The Naked Sun by Isaac Asimov Page A

whispered, “Do you mind if I have myself a drink?”
    “Please do.”
    Gladia’s hand slipped along the arm of her chair momentarily. In less than a minute, a robot moved in silently and a warm drink (Baley could see the steam) was in her hand. She sipped slowly, then set the drink down.
    She said, “That’s better. May I ask a personal question?”
    Baley said, “You may always ask.”
    “Well, I’ve read a lot about Earth. I’ve always been interested, you know. It’s such a
queer
world.” She gasped and added immediately, “I didn’t mean that.”
    Baley frowned a little. “Any world is queer to people who don’t live on it.”
    “I mean it’s different. You know. Anyway, I want to ask a rude question. At least, I hope it doesn’t seem rude to an Earthman. I wouldn’t ask it of a Solarian, of course. Not for anything.”
    “Ask what, Gladia?”
    “About you and your friend—Mr. Olivaw, is it?”
    “Yes.”
    “You two aren’t viewing, are you?”
    “How do you mean?”
    “I mean each other. You’re seeing. You’re there, both of you.”
    Baley said, “We’re physically together. Yes.”
    “You could touch him, if you wanted to.”
    “That’s right.”
    She looked from one to the other and said, “Oh.”
    It might have meant anything. Disgust? Revulsion?
    Baley toyed with the idea of standing up, walking to Daneel and placing his hand flat on Daneel’s face. It might be interesting to watch her reaction.
    He said, “You were about to go on with the events of that day when your husband came to see you.” He was morally certain that her digression, however interesting it might have been intrinsically to her, was primarily motivated by a desire to avoid just that.
    She returned to her drink for a moment. Then: “There isn’t much to tell. I saw he would be engaged,and I knew he would be, anyway, because he was always at some sort of constructive work, so I went back to my own work. Then, perhaps fifteen minutes later, I heard a shout.”
    There was a pause and Baley prodded her. “What kind of a shout?”
    She said, “Rikaine’s. My husband’s. Just a shout. No words. A kind of fright. No! Surprise, shock. Something like that. I’d never heard him shout before.”
    She raised her hands to her ears as though to shut out even the memory of the sound and her wrapper slipped slowly down to her waist. She took no notice and Baley stared firmly at his notebook.
    He said, “What did you do?”
    “I ran. I ran. I didn’t know where he was——”
    “I thought you said he had gone to the laboratory he maintained in your quarters.”
    “He did, E-Elijah, but
I
didn’t know where that was. Not for sure, anyway. I never went there. It was his. I had a general idea of its direction. I knew it was somewhere in the west, but I was so upset, I didn’t even think to summon any robot. One of them would have guided me easily, but of course none came without being summoned. When I did get there—I found it somehow—he was dead.”
    She stopped suddenly and, to Baley’s acute discomfort, she bent her head and wept. She made no attempt to obscure her face. Her eyes simply closed and tears slowly trickled down her cheeks. It was quite soundless. Her shoulders barely trembled.
    Then her eyes opened and looked at him through swimming tears. “I never saw a dead man before. He was all bloody and his head was—just—all—I managed to get a robot and he called others and I supposethey took care of me and of Rikaine. I don’t remember. I don’t——”
    Baley said, “What do you mean, they took care of Rikaine?”
    “They took him away and cleaned up.” There was a small wedge of indignation in her voice, the lady of the house careful of its condition. “Things were a mess.”
    “And what happened to the body?”
    She shook her head. “I don’t know. Burned, I suppose. Like any dead body.”
    “You didn’t call the police?”
    She looked at him blankly and Baley thought: No police!
    He