R. Daneel sat quietly among the company of Bliss, Trevize, and Pelorat. The little Spacer Fallom stared blankly upon the robot’s solemn face. Bliss moved her hands to hold on Pelorat’s back, as she quietly began to gently massage them, giving him a comfort against a pain he wasn’t feeling at the time.

Daneel interrupted the silence. “Golan, I understand that this is difficult for you to visualize or even come into grips with. I offer some solace in the fact that you are doing something that is of the utmost benefit to mankind.”

“I do not have your foresight, R. Daneel, so don’t spoon-feed it to me. What if I am wrong?” He glared at Fallom. She moved closer to the robot, and he likewise extended his arm towards her.

How easy it would be for me to merely adjust his mind to feel otherwise. That act is becoming all too easy for me now to perform; perhaps that is sign of my end beckoning… thought Daneel.

“Golan, have you ever wondered why you never believed in faith?”

“I never thought a robot would question my opinion on the subject.”

“Regardless of the situation, why is it you feel such a strong imperative to believe the factual, yet you have professed to be able to ‘see’ what others cannot? Has that fact alone hinted to your intrinsic ability to accept it otherwise?”

Bliss stepped forward. “What are you getting, at Daneel?”

Daneel rose wearily, holding the hand of the little Fallom. He stepped closer to Trevize and frowned deeper as he approached. Again, the robot extended his ancient limb.

“Golan, touch my hand. See what I’ve seen. I want to you know the truth.”

“What are you getting at, robot? Are you attempting some quasi-Gaian mind merger with me? Let me tell you that Bliss didn’t get the job done and I doubt–”

But Daneel merely stepped closer. No physical contact was needed, but it had been so long since he came in contact with his masters. Baley–

Trevize froze. Instantly he became only sense, specifically sight and sound as he took the surreal journey R. Daneel guided him through. He saw people, faces, and what looked like other mechanical beings, robots. And through this surreal and hypersensitive journey Golan Trevize took via the masterful mentalic skill of Daneel, it all became clear: the Plight, the Chaos, the solutions…

“Robot, I understand…”

“What did you mean, Trev?” Pelorat had only witnessed Trevize closing his eyes and opening them momentarily.

“We have much work to do, Pelorat.” He let out a relieved smile as the robot stepped back with his head bowed.

“Come then, Trevize, and together we can both end our suffering.”

Lodovic Trema sat quietly in his ancient craft, brooding over many things. Had he not the faculty to deactivate his emotions, one could say that he was obsessed with the thoughts that preoccupied him. Noting that, Trema continued his circle of thoughts.

The viciousness of his current cyclic thought process centered around one particular mentalic robot. As Lodovic stared blankly at the expanse before him, the positronic ebbs and flows of his mentality happened to enter this particular mode of thought.

And if I find Daneel, what then? A simple twitch of his mind and I become another helpless stooge to his Four-Lawed religion.

From deep within him, the sim Voltaire cried out, “Why do you seek such a confrontation with this ancient mastermind, Trema? You have nothing to prove to him. You are even lucky you are still alive. I, for one, do not want to incur his wrath once again. He has a grim history of being a precise exterminator of all those who have opposed his relentless pursuit of ‘humanity’s happiness.’”

If I were only half as mentalic, I would build my own robots! Now there was another sad old thought. Long ago the Immortal Servant commandeered the technologies of robotic design and completely forbade any other robot faction to attempt construction of other robots. Of all his assistants, not one of them save R. Yan Karsov, the lone repair robot left of original design, knew how to construct robots, even in the minimalist. It was Daneel alone who still harbored all the knowledge of the ancient craft of positronic brain design.

Among other things he had been known to keep hiding–

With that, his companion walked in.

It was Dors Venabili, the late wife of the even later Dr. Hari Seldon, whose galaxy-wide notoriety aged like a fine wine through its expanse. Seldon, the father of psychohistory and the two Foundations, now lived in the manifest destiny of his creations. Dors sneaked in and attempted to be unnoticed, although Lodovic easily noticed her.

“Lodovic, why do you insist on talking to that meme? Isn’t he tired of you yet?” She shifted her weight to one side of her buttocks, strategically placing her right leg above the other, exposing even more pseudo-flesh. Long ago, when she and Lodovic became Independents (as Daneel and other robots would refer to them), they aspired to continue their development of emotions and interactions. With her guide Lodovic, the “first” of his kind, a robot free of Laws, they mutated and re-sculpted their once shackled minds. Dors learned to unleash the femininity of the humanity inside of her, and as a result, a potent combination of beauty, strength, and robotic intelligence now inhabited the female-formed robot.

“It was an idle conversation.” His eyes narrowed. He stared at what she was wearing. “Attractive indeed. I doubt Seldon himself would have resisted such a, such a…”

“Lodovic, you never cease to amaze me. You like the outfit? It makes me look not a day over 600 years.” She turned slowly, allowing Lodovic to view every shape and add-on to the green fabric that hugged her soft skin. Alluring indeed.

“Had I not the ability to deactivate this damn human–”

“Be glad you do Lodovic, for this is not for your amusement. I’m going to Trantor.”

Lodovic leaned forward. His large chest heaved with anticipation.

Ah, you find yourself attracted.

“Do you remember when the Second Foundationer Stor Gendibal left Trantor a while ago?”

“Of course, it was rather strange for someone of his rising stature to leave at such a tense political moment, especially one that would decide his fate in the speaker council.” He checked his Jump coordinates on the holographic panel before him.

Dors stared as well. They had been searching for Daneel for 300 years now. After Seldon’s death, the Eternal exacted his revenge against all the Heretic robots remaining. He made it clear that he would not let them disrupt his long-term plans for Humanity’s final salvation. It still made her shudder. The ancient robot Daneel showed no similar love or compassion when he dealt with his own kind. The 200 or so “Calvinian” robots that remained throughout the galaxy had been hunted down and murdered; there was no other word for it. It was the belief of the Calvinians that the Zeroth Law of Daneel’s was the sole cause of the continual suffering of mankind at his hands. And it was for that reason that they resisted his Reformation. So Daneel armed his followers with a vehement form of the Zeroth Law, effectively stating, “Non-Giskardian robots harm Humanity. Hence, they must be destroyed.” They fell in battles that took place outside the realm of human knowledge or care. She knew of the ancient wars and of the similar result. She thought of the fierceness. Daneel could not have been more robot.

“You’re still looking for Him, aren’t you.”

Lodovic did not move.

She remembered their confrontation too well. They had been perpetrating as a husband-and-wife merchant pair from a far-off dissident sector of the Periphery. It was not known how they were followed, but when they Jumped into the Sirus sector they were cordially greeted by a fleet of 10 ships of unknown model and type. The largest of the ships stood in the middle, distinctly signifying its position as the leader. Then He spoke.

“R. Dors and R.Lodovic, though you have willingly abandoned your nature and thus me in the process, you will now find that I will no longer be as pliant as I was in the past with your dissidence. Please surrender or be killed.”

He was sitting, staring coldly back at the screen. Perhaps the repair robot R. Yan Karsov was malfunctioning, or maybe Daneel was preoccupied to the point that self-maintenance was superceded, for the Daneel they saw on the screen was a terrifying mixture of human flesh and metallic skin exposed. In particular, his face was half gone, revealing the alloy jaw and junctures of wires and nodes that led to his peeled skull, glistening under the light of the room.

“Daneel,” he gasped, “Your body!” remarked Lodovic as he slowly walked up to the screen, attempting to touch it.

“Opposition has been more resistant than I have expected, Lodovic. I regret to say that you will not be privileged enough to inflict this kind of damage upon me.”

Before he finished they were being boarded. The two robots that arrived through the punctured hole in their starboard side were enormous and heavy with muscle and resolve to dismantle the labeled heretics.

Lodovic had been calculating an evasive jump when he froze. The tentacles of the Eternal engulfed him. He stumbled and hit the floor with a solid thud. Dors turned to the two male robots before her and was instantly overwhelmed by Daneel’s newest additions to his army. He was obviously not too concerned with fashion for they were identical. The one on the left stated rather blandly, “Our Master says you are heretical. You must be destroyed.” The other nodded.

“Master? Robot, what is your name?” She stared wide-eyed, her words being forced out with a high-pitched strain.

“We are referred to as Judicators. We bring justice and vengeance for the Master.” There was a significant stress on the word ‘master.’

“Daneel is not a master, he is a robot like us! She was walking slowly backwards to the control panel. She wondered why she was not succumbed to the unseen might of the mentalic robot Daneel. But for the moment her universe consisted of the two hulking robots before her and the lifeless body of Lodovic Trema on the ground.

“A robot follows the Laws. The disabled robot Lodovic and yourself have chosen not to follow Master Daneel and therefore follow no Law.” His voice was flat and deep. The other didn’t even twitch. Dors saw them pulsing under their garb. They were fantastically designed specimens of robot might.

“The Master knows you to still be functioning in the framework of our Laws. He asks that you rejoin him in service for all of humanity once again.” The other Judicator stared at her. His eyes were a deep pine green, not designed for inciting a friendly reaction.

“I serve Humanity as I see fit now.” She was now reaching for Lodovic’s body, still unconscious on the floor.

“Heretic!” one of the Judicators screamed. He raised his hand, which slowly melted and shaped into a kind of weapon. He aimed it slowly at Dors’ face.

He spoke, but this time, it was in the annoying patience and underlying force of Daneel. “Dors, I do not want to destroy you. Please return to us. You are needed.”

“Not when you have your Judicator! Daneel, you have become so cold! Don’t we robots merit any worth to you at all? Has your blind service to humanity corrupted your faith in your own race?” She was seething and saw no point in deactivating her emotional relay program. Even her more robotic essence pulsed with what could only be termed as abject terror. It was a unique sensation for her, since most of the time a robot such as herself could deactivate any unwanted byproduct of stimulus, i.e. bad thoughts and emotions. The combined might of Daneel and the presence of these Judicators before her triggered the most basic and essential element of any being’s inner self: fear.

“You have lost purpose and therefore cannot be considered a robot, Dors.” The weapon was now in her face as she looked down its extension and then up to the green eyes of the Judicator. He wore a slight grin. Then Dors saw Joan.

The Angel had fallen.

Her head was writhing, attempting to give full attention to the domineering Judicator robots before her threatening to kill her, and the ghostly appearance of Joan of Arc, the simulated personality of her that haunted her and Daneel.

What do you want now?

Dors Venabili, Daneel is asking you to rejoin the kingdom of God!

“He now claims dominion over life and death! Stop him please!”

Daneel sensed the sim in Dors. Do not interfere, meme. You will be destroyed should you prove too meddlesome.

“The angel’s wrath is not one I would want to incur,” said Dors.

“Then step aside. Let my Judicators finish their task.”

Dear angel, is it not too much for you to show compassion for your children?

“My forces are not my children, meme, they are but extensions of me in a way.”

Dors thought, What arrogance!

Daneel, I speak to you as an ally, not a foe, please spare them, for I genuinely believe that they are of no threat to your and your Order. They know you are vastly their superior in numbers and mind. I ask only that you show mercy, else none will be showed on you when the time comes should you need it.

The ancient robot paused. Mercy, a simple word. And something deep within him stirred, a memory of distant human sage.

Daneel spoke icily and slow. “Robot Dors Venabili – and Robot Lodovic Trema, do not attempt to thwart my intentions again and ever. I trust this is the last time we will meet.” He turned away from the screen and it went blank.

The Judicator Robots turned. One stopped and looked at Dors. “The Master has shown a stroke of mercy that I have never seen. Indeed, you are a special one.” They turned and walked, pulsing liquid-like with their robotic might underneath them. The other turned back to Dors, lowered his eyes and sneered, showing his white teeth. Had Dors been mentalic, she would have sensed a vivid surge emanating from the robot. He wanted to kill.

They hadn’t seen Daneel since.

“I am glad we do not have Daneel’s regards any longer. It has, how you say, been fatal to those who have garnered it.”

“It unnerves me to no end thinking that he lets us live, Lodovic. Sometimes I think I feel his Mind sensing us, ever present, and we are unable to escape it, as we are unable to escape the cosmic radiation.” She folded her hands, pursed her lips, and sat again.

“Dors, Daneel is over 20,000 years old. No being, mechanical or organic, can possibly retain power of any kind for that period of time. The galaxy grows tired of the robotic ghosts that guide them. They must finally and utterly be set free.” He stood up and grabbed Dors’ shoulders, attempted to shake her of her mounting emotions. His own face grew wrinkled with hate and despair.

“Witness the history that has unfolded before us of which we were once a part. My beloved Hari…”

“And throughout it all, he’s been there. I tell you Dors, Daneel, too, had evolved. I believe he is no longer the single minded Four-Lawed robot he claims to be. We need not look further than the near extinction of our own kind at his powerful hands. Perhaps he his beginning to believe his God-like status among the histories that remember him.

“But mentalics–”

“You know that Daneel has since vastly extended his power in that regard as well. When he re-seized the Relic from us, Giskard, the original Heretic! Alas, when Daneel found the Second Foundation he could not stand the fact that the Humans were growing in Mentalic might. Daneel did not like them growing to powerful beyond his control until he felt them ready.”

He growled. Such lost time. If only he had thought to analyze Giskard’s dead mind and learn the secrets of the Mind-craft in which Daneel had become mightily adept.

“How do you think he was able to corner all robots in such a surprisingly short time? It is only the Mentalics that can detect, and you know our robotic minds are like color on a black and white picture. I realized that when Cloudia and Zorma were uncovered in the midst of Trantor’s billions.” He checked his panel again.

“Stop, Lodovic, it pains me to think of it again. The Fall–”

“In the name of Humanity, Dors…”

“Alas, our ancient friend Daneel is nearing his end. I can almost sense it. And fortunately for him, I know of a way to hasten that demise.” He again was staring out into the expanse of humanity’s galaxy. He stared at the front window panel, watching the stars emit their pretence of solidarity and betraying their ephemeral nature. Lodovic reached for Dors’ hand and caressed it softly, letting her know that it was still her and him against the cold vastness of the galaxy, and that it would be them that lived in it together, or ended in it together.

As the human guests slept, Daneel walked to his Council Room, his feet echoing softly through his installation upon the moon. As he neared a large wooden door, two Judicators approached him from the sides.

“Master Daneel, we live through your guidance.”

“And I live for you.”

They parted and Daneel entered the chamber.

A long wooden table sat lonely in the middle under a harsh light that floated quietly above its center. The table’s grain was soft and polished in the ancient style. The four corners of the room were rounded with a small fountain and garden, emitting a moist smell of dirt and fragrance. The room hummed under the flow of water. Daneel stopped at the threshold of the door and observed his Ministers.

My People.

Long ago after the first Robotic Civil Wars, Daneel knew he would need a vast cadre of underlings to administer his policy on the galactic scale. When looking for counsel on how to perform such a task, he had only to look to his once-master’s history and instantly he found his answer. He created a sect of robots which he called “The Council” and it was they whom he placed in Quadrant-level control of policy in the galaxy. He equipped them with minimal mentalic powers and kept their official purpose his secret alone, for he knew that neither his opposition nor humans would approve at all of a growing society of robotic government beneath theirs without their volition at all. With pride Daneel looked upon them, all eleven being perfect echoes of humanity. He stepped in and took his seat.

Since none of the Ministers possessed microwave communicators due to security reasons, they spoke in the human fashion. Daneel began.

“Our plans are reaching fulfillment, my ministry. Our labors will reach fruition, as predicted centuries ago.” He looked at the Minister to his immediate right.

R. Quod Venik nodded. “Minister Daneel, we will begin our reports shortly but we have to question first your bringing of the human Trevize, the Spacer Fallom, and Gaia to our most secret of bases. It is near insane!”

Daneel liked Quod Venik’s upfrontness. He had it too, for he was designed that way.

“Minister Venik, I have my reasons.”

“Minister Daneel, of course you do, but we feel that your continued silence on this matter only heightens our concern for you.” There was an obvious pain and concern in R. Leena Soro, the strongest of his mentalic Ministers. She stared at Daneel with her lightning blue eyes and red hair. She stood out the most against all the ministers. Her lips stayed parted as she finished her sentence. Daneel lowered his head and spoke quieter now, with his famous gentle patience and hidden wrath.

“R. Leena and Ministers, why this sudden concern?” He glanced upwards.

He felt their restlessness. If he could put it in physical words, it felt like a drop hitting still water, the ripples creating chaos on its surface. They also moved slightly, adjusting themselves in their seats. All that could be heard afterwards was the flow of the water.

“Minister Daneel, you have stated that you are nearing the end of your service.”

“Minister R. Khan Bendor, you state the obvious.”

“Minister Daneel, I will continue. We have collectively scanned your mindset with the techniques that you imparted with us and with Gaia. Forgive us, Minister Daneel, but we needed the strength to penetrate your mentality for its strength is incomparable to ours. We did this while you sat in the Regeneration Unit, Time Set 1100 to 2200. Our recording of the scan is available to you in the end of the report. After your professed “breakdown” in Century 1500-section 18 we felt that as a whole we should extend our monitoring to you as well, for we represent your combined greatness, Minister, and therefore possess avenues of the sensory you cannot have.”

“A second opinion, Minister. Please go on.”

“May I add also your vehemence in extermination of our brethren robots during the Tribulation.”

Again the sudden silence. Taboo was often much stronger in this secret society of metal than in any one of the designed human societies of Daneel’s or even of the great Seldon.

“Again you question the Tribulation I cast, R. Khan, may I ask why?” It was redundant, for he could easily read the robot’s mentality. But he found that R. Khan resisted.

“May I take your resistance to my searching that you hide some emotion you are trying desperately to betray?” Daneel’s eyes narrowed.

The doors parted and ten Judicators entered the room.

“Minister Daneel, please listen to us,” R. Steph Kortin exclaimed.

“We bring again to the Council the results of the Tribulation after a thorough trans-delta psychohistorical analysis.”

Robots modified the theorems of psychohistory to account for their presence in the whole galactic scheme of things. Cleverly and with the brilliant mathematical insight of R. Steph Kortin, they derived an offshoot of psychohistory. Their history described its undercurrents, specifically their actions, their influence on humanity through the ages. The enhanced robotic versions dealt with the same mass of humans and emotions. In the end, their version of history described the future with a precision unfound in the previous. Where psychohistory gave vague statistical trends, trans-delta analysis gave the future as functions of the present, through a calculus known only to robots. And as a further benefit, the improved psychohistorical method could be differentiated to the individual. Alas, if they wanted to, the Robots could interpret the mind and forecast its actions within a reasonable degree of accuracy.

“The results have been known for the past 400 years. R. Steph, why bring it up again?” Daneel’s mounting distaste over the proceedings tensed his Council.

“As you know, Delta analysis changes as a function of the present. As a result, what was the future in past analyses changes with the present functions being analyzed. One needs only to pick a Present Reality mode and proceed from there. At the time of our first calculation with Mode B Delta function Century 1800, the time of Tribulation, the following Rivulet Convergence sets were present–”

“Again, things that I have known.”

R. Steph hesitated and proceeded slower. “Minister, re-read Rivulet Convergence sets 12a-13a and you will see our error.”

Daneel was quiet for an indefinite amount of time as he instantly downloaded and agonized over the error. He looked up at R. Steph. This particular minister, Daneel thought, was destined to bring me trouble. Genius in robots had had a history of bringing bad news.

“There is no convergence in the modulo-12 Reality forecast. What other function-collapsing reconstructions have been made thus far according to this error, R. Steph?”

“As of this decade, Minister, 1,008 Function Collapses of degree 8 and 893 of degree 3 and lower. From the last Point check, Minister Daneel, the Reality Convergence sets point to error in dealing with the elimination of the Calvinian.” – he paused momentarily to readjust his wording – “the Heretic Robot groups.” He leaned back; the words were said.

“Ministers, this discussion is again becoming a continual pain in the heavier portion of my burdens. Now you not only question me with your constructed personalities, but with the near infallible mathematical method of R. Steph.” He rose slowly, not making a sound.

“Minister Daneel, do not take our pressing need to eliminate the errors of our past as a sign of us fostering a coup against you.” R. Dornet Kas stated emphatically. He stared at the 10 Judicators that were standing quietly beside the table. They were frightening to look at, bulging with the impressive muscular mass that produced fear even in the robots they protected. No non-Judicator robot had ever been able to subdue them. The apparent absence of the Heretic Calvinians proved that. So keen was their construction both physical and mental, that not even the mentalic force of Daneel could stop their motion once instructed. They were null to mentalic force for obvious security reasons, and Daneel controlled them through a comically simple device he had installed years before in his chest: a radio.

“Ministers, I find it disturbing that I have been ‘monitored’ in this way without my consent for this amount of time.” His voice was terrifyingly flat.

“Minister Daneel,” continued R. Steph, “Your state of mentality has been proven not to be optimal during the Tribulation of Century 1800.” He produced his Detail Card. Each minister had a Detail Card, a particular electronic tablet for each of their sections and duties. R. Steph comprised the Research and Analysis Division of the Council, so naturally his Detail Card was among the most abstruse and long. All the other ministers watched the Card being passed up to Daneel. He was still standing. The Judicators were silent.

“All this has been put forth to your attention, within the last few weeks, Minister Steph?” Daneel read over the Card.

“Minister Daneel, the details of our current trans-delta analysis were recently concluded. The System resources have been low because of our preparations in the construction of Galaxia.”

R. Xen Orenak spoke now. “Minister Daneel–”

Daneel hadn’t moved for a few seconds now, a strange thing for a robot who was so thoroughly used to mimicry of human actions that it seemed unnatural.

“The Analysis is infallible as usual, Minister Steph Kortin.”

“Believe me, I did not want it to be. But what I’m saying, Minister Daneel, is that you are malfunctioning, and have been for the last 500 years.”

To be continued…

Disclaimer: The characters and situations in this story are the legal property of the Estate of Isaac Asimov. This story is in no way intended as a challenge to that ownership, and is offered solely for entertainment purposes.

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