“In some ways, yes. You must give yourself a chance to recover. You can’t spend three centuries mourning. What is over is over.” (His statements sounded hollowly sententious in his own ear. What must they have sounded like in hers?)

She said, “I know you mean it kindly, Elijah. I have been requested to keep Jander till the investigation is done. He will then be torched at my request.”

“Torched?”

“Put under a plasma torch and reduced to his elements, as human corpses are. I will have holograms of him—and memories. Will that satisfy you?”

“Of course. I must return to Dr. Fastolfe’s house now.”

“Yes. Have you learned anything from Jander’s body?”

“I did not expect to, Gladia.”

She faced him full. “And Elijah, I want you to find who did this and—why. I must know.”

“But Gladia—”

She shook her head violently, as though keeping out anything she wasn’t ready to hear. “I know you can do this.”

Baley emerged from Gladia’s house into the sunset. He turned toward what he assumed must be the western horizon and found Aurora’s sun, a deep scarlet in color, topped by thin strips of ruddy clouds set in an apple-green sky.

“Jehoshaphat,” he murmured. Clearly, Aurora’s sun, cooler and more orange than Earth’s sun, accentuated the difference at setting, when its light passed through a greater thickness of Aurora.

Daneel was behind him; Giskard, as before, well in front.

Daneel’s voice was in his ear. “Are you well, Partner Elijah?”

“Quite well,” said Baley, pleased with himself. “I’m handling the Outside well, Daneel. I can even admire the sunset. Is it always like this?”

Daneel gazed dispassionately at the setting sun and said, “Yes. But let us move quickly toward Dr. Fastolfe’s establishment. At this time of year, the twilight does not last long, Partner Elijah, and I would wish you there while you can still see easily.”

“I’m ready. Let’s go.” Baley wondered if it might not be better to wait for the darkness. It would not be pleasant not to see, but, then, it would give him the illusion of being enclosed—and he was not, in his heart, sure as to how long this euphoria induced by admiring a sunset (a sunset, mind you, Outside) would last. But that was a cowardly uncertainty and he would not own up to it.

Giskard noiselessly drifted backward toward him and said, “Would you prefer to wait, sir? Would the darkness suit you better? We ourselves will not be discommoded.”

Baley became aware of other robots, farther off, on every side. Had Gladia marked off her field robots for guard duty or had Fastolfe sent his?

It accentuated the way they were all caring for him and, perversely, he would not admit to weakness. He said, “No, we’ll go now,” and struck off at a brisk walk toward Fastolfe’s establishment, which could just see through the distant trees.

Let the robots follow or not, as they wished, he thought boldly. He knew that, if he let himself think about it, there would be something within him that would still quail at the thought of himself on the outer skin of a planet with no protection but air between himself and the great void, but he would not think of it.

It was the exhilaration at being free of the fear that made his jaws tremble and his teeth click. Or it was—the cool wind of evening that did it—and that also—set the gooseflesh to appearing on his arms.

It was not the Outside.

It was not.

He said, trying to unclench his teeth, “How well did you know Jander, Daneel?”

Daneel said, “We were together for some time. From the time of friend Jander’s construction, till he passed into the establishment of Miss Gladia, we were together steadily.”

“Did it bother you, Daneel, that Jander resembled you so closely?”

“No, sir. He and I each knew ourselves apart, Partner Elijah, and Dr. Fastolfe did not mistake us either. We were, therefore, two individuals.”

“And could you tell them apart, too, Giskard?” They were closer to him now, perhaps because the other robots had taken over the long-distance duties.

Giskard said, “There was no occasion, as I recall, on which it was important that I do so.”

“And if there had been, Giskard?”

“Then I could have done so.”

“What was your opinion of Jander, Daneel?”

Daneel said, “My opinion, Partner Elijah? Concerning what aspect of Jander do you wish my opinion?”

“Did he do his work well, for instance?”

“Certainly.”

“Was he satisfactory in every way?”

“In every way, to my knowledge.”

“How about you, Giskard? What is your opinion?”

Giskard said, “I was never as close to friend Jander as friend Daneel was and it would not be proper for me to state an opinion. I can say that, to my knowledge, Dr. Fastolfe was uniformly pleased with friend Jander. He seemed equally pleased with friend Jander and with friend Daneel. However, I do not think my programming is such as to allow me to offer certainty in such matters.”

Baley said, “What about the period after Jander entered the household of Miss Gladia? Did you know him then, Daneel?”

“No, Partner Elijah. Miss Gladia kept him at her establishment. On those occasions when she visited Dr. Fastolfe, he was never with her, as far as I was aware. On occasions when I accompanied Dr. Fastolfe on a visit to Miss Gladia’s establishment, I did not see friend Jander.”

Baley felt a little surprised at that. He turned to Giskard in order to ask the same question, paused, and then shrugged. He was not really getting anywhere and, as Dr. Fastolfe had indicated earlier, there is not really much use in cross-examining a robot. They would not knowingly say anything that would harm a human being, nor could they be badgered, bribed, or cajoled into it. They would not openly lie, but they would remain stubbornly—if politely—insistent on giving useless answers.

And—perhaps—it no longer mattered.

They were at Fastolfe’s doorstep now and Baley felt his breath quickening. The trembling of his arms and lower lip, he was confident, was, indeed, only because of the cool wind.

The sun had gone now, a few stars were visible, the sky was darkening to an odd greenish-purple that made it seem bruised, and he passed through the door into the warmth of the glowing walls.

He was safe.

Fastolfe greeted him. “You are back in good time, Mr. Baley. Was your session with Gladia fruitful?”

Baley said, “Quite fruitful, Dr. Fastolfe. It is even possible that I hold the key to the answer in my hand.”

Fastolfe merely smiled politely, in a way that signaled neither surprise, elation, nor disbelief. He led the way into what was obviously a dining room, a smaller and friendlier one than the one in which they had had lunch.

“You and I, my dear Mr. Baley,” said Fastolfe pleasantly, “will eat an informal dinner alone. Merely the two of us. We will even have the robots absent if that will please you. Nor shall we talk business unless you desperately want to.”

Baley said nothing, but paused to look at the walls in astonishment. They were wavering, luminous green, with differences in brightness and in tint that were slowly progressive from bottom to top. There was a hint of fronds of deeper green and shadowy flickers this way and that. The walls made the room appear to be a well-lit grotto at the bottom of a shallow arm of the sea. The effect was vertiginous—at least, Baley found it so.

Fastolfe had no trouble interpreting Baley’s expression. He said, “It’s an acquired taste, Mr. Baley, I admit.—Giskard, subdue the wall illumination.—Thank you.”

Baley drew a breath of relief. “And thank you, Dr. Fastolfe. May I visit the Personal, sir?”