‘HOPE (Standard Galactic, n.) - General positive outlook regarding the fulfillment of prospective future events or situations. Often combined with the desire to change the circumstances at hand, i.e. a longing for persistent improvement of a current situation. See also: ambition, anticipation, assumption, belief, confidence, desire, dream, expectancy, expectation, faith, longing.’

That was to be found in the Encyclopedia Galactica, the most extensive information database of mankind. Whether the officials had been right in choosing that particular name for the first planet to be colonized by both Settlers and Spacers was still doubted by the majority of the public on either side. Gordan, for his part, also had the impression that it was a choice too trifle. But then again, it was just the unofficial name, the working title of the project.

Settlers and Spacers. This was what humanity had finally developed into, millennia after the first human beings had left the mystical planet Earth, the place presumed to be humanity’s common origin.

According to more recent tales, the ancestors of the Spacers, having discovered the possibility of long-distance space travel, found themselves forced to flee from their home planet. The growing dangers of overpopulation, the madness of ambiguous political maneuvers and continuous rivalries between various groups of the planets’ inhabitants - so-called nations - almost resulted in the complete self-destruction of the entire race.

Exiled from their home, the Spacers traveled in a huge armada of spacecrafts through the universe to find new worlds for colonization. With their advanced technological capabilities they terraformed as many as fifty planets in the nearby stellar systems.

Those left behind continued their lives in giant underground cities that protected them from the acute threat of nuclear attacks from other nations. Such cities were inhabited by several million people, sometimes even containing up to fifty million human beings.

Humanity eventually overcame this frightening period in history, but although the fears of nuclear extermination became non-existent, humans remained in their metal caves avoiding the exterior completely. More than that, they developed over time an irrational aversion to wide open spaces in general.

Also, for centuries after the Spacers had left the planet, none but little progress in technology, philosophic attitudes, and social demeanor had been accomplished. Civilization had come to a nearly complete standstill. Many generations passed before a transition in mentality finally took place and a more universal way of thinking became popular. Like so often in human history, it had been the young who finally realized that change was appropriate. The late Settlers’ ancestors overcame their phobia and once again a fleet of starships took off into space, seeking far-off worlds to colonize.

Meanwhile, the Spacers had entered their own phase of utter stagnation. They had created a culture of considerable elegance and extravagant refinement, where virtually all work was left to robots, their mechanical slaves. The Spacers’ ideal became a world where nothing ever happened or changed and whose inhabitants themselves did little more than enjoy their lives, enabled and eased by a huge robotic workforce. Robots on the Spacers’ planets outnumbered their human creators by far, so it was not unusual for one Spacer to dispose of several hundreds of robots. Naturally, all of this forced any kind of progress to a complete stop.

Spacers, too, began to deny their common origin with the peoples left behind on their former home planet, whom they perceived as primitive, ignorant and uncivilized underground dwellers. They even denied that there had ever been anything like a common home planet at all and believed, quite convenient to their attitude towards life, that everything always was and would be as it was now.

But time passed on. The Settlers eventually succeeded in developing a technology incomparably superior to any of the aging Spacer systems and colonized more and more worlds, finally endangering the Spacers’ mentality.

In their colonization efforts, Settlers never used any kind of robotic work. In fact, Settlers at no time in history had ever or would ever use robots. It was the ultimate and most visible difference between Spacers and Settlers, derived from the ancient days of hazardous overpopulation and economic needs on the home planet. People in those days were afraid that robots would take their jobs and the means of making a living from them and had therefore banned robots from their world.

This attitude was taken over by future Settler generations and was enforced through their view on the continuous lethargy and decadence of the Spacer societies. Here, they saw that robots would apparently relieve humanity not only of its burdens, but also of its ambitions, spirit and character.

But then, all of a sudden, after decades of mutual disregard, Settlers and Spacers worked together to save Inferno, one of the Spacers’ planets, which was severely threatened by a global shift in its climatic conditions caused by complex changes in the pattern of the atmosphere.

Despite all conflicts, which occurred commonly during this operation, the whole affair was judged as an outstanding success on both sides, and not only because Inferno was saved. As a result of several conferences that followed, an experiment was agreed upon to colonize the newly terraformed planet Janus by both Settlers and Spacers.

This agreement alone was more than anyone possibly could have hoped for. It seemed absolutely impossible that the one remaining problem, the question of robots, could be solved at all. Neither would Spacers do without, nor were the Settlers willing to accept them on the planet. But the unimaginable happened: a solution was finally found. Janus was chosen to be the place of humanity’s reunification attempt.

The ‘Boreas V,’ one of the few remaining spacecrafts of the Spacer starfleet, was just about ready to leave orbit and begin the necessary procedures for landing. Its destination was the starport of Janus Metropolis.

It was one of the last flights from various Spacer worlds to Janus, bringing to the planet the rest of those Spacers who were determined to start a new life on a new planet. Altogether there would be approximately twenty million people living on Janus, most of them in or near the starport. Although it was quite obvious that a lot more humans could fit on the planet’s surface - and eventually billions of people would be living on Janus - it was decided to restrict the size of the population in the first generations in order to avoid any kind of social problems arising from the mere aspect of overpopulation. Janus had enough problems to deal with.

Gordan knew thoroughly about this argument, thanks to broad and intense discussions in the papers and on the hypervision channels. Here, the official attitudes from the responsible authorities on both sides had been outlined. Still, it did not take too much imagination to figure out that the decision was an unnecessary one; officials were actually having a difficult time finding enough people who were willing to give up their secure and uncomplicated lives just to start all over again in a more-than-uncertain future. In the beginning, there evidently had not been many of such people, considering the massive efforts from the Janus Immigration Offices just to recruit the first eventual enlistments.

In Gordan’s case, however, it was slightly different. As employee and representative of the Ministry of Law on Inferno, he had simply been ordered to Janus. His function as sheriff would certainly not be easy, owing to all the possible incidents which were likely to occur among the new citizens. It would be a truly difficult and troublesome task, though Gordan tried to think of it as a challenge. He had been sheriff of Hades, the biggest city on Inferno, for several years without finding himself in too many dilemmas. “Trust your abilities” was one of his preferred phrases, one he had mentally stated to himself too often in the last months to find any more comfort in.

Gordan left the elevator tube and turned to his right to join the other passengers in the main observation deck. It seemed that nearly all of them were gathered here to view the spectacle of the ship crossing the planet’s atmosphere. Right now, the passengers could gaze through the window-like opening in the spaceship’s skull at the slight brown-reddish surface and the deep blue waters down on Janus. The planet grew slowly but steadily larger in size as the ship continuously closed in on it.

The terraforming operations had been finished a couple of years ago. Before that, Janus, the third planet in the stellar system of Dionysus, surrounded by its two bright shining suns at a radius of approximately 230 million kilometers, had been nothing more than a gleaming globe of rock, a dead world without atmosphere, its surface red from the iron-filled grounds and swamped with countless craters of all sizes. Surprisingly, the Settler technology managed to convert the miserable desert into a living planet with a functioning biota containing a large variety of different species of plants and animals. A complete and excellent functioning ecological system was installed, a planet ready for colonization.

Gordan found a place near one of the railings on the upper level and looked up. Space travel was, despite the Spacers’ origin and mainly because of their actual way of life, far from ordinary. This was Gordan’s first time on a spaceship and the feeling was still a very strange but exciting one. The panorama to be seen was simply fascinating.

“What a view. What an absolutely unbelievable view. Never would I have thought it could look like this. All these stars, this bright blue and friendly brown glancing globe hanging in a sphere of perfect, black nothingness. This is by far more stunning than anything I have seen in the book-films. Absolutely marvelous.”

Gordan, still fascinated, leaned forward, his arms resting on the parapet, which separated the two lookout platforms below the huge transparent dome.

“True,” he said, “This is one of those times when you realize that even the best holographs will not and, well, can not give you all the impressions reality offers. Somehow, I guess there is always missing the feeling of being part of what you see.”

“Yes. Maybe that is why.”

Gordan found himself staring at the overwhelming scenery, completely ignoring the person who had addressed him. Several minutes must have passed before he finally managed to take a look to his right.

“Oh, excuse me. I was… I mean…” He turned around and offered his hand with a smile. “My name is Gordan. Gordan Kresh.”

The woman standing right beside him returned his smile and they shook hands. If Gordan was not totally mistaken, she was in her late twenties or at least in her early thirties. His impression was supported by her youthful appearance and stylish outfit. He found himself admiring her long, brown, curly hair.

“Nice to meet you, Gordan. My name is Jeanne. Jeanne Farlow,” she said with a smile.

“Well,” Gordan giggled slightly, “This is my first journey through space. That is why I am a bit… eh… preoccupied. I have to apologize.”

“No, no. I can understand you perfectly. This is my first flight as well. Believe me, I was not too eager to enter the ship in the first place. I was afraid I could not stand the change in gravity or that the ship would… Well, now it must sound rather silly.”

“Not at all. Let me assure you, I had very similar feelings. Supposedly, this is something everyone goes through before the first flight,” said Gordan.

“But not everyone leaves his home behind and settles on a new planet.”

“True… And is furthermore willing to give up his or her entire lifestyle,” Jeanne added.

“You think it will be such a complete change? And even if it is, I, for one, take it as a challenge. As a chance to experience something completely new. Not everybody has the possibility to do so, you know. Well - I guess I am being an optimist.”

Jeanne smiled and rested her hands on the railing, looking at the nearby surface of Janus. “What are you going to do there? I hope you do not mind me asking.”

“Not at all. My job down there will be to keep peace and order in Janus Metropolis. I am the new sheriff.”

“Oh, really?” Jeanne looked at him in surprise. “Well - may I say that I would not want to change places with you? Regardless of what I would be offered.”

“There were times that I wished I could find a person who was willing to take my place. But I must say that this has changed. I am actually looking forward to my duties,” Gordan said.

“I can imagine that the role of the sheriff will be a rather complicated task, considering all the possible conflicts between Spacers and Settlers.”

“I have already been working for several years in the sheriff’s department of Hades, so it should not be too much of a change.”

Jeanne shook her head in disapproval. “But here, you could and most probably will also get involved in political affairs.”

“Granted. Although I hope to avoid this. Out of curiosity, what will be your occupation on Janus?”

“I will be working for the government as well,” Jeanne replied, “I am joining the new Institute of Technological Intelligence.”

“Ah, yes. I have heard of this. That sounds quite interesting. It will be one of the major cooperative projects between Spacers and Settlers on Janus, I understand.”

“Correct. In the long run, it will hopefully become one of the finest and dominant research centers in the galaxy. But for now, we will have to begin with exchanging ideas and knowledge - and learning to respect each other.”

“That is not only true for scientists… May I ask in which field you are specialized?”

“Robots. I am roboticist.”

The first robot ever built, although rather simple in construction and of only limited usefulness, was designed by the legendary enterprise of U.S. Robots and Mechanical Men innumerable centuries ago. Despite the fact that the primary purpose in its construction was the creation of an intelligent aid for frequently repetitive household and industrial procedures, robots in the first stages of this newly originated industry had basically been considered toys. It took many decades of intense research to improve the capabilities of the machines and much more effort from U.S. Robots and Mechanical Men to bring about a change in people’s attitudes and to create a positive image of robots.

With time, robots had become more skillful. Equipped with highly efficient audio-tools, enhanced video-sensors, the capability of adjusting their sensitivity to their surroundings, and various other technological achievements - in addition to robotic strength in general - they eventually had become superior to the human workforce. Robots did not need time to recover from work. They neither received any kind of payment nor required special working conditions. In comparison to their human counterparts, robots were faster, more efficient, and did not make mistakes. The more capable they became, the more complex situations and intricate tasks they could manage. All they would need from time to time was a little maintenance.

Rationalization efforts and higher production volumes eventually led to decreasing prices for robots and consequently to an excessive use in business. The increasing demand, in turn, led to the production of more and more robot units and further decreasing prices, while the unemployment rates had begun rising sharply. A few centuries after the first robot was assembled, more than seventy-five percent of humanity had been without a permanent job. Then political pressures finally became too much for the government to handle. The result was the prohibition of any use or even possession of robots - after the Spacers had left the planet with their robots.

For half an hour the Boreas V was cruising in the orbit of Janus, closing in on the surface, before the bridge of the starship finally received the landing permission from the advisors in the starport towers.

‘Too much traffic in the nearer surrounding of the starport for a vessel of our size’ had been announced before. Not that the passengers would have minded. For them, it was the perfect opportunity to take a broad look at their new home planet.

About ten more minutes passed and the ship stood aside the impressive buildings of the starport, with its engines shut off and the first passengers already embarking. Gordan was almost certain that the immigration and custom formalities would require plenty of time, considering the large number of people that were traveling aboard the Boreas V. There was no time to spare, so he had to hurry. After saying good-bye to Jeanne, he patiently waited for a few moments longer in the observation deck, then took his bags and left the ship via the main gate. By the time he reached the immigration counters, there was already a huge line, so he walked a little to the farther end of the hall. From there he could take a look at the starship outside. Despite the fact that numerous people and several vehicles were surrounding the ship, the way they worked looked relatively organized. Gordan had not the faintest idea what they were doing.

“Mr. Kresh. Mr. Gordan Kresh. Please report to the main immigration office.”

Gordan, who was staring at the ship’s scenery, felt himself pushed back to reality and looked hesitantly around. It took him some time to realize that the message had come from the speakers hidden somewhere in the ceiling. Shaking his head, he made his way to the indicated office following the signs on the walls to his right.

The agent in the small office was obviously quite busy. So, after taking a short look at Gordan’s ID-hologram, he just led him out of the door in the back of the office, apparently to ease Gordan’s way through immigration.

“Mrs. Rudchinson will await you,” was the only thing he said before hurrying back to his desk.

A little confused, Gordan found himself in the crowded arrival hall. The eccentric construction reminded him of a so-called ‘cathedral,’ A building he had seen long ago in a book-film during his time at the academy. There was the symmetrical cross-structure with two baggage claim areas on both ends of the cross-arms and the spacious middle sector leading towards the main exit. Typical arches and columns completed the impression. Somewhat peculiar was the transparent ceiling. One could see Luce and Lavius, the two suns of the double star-system. Bright light flooded into the hall, creating a rather strange, apathetic atmosphere.

Since Mrs. Rudchinson was not there yet, the only thing to do was to look for his remaining luggage. Gordan walked over to the transporter belts to his left, where a video screen indicated his flight number. He was about to sit down in the rest area, waiting for the belts to begin moving, when his eyes caught a glimpse of a few strange figures. Several torsos shimmering in a bright red color stood motionless at the walls behind one of the transporter belts. Each of their heads was almost shaped like a triangle with a set of odd looking lenses that had to be eyes and the total absence of anything that could be considered a mouth. A pair of grotesque formed limbs completed the picture. These robots were obviously waiting to help the arrivals with their luggage.

Since the dawn of human ingenuity, people have devised ever more cunning tools to cope with work that is dangerous, boring, onerous or just plain nasty. The first tools humanity invented an immeasurably long time ago were made from wood, iron, and similar matter and consisted of very few pieces. A further step in technological advancement brought about machines that were capable of performing certain repetitive procedures, machines that were assembled from many parts. Eventually, there was the invention of electronics, the next logical step in technological evolution. With this it had become possible to program machines according to changing movements. Even more influential was the use of electronic data that revolutionized business structures and seriously affected people’s everyday lives.

It was this development that finally culminated in robotics - the science of conferring human capabilities on machines. In the first stages of robotic history, robots were shaped roughly in the image of their human creators. The reason was that the key objective of their inventors was to create an instrument that was capable of doing things a human being could or had to do. Their intention was to create a machine that could take over as many of those tasks and duties as possible.

Some of the leading psychologists in those days warned that a similarity in robots too close to human in body or behavior would quite certainly bring up fears of human replacement, especially if these robots eventually became more capable and more efficient than their human counterparts. U.S. Robots and Mechanical Men was therefore anxious to build robots that were undeniably similar to the human body, but easily recognized as robots as well.

Furthermore, this theory led to the invention of the positronic brain, the fundamental component of any robotic being which enables the humanoid to ‘think’ in certain patterns. In the positronic brain, there are no moving parts or electrical circuits. The brain functions by shifting positronic potentials. Every input in the form of light, smell, sound or any other physical force - pressure and speed, for instance - results in a shift of these potentials. With this, the positrons in the brain obtain virtual levels of voltage. Influenced by the data given, these levels become reality. A thought is created.

Hundreds of years after its invention, the positronic brain is still a technological masterpiece. Although now, every child learns about the positronic brain and everybody in the galaxy knows at least roughly about its existence, only an elite few understand its functioning completely. To explain the detailed processes that take place within the brain requires not only a mathematical mastermind, but a well-trained intellect of the receiver as well. For a layman, the setup would be far too complex.

The positronic brain contains fixed security features in the form of a set of laws, which are the key to every robotic thought. It is outright impossible for a robot to act against these laws; it would rather shut down instantly. Enclosed are Three Laws, each one of different priority. The First Law, A Robot may not injure a Human Being, or, through inaction, allow a Human Being to come to harm, is the most basic rule. It prevents robots from hurting humans, and above that, ensures that robots will help human beings in dangerous situations.

Beyond that, the Second Law, A Robot must obey the orders given it by Human Beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law, ensures that robots will obey any order given by a human being. Humanity can completely rely on robotic cooperation.

Finally, the Third Law, A Robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law, prevents any robot from being destroyed too easily.

Although through the centuries robots have changed completely in appearance, functionality, and capacity, the positronic brain itself has undergone only a few modifications and remains therefore the sole unquestioned module used in a robot. There is simply no other type of brain, nor has any research been done in this direction. Consequently, there has also never been a robot without the Three Laws, for they have become the vital and essential part of the positronic brain’s overall structure.

- Introduction, The Handbook of Robotics

Gordan stared at the robots. He had never seen ones like these before. Unlike in the Spacer society on Inferno, where the resemblance between robots and humans was almost complete, the creators of these robots obviously did not have any intention of providing them with a human appearance at all. On the contrary, the outer image looked surprisingly primitive, therefore making the robot’s identity more than obvious. The ‘Law of Robotic Appearance,’ he recalled, A clear evidence of the Settlers’ influence here on Janus.

Still astonished, he sat down. From his bag he picked a book he had bought in one of the starship’s shopping centers and began reading. The title, ‘Spacers vs. Settlers: Zero to Nothing, the Final Result?’ sounded more like the poor headline in a gossip magazine, but the author was none other than professor Harry Komarac, one of the most popular psychologists of his decade. Recently, he became councilor to the ‘CIA,’ the Committee of Integrating Affairs, the commission which had decided upon the Janus project.

Komarac’s opinion regarding the project was actually rather negative. In his theories, which had been broadly published, he came with downright certainty to the conclusion that the project was doomed to fail. Moreover, he thought that any attempt of reunification would come much too early for either side to handle. Nevertheless, the CIA had decided in favor of the project, despite all possible conflicts and problems that Komarac and numerous others had predicted.

Gordan continued reading for a few minutes when suddenly, a loud noise made him look up. A man wearing traditional Settler clothing stood swearing and shouting in front of one of the belts. Obviously, the pile of bags and suitcases had been too much for him to handle. One of them had opened, its contents now widely scattered on the floor. At that moment, one of the robots appeared beside him.

“Sir, may I help you?” The robot slightly bowed while asking. “Do you wish me to gather your possessions and carry your bags?” he asked politely.

The man stared at the robot motionlessly. He needed a moment to find a reply. “Leave me alone, you metal junk. What the hell are you thinking? Are you thinking at all? You brainless, battery-powered scaffold!” Furiously, he gesticulated at the robot in front of him and tried to push him away.

“Sir, I am deeply sorry for your inconvenience,” the robot replied without a noticeable emotion, “From your statements I deduct that you are not in need of my assistance. Is this assumption correct, sir?”

Enraged and clearly beyond reasoning, the man yelled at the robot, “First, I will take care of you, you…”

However foolish an attack would be, the man took a step towards the robot. A robot was by far stronger and faster than a human could possibly be. In a classic robot maneuver, in order to prevent human suffering, it simply stopped the man by holding him.

“What an airhead - must be a Settler!”

Another man appeared from somewhere on the scene. He was clearly younger than the angry guy, maybe in his early thirties, with long hair and bulky pants. His clothing was beyond doubt of Spacer origin.

“Go on, give us a show!”

“What…?” The Settler looked around, taken by surprise.

“Well, come on. We would like to see you humiliate yourself. Should be a good, although rather short-term spectacle: a Settler fighting a robot.”

The situation seemed to get out of hand. Gordan hurried towards them. The robot was no longer the subject of the conversation, which was just about to culminate into an open fight between the two men. Determined to end the hostilities, Gordan stepped between them.

“Break it off. No reason to punch each other,” he said sharply. In order to separate the two men, Gordan pushed back both of them with the palms of his hands, looking back and forth from one to the other.

“Don’t touch me…”

Faster than Gordan could have imagined, the older man shoved his hand aside and punched him right in the face. Gordan fell backwards, hitting the ground hard and losing his consciousness temporarily, just to faintly see the robot grab the man tightly. Then his vision faded altogether.

During the last CIA conferences, the dialogue got stuck. The representatives of the Settlers were determined not to allow robots on Janus, while the Spacers, on the other hand, had strictly demanded their presence. For quite some time, it had simply seemed impossible to find a solution fitting to both sides.

Then the idea of implanting further robotic laws arose. The result of this intensively discussed proposal was a resolution about a set of additional laws, the Supplementary Laws of Robotics, which were manifested in the Janus Hoyle, the constitutional book of the planet. The intention of these supplementary laws was to extremely restrict the use of robots on Janus. And the idea worked, for the implementation had finally motivated the Settlers to agree in allowing robots on the common planet.

The first of these laws was the so-called Planetary Law: A robot must act according to the supreme laws valid on the planet of its existence as long as such behavior does not conflict with the laws of robotics.

The Second Law, the Law of Robotic Units, was introduced in order to avoid the excesses known from Spacer societies. It read: On a planet where Settlers and Spacers live together, the number of robots is restricted to a maximum of one robot per one-thousand human beings.

The Law of Robotic Appearance had also been a regulation insisted upon by the Settler negotiators: On a planet where Settlers and Spacers live together, no close similarity between the human and the robotic body is allowed.

Also enclosed was the Law of Robotic Ownership: On a planet where Settlers and Spacers live together, no human can own robots. Robots therefore had to be rewarded for their work. Their salary was calculated from an official scheme issued by the government. It took into account the working hours and the kind of work done. The salary had to be paid directly to the Robotic Account of the Janus Bank and was used exclusively for robot maintenance and research in robotics.

Since only a few robots were assigned certain jobs - there were police-robots, a robotic fire squadron, and similar dangerous occupations - most of them had to find useful activities by themselves. They did so easily, because in serving humans, robots felt a kind of satisfaction. They worked in all parts of the Janutian society.

Finally, there was the Law of Robotic Misuse: On a planet where Settlers and Spacers live together, the misuse of robots is a severe criminal offence and will lead to the expulsion of the responsible persons from the planet.

The effect of this setup for the Spacers was the withdrawal of their private slaves, while the Settlers, on the other hand, had to tolerate the presence of robots. Some said it was the perfect compromise.

Abraham Philemon was not surprised. He had firmly expected that things would finally turn out this way, his way. Furthermore, he strongly believed that the new resolution presented to the Executive Committee earlier that morning would be for the good of all people on Janus.

Philemon glanced over his copy of the new statute with a feeling of deep satisfaction. He had worked on this project for almost a year, ever since he had come to Janus. He remembered very well the time he had left Baleyworld, one of the major Settler foundations, to seek opportunities to let his dreams and beliefs become reality. Political affairs on his home planet had become stagnant in the firm grip of a few old delegates who were far more anxious not to lose their influence than prepared to make the necessary transitions to lead civilization into the next century.

Philemon had therefore been one of the first volunteers to enlist for the Janus Project, eagerly hoping here to at least be able to move political matters according to his vision of the future. He was sixty-two years old and feared that time was running out for him. His hair, once black as the night, had turned white, and the countless wrinkles in his face frustrated him even more. However, it was only his body that had weakened. He knew his mind was working more efficiently than ever. He had made his way through the very hectic and complicated beginning stages of the reunification project, and then had accumulated considerable political influence by joining the Settler Foundation Party and by using his outstanding negotiating abilities. Now he was a member of the Executive Committee, the highest commission on Janus.

The visioner on his desk beeped. Philemon looked up to the small, flat screen which showed the bright, smiling face of Executive Mendez. He was a slim man with dark eyes and even more dark hair, and was about forty-five galactic standard years old. Philemon’s eyes narrowed, and this time it was not because he had misplaced his glasses. He momentarily put a finger on his lower lip before deciding to answer the call.

“Connection complete,” said a recorded female voice. The visioner automatically switched into two-way communication mode.

“Good day, Executive Philemon. I trust you are feeling quite well. May I congratulate you on your efforts this morning?”

“Thank you, Executive Mendez. Although the Committee has not yet made a decision on the subject, I feel it is turning in the right direction. Anyhow, we will have to wait for the judgment of the Parliament.”

“Ah - you know very well that they always agree to the decisions of the Executive Committee. There will be no contradictions.” Mendez smile got even brighter, his white shining teeth looking rather unnatural. Mendez was about a decade younger than Philemon and apparently in a much better condition. He was known to underline his youthful image with a perfect fitting and expensive wardrobe.

Philemon was about to reply with something about the principles of democracy, but quickly decided otherwise. No need to get in another argument now. Instead, he said, “To remind you, the only thing we have decided upon is to admit the subject to be further discussed in the next meeting.”

Secretly, Philemon was surprised at his demeanor. What was Mendez up to? He was one of the Executives who had voted against the statute.

“Frankly, I do not like your idea. Considering the fact that several relatively influential people are potentially going to lose their property if your proposal gets approved by anyone whatsoever, this decision was made quite hastily.”

Philemon’s reaction came instantly: “Let me recite your words from the meeting. You are implying ‘that it is unlawful to confiscate belongings or properties from certain members of our communities.’ Well, unlawful is not quite the correct word. As a matter of fact, it will be according to the law if the proposal is approved. A good term in your sense, then, would be ‘unethical dispossession,’ wouldn’t you agree?” Philemon remarked with a sneer. There was no reaction in Mendez’s face. “But let us be serious. To show you the moral aspect, let me remind you that it was by far more improper of the first colonists to claim nearly everything there as their own. Land, lakes, plant life, you name it. And this just because they were able to buy a ticket for a starship that left ahead of the others. And please keep in mind that they will still be owners of their properties.”

“To say it bluntly, I do not consider the step of transforming someone’s estates into a ‘commonage’ - community land to be controlled by a organization of neighborhoods - as a justified move,” Mendez replied equally sharply, “It shows some close similarities to an ancient political configuration called ‘communism’ that had disastrous effects on economy and society.”

“I understand your concerns completely, Executive. But I hope you do not mind me saying that I regard them as too far-fetched. See, this community land will not be - as you lined out - governed by some neighborhood hen-parties, but is merely going to be administrated by local politicians. Nothing more. Since Janus is a completely new planet there simply cannot exist something like ownership of land by individuals. At least not in my opinion. Everything should belong to everybody.” Philemon watched the face on the flat screen closely. “I assure you, this political step will help to create positive relationships between two populations with totally different educational backgrounds and lifestyles.”

Mendez waited for a few seconds before he asked, completely ignoring Philemon’s explanations, “Are you going to force this statute through, Executive?”

Philemon did not hesitate with the answer. “Yes, I will.”

“Executive, please think about it. People will not willingly give up on something they just acquired. There will be an uproar. Have you thought of that possibility?”

“They did not acquire it in a fair way, Executive Mendez.”

The face on the screen watched Philemon with staring eyes for a moment longer than expected.

“There is obviously no other way. I will have to talk to every member of the committee in order to find a majority in my favor. I think the implementation of this statute would be a disastrous move and would quite certainly endanger our social stability.”

“You are free to do whatever you want,” Philemon replied.

Mendez was scarcely in the best mood when he ended the conversation: “Otherwise, I can only hope that your vision comes true, Executive. But I would not bet on it. Good day.”

With this, the connection was over. Philemon leaned back in his chair, frowning. “It will not be easy to please everybody. Maybe impossible,” he said in soliloquy.

The Janus Holye was one of the most important achievements of the CIA conferences. Aside from the demanding task of setting up a common book of law for people of two completely different civilizations, it was an even more burdensome act to compose a constitution for the planet.

Naturally, a form of democracy was chosen, the most stable political system ever invented by mankind. It was an arrangement upon which both sides could agree. Political powers were divided into four different sections. All legislative power was invested in the Janus Parliament with its two-hundred Representatives that were elected for a term of three years. Sessions were held on a daily basis in an eccentric yet remarkable Parliament Building in the very center of Janus Metropolis.

As well, the building served as the site for conferences of the Executive Committee, which took care of all executive functions, always sharply supervised by the Parliament. The Committee consisted of eight Executives to be elected for a four-year term. The judicial powers were passed on to the Janus Supreme Court, the main jurisprudence of the planet, which was designed to be as independent from any political influence as possible.

Finally, all ethical subjects were handled by the Department of Social Endeavors, whose task was the development of possible solutions to arising ethical questions. Since such questions could usually be resolved in the long run, they were collected for public referendums which took place three times a year. With a three-fourths majority, a proposal became law without the possibility of interference from Parliament or the Executive Committee. The department itself consisted of hundred delegates, including scientists, professors, ecclesiastical individuals, and business people, but no politicians. Delegates were appointed for life.

Still, the most central and unique aspect of the constitution was the fact that Settler and Spacer interests were to be equally considered in every position. The key objective of the CIA was to avoid arguments and conflicts based purely upon cultural differences. The Parliament therefore consisted of exactly hundred Spacers and hundred Settlers, the Executive Committee of four Spacers and four Settlers and so on. Theoretically, all disputes between Spacers and Settlers would therefore have to be resolved by a compromise.

It was a perfect day. By now, both Janutian suns stood low in the pink-colored sky, creating a rather artificial atmosphere. There was certainly no need for the internal climatization systems anymore, Gordan deducted.

Such hot and humid days were extremely rare on Janus. The temperatures usually varied just slightly around twenty-five degrees Celsius in summertime and around ten degrees in the deepest winter days. Temperatures above thirty or even forty degrees scarcely ever occurred, and then one simply had to cope with such circumstances. Obviously, some people could not. The most disgusting result was to be seen right on this spot. Numerous parts of two former hover capsules were scattered over the fly-way, which had to be closed for two hours.

It never should have happened. Every hover capsule - or ‘hoo-cap,’ as most people referred to them - was technically amply equipped. For instance, a robotic driver system alone would have prevented this accident - if only one of them had been left active. But as Calvin’s aides had discovered rather quickly, the systems in both vehicles had been switched off.

The reason for this was the Frankenstein Complex - the irrational fear of robots - of the two now heavily injured drivers in the robotic machine. Two Settlers, no doubt about that. Calvin could not understand them. What reason was there to fear a system that was designed to help and support humans? He instantly checked his records, but found nothing about failures of robotic hoo-cap pilot systems. Why had the humans switched them off?

Calvin still had enormous problems in getting a good grasp of the Settlers’ fear of robotic technology. He knew roughly that these fears were well-founded in the history of the robotic development on the Settlers’ home planet. There, the use of robots had culminated in severe social disturbances. But why? Robotic intelligence was supposedly just a device to aid and assist human beings. From where did the austere mistrust originate? He understood from some book-films that the main reason for this outcome had been the considerable quantity of robots on the planet, which left no work for humans. Well, why did they want to work? This argument seemed not quite logical.

Ironically, it was medical robots that had saved the Settlers’ lives. All of them were brought to the nearest hospital immediately and Calvin reasoned that they should be out of critical condition by now.

Calvin turned around. His job was done. Holograms of the accident had been taken, and the process had been reconstructed. His aides would take care of the rest. He walked back to his hoo-cap and programmed the driver system to fly back to Janus Metropolis. No need to waste his own resources for such trivial work.

Janus Metropolis was nothing like a grown city. It was designed by a computer without human interference, perfectly planned and organized with the smallest details taken care of.

The starport was located right in the center of the capital; only the immense terminals of the cargo-starport remained outside the city. Lying around the starport in form of a triangle were the three main sectors. Each of them could be seen as its own full-size city, with low-rise residential areas, wide-spread open squares, community halls, administration buildings, churches, social and leisure facilities and similar constructions. Due to the fact that space was plentiful, there had not been the necessity for high-rise buildings or a narrow development, a feature supported by a public transport system that was fast and complex enough to allow such extensive architecture. The flyways - numerous straight roads leaving the city in all directions - connected the three sectors. Additionally, high-speed underground trains were running directly underneath. A small river system linked the sectors, as well.

Yet the most positive aspects of the blueprint were not as much the overall structure as the tiny features that had been taken care of. The locations of kindergartens and shopping centers had been optimized in relation to the inhabitants’ homes and demographics, and a large variety of sports and recreational facilities, as well as parks and woodlands, had been placed according to predicted community interests.

When the plan was presented to the CIA, it was approved instantly. It suited all the different groups - the computer had taken care of them all - and was universally favored in comparison to all the other concepts and proposals in the official competition. Because the competition was conducted anonymously, nobody in the jury was aware of the fact that it was a computer-designed plan until it was effectively chosen.

The committee went one step beyond when it announced that the entire city would already be established during the terraforming period. Because of the unbearable working conditions, this meant close participation of robots. Although the Settlers had not been too pleased with this idea, it was done exactly so. It was judged mandatory to begin the troublesome experiment as soon as possible. Political pressures were getting higher and the governments did not want to have to decide upon such a delicate matter any closer to the upcoming elections. Also, this timing took advantage of the momentum of Spacer/Settler cooperation created during the work on Inferno.

By the time the first wave of Settlers and Spacers set their feet on Janus, the city had been waiting for them. Even the boulevard magazines were in place, complete with stories calling Janus the ‘biggest ghost town’ in human history.

It was dark, although there was some light shimmering weakly. Gordan was looking at the ceiling. White and without any remarkable feature, he noted. When he began to turn his head, Gordan’s eyes were flickering. He stopped immediately; his head ached ferociously. A deep and heavy pain went through his brain. All he could think of was the white ceiling and his aching head. Slowly, very slowly, he finally managed to roll his head sideways and take a look around.

He was in a nearly completely white and sterile-looking room with few furnishings. To his right he noticed a table, an uncomfortable looking chair, a visioner, and some other things which he could not identify exactly. At least he could not identify them now, while the pain in his head hampered his very attempts to think. On the wall was a hideous painting in a still more awful frame on the wall, to his left was a curtain in front of an immense window, and before that stood a robot.

“Good evening, Mr. Kresh,” his pleasing voice stated, “I hope you are feeling quite right for the moment.”

Gordan coughed, rapidly bringing back the pain he had shortly forgotten about.

“Please do not move if you are feeling uncomfortable,” the robot said. It was a C-35 model, Gordan noticed. Evidently, it was also his personal aide as sheriff. C-35 models were built especially for duties and situations dealing with the “dark” side of human behavior, including crime, misery, violence, theft and similar spheres. Since the positronic brain operated on a basis of shifting positronic potentials that were continuously verified according to the Laws of Robotics, the average robot had severe difficulties in such situations. In complex or extreme conditions, it would simply shut down due to a positronic boost in its circuits. When programming C-35 model units, emphasis was laid upon a high endurance towards crime and human suffering. Gordan thus reasoned that the C-35 would provide ideal assistance in police operations.

“I am fine, I promise,” Gordan lied. “What is your name?”

“My official registration code is CA-3571-B. Most humans call me Calvin.”

Calvin did not move. The robot was clearly taller than two and a half meters, and relatively slim. His metal body had a deep blue color that seemed to shimmer from time to time. While his legs made a rather simple impression, his huge arms were considerable tools. Looking into its red, motionless eyes, Gordan figured that Settlers would find the robot especially irritating. It was the desired effect. Like all C-35 models, Calvin was designed to illicit fear and respect from the humans he had to deal with.

“Okay Calvin. Tell me what happened.”

“As I was informed by my colleagues, sir, you were in the spaceport arrival hall arguing with two people who had arrived on the same ship. One of them attacked you before my colleagues could interfere. They had to be sent to maintenance for a brain check-up, since they were not able to prevent human suffering, meaning…”

“… this guy beat me unconscious. Well, I remember. Be assured, I have no amnesia.”

“From what the medirobot explained to me, there was no indication for a threat of amnesia, sir.”

“Uhhh, just forget it.” Gordan gestured the robot to silence while he managed to get into a sitting position. He added, “And don’t call me ‘sir.’”

“As you wish. If you would not mind, and if you feel strong enough, I will contact Mrs. Rudchinson, your colleague. She has been waiting for you at the spaceport.”

Gordan just nodded and waited while Calvin used his internal communication system to contact Rudchinson. A few minutes later, the door opened and a woman entered the room with a friendly smile on her face.

“Good evening, Mr. Kresh. I am Sheriff Dorothy Rudchinson, your colleague. How are you feeling?” The woman came closer, completely ignoring the robot, which had to step aside.

She was quite an attractive woman with shoulder-length brown hair cut in a modern, unfamiliar style. Gordan judged her to be around his age, maybe slightly younger. In direct comparison to Calvin, she looked short and made a rather sluggish and sturdy impression, apparently because of the difference in height. On her head she wore a strange kind of cap. It was perhaps something the Settlers specified as of ‘religious’ origin, Gordan thought. From the very second he saw her standing beside him, he knew that she had a special kind of charming character.

“Well, I do not know yet,” Gordan finally answered. His throat still felt a little dry, and he had problems swallowing. My voice must sound like a bear’s, he thought.

If truly so, Rudchinson ignored it. “Just a question of time, believe me. I did ask the doctors and they said everything will be back to normal in just a few days. Nothing to worry about. Just a slight concussion of the gray cells, that’s it.”

She stroked her hair. Gordan fluttered, but said nothing.

She continued. “Your welcome has somehow not been the warmest to this planet, I suppose. As you have seen - or rather experienced - our job here will not be easy.”

“I never expected it to be.”

“Guess you did not expect that kind of welcome either,” Rudchinson said with a smile.

“True,” Gordan replied, trying to smile back with the same grin. The attempt failed. “By the way, what time is it?”

“Well, I have to tell you that you’ve been sleeping for some time. The two medirobots prescribed an artificial coma due to your head injuries. They do not take chances, I understand.”

Gordan nodded. “And?”

“Well, today is G-Day, two full days after your arrival. The time…,” she was looking at her small wrist watch, “… just before midnight.”

“Oh!” Gordan had not expected this. Two days… He closed his eyes in thought.

With this, the robot showed signs of life. “Sir, I would recommend that you go back to sleep now.”

Although there was a universal standard time, its use was restricted to interplanetary communication, traffic and trade. Each planet had its own time system based upon the speed of orbit around its sun, its tilt, its mass and the mass of its sun, the number and conditions of other planets in the system, and various other factors. Janus was no exception; its time system was set up accordingly.

One Janutian day consisted of twenty Janutian hours. Ten of those days made up a so-called period and forty periods added up to a year, which was exactly the time Janus needed to circle its center sun once. To circle its other sun, exactly forty years and five periods were needed. The time in between was “stormtime.” During these fifty Janutian days, there always happened to be disastrous hurricanes, tidal waves and earthquakes, mainly in the northern regions of Janus. The scientists were not only unable to eliminate these unprecedented phenomena, but they were not even able to explain them. They could only guess that it was a result of the gravitational force of the two suns in the double-star system. The terraforming and urbanization processes therefore had to be limited to the southern half of Janus.

Another effect of two stars was short nights in comparison to other planets. On the average, Luce gave light for twelve hours. Lavius, on the other hand, shone for ten hours. But since the suns had different positions in the Janutian sky, there were eighteen hours of often intense daylight and consequently only two hours of complete darkness. For the immigrants that came from “normal” planets, it made for an unpleasant and protracted adaptation process.

As soon as Lavius sunk beyond the horizon, Rodrigo Mendez arrived at Parliament Hill. He was just in time for the executive meeting which had been convoked for this evening. He left his hoo-cap to the valet robots at the entrance and walked into the huge hallway which was in fact a museum.

On one side of the hall, a row of various robot models had been put up, each one clearly marked with a detailed description regarding its origin, capacity and functionality. The first in the row was a replica of the very first robot made by the ancient U. S. Robots and Mechanical Men corporation, while the last one was a functioning robot of the latest kind, which also served as a guide for visitors. Since there were none, the robot stood motionless, waiting. Following the line of robots were holograms of the most famous Spacer and pre-Spacer roboticists, including Dr. Susan Calvin and Professor Fredda Leving. Subsequently, a multimedia portrayal of robotic and Spacer history finished the exhibition.

On the other side of the hall was a display concerning the history of the Settlers’ home planet and their colonies. Each of the numerous settlements was indicated by a brilliantly colored hologram of the corresponding planet. There were control panels which allowed detailed information to be obtained from each hologram. For example, maps could be superimposed on the main hologram concerning urban areas, mountain ranges, river systems, and climatic conditions. Next to each hologram, further characteristics of the planet were listed. These included diverse life forms, scientific achievements, prominent personalities, and other peculiarities of the settlement.

However, Mendez paced rapidly through the corridor without noticing the exhibits.

“Hi, Rodrigo. How are you?”

From behind, the unmistakable voice of Lassitter Allen was to be heard. Mendez stopped and turned around. “Hello, Lassitter.”

Allen closed in and they shook hands.

“What a nice evening it could be - if we didn’t have to work,” Allen said smilingly. Known mainly for his most noticeable characteristic, his unusually large nose, he also made himself known through his overall positive attitude and friendliness. In comparison to Mendez, he was shorter and also a little more corpulent. When they met, Mendez was always reminded of an old saying from Aurora that read, Thick and funny go together, in any kind of weather.

“Let’s go. We are quite late.”

They walked together down the hallway to the elevating platforms.

“Did you enjoy your weekend?” Allen asked casually.

“In fact, I did, despite my mother-in-law, who came for a visit and turned our house upside down.” Mendez stepped onto the platform. “Executives Allen and Mendez. Third level.”

When Allen joined him on the platform, it started off without any noticeable movement.

“Seems to be quite a charming person, your mother-in-law.”

“Well, don’t take me wrong. She is nice. But vivacious as well. Too vivacious. In fact, I did not have a single free moment during her stay. I didn’t sleep much either.”

The elevator stopped and they got off.

“So you simply missed work?” Allen asked with a sarcastic grin on his face.

Mendez laughed. “Well, sort of.”

Together they entered the meeting room, a square room no bigger than ten by ten meters and without any remarkable features. The opposite wall of the entrance was completely transparent and revealed a look into the parliament’s garden. A robot stood just beside in his niche.

All other Executives were present and waiting. Allen and Mendez greeted everybody and then took their seats at the round table.

“Dear colleagues,” Abraham Philemon raised his voice considerably, “First, I would like to thank you for the interesting discussion in the last meeting regarding my proposal and your general acceptance to further develop the matter. I hope today we will manage to define an appropriate arrangement. I tell you again, I fervently believe that the introduction of this statute would be an important step in establishing a functioning society on Janus. I hope you share my vision, and I propose that we now start off with the discussion.”

“Well, there we go!” Rodrigo Mendez took the word at once. Philemon was sure Mendez had contacted the other Executives to arouse opposition to the statute. To fight back accordingly would be unavoidable.

Mendez’s face revealed determination as he continued. “To say it bluntly, I anticipate some severe complications if Executive Philemon’s proposals become reality. After all, the best law - and I do not consider the commonage law as such, my friends - is useless without proper fulfillment.” He raised his finger and took a short break to underline his words. “Who shall control and lead the commonages? Who will supervise the leaders? And what about regulations? Let me tell you, my friends, that never in the history of mankind has a system like this worked out. And it has been tried countless times. It is doomed to fail!”

Philemon frowned at this new tactic of Mendez. Instead of avoiding further discussions about the theme at all, he now got into details. He would undermine it point by point. Philemon was still trying to think of a suitable reply when Maliva Bathala answered, a dark-skinned woman next to Mendez.

“Well, to find an acceptable and practical solution - that is what we are here for, are we not?” she said, “In my opinion, it is an interesting concept, well worth discussing.”

“Thank you, Executive.” Philemon glanced at the other Executives. “But Mendez is right. To clarify the matter, I propose we start off with organizational questions. Let me first explain my ideas again. As stated in the corresponding file - that was presented to all of you in the last meeting - a commonage will cover an area of ten-million square miles. As an exemption, each of the three sectors of the city will be a commonage of its own. Each commonage will then be part of a so-called province. Let us look at the holographer. It is easier to see there,” he remarked.

Philemon took some memory devices out of his file and inserted them into the holographer, which was integrated into the table. While the room darkened automatically, a three-dimensional image of Janus appeared.

“Each province is shown in a different color. Here you see Janus Metropolis.” He pointed at the colored areas in the hologram. “With this setup, we will establish eight provinces, in each of which one Executive will serve as a supervisor.”

“I guess the whole city will be a province of its own?” asked Ephraim Kunde, a casually-dressed man in his late fifties. He was sitting next to Philemon.

“That would be advisable - yes.”

“So, to rule this city-province - the main area of Janus - would be like controlling the whole planet?” Eliza O’Leary, an elderly lady with quite an amount of jewelry around her neck and fingers, asked cautiously.

“Please do not forget that the appropriate Executive will serve only as a mere supervisor. He - or she - will not have executive influence.”

“Then the real power will be with the mayor or administrator of the Janus Metropolis province. Well, this is unacceptable. This is dictatorship,” Mendez railed against Philemon’s argument.

Philemon felt a dangerous air of uncertainty in the room, and decided to respond to Mendez with his own bluntness. “Executive Mendez, excuse me, but this is ridiculous. Naturally, this committee is mayor of the city. The power will stay where it has been put.”

“Then I suggest that we start off with nine provinces,” O’Leary said. “Since the city is controlled by the whole Committee, there is no need for one Executive to serve as supervisor. Since we are eight Executives, we can each supervise our own province, but leave the ninth, this one, in collective control.”

“Good thinking!”

“Yes, I agree,” Kunde said, folding his arms in front of him.

With an ailing sound in his voice, Mendez asked, “So, who will be the commonage leaders? Who shall run them? Who shall be the local heroes?” Obviously the discussion had gone into a direction that he strongly disliked. And he thought O’Leary was on his side! He continued: “Despite the controlling functions of us Executives, I fear that these persons will have too much power and influence on the people and economies in their respective regions.”

“Right. A critical point, I must say,” Alika Learsen agreed, joining the discussion for the first time. She was a beautiful young woman with shimmering blond hair, an immaculate contour of her face, and an even more impeccable reputation among the population of Janus, at least for those citizens who were in favor of the Janus Spacer Party.

Her colleague from the Settler Foundation Party, Pamir Ceskov, joined in: “True.” He was infamous for limiting his comments to as few words as possible.

“We will have to define the rights and duties of these directors,” Learsen said, “And to specify what areas they will have competence in. They truly should not be responsible for everything.”

“In any case, their activities should cover the basic political and social functions like administration, traffic, development, finance, social security, and stuff like that,” O’Leary said. She was known as an vigorous and energetic politician. Like Philemon, she had been anxious to start a political career on Janus. On Aurora - her home planet - she had not been given the chance to do so. Women rarely made their way into politics on Aurora.

“As long as these functions will be closely controlled - er, supervised - by us, I do not see any critical problems. But what about economic affairs?” Allen asked.

“A sensitive point. Money still rules the worlds. I guess we need a detailed and complex set of laws and regulations here,” Ceskov agreed.

“Definitely.”

Philemon nodded several times. Secretly, he wondered why Mendez did not offer more resistance. His opponent could surely have found more to say about administrative details. And evidently, most of the Executives were now in favor of Philemon’s concept. Had Mendez given up?

“Well, Executives. I propose th… uh?”

All of a sudden, the lights in the room vanished, leaving everybody in the dark.

“It’s dark!”

“Hey! What’s happening?”

“I can’t see a thing.”

“What’s wrong with the lights?”

“Maybe a power failure. Robot, please examine this matter immediately!” O’Leary ordered.

There was no response or movement to be heard.

“Robot?”

“What’s going on…?”

The lights turned back on as suddenly as they had faded. Everybody squinted from the sudden change in brightness.

“How can the lights simply go off? I thought there was a security system to take care of that,” Kunde asked, somewhat to himself.

“What about the robot? Why didn’t he answer?” O’Leary stared at the robot, which still stood motionless in the corner, the same spot where he stood before.

“He must be malfunctioning,” Learsen decided. “It did not react. It still does not react. We will have to call a maintenance team.”

Allen shook his head. “Forget the robot. Let us rather get back to work. Executive Philemon, you were just about to say something. Please proceed.”

Philemon was leaning over his part of the table, staring at the document in front of him. He did not move. Kunde, who was standing to his right, slightly touched his shoulder. “Are you feeling well, Abraham?”

Due to this touch, Philemon’s head dropped on the table, just before the rest of the body lost stability and collapsed onto the floor.

“Abraham!”

Excerpt Identification File: Gordan Kresh
Filename: kresh, gordan@janus.world
Birthdate:	22-05-10568 (Standard Galactic Time)
Birthplace:	Hades / Inferno, Starsystem Anemona / SPACER
Residence:	12 Dr. Susan Calvin Boulevard
	74 WE 3874 Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
	http://uww.dionysus.com/janus/kresh.gordan.htm
	formerly:
	-	36 Helium Heights
		24 OD 9827 Hades / Inferno, Starsystem Anemona
	-	30 Banymore Street
		93 MK 8283 Hades / Inferno, Starsystem Anemona
Occupation:	Sheriff, Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
	formerly:
	-	Sheriff, Hades / Inferno, Starsystem Anemona
	-	Police Officer, Hades / Inferno, Starsystem Anemona
	-	Student, St. Paul’s University, Hades / Inferno, Starsystem Anemona
	-	Student, St. Lucia College, Pinkton / Inferno, Starsystem Anemona
Characteristics:	-	eye color: blue
	-	hair color: brown
	-	height: 1.74 meters
Family:	-	Father: Kresh, Simonis / commercial agent, Hades / Inferno, Starsystem Anemona
	-	Mother: Kresh, Cecille / architect, Hades / Inferno, Starsystem Anemona
	-	single, no further relatives

In the early morning hours, when Lavius rose from behind the horizon, the medirobot granted Gordan permission to leave the hospital. Although he still felt quite exhausted, his headache had finally vanished, and with time, he had became restless from being stuck in a small room in the hospital. The idea of having nothing to do all day long was not a pleasant one for him.

Relieved to learn about his dismissal, he needed just a few minutes to collect his things and to order a hoo-cap. When he left the building, the vehicle was already waiting for him. The door of the completely streamlined vehicle opened smoothly in front of him and he sat on the passenger’s bench in the rear, throwing his suitcase in the spacious footwell. It was a hoo-cap of Spacer origin, quite common on Inferno. Its form resembled that of a sideways raindrop, although with a slightly more pointed front. The regular size allowed four passengers. Like all transport capsules of Spacer origin, it was equipped with a robotic pilot system.

“Your destination, please?” the metallic voice of the pilot system asked as the door closed.

“Twelve, Dr. Susan Calvin Boulevard,” Gordan replied. This was the address of his new domicile, and at the time, the only thing he knew about it. The place was rented and paid for by the police department of Janus Metropolis. Gordan was curious about what would await him.

The capsule imperceptibly lifted half a meter and began moving quickly. In front of him was a global positioning system which indicated that the capsule was flying south on one of the main flyways. The speed was exactly eighty miles per hour. The estimated time of arrival was announced to be twenty-eight minutes and twenty-one seconds. Obviously, his new home was at the rim of the southern sector of Janus Metropolis. When shifting his view away from the screen, he became aware of an additional front seat.

“What is this seat for, computer?” Gordan asked.

“This feature results from a demand of the negotiators in the Committee of Integrating Affairs that were of Settler origin, sir. A statute has been passed that allows humans to operate a hover capsule by themselves. All capsules, therefore, have been converted accordingly.”

“Mmh!” Gordan decided not to give this information too much thought. He leaned back and looked through the windows of the hoo-cap at the unfamiliar scenery of the city. From what he saw, he was not impressed, but astonished. There were no high-rise buildings and only a very few distinguishing landmarks to be seen. The density of development was relatively scarce. Almost everywhere, a shimmer of lush green would meet his eye. Was this really a city with more than ten million inhabitants? He thought of the compact building measures on his home planet of Inferno and shook his head in disbelief. It resembled the building methods in the beginning stages of Spacer developments, he concluded. Inferno was so different because habitable land on the planet was so scarce.

The traffic was sparse, too, and the capsule sped up accordingly. It was only a few minutes later that the voice of the pilot system articulated once again.

“Destination reached, sir.”

The capsule suddenly stopped, and subsequently, the door opened. Gordan stepped out slowly, letting his surroundings sink in. As on the way here, there was nothing spectacular: a few buildings, extensive greenery, and ‘space.’

The building in front of him - number twelve - was a small complex, about three stories high. It was standing next to an inviting park. The building itself had no exceptional features apart from its triangular architecture in general. Gordan estimated it to enclose thirty apartments or less. The outside walls were colored in a friendly white tone with occasional breaks of bright but non-aggressive yellow. The balconies looked quite spacious.

He fetched his bags and walked toward the entrance of the building. Obviously, the computer-controlled door had been programmed to recognize him. It opened with no effort on his part. He got inside and looked for any notice indicating the way to his apartment. He did not have to search very long. A row of tiny lights on the floor pointed the way. Following them, he reached his apartment. He took some time to investigate his new home and had just started to unpack when his telecommunicator beeped. Gordan fetched it from his pocket.

“Yes? Gordan Kresh speaking.”

“Hello. This is Dorothy Rudchinson. Sorry to disturb you. The hospital told me you had already left and…”

“I was eager to leave my cell,” Gordan interrupted sarcastically.

Dorothy’s voice remained solemn. “I guess you should come over immediately.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well, there has just been a murder.”

The set-up of the CIA, the Committee of Integrating Affairs, had been a time-consuming and strenuous task. Politicians on both sides had worked on the project for decades. It had been an especially crucial assignment for the Spacers, since the progressive technologies of the Settlers severely endangered their independence in the galaxy. The Settlers had been in a dissimilar, but nevertheless challenging situation.

While some academics had warned that the continuing partition of humanity would eventually culminate in severe disputes in the future, the politicians on both sides had been alarmed by events concerning a more economic background. Despite the differences in ideology, trade between the two civilizations had flourished. Merchandise from Spacer planets had been cheap due to the robotic work involved and the range of goods had attracted consumers from the Settlers’ planets. The Spacers, on the other hand, had mostly been interested in the Settlers’ newest technological inventions.

This eager trade had become threatened when destructive organizations had evolved on several of the Settler worlds. Their univocal and fundamental belief was that the creation of robots had been the most decaying development in human history. They feared an adulteration of mankind. This tenet resulted in regular ravages against the Spacers’ trade ships at the starports of the Settler colonies. In various cases, whole ships had been destroyed. Besides the robots present on these ships, human casualties had also been reported. Consequently, the governments of the Spacer planets had demanded swift action and more security for their starships. Otherwise, they would have been forced to suspend their flights. The Settler politicians feared negative effects on their local economies and thus had proclaimed the official banishment and persecution of these anti-robot groups. Then again, some politicians secretly supported them.

Similar decrying - although not as vigorous - had been noticed on several Spacer planets. Here, organizations had formed with the ambition to strengthen the position of the robot in the galaxy. The most influential of these was the Ironhead Foundation. Eventually, these groups had become prohibited, too.

Nevertheless, the threats increased. Quite logically, it had been expected that these groups would try to stunt the integrating processes if not disrupt them totally. Consequently, the CIA had been forced to delegate many more police units to Janus than originally planned. Furthermore, immigration had been restricted to people with indisputable reputation. Even so, official reports stated evidences that various formations had managed to infiltrate the Janus society with some of their members.

The hoo-cap stopped with ease in front of the police headquarters, which was located near the starport. Gordan quickly stepped out and entered the massive but otherwise unimpressive-looking building through the main gate. The large information screen in the entrance hall indicated the sheriff’s office to be on the third floor. He faced the elevating platforms to his left.

After Rudchinson’s call, it had taken just a couple of seconds for him to order a hoo-cap and rush out of the building. A murder. Quite unbelievable. And unprecedented, too. Since the beginning of the colonization of Janus, there had not been a single murder. Gordan knew that from the official statistics. Moreover, its crime rate in comparison to other settlements was amazingly low.

Most people thought the reason for this was the massive police force on Janus. Gordan considered the low crime ratio to have originated from a combination of several additional factors. One relevant aspect aside from the immense presence of the police was undeniably the fact that the inhabitants had come from different planets. Since they were all starting a completely new life on Janus, they were much too busy arranging and organizing their own affairs. Until now, there had simply not been enough time for criminal formations to evolve.

Furthermore, space was plentiful. Each individual possessed an ample personal sphere and independence, which resulted in less social tension among people. Usual problems of urban culture thus did not occur on Janus - not yet.

Then again, Gordan judged the most important reason for the phenomenon to be that the immigrants had been carefully chosen. Despite the rather sparse enlistments, the immigrating offices had not accepted every applicant.

The platform halted. Gordan stepped off and marched across the floor. A sign indicated the sheriff’s office to be at the other end. On his way there, Gordan passed several offices occupied by some unfamiliar staff members whom he greeted anyway. When he reached his destination, he rapidly knocked on the door and entered. Rudchinson was sitting at her desk.

“Hi,” he said simply.

“Ah! Hello, Mr. Kresh. That was quite fast.” She stood up and they shook hands. She was not wearing the cap she had worn before, and Gordan secretly decided that she looked much better without it. Her previously hidden hair seemed to shimmer smoothly in the daylight.

“Please, call me Gordan.”

“You’re right. Colleagues should not be that formal. I am Dorothy.” She giggled kindly. “How are you feeling? Still got a headache?”

“Well, a little. It’s much better now.” Gordan sat on the chair next to her desk and studied the office that would be his - their - working place. But since the room offered no special details, he turned quickly to Dorothy. “Tell me what happened. You made it sound rather urgent but mysterious.”

“Exactly so.” Dorothy’s face revealed a solemn expression when she continued. “The victim is no one less than Abraham Philemon.”

“Abraham Philemon… the Executive?” Gordan noticed an abrupt sensation of disbelief.

“Yes, the Executive. He was killed during a meeting of the Executive Committee approximately two and a half hours ago.”

“During a meeting? Hell, that sounds odd.”

“It is.”

Gordan frowned. “But… how did it happen?”.

“Well, that is the strangest part of the story. The Committee was in discussion when suddenly the lights went out. By the time they came back on, Philemon was dead.”

“So it must have been somebody who was present in the room. An Executive?”

Dorothy nodded. “It may be so - we have to find out. The specialists say that Philemon was killed by an injection of a large amount of thiopental sodium - a narcotic mainly used…”

“… for medical purposes,” Gordan interrupted, “An uncle of mine was a doctor, you know.”

“I see. Well, death must have come instantly, they explained.”

“In the meantime, the device used for this deed has also been identified.”

Gordan shrugged. The voice had came from behind him. When he turned around, he saw Calvin standing motionless in his robot-niche.

“Calvin!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Ah, nothing. Just continue. And come on over here, for goodness’ sake!” He gestured the robot to join them.

Calvin maneuvered slowly towards the desk. While doing so, he continued: “As I just mentioned, we have been able to define the instrument used: a syringe, a model commonly used in the medical centers on this planet. Unfortunately, during our examinations we have not been able to implicate any suspects. I was at the scene of the crime seventeen minutes after the incident was reported to the police, but I regret to inform you that not a single piece of evidence concerning the murderer could be found.”

“Humph!”

Dorothy interrupted the robot’s explanation. “I have not been to the meeting room yet. But again, since the only ones present at the time of the murder were the other seven Executives…”

“… besides the malfunctioning robot, Madam,” Calvin added before Dorothy could finish her sentence.

“A malfunctioning robot?” Gordan asked. Another peculiarity.

“Correct, sir. Present at the scene of crime was service robot AX 35-1Z. When I addressed him to recall his memory of the incident, he was not in operational mode. As the Executives explained, he had been in this condition before: not responding to the orders given.”

“That robot is now in the Institute of Technological Intelligence for closer examination,” Dorothy said.

“My colleagues have not been able to detect any obvious reason for his defect, sir, aside from being induced by the murder,” Calvin explained.

Gordan thought he saw a short expression of annoyance in Dorothy’s eyes when Calvin interrupted her (he had done so repeatedly), but then waived the idea aside.

“So far, so good. What about the lights? Why did they go out?” Gordan asked, “Has somebody checked up on that?”

“Sure,” Dorothy answered. She took a short glance at Calvin, but this time the robot remained silent. “As detected, it only occurred in the meeting room. Nobody else in the building reported any kind of power failure. As for why the room darkened, or why it only happened in the meeting room, we are not yet certain. But our team is still investigating as we speak.”

“So, we have a corpse, a weapon, and seven possible perpetrators,” Gordan summarized.

“Correct. And since this is a highly political matter, we should be extremely careful. Nothing of this should leak until we know exactly what happened. Therefore, I advised our press department to announce that Executive Philemon died from a heart attack.”

Gordan did not find a suitable remark and looked around indecisively. “I guess we should have a look at this meeting room.”

“In fact, we were just waiting for you to ask that,” Dorothy said.

“And the other Executives - are they being observed?”

“Every one of them has his or her own observation team, and all seem to be cooperating with our efforts.”

“Perfect. Good work. Let’s go.”

THIOPENTAL SODIUM (Standard Galactic, n.) - A common name for the sodium salt of 5-ethyl-5-(1-methylbutyl)-2-thiobarbituracid, C₁₁H₁₇N₂NaO₂S , molecular weight 264.33, also known as Thiomebumalum and Thiopentone. It is a yellow-white, hygroscopic powder with an unpleasant garlic-like odor. Soluble in water and alcohol, insoluble in ethane, benzene and ligroin; the solution dissolves while standing.

Usage: medical and veterinarian-medical, as a short-term narcotic. Is supposed to have positive effects on psychoses and has been used in psychiatry to retrieve repressed complexes from the subconscious of patients. Therefore, it has also been misused for retrieving confessions.

Pharmacology: Thiopental Sodium is an injection narcotic that diffuses very quickly into the brain since it is mostly lipophil. A few seconds after injection, the patient loses consciousness. In contrast to other barbiturates, it has a relatively low therapeutical spectrum, i.e. it is easy to overdose.

Dosage: therapeutical, i.e. narcotic dosage is 2-8 mg per kg bodyweight. Lethal dosage is only 5-8 times above the narcotic one. Thus, a dosage of 100 mg per kg bodyweight is deadly. After 5-10 seconds of unconsciousness, death comes, depending on dosage, between 30 minutes and 4 hours due to a total paralysis of the breathing center. Also, heartbeat drops strongly with overdoses (negative inotrope effect).

Since the substance in larger amounts can be extremely harmful, professional care and expert handling is mandatory.

Encyclopedia Galactica

Although Calvin had already been at the scene of crime, Gordan ordered him to join their examination of the meeting room. “Maybe he could be of help,” Gordan reasoned aloud. He could hear Dorothy’s disapproving grumble, but he preferred to show no reaction. Still, he was taken by surprise. Being a Spacer, he was used to the helpful attendance of robots in investigations. He reminded himself that Settlers did not use robots and usually fled from their presence. He looked at Dorothy, who was gazing out of the window. This subject would definitely require some closer attention.

“Say, do you know anything about the meeting room?” he asked, “Maybe from an earlier occasion?”

Dorothy turned around. “No, although I’ve been to the parliament building before. They have a museum there, you know.” She shook her head. “But the official rooms of the government are heavily secured. If not for ‘business,’ they would not even us let in.”

“Does that mean it wouldn’t have been easy for someone else to sneak into the meeting room?”

“Simply impossible, I would say. There are intricate security systems and numerous guards around. The murderer must have had the right to get in there.”

“That narrows the list of suspects. What about the act itself? Was the syringe shot at Philemon from a distance?”

“There is absolutely no sign of that, sir,” Calvin answered, “From the angle and point of entry of the syringe, we can deduct that it was used by hand.”

“Okay. Are robots part of the security system, as well?” Gordan asked.

“Yes, there are several robots, sir.”

“Then I agree with your reasoning, Dorothy. A robot would not have let somebody in who did not belong there. The first two Laws would guarantee that. So the murderer must be one of the Executives.” Gordan took a deep breath before continuing. “But why did he - or she - choose that location? Because of these security features, the suspicion quite naturally falls on the remaining Executives. A murder anywhere else would have been less suspicious. Anywhere!”

“Maybe the murderer feels sure for some reason that he will not be accused,” Dorothy remarked.

“Well, maybe…”

The hoo-cap stopped right at the entrance. Together they walked inside, passing through the immense portal. Gordan was still thinking about Dorothy’s last remark, The murderer feels sure that he will not be accused. Yes, that had to be it. The murderer had to be very sure about it. Or was this explanation too simple? Was there anything they had not thought of? Maybe if…

“Come on, Gordan!”

He was suddenly pulled from his line of reasoning as he found himself in front of an elevating platform. Dorothy and Calvin were standing on it and waiting.

“Oh, sorry. I…”

Dorothy gestured him to join them and spoke their names and destination into the speaker when he had done so. The platform began to move slowly upwards.

“This is part of the museum,” Dorothy explained as she noticed him peering down the hallway.

Gordan briefly nodded.

When the platform stopped a security guard and two robots received them.

“Hello, sheriffs. I am Agent Hecuba. We have been expecting you. Please follow me.” The guard simply turned around and marched ahead before they could even utter a word. The two robots remained at the platform.

“Your crew left half an hour ago, you know,” he said without facing the sheriffs. A few steps later, he pulled a keycard out of his pocket, opened a holograph-controlled door, and waived them inside. Except for the massive table and eight comfortable looking chairs, there was not much to see. Gordan frowned.

“The technical equipment and other installations are hidden inside the walls, the ceiling, and the table, sir,” Calvin explained, as if he had read Gordan’s mind.

Gordan nodded briefly while Dorothy walked around the table towards the windows.

“An important thing to know is the seating. Who was sitting where?”

Hecuba was about to answer, but Calvin forestalled him. Pointing at the nearest seat to the window, he announced, “Executive Philemon was sitting here, right at the window. To his left is the seat of Executive Kunde, to his right Executive Ceskov’s. Next to Executive Kunde there…”

“Okay. That is enough,” Dorothy interfered, “You will draw us a schedule.”

Instead of answering, Calvin just bowed slightly, Gordan noticed.

“Anyway, the main suspects are logically the two Executives next to the victim, Kunde and Ceskov,” she continued.

“Yes, but we should not be too quick with our accusation. Agent Hecuba, could you please darken the room? I want things to be the same way as they were during the meeting.”

“Certainly; just a moment.”

The guard went over to the wall behind him and operated some controls. The shutters closed, and they found themselves in darkness. It took a few seconds of adjusting his eyes before Gordan noted some tiny lights in the ceiling.

“Were those off as well, Calvin? What did the Executives say?”

“They reported total darkness, sir. Although we do not yet know why, the room was completely void of electricity.”

“Would you turn off these lights, too, please?” Gordan asked in the direction of the guard.

“I am afraid not,” Hecuba answered, “They are part of the security system.”

“Then your security system has failed before,” Gordan said with an open trait of cynicism.

“Under the current conditions, there is enough light for me to see with an efficiency of eighty-seven percent, sir,” Calvin remarked, “Assuming the remaining lights were off as well, I estimate the rate to be reduced to around twenty-one percent… If this amazes you, every robot has infrared capabilities at his disposal.” Calvin could obviously see Dorothy’s face.

Gordan was quite sure he would not be able to see a thing. “Hmm! We still do not know why the light went off?”

“No, sir.”

“Lights, please.”

Seconds later, the contours of the room slowly reappeared.

“What do you think?” Dorothy asked.

Gordan stroked his chin. “Well, the murderer must have known exactly how to move around in this room in the dark.”

“Especially if he - or she - was at the opposite end of the table.”

Gordan looked at the table. It was at least three meters wide and elliptical. To cover the distance from some of the farther chairs to Philemon’s would certainly not have been easy in complete darkness. Dorothy was right; the main suspects were the persons next to the victim.

“The light was inoperative for forty-six seconds, sir,” Calvin said.

“Surely enough time to make the distance back and forth from the opposite end,” Dorothy remarked.

“Yes, I believe so, too. But difficult.” Gordan shook his head. “Very difficult. I will stick to the two main suspects for now.”

Dorothy agreed with a brief nod.

“But the point we are missing is that the robot would have interfered, no matter what happened. As Calvin has demonstrated, a robot is able to see clearly in complete darkness. And the robot’s niche is just two feet away from Philemon’s seat.”

“In normal operational mode, he would have been able to prevent the deed from anybody not sitting next to the victim,” Calvin explained. “But if we assume one of the neighbors to be the murderer, the robot would have been late by approximately one-point-six seconds for this neighbor, and by two-point-five seconds for this one. If we assume…”

“Either way, he would have at least moved,” Gordan interrupted, with a cutting sense of irony towards the robot.

“That is correct, sir.”

Excerpt Identification File: Dorothy Rudchinson
Filename: rudchinson.dorothy@janus.world
Birthdate:	12-12-11268 (Standard Galactic Time)
Birthplace:	Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis / SETTLER
Residence:	374 Lanning Center
	77 WE 3883 Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
	http://uww.dionysus.com/janus/rudchinson,dorothy.htm
	formerly:
	-	93 Aurora Avenue
	-	94 JF 0383 Cronus / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Occupation:	Sheriff, Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
	formerly:
	-	Senior Police Officer, Tiresias / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
	-	Student, People’s University, Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
	-	Student, St. Mary Elementary, Ares / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Characteristics:	-	eye color: brown
	-	hair color: brown
	-	height: 1.57 meters
Family:	-	Father: Rudchinson, Kenneth B. / Businessman, Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
	-	Mother: Westaff, Lucy / Hostess, Ares / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis (defunct)
	-	Brother: Rudchinson, Peter / Space Pilot, Actaeon / Aurora, Starsystem Orion
	-	single

A few hours after their inspection of the crime scene, Dorothy was back in the office. Gordan would join her later, after he had absolved the obligatory visits to the authorities and gathered furniture and equipment for his apartment. Calvin had joined him and Dorothy was relieved to have gotten rid of the robot. Not that she particularly hated robots, but she certainly did not love them.

On her home planet, Baleyworld, there were no robots at all. It was a typical Settler foundation. Nevertheless, everybody there knew - or thought they knew - about robots. Their biases resulted in a deeply negative attitude towards the Spacers’ way of life.

Dorothy remembered her childhood, when the word robot alone had meant something dirty. From youth onwards, she had been trained to foster a determined antipathy against them. Then again, she had never believed assertions from other people without checking on the subject herself. Regarding robots, she had gotten her chance towards the end of her studies at the Yake University. One of her professors, known for his unusual and sometimes disconcerting methods, had arranged a visit by a robot. While not many of her fellow students visited this particular lecture, Dorothy had been there and actually talked to the robot.

She recalled it almost perfectly: an old and ridiculously simple unit. As the questioning had shown, robots did reveal some kind of intelligence, but on the other hand, they lacked everything else that made one human: character, spirit, faith, humor, endeavors, irony, creativity, dreams; feelings of kindness, happiness, love and affection. Surely the darker aspects of human nature, such as grief, hate and violence, were missing, too. However, it was the combination of the robots’ inhuman characteristics with their more or less close resemblance with the human body that was responsible for the deeply rooted fear in the Settlers’ minds, Dorothy learned.

Today, she still felt uncomfortable in their presence, although - unlike Settlers - she had experienced robots to be safe.

Dorothy rolled in her chair to her computer. She knew that the Spacers considered it rather odd how Settlers would use neurological computers rather than robots, but she nevertheless refrained from working with robots. Since neurological computers showed the same patterns of intelligence as robots, the Spacers argued that these computers merely represented a different robotic species.

Dorothy could not quite understand their line of reasoning. Settlers did not fear artificial intelligence as was implied by their arguments. Settlers rather saw problems in the creation of perfected human beings. The computer in front of her was not an imitation human being at all. When she was done using it, she could simply switch it off. Dorothy flipped the switch to turn the machine on.

Back to the case, she thought. Seven Executives. The highest politicians; the people with the most influence on Janus. One of them a murderer? Unbelievable. What could have been the motive? More political influence? Hardly so. Something personal? Or just another case of Settlers versus Spacers?

Three women and four men. Four Spacers and three Settlers. To get to know their official files was not the problem. She would have to put in more effort to find something really interesting. Since she did not know with whom to begin, she randomly chose Pamir Ceskov - one of the main suspects.

She knew Ceskov superficially from Baleyworld. Here, he had been a politician in the Conservative Party (CPB). Curiously enough, he was in the headlines not so much for his work, but for a corruption scandal. Thereafter, he had seen his political career destroyed and therefore moved to Janus. Until now, his reputation here was indisputable.

Ceskov was single and had no children. Dorothy quickly left the official file and continued her search in the planet’s property registers. It showed that Ceskov was a prosperous man. He owned several buildings in the city and some farmland on another continent, and another check revealed that his bank accounts were quite saturated as well. She deduced from the transactions made that Ceskov was not a regular consumer. Many items of his day-to-day life were ordered via one of the big online wholesalers.

Dorothy also found his name in the member lists of two sports clubs and in the subscriber files of three magazines: the Janus News, Sports Holographed and the Weekly Mirror Politics. Much more interesting though, she noted the fact that Ceskov had acted as president of a Settler-based debate circle.

Continuing the search, she found some more information on his political career on Janus, but nothing that would have helped to characterize him more clearly. Just as she was about to turn to the next Executive, there appeared on the screen a notice of another link to Executive Ceskov. She opened the link and began reading the corresponding file, a reference to Ceskov’s home planet Baleyworld. When she finished reading, a smile appeared on her face.

She printed the file as she had done with the ones before and finally looked at the chronometer on the table. It was already six-thirty. There was no time to start off with another Executive. She had proposed to end the day with a dinner at Aerie’s Restaurant, and Gordan would be here any minute. A casual dinner would be a good chance to get to know each other. Gordan approved gladly, but his idea that Calvin should accompany them she had strictly cast aside. How could he even think of bringing a robot to a dinner? She imagined a restaurant on a Spacer planet where all the guests were attended by their personal robots. Of course, the waiters and the kitchen crew would also be of metallic origin. She went over to the music box and inserted her favorite chip. To the tunes of Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, the world immediately felt better.

The Aerie Hotel and Restaurant was the very first establishment of its kind on Janus. It was built outside the three city sectors, halfway up the Malahat Mountain Range. From here, a stunning and fascinating view on the city unfolded for the observer.

The Aerie’s grounds covered an area of five acres in a park-like setting with several ponds and walkways. Near the resort was the well-known Spectacle Lake, a paradise for all kinds of water sports, like sailing, diving, surfing and water ballooning. Furthermore, the biggest natural reserve area near Janus Metropolis, Strathcona Provincial Park, was nearby. An ecological sanctuary, the park offered its visitors unique panoramas and the possibility to study its diverse biosphere.

The Aerie Restaurant was famous for its award-winning cuisine and excellent service offered in an atmosphere of oak and brick, picturesque flower arrangements and original artworks from numerous worlds of the galaxy. The hotel area of the Aerie contained twenty-nine distinctive and spacious suites with generous furnishings, several conference facilities and a wedding chapel.

Still more prominent to the public was the hotel-owned brewery. Its specialty, Janutian Root Beer, was served exclusively in the Aerie’s Pub, a traditionally styled bar with an air of the ‘old days.’ Due to its widely honored ancestral ambiance - some concluded because of the beer - the pub was filled up to the limit nearly every evening.

Gordan returned from his journey through bureaucracy later than expected and they had to hurry to get to the Aerie in time. When they arrived, the parking lots in front of the building were already full.

“Good thing I booked a table,” Dorothy said as reaction to Gordan’s puzzled look.

“Well, in any case, it seems to be a quite frequented establishment. Should be a positive sign.”

Gordan left the hoo-cap and offered Dorothy a hand. Together they walked toward the entrance.

“And a nice place as well,” he added, when they approached the entrance.

Dorothy gave a brief smile. “Wait until you are inside. For the time being, it is the best restaurant on the whole planet. Come on, we are late. You don’t want them to give away our table, do you?”

“Certainly not! I am quite hungry.”

A huge gray sculpture of an eagle-like animal dominated the entrance hall, its surface shimmering. A sign on the wall indicated the way to the famous Eagle’s bar, obviously crowded with people due to the immense noise that originated from there. Dorothy and Gordan passed by the sculpture into the opposite direction, towards the restaurant, when out of nowhere a host showed up and accompanied them to a table on the rear end of the atrium. The table was nicely decorated with big Tambetu flowers from Aurora and offered a stunning view over the city. Since it had become dark - Lavius also had disappeared from the sky by then - the illumination of the buildings and streets below brought a special fascination.

“You were not exaggerating, Dorothy. Indeed, a very nice place,” said an impressed Gordan.

Dorothy answered with a smile saying “I told you so.” A waiter dressed in an elegant black suit brought the menus and lit the candles. They both ordered Janutian Root Beer as aperitif and went through the menus.

While Gordan flipped through the pages, Dorothy returned to her reasoning concerning Spacers. Here, at least, was a Spacer who seemed to honor atmosphere, Dorothy thought, shaking her head secretly. How unfair. Gordan was a Spacer, born and raised. She could not blame him for that. She observed him more closely while playing with her menu. Gordan was a attractive man with bright blue eyes and brown hair, unfortunately styled in Spacer fashion. He was thirty-five years old, as she had figured out from his file, not one of those old guys from administration.

“Did you find something?” Gordan asked.

It took Dorothy a while to get the meaning of his words. “Well… I guess I’ll go for the lamb,” she finally said, eagerly so as not be caught lost in thoughts.

“Oh, yes. Eh… Sorry, I meant concerning the murder.”

Dorothy frowned. Was this supposed to be a business dinner? Was this the Spacer shining through? “Yes. Yes, I did,” she said. “I checked on Executive Pamir Ceskov. You will find it in your mail.”

The waiter came back with the Janutian Root Beer. Gordan ordered lamb for Dorothy and Auroran Pasta for himself before he continued their conversation.

“I am sorry,” he said, when the waiter had left. “I won’t talk of business again. I promise. Now, may I ask you something personal?”

“Just go ahead.”

“Why did you come to Janus? Did you choose to on your own?”

Dorothy bit on her lip before she could prevent herself from doing so. “Well, yes and no. My department on Baleyworld – my home planet – had ordered me to Janus. But I could have refused.”

“You obviously did not.”

“No, I didn’t. You know, my husband and I divorced. It simply did not work out and I thought…”

Her gesture had given her away, for Gordan lifted his hands to apologize. “I am sorry. Again. I should not ask such personal things. I could…”

“It’s okay. No problem.” Dorothy made a neglecting gesture. “But as you can possibly understand, I needed a change and felt more or less delighted about the order.”

Gordan played with the napkin in front of him, folding a bizarre figure. “That’s kind of a coincidence. I was ordered here as well, you know. But in retrospect, I can not tell if I would have been able to refuse,” he said. “Anyway, I guess I also needed a change. Everything on Inferno - that is, by the way, where I come from - has been so… stuck.”

“Well, welcome to Janus then.” Dorothy lifted her glass for a toast.

“Thanks!” Gordan took a careful sip. “Mmh! Excellent!”

“This is the planet’s most valued specialty, some people say. You like it?”

“Yes, I do.”

With a smile, they lifted their glasses again. Some feet away a musician started playing Rubarian Flute and the stimulating melody forced their attention. When he started another tune, Dorothy turned back to face Gordan.

“How did you like your apartment?” she asked as to find a more innocuous subject.

“Oh, perfect. Exactly what I need.”

“Good.”

“I already ordered some furnishings today. Besides a bed and the kitchen equipment that place is empty, you know.”

“If you want to, I can give you a hand with that. I know some good addresses.”

“That would be perfect, thank you.”

“Have you been able to arrange everything else? Immigration papers, keycards, taxation office and all that stuff?”

“Yes. Although the procedure was quite disgusting, I assure you. When I… ah, there come our meals.”

After they had finished, Dorothy proposed to end the day in the pub next door. Since it was still crowded, they had to seek a while before they found a small table in the corner of the rear entrance.

“Do you have family?” Dorothy asked, after they had received another beer.

Gordan took a deep sip before he answered. “My parents died several years ago. And since I was their only child, I am for sure the last Kresh in the universe. Although there should be some far-off relative living on some Spacer world. How about you?”

“I have a brother. He lives back on Baleyworld with my parents. I see him from time to time because he is a pilot in Space Command.” Remembering her brother, she giggled slightly. “Sorry. Well, my parents are retired. Dad has been a high-ranked officer as well.”

Gordan nodded not before taking another sip. “Now here is something I would really like to know.”

“Yes?” she answered, curious what he would ask about.

“Well, you have been here a little while now and experienced how the project is developing. How would you describe the relationship between Spacers and Settlers on Janus today?”

Dorothy sighed. “Well. That is certainly not an easy question to answer.”

“Please try! I would really like to know.”

“Okay, let’s see… I would describe the relationship as having covered three different phases until now. First, both sides have been more than skeptical about each other. There were just a few points of mutual contact. Things went slowly and problems encountered had been disregarded.” Dorothy leaned back and combed her hair. “Then - after about half a year - more and more contacts evolved and some Spacers and Settlers - not all - learned to accept each other. Still, it’s only the beginning of the urbanization.”

“And the third phase?”

“Well, now we are in a phase where the domains and roles seem to have been cemented, I would say. Spacers are now doing traditional Spacer-work and Settlers the Settlers’ things. Flexibility is gone.”

Gordan frowned. “Hmm… Would you consider this a positive or negative impact?”

Dorothy shrugged her shoulders. “I am not sure about it. On the one hand, everybody knows the other’s point of view and can act accordingly. But then, there really is no flexibility. Exactly as I mentioned before, things seem to be stuck and therefore no improvement in the relationship is to be expected in the near future.”

“But as it is now, it seems to work.”

“So far - yes.”

“Well, so does the beer,” Gordan said cheerfully. “Another one for you?”

“No thank you. But what about dancing? There is a dance floor over there. And hey! They’re playing one of my favorite songs!”

Gordan shook his head smilingly. “I must warn you - I am a bad dancer.”

Several beers and various dances later, the two left the Aerie, just before it closed. Fooling and joking around, they made their way home. Dorothy was delighted because of all the fun they had. As it had played out, Gordan was a far better dancer than he had classified himself. When the hoo-cap arrived at Dorothy’s apartment, she let herself give him a brief kiss on the cheek, to perfect the day.

Excerpt Identification File: Pamir Ceskov
Filename: ceskov, pamir@janus.world
Birthdate:	26-2-11239 (Standard Galactic Time)
Birthplace:	Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis / SETTLER
Residence:	3244, West-Side-Plaza
	38 HJ 5344 Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
	http://uww.dionysus.com/janus/ceskov.pamir.htm
	formerly:
	-	68, Junction High
		39 HI 1044 Cronus / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Occupation:	Executive, Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
	formerly:
	-	Economic Consultant, Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
	-	Vice President Luxus Villa Inc., Witchika / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
	-	Director of Human Resources, Ares / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
Characteristics:	-	eye color: blue
	-	hair color: brown
	-	height: 1.73 meters
Family:	-	Father: Ceskov, Paul / Fire Rescue Squad, Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
	-	Mother: Weddington, Lilli / Housewife, Crouns / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
	-	Sister: Flanders, Cecille / Archaeologist , Ares / Baleyworld, Starsystem Nemesis
	-	single

The next morning, when both suns stood high in the Janutian sky, Gordan and Dorothy met in the police headquarters. When entering the office, Dorothy was surprised to see Gordan already behind the desk, studying a pile of sheets in front of him. Calvin operated the computer terminal.

“Hello, Gordan. You are quite early today. Did you sleep well?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you. I could have slept a few hours more, but I wanted to look into these files before we pay Executive Ceskov a visit. But since I just started, I guess I can forget about it. Anyhow, there’s more here than I expected. You must have found out quite a bit on him.” With a swinging gesture he put the files back on the staple.

Dorothy secretly wondered what he would say to her interesting discovery, but didn’t reply. It would be nice to question Ceskov about it personally. She did not want Gordan to rob that amusement from her.

“Coffee?” Gordan asked.

“Please,” she said as she went over to the window and looked at the sunny scenery.

“Calvin, two cups of coffee, please,” Gordan ordered. “And by the way, why do you not greet Mrs. Rudchinson?”

Calvin was already at the food-supplier in the other corner when he answered: “Sir, as Mrs. Rudchinson requested, I will not unnecessarily talk to her. I am only to answer direct inquiries.”

“Oh.” Gordan looked at Dorothy, who did not reply. “O.k.”

Since he did not know what to think of this request, he quickly changed the subject and maneuvered her to the chair at the desk. Dorothy let herself guide voluntarily.

“Come, take a seat. Any pain in your muscles?”

“No. Why?”

“Well, I have. Remains from dancing too long,” he said while touching his tights.

Calvin brought the coffee and then quickly retreated to the computer. That was at least how Gordan would have described his behavior.

Later on, their hoo-cap arrived at the residence of Executive Pamir Ceskov, a nice and widespread domicile in the northwestern sector of Janus Metropolis. The sunny weather converted the front lawn into a field of gleaming gold.

“He must be really wealthy,” Dorothy remarked unimpressed.

“As you have discovered in the databases,” Gordan replied. “He owns quite a few properties on Janus.”

Dorothy nodded briefly and then jumped out of the hoo-cap. Calvin and Gordan followed her closely. A lavish of warmth welcomed them.

Together they walked on the gravel path towards the main entrance. A tall man wearing an unimpressive gray suit opened the door before they got there.

“Can I help you?” he asked in a deep, not-too-friendly tone.

“Sheriff Dorothy Rudchinson and Sheriff Gordan Kresh from the Janus Police Department. We would like to talk to Executive Ceskov.”

Her opposite - shielded by dark, heavy glasses - hesitated momentarily.

“Just a second, please.”

With this, they were left alone in front of the door, which the man had carefully closed again. He eventually returned to accompany them into an elegantly decorated room with some comfortable sofas and armchairs. One of the walls was covered with shelves containing books and book-films. There was a holographer, an easy-access terminal and an antique fireplace.

Gordan and Dorothy sat down on the seats indicated and waited. Calvin remained near the door.

“Well, as I have read between the lines in your files, this Ceskov is not a very communicative person. He obviously enjoys his privacy,” Gordan said.

“Are you implying that this is a strange behavior for a politician?” Dorothy asked with a compressed laugh.

“Somehow I would assume so. Don’t the voters need somebody with a more extroverted character?”

“There are enough of those. And many of them have nothing more to offer than that character.” A man, casually dressed and wearing slippers, entered the room. Dorothy interpreted his rather slow manner of moving around and his equally slow performed gestures as showing a certain degree of arrogance, a characteristic that was supported by his high-pointing nose. Dorothy frowned slightly.

“But not all politicians require an eccentric charisma. Some citizens are actually listening to what politicians have to say. Hello, I am Pamir Ceskov.”

Dorothy and Gordan stood up and shook hands with the Executive. Ceskov glanced at the robot with unconcealed disapproval, but sat down wordlessly. He gestured the two humans to join him.

“Thank you for the reception, Executive. As you have suggested, we are here because of the murder of Executive Philemon,” Dorothy began.

“Yes. A disgusting incident,” Ceskov replied.

Dorothy tried to detect something in his facial expression, but there was nothing. At least not superficially.

“Executive Ceskov, could you please describe to us what happened in the meeting room that day?” she continued.

Ceskov sighed and leaned back in his sofa.

“Well, easy to say. The committee had been discussing a new proposal when the lights in the room went off. Before they came back on, Philemon was dead.”

“Please, Executive! That is not what I meant,” Dorothy said annoyed.

“I am sorry?” Ceskov turned towards her, lifting his left eyebrow in astonishment.

“It would be nice to give us some details, not a second-class summary.”

“A what?” Ceskov stood up and gestured at Dorothy ferociously. “Outrageous! What do you…”

Gordan interrupted him sharply. “Executive Ceskov, please. Sit down. I am sure it was not Sheriff Rudchinson’s intention to insult you. She often sounds rude without actually meaning to. And we need your cooperation in that matter in order to solve the murder of your former colleague. Something we all want to achieve, don’t we? So, please.”

Gordan waited for his diplomatic plea to work before continuing the interrogation. Eventually, Ceskov sat down.

“Thank you. Executive, what exactly happened when the lights went off?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, was there an unfamiliar sound, for example?”

“No.”

“Were the lights flickering, maybe just shortly before they went off?”

“No, not that I can remember.”

“Mmh! Okay, please tell us what happened while it was dark.”

“Nothing I can recall. Everybody was surprised,” Ceskov answered.

“Did anyone say something?”

“No. Well, somebody asked what was going on - otherwise just some astonished utterings.”

“Do you know who said so?”

“I guess it was Executive Learsen.”

“You guess.” Gordan nodded. Ceskov’s brief and vague answers were getting on his nerves. He had to dig deeper. “Okay. Anything else?”

“No.” Ceskov shook his head slowly.

“Then the lights went on again.”

“Yes.” A brief nod.

“That was how long after they had faded?”

“Well, about two minutes or so.” Ceskov crossed his legs in front of him and frowned. Obviously, he had decided that this interrogation was a waste of his time.

“That short?”

“Yes.”

“Executive, what happened next?” Gordan looked at Dorothy, who sat motionless beside him, still clearly offended by Ceskov’s remarks.

“Kunde went over to Philemon, because he did not react to his question. When he touched him, Philemon collapsed.”

“Did you notice anything else of importance?”

“Somebody called security.”

Gordan leaned forward slightly to draw the attention on him, since he could feel Dorothy’s annoyance increasing.

“Thank you Executive. I now have some more questions not directly connected to the murder. How long have you been an Executive?”

Ceskov’s confused expression revealed uncertainty about the purpose of this question.

“Two and a half years,” he said finally.

“As long as the victim, then. Had you known him before you came here?”

“We were in the same party back on Baleyworld - the CPB. So - yes, I did know him before.”

“Interesting. Philemon was a member of the government on Baleyworld, I understand.”

Ceskov nodded briefly.

“What was your position then?”

“I was consultant to the council of transport and communication,” Ceskov explained tonelessly.

“Can you tell me something about Philemon? Something personal?”

Wittingly or not - one could not say - Ceskov delayed his answer a little.

“No. We never met in private, you know.”

With this, Dorothy, who had remained in the background since her first attack on the Executive, came to life.

“You are telling us that you had a business-oriented and otherwise good relationship with Executive Philemon,” she said with a sarcastic undertone. “Isn’t it true, Executive, that you were removed from your position in the financial state department of Baleyworld because of an investigation led by Philemon concerning corruption? Could you please tell us why you are hiding this fact from us, Executive?”

Ceskov’s face turned pale while his eyes burned with anger. Gordan looked unbelievingly at Dorothy, then to Ceskov and back to Dorothy. She smiled in triumph.

Subsequently, Ceskov stood up. “I am sorry, but I have other appointments to attend to,” he said slowly.

Gordan stood up in order to end the interrogation, feeling that further questions now would lead nowhere.

“O.k. I guess that will be it for now, Executive.”

“What about the robot?” Dorothy asked from behind him.

“The robot?” Ceskov asked, annoyed.

“The robot in the meeting room.”

“It was out of order. Useless. Security took care of it,” Ceskov said uninterested. He looked at Dorothy disparagingly and therefore missed the hand that Gordan had extended toward him.

“Thank you, Executive, for your time. But we might possibly have to come again.”

“I don’t like him,” Dorothy remarked on their way back to the headquarters. “Actually, I hate him. He is a disgusting type of man.”

“He does not like you either, I suppose.” Gordan smiled. “Why did you attack him like that? And why did you not tell me about that possible motive in the first place?”

Dorothy gesticulated annoyed. “Well, I wanted to have the honor of asking him about it myself. Ah, just forget it. That was stupid.”

“So, what about that incident?”

“Ceskov had to resign from the financial state department due to fraud. He had somebody set up enterprises, receive subsidies from the government for doing so and subsequently maneuver the companies into bankruptcy.”

“Certainly a motive for Ceskov to kill Philemon then. Maybe Philemon tried to blackmail him. Honestly, what do you think?”

“Suspicious. Very suspicious. Philemon is responsible for the end of Ceskov’s career on Baleyworld. ‘Consultant to the council of transport and communication.’ That is the perfect position for someone you would want to get rid of.”

Gordan laughed. “Hey - those are important administrative functions.”

“Forget it.”

“Calvin, what is your opinion?”

“I would assume Mrs. Rudchinson’s assumption to be correct, sir,” the robot answered. He had stayed calm in the background, intensely observing the conversation. Obviously, the First Law had forced him to do so, when he had noticed Ceskov’s disagreeing gesture towards the presence of a robot. “Presuming Executive Ceskov to be the murderer, he would have had a simple motive: revenge. From what I have learned about the human character, the desire for revenge is a very intense emotion and can help determine the future behavior of a human being for a long time.”

“Well, that is human, Calvin,” Gordan said, sure that the robot could never grasp the idea of revenge. “What’s important now is that we know Ceskov could have done it. His seat in the meeting room was near Philemon’s,” Gordan concluded. “Well, I propose a double surveillance for him.”

“You are right.” Dorothy sighed.

“Say now, what about a small lunch? You look as if you could need it.”

“Fine with me.” Dorothy smiled for the first time since they had left the estate. “Our next meeting is at three. So there’s enough time.”

“You know a place to eat?”

“You bet I do.”

Excerpt Identification File: Ephraim Kunde
Filename: kunde, ephraim@janus.world
Birthdate:	19-02-11221 (Standard Galactic Time)
Birthplace:	Sapharo / Aurora, Starsystem Orion / SETTLER
Residence:	17, Earth-Place
	28 MK 5095 Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
	http://uww.dionysus.com/janus/kunde.ephraim.htm
	formerly:
	-	822, Gold Drive
		92 PQ 1867 Sapharo / Aurora, Starsystem Orion
Occupation:	Executive, Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
	formerly:
	-	Politician, Sapharo / Aurora, Starsystem Orion
	-	Student, University of Freedom, Sapharo / Aurora, Starsystem Orion
Characteristics:	-	eye color: brown
	-	hair color: black
	-	height: 1.69 meters
Family:	-	Father: Kunde, Gabriel / Priest, Sapharo / Aurora, Starsystem Orion
	-	Mother: Smuth, Daniella / Housewife, Sapharo / Aurora, Starsystem Orion (defunct)
	-	Wife: Kunde, Kamilla / Architect, Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus
	-	Son: Kunde, Steven / Student, Janus Metropolis / Janus, Starsystem Dionysus

Executive Ephraim Kunde’s premises were located in the surroundings of the parliament building. The hoo-cap arrived there exactly in time. The two suns still shone high in the sky, although not as intensely as before. Gordan, Dorothy and Calvin walked slowly on the perfectly even pavement towards the front door.

“Is it wise to take the robot with us?” Dorothy asked. “I guess you noticed Ceskov’s reaction to his presence. Kunde is a Settler as well.”

Gordan stopped to turn to Dorothy. “Calvin is a superb police unit and especially efficient in recording and analyzing conversations. And he is an official being on this planet, which has to be understood by everybody on Janus. He will be with us,” he said firmly. When he saw Dorothy’s irritated expression, he said, “But he can continue to stay quiet in the background and say nothing. Is that okay?”

Dorothy remained silent and just looked disappointed. Gordan was about to begin a debate on Settlers and robots when they reached the entrance. Dorothy pressed the doorbell and the door immediately opened.

“Ah, hello, Sheriff Rudchinson. And that must be Sheriff Kresh. I am Ephraim Kunde. Welcome.” Kunde hugged Dorothy briefly and then offered a hand towards Gordan. The man had a forcible, drenching aura, Gordan judged instinctively, an impression mainly elicited by his long, white hair that curled from his head in a disorderly fashion. Thick glasses supported the stereotypical image of an old, absent-minded professor.

“Yes. Gordan Kresh. Good day, Executive,” Gordan uttered due to Kunde’s unanticipated welcome of Dorothy.

“I know Executive Kunde from an event some months ago. He invited me for a dance then,” Dorothy explained soothingly.

“Yes, no need to be jealous - or rather, yes. Well, I did not have such fun ever since on this planet, I must say,” Kunde said cheerfully. He knocked friendly on Gordan’s shoulder. “But follow me, please. We will sit in the garden. With the sun out, it is most pleasant there.”

The difference between the two Executives could not have been more obvious, Gordan decided. In comparison to Ceskov, the verbose Executive Kunde was a vastly more sympathetic type. Kunde went ahead into the garden that was limited by a colorful wall of flowers and plants. Eventually, they took seat under an immense umbrella on a perfectly cut lawn. Calvin, however, remained near the entrance, although still in sight.

“A cool drink, maybe?” Kunde asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

Dorothy took the word first. “Executive Kunde. As indicated, we are here to ask some questions concerning the murder.”

“Yes, sure. Absolutely unbelievable, I tell you. Why Philemon? He was such a good and peaceful man.”

“He did not have enemies?”

“Enemies? No way. As I just mentioned, Philemon was a peaceful man. No, no enemies.”

“So what about rivalries?”

“Oh, well. Certainly.” Kunde made a kind of surrendering gesture. “That is the way politics work. Democracy needs different attitudes and opinions.”

“And who were his rivals then?” Dorothy asked.

“Well, naturally, the Spacers in the committee, in some respects at least.”

“Nobody from the Settler side?”

Kunde frowned and then took a deep breathe before continuing. “You know, Philemon was an influencing character. A man who was able to motivate people - including Executives - according to his beliefs…”

“Were you jealous on him?”

Kunde laughed shortly because of the question. “Oh no, Mrs. Rudchinson. I do not need that kind of charisma. I am perfectly happy with what I have.”

Dorothy answered with a smile, but Gordan thought his reaction to reveal rather the opposite: that he was indeed jealous of Philemon. Gordan could not point at it, but he felt that Kunde was distraught about this question.

“Executive, once more: What about the other Settlers in the committee?” he asked since Kunde had not answered Dorothy’s question.

“I do not know of any resentment.”

Dorothy crossed her legs when she leaned back into the shadow of the umbrella. The heat had gotten quite intense.

“Executive, have you noticed anything unusual during this meeting? Before the lights went off, I mean?”

“No, I cannot recall any irregularities. We were just discussing a new statute.”

“Concerning?”

“Concerning the establishment of commonages.” Kunde lifted his hand, a gesture that indicated an explanation would follow. “It was Philemon’s idea. He wanted the land to belong to everybody - not just to the rich immigrants.” As he spoke, Kunde pulled some papers out of a file that lied on the table and handed them to Dorothy.

“Here is a copy of the proposal. But please - this should not be broadcast to the public. Not yet.”

“Thank you. Let me assure you that it is safe with us.”

Kunde nodded briefly. Gordan leaned forward to ask another question. Kunde had begun sweating heavily and his drink was already empty.

“Was anyone against the statute?”

Kunde nodded. “Oh yes, some of the Spacers, especially Executive Mendez. He tried very hard to hamper the discussion. I do not know why exactly, but so it was.” He looked at Gordan with a solemn expression. “Do you have a suspect, Sheriff?”

“Everybody in the room is a suspect,” Gordan said, not without an accusing undertone.

“Oh…”

Dorothy hurried with the next question. “Please tell us what happened when the lights went off.”

“Well, naturally, all of us were caught by surprise. I wondered what was happening. Then I went slowly towards the windows in order to open the shutters. But before I managed to do so, the lights went back on again.”

“And then?”

“When everybody had calmed, we decided to continue with the meeting. I asked Philemon to proceed with his explanations, but he did not react. When I touched him, he collapsed on the table.” Kunde made a resigning gesture. “There was nothing to see, when I spoke to him – no blood, I mean. That is why I first thought it was a heart attack or something similar. So we called for an ambulance. It was only later that we were informed that the incident was a murder.”

While Kunde shook his head in disbelief, Gordan took a short look at Dorothy. Then he continued.

“Did you know Executive Philemon before you came to Janus?”

“No, I didn’t. Philemon is from Baleyworld; I come from Aurora, you see?”

Gordan nodded.

“All right, Executive. That will be it for now. Thank you for your time.”

“Ah, I was happy if I was of help to you.” Kunde turned to Dorothy and asked: “Maybe we can repeat our dancing someday?”

Dorothy smiled. “Maybe.”

They left with Kunde charming them all the way out. Back in the hoo-cap, Gordan asked Dorothy for her opinion.

“I really cannot believe that he would be able to commit a crime like that,” she answered solemnly. “As I said before, I knew him for a while already and…”

“Yes, why didn’t you tell me that you know him? I must have looked like an idiot,” Gordan interfered.

“… and he has always been so friendly and courteous. Not just to me, to all people he met,” Dorothy finished, ignoring his remark.

“Well, from my impressions, I would agree to you. But there was something that disturbed me.”

“What do you mean?”

“When he spoke of Philemon’s abilities, his jealousy was obvious. But in the next sentence he denied it.”

“So what?”

Instead of answering, Gordan turned towards the robot. “Thank you for not interrupting the interrogation, Calvin.”

“I was happy to fulfill your orders, sir.”

“Calvin, I guess from where you stood, you were able to see and hear everything. Tell us your impressions.”

“Certainly, sir. Executive Kunde was honestly shocked by the recalling of the murder. But he lied to you when Mrs. Rudchinson asked if he was jealous on Philemon. His body language gave him away then.”

“His body language?” Dorothy asked in bewilderment. “Now a robot is evaluating human behavior? Come on, why should he have lied to us?”

“As I told you before, I noticed this inconsistency as well and I trust Calvin in his observations,” replied Gordan.

“And you two are going to slice a motive for a murder out of that?” Dorothy asked angrily.

Gordan shrugged. “That is our job. We have to find possible motives. And we cannot just let anybody off the hook. Not if he was sitting directly beside Philemon. It would have been easy for him to commit the crime.”

Dorothy fluttered. “Believe what you want. I am sure that Kunde has nothing to do with this. Ceskov is so much more an obvious suspect. Isn’t he?”

Angrily, she throw her bag into the footwell. Gordan looked shortly to her, but said nothing. He felt as if he had insulted her best friend. Anyhow, she was obviously not in the best of moods for further conversation. For about ten minutes they drove in silence, until Calvin interrupted.

“Sir, there is a message for you on hypertext.”

“What is it?” Gordan asked.

“The Institute of Technological Intelligence has its first results from analyzing the malfunctioning robot. The scientists would like to talk with you.”

He nodded. “Okay. Bring us there.”

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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