Foundation and Earth - Isaac Asimov [106]
“And robots?”
“Robots are manufactured here and there. Throughout history, Solaria has led all the Galaxy in the cleverness and subtlety of robot design.”
“Today also, I imagine,” said Trevize, carefully having the intonation make the remark a statement and not a question.
Bander said, “Today? With whom is there to compete today? Only Solaria makes robots nowadays. Your worlds do not, if I interpret what I hear on the hyperwave correctly.”
“But the other Spacer worlds?”
“I told you. They no longer exist.”
“At all?”
“I don’t think there is a Spacer alive anywhere but on Solaria.”
“Then is there no one who knows the location of Earth?”
“Why would anyone want to know the location of Earth?”
Pelorat broke in, “I want to know. It’s my field of study.”
“Then,” said Bander, “you will have to study something else. I know nothing about the location of Earth, nor have I heard of anyone who ever did, nor do I care a sliver of robot-metal about the matter.”
The car came to a halt, and, for a moment, Trevize thought that Bander was offended. The halt was a smooth one, however, and Bander, getting out of the car, looked its usual amused self as it motioned the others to get out also.
The lighting in the room they entered was subdued, even after Bander had brightened it with a gesture. It opened into a side corridor, on both sides of which were smaller rooms. In each one of the smaller rooms was one or two ornate vases, sometimes flanked by objects that might have been film projectors.
“What is all this, Bander?” asked Trevize.
Bander said, “The ancestral death chambers, Trevize.”
50.
PELORAT LOOKED ABOUT WITH INTEREST. “I SUPPOSE you have the ashes of your ancestors interred here?”
“If you mean by ‘interred,’ ” said Bander, “buried in the ground, you are not quite right. We may be underground, but this is my mansion, and the ashes are in it, as we are right now. In our own language we say that the ashes are ‘inhoused.’ ” It hesitated, then said, “ ‘House’ is an archaic word for ‘mansion.’ ”
Trevize looked about him perfunctorily. “And these are all your ancestors? How many?”
“Nearly a hundred,” said Bander, making no effort to hide the pride in its voice. “Ninety-four, to be exact. Of course, the earliest are not true Solarians—not in the present sense of the word. They were half-people, masculine and feminine. Such half-ancestors were placed in adjoining urns by their immediate descendants. I don’t go into those rooms, of course. It’s rather ‘shamiferous.’ At least, that’s the Solarian word for it; but I don’t know your Galactic equivalent. You may not have one.”
“And the films?” asked Bliss. “I take it those are film projectors?”
“Diaries,” said Bander, “the history of their lives. Scenes of themselves in their favorite parts of the estate. It means they do not die in every sense. Part of them remains, and it is part of my freedom that I can join them whenever I choose; I can watch this bit of film or that, as I please.”
“But not into the—shamiferous ones.”
Bander’s eyes slithered away. “No,” it admitted, “but then we all have that as part of the ancestry. It is a common wretchedness.”
“Common? Then other Solarians also have these death chambers?” asked Trevize.
“Oh yes, we all do, but mine is the best, the most elaborate, the most perfectly preserved.”
Trevize said, “Do you have your own death chamber already prepared?”
“Certainly. It is completely constructed and appointed. That was done as my first duty when I inherited the estate. And when I am laid to ash—to be poetic—my successor will go about the construction of its own as its first duty.”
“And do you have a successor?”
“I will have when the time comes. There is as yet ample scope for life. When I must leave, there will be an adult successor, ripe enough to enjoy the estate, and well lobed for power-transduction.”
“It will be your offspring, I imagine.”
“Oh yes.”
“But what if,” said Trevize, “something untoward takes place? I presume accidents and misfortunes take place