purely fortuitous occurrence in Dr. Fastolfe’s view. However, there are those who are trying to capitalize on the occurrence and it would be to their interest to keep you from proving that. For that reason, you must be protected.”

Baley took a few hasty steps to one wall of the room and then back to the other, as though to speed his thought processes by physical example. Somehow he did not feel any sense of personal danger.

He said, “Daneel, how many humaniform robots are there all together on Aurora?”

“Do you mean now that Jander no longer functions?”

“Yes, now that Jander is dead.”

“One, Partner Elijah.”

Baley stared at Daneel in shock. Soundlessly, he mouthed the word: “One?”

Finally, he said, “Let me understand this, Daneel. You are the only humaniform robot on Aurora?”

“Or on any world, Partner Elijah. I thought you were aware of this. I was the prototype and then Jander was constructed. Since then, Dr. Fastolfe has refused to construct any more and no one else has the skill to do it.”

“But in that case, since of two humaniform robots, one has been killed, does it not occur to Dr. Fastolfe that the remaining humaniform—you, Daneel—might be in danger.”

“He recognizes the possibility. But the chance that the fantastically unlikely occurrence of mental freeze-out would take place a second time is remote. He doesn’t take it seriously. He feels, however, that there might be a chance of other misadventure. That, I think, played some small part in his sending me to Earth to get you. It kept me away from Aurora for a week or so.”

“And you are now as much a prisoner as I am, aren’t you, Daneel?”

“I am a prisoner,” said Daneel gravely, “only in the sense, Partner Elijah, that I am expected not to leave this room.”

“In what other sense is one a prisoner?”

“In the sense that the person so restricted in his movements resents the rest fiction. A true imprisonment has the implication of being involuntary. I quite understand the reason for being here and I concur in the necessity.”

“You do,” grumbled Baley. “I do not. I am a prisoner in the full sense. And what keeps us safe here, anyway?”

“For one thing, Partner Elijah, Giskard is on duty outside.”

“Is he intelligent enough for the job?”

“He understands his orders entirely. He is rugged and strong and quite realizes the importance of his task.”

“You mean he is prepared to be destroyed to protect the two of us?”

“Yes, of course, just as I am prepared to be destroyed to protect you.”

Baley felt abashed. He said, “You do not resent the situation in which you may be forced to give up your existence for me?”

“It is my programming, Partner Elijah,” said Daneel in a voice that seemed to soften, “yet somehow it seems to me that, even were it not for my programming, saving you makes the loss of my own existence seem quite trivial in comparison.”

Baley could not resist this. He held out his hand and closed it on Daneel’s with a fierce grip.

“Thank you, Partner Daneel, but please do not allow it to happen. I do not wish the loss of your existence. The preservation of my own would be inadequate compensation, it seems to me.”

And Baley was amazed to discover that he really meant it. His was faintly horrified to realize that he would be ready to risk his life for a robot.—No, not for a robot. For Daneel.

Giskard entered without signaling. Baley had come to accept that. The robot, as his guard, had to be able to come and go as he pleased. And Giskard was only a robot, in Baley’s eyes, however much he might be a “he” and however much one did not mention the “R.” If Baley were scratching himself, picking his nose, engaged in any messy biological function, it seemed to him that Giskard would be indifferent, nonjudgmental, incapable of reacting in any way, but coldly recording the observation in some inner memory bank.

It made Giskard simply a piece of mobile furniture and Baley felt no embarrassment in his presence.—Not that Giskard had ever intruded on him at an inconvenient moment, Baley thought idly.

Giskard brought a small cubicle with him. “Sir, I suspect that you still wish to observe Aurora from space.”

Baley started. No doubt, Daneel had noted Baley’s irritation and had deduced its cause and taken this way of—dealing with it. To have Giskard do it and present it as an idea of his simpleminded own was a touch of delicacy, on Daneel’s part. It would free Baley of the necessity of expressing gratitude. Or so Daneel would think.

Baley bid, as a matter of fact, been more irritated at being, to his way of thinking, needlessly kept from the view of Aurora than at being kept imprisoned generally. He had been fretting over the loss of the view during the two days since the Jump.—So he turned and said to Daneel, “Thank you, my friend.”

“It was Giskard’s idea,” said Daneel.

“Yes, of course,” said Baley with a small smile. “I thank him, too. What is this, Giskard?”

“It is an astro simulator, sir. It works essentially like a trimensional receiver and is connected to the viewroom. If I might add—”

“Yes?”

“You will not find the view particularly exciting, sir. I would not wish you to be unnecessarily disappointed.”

“I will try not to expect too much, Giskard. In any case, I will not hold you responsible for any disappointment I might feel.”

“Thank you, sir. I must return to my post, but Daneel will be able to help you with the instrument if any problem arises.”

He left and Baley turned to Daneel with approval. “Giskard handled that very well, I thought. He may be a simple model, but he’s well-designed.”

“He, too, is a Fastolfe robot, Partner Elijah.—This astrosimulator is self-contained and self-adjusted. Since it is already focused on Aurora, it is only necessary to touch the control edge. That will put it in operation and you need do nothing, more. Would you care to set it going yourself?”

Baley shrugged. “No need. You may do it.”

“Very well.”

Daneel had placed the cubicle upon the table on which Baley had done his book-film viewing.

“This,” he said, indicating a small rectangle in his hand, “is the control, Partner Elijah. You need only hold it by the edges in this manner and then exert a small inward pressure to turn the mechanism on—and then, another to turn it off.”

Daneel pressed the control-edge and Baley shouted in a strangled way.

Baley had expected the cubicle to light up and to display within itself a holographic representation of a star field. That was not what happened. Instead, Baley found himself in space, in space—with bright, unblinking stars in all directions.

It lasted for only a moment and then everything was back as it was the room and, within it, Baley, Daneel, and the cubicle.

“My regrets, Partner Elijah,” said Daneel. “I turned it off as soon as I understood your discomfort. I did not realize you were not prepared for the event.”

“Then prepare me. What happened?”

“The astrosimulator works directly on the visual center of the human brain. There is no way of distinguishing the impression it leaves from three-dimensional reality. It is a comparatively recent device and so far it has been used only for astronomical scenes which are, after all, low in detail.”