Her face twisted. "Don't say that."
"It's true."
She said rapidly, as though forced to change the subject, "It's all true about Jothan Leebig, you know."
"I know. Other roboticists went over his records and found experiments toward unmanned intelligent spaceships. They also found other robots with replaceable limbs."
Gladia shuddered, "Why did he do such a horrible thing, do you suppose?"
"He was afraid of people. He killed himself to avoid personal presence and he was ready to kill other worlds to make sure that Solaria and its personal - presence taboo would never be touched."
"How could he feel so," she murmured, "when personal presence can be so very - "
Again a silent moment while they faced each other at ten paces. Then Gladia cried suddenly, "Oh, Elijah, you'll think it abandoned of me."
"Think what abandoned?"
"May I touch you? I'll never see you again, Elijah."
"If you want to."
Step by step, she came closer, her eyes glowing, yet looking apprehensive, too. She stopped three feet away, then slowly, as though in a trance, she began to remove the glove on her right hand.
Baley started a restraining gesture. "Don't be foolish, Gladia."
"I'm not afraid," said Gladia.
Her hand was bare. It trembled as she extended it.
And so did Baley's as he took her hand in his. They remained so for one moment, her hand a shy thing, frightened as it rested in his. He opened his hand and hers escaped, darted suddenly and without warning toward his face until her fingertips rested feather-light upon his cheek for the barest moment.
She said, "Thank you, Elijah. Good-by."
He said, "Good-by, Gladia," and watched her leave.
Even the thought that a ship was waiting to take him back to Earth did not wipe out the sense of loss he felt at that moment.
Undersecretary Albert Minnim's look was intended to be one of prim welcome. "I am glad to see you back on Earth. Your report, of course, arrived before you did and is being studied. You did a good job. The matter will look well in your record."
"Thank you," said Baley. There was no room for further elation in him. Being back on Earth; being safe in the Caves; being in hearing of Jessie's voice (he had spoken to her already) had left him strangely empty.
"However," said Minnim, "your report concerned only the murder investigation. There was another matter we were interested in. May I have a report on that, verbally?"
Baley hesitated and his hand moved automatically toward the inner pocket where the warm comfort of his pipe could once more be found.
Minnim said at once, "You may smoke, Baley."
Baley made of the lighting process a rather drawn-out ritual. He said, "I am not a sociologist."
"Aren't you?" Minnim smiled briefly. "It seems to me we discussed that once. A successful detective must be a good rule-of-thumb sociologist even if he never heard of Hackeu!s Equation. I think, from your discomfort at the moment, that you have notions concerning the Outer Worlds but aren't sure how it will sound to me?"
"If you put it that way, sir... When you ordered me to Solaria, you asked a question; you asked what the weaknesses of the Outer Worlds were. Their strengths were their robots, their low population, their long lives, but what were their weaknesses?"
"Well?"
"I believe I know the weaknesses of the Solarians, sir."
"You can answer my question? Good. Go ahead."
"Their weaknesses, sir, are their robots, their low population, their long lives."
Minnim stared at Baley without any change of expression. His hands worked in jerky finger-drawn designs along the papers on his desk.
He said, "Why do you say that?"
Baley had spent hours organizing his thoughts on the way back from Solaria; had confronted officialdom, in imagination, with balanced, well-reasoned arguments. Now he felt at a loss.
He said, "I'm not sure I can put them clearly."
"No matter. Let me hear. This is first approximation only."
Baley said, "The Solarians have given up something mankind has had for a million years; something worth more than atomic power, cities, agriculture, tools, fire, everything; because it's something that made everything else possible."
"I don't want to guess, Baley. What is it?"
"The tribe, sir. Cooperation between individuals. Solaria has given it' up entirely. It is a world of isolated individuals and the planet's only sociologist is delighted that this is so. That sociologist, by the way, never heard of sociomathematics, because he is inventing his own science. There is no one to teach him, no one to help him, no one to think of something he himself might miss. The only science that really flourishes on Solaria is robotics and there are only a handful of men involved in that, and when it came to an analysis of the interaction of robots and men, they had to call in an Earthman to help.
"Solarian art, sir, is abstract. We have abstract art on Earth as one form of art; but on Solaria it is the only form. The human touch is gone. The looked-for future is one of ectogenesis and complete isolation from birth."
Minnim said, "It all sounds horrible. But is it harmful?"
"I think so. Without the interplay of human against human, the chief interest in life is gone; most of the intellectual values are gone; most of the reason for living is gone. Viewing is no substitute for seeing. The Solarians, themselves, are conscious that viewing is a long-distance sense.
"And if isolation isn't enough to induce stagnation, there is the matter of their long lives. On Earth, we have a continuous influx of young people who are willing to change because they haven't had time to grow hard-set in their ways. I suppose there's some optimum. A life long enough for real accomplishment and short enough to make way for youth at a rate that's not too slow. On Solaria, the rate is too slow."