Foundation and Earth - Isaac Asimov [196]
“And now I am here,” said Trevize. “What is it you want of me? To confirm my decision in favor of Galaxia?”
Daneel’s face, always expressionless, somehow managed to seem despairing. “No, sir. The mere decision is no longer enough. I brought you here, as best I could in my present condition, for something far more desperate. I am dying.”
102.
PERHAPS IT WAS BECAUSE OF THE MATTER-OF-FACT way in which Daneel said it; or perhaps because a lifetime of twenty thousand years made death seem no tragedy to one doomed to live less than half a percent of that period; but, in any case, Trevize felt no stir of sympathy.
“Die? Can a machine die?”
“I can cease to exist, sir. Call it by whatever word you wish. I am old. Not one sentient being in the Galaxy that was alive when I was first given consciousness is still alive today; nothing organic; nothing robotic. Even I myself lack continuity.”
“In what way?”
“There is no physical part of my body, sir, that has escaped replacement, not only once but many times. Even my positronic brain has been replaced on five different occasions. Each time the contents of my earlier brain were etched into the newer one to the last positron. Each time, the new brain had a greater capacity and complexity than the old, so that there was room for more memories, and for faster decision and action. But—”
“But?”
“The more advanced and complex the brain, the more unstable it is, and the more quickly it deteriorates. My present brain is a hundred thousand times as sensitive as my first, and has ten million times the capacity; but whereas my first brain endured for over ten thousand years, the present one is but six hundred years old and is unmistakably senescent. With every memory of twenty thousand years perfectly recorded and with a perfect recall mechanism in place, the brain is filled. There is a rapidly declining ability to reach decisions; an even more rapidly declining ability to test and influence minds at hyperspatial distances. Nor can I design a sixth brain. Further miniaturization will run against the blank wall of the uncertainty principle, and further complexity will but assure decay almost at once.”
Pelorat seemed desperately troubled. “But surely, Daneel, Gaia can carry on without you. Now that Trevize has judged and selected Galaxia—”
“The process simply took too long, sir,” said Daneel, as always betraying no emotion. “I had to wait for Gaia to be fully established, despite the unanticipated difficulties that arose. By the time a human being—Mr. Trevize—was located who was capable of making the key decision, it was too late. Do not think, however, that I took no measure to lengthen my life span. Little by little I have reduced my activities, in order to conserve what I could for emergencies. When I could no longer rely on active measures to preserve the isolation of the Earth/moon system, I adopted passive ones. Over a period of years, the humaniform robots that have been working with me have been, one by one, called home. Their last tasks have been to remove all references to Earth in the planetary archives. And without myself and my fellow-robots in full play, Gaia will lack the essential tools to carry through the development of Galaxia in less than an inordinate period of time.”
“And you knew all this,” said Trevize, “when I made my decision?”
“A substantial time before, sir,” said Daneel. “Gaia, of course, did not know.”
“But then,” said Trevize angrily, “what was the use of carrying through the charade? What good has it been? Ever since my decision, I have scoured the Galaxy, searching for Earth and what I thought of as its ‘secret’—not knowing the secret was you—in order that I might confirm the decision. Well, I have confirmed it. I know now that Galaxia is absolutely essential—and it appears to be all for nothing. Why could you not have left the Galaxy to itself—and me to myself?”
Daneel said, “Because, sir, I have been searching for a way out, and I have been carrying on in the hope that I might find one. I think I have. Instead