"Then," said Baley ruefully, "everything depends on this morning's conference."
"That is very likely."
"Thank you, Giskard."
Gloomily, Baley arranged and rearranged his line of thought. It seemed hopeful to him, but he did not have any idea what Amadiro might say or what the Chairman might be like. It was Amadiro who had initiated the meeting and he must feel confident, sure of himself.
It was then that Baley remembered that once again, when he was falling asleep, with Gladia in his arms, he had seen or thought he had seen - or imagined he had seen - the meaning of all the events on Aurora. Everything had seemed clear, obvious, certain. And once more, for the third time, it was gone as though it had never been.
And with that thought, his hopes seemed to go, too.
72
Daneel led Baley into the room where breakfast was being served - it seemed more intimate than an ordinary dining room. It was small and plain, with no more in the way of furnishings than a table and two chairs and when Daneel retired, he did not move into a niche. In fact, there were no niches and, for a moment, Baley found himself alone - entirely alone - in the room.
That he was not really alone, he was certain. There would be robots on instant call. Still, it was a room for two - a no robots room - a room (Baley hesitated at the thought) for lovers.
On the table there were two stacks of pancake-like objects that did not smell like pancakes but smelled good. Two containers of what looked like melted butter (but might not be) flanked them. There was a pot of the hot drink (which Baley had tried and had not liked very much) that substituted for coffee.
Gladia walked in, dressed in rather prim fashion and with her hair glistening, as though freshly conditioned. She paused a moment, her face wearing a half-smile. "Elijah?"
Baley, caught a little by surprise at the sudden appearance, jumped to his feet, "How are you, Gladia?" He stuttered a bit.
She ignored that. She seemed cheerful, carefree. She said, "If you're worried about Daneel not being in sight, don't be. He's completely safe and he'll stay so. As for us - " She came to him, standing close, and put a hand slowly to his cheek, as once, long ago, she had done in Solaria.
She laughed lightly. "That was all I did then, Elijah. Do you remember?"
Elijah nodded silently.
"Did you sleep well, Elijah? - Sit down, dear."
He sat down. "Very well. - Thank you, Gladia." He hesitated before deciding not to return the endearment in kind.
She said, "Don't thank me. I've had my best night's sleep in weeks and I wouldn't have if I hadn't gotten out of bed after I was sure you were sleeping soundly. If, I had stayed - as I wanted to - I would have been annoying you before the night was over and you would not have gotten your rest."
He recognized the need for gallantry. "There are some things more important than r-rest, Gladia," he said, but with such formality that she laughed again.
"Poor Elijah," she said. "You're embarrassed."
The fact that she recognized that embarrassed him even more. Baley had been prepared for contrition, disgust, shame, affected indifference, tears - everything but the frankly erotic attitude she had assumed.
She said, "Well, don't suffer so. You're hungry. You hardly ate last night. Get some calories inside you and you'll feel more carnal."
Baley looked doubtfully at the pancakes that weren't.
Gladia said, "Oh! You've probably never seen these. They're Solarian delicacies. Pachinkas! I had to reprogram my chef before he could make them properly. In the first place, you have to use imported Solatian grain. It won't work with the Auroran varieties. And they're stuffed. Actually, there are a thousand stuffings you can use, but this is my favorite and I know you'll like it, too. I won't tell you what's in it, except for chestnut puree and a touch of honey, but try it and tell me what you think. You can eat it with your fingers, but be careful how you bite into It."
She picked one up, holding it daintily between the thumb and middle finger of each hand, then took a small bite, slowly, and licked at the golden, semiliquid filling that flowed out.
Baley imitated her action. The pachinka was hard to the touch and not too hot to hold. He put one end cautiously in his mouth and found it resisted biting. He put more muscle into it and the pachinka cracked and he found the contents flowing over his hands.
"The bite was too large and too forceful," said Gladia, rushing to him with a napkin. "Now lick at it. No one eats a pachinka neatly. There's no such thing. You're supposed to wallow in it. Ideally, you're supposed to eat it in the nude, then take a shower."
Baley tried a hesitant lick and his expression was clear enough.
"You like it, don't you?" said Gladia.
"It's delicious," said Baley and he bit away at, it slowly and gently. It wasn't too sweet and it seemed to soften and melt in the mouth. It scarcely required swallowing.
He ate three pachinkas and it was only shame that kept him from asking for more. He licked at his fingers without urging and eschewed the use of napkins, for he wanted none of it to be wasted on an inanimate object.
"Dip your fingers and hands in the cleanser, Elijah," and she showed him. The "melted butter" was a finger bowl, obviously.
Baley did as he was shown and then dried his hands. He sniffed at them and there was no odor whatever.
She said, "Are you embarrassed about last night, Elijah? Is that all you feel?"
What did one say? Baley wondered.
Finally, he nodded. "I'm afraid I am, Gladia. It's not all I feel, by twenty kilometers or more, but I am embarrassed. Stop and think. I'm an Earthman and you know that, but for the time being you're repressing it and 'Earthman' is only a meaningless disyllabic sound to you. Last night you were sorry for me, concerned over my problem with the storm, feeling toward me as you would toward a child, and - sympathizing with me, perhaps, out of the vulnerability produced in you by your own loss - you came to me. But that feeling will pass - I'm surprised it hasn't passed already - and then you will remember that I am an Earthman and you will feel ashamed, demeaned, and dirtied. You will hate me for what I have done for you and I don't want to be hated. - I don't want to be hated, Gladia." (If he looked as unhappy as he felt, he looked unhappy indeed.)