Robots and Empire

the title of the book i'm reading now. it's by Isaac Asimov.

i never thought that an Asimov book will make me tear, to bring that lump of grief rising in the throat. but the chapter that i just read did.

the chapter that i just read was about this person, Elijah, whose wish before he died was to see the one sentient being that mattered most to him, a robot, R. Daneel Olivaw. he wanted to do it because he had to assure Daneel that there was nothing Daneel could do to prevent his death. this is necessary because of the Three Laws of Robotics. and even then, Daneel was greatly affected by his own inability to prevent the death of Elijah, not only because he was human, but also because he was the only human to have treated Daneel as a human and also because Elijah was a friend.

Elijah used the following in his attempt to convince Daneel that the death of his physical body is inconsequential:

"My death, Daneel is not important. No individual death among human beings is important. Someone who dies leaves his work behind, and that does not entirely die. It never entirely dies as long as humanity exists. The work of each individual contributes to a totality, and so becomes an undying part of the totality. That totality of human lives, past and present - and to come - forms a tapestry that has been in existence now for many tens of thousands of years and has been growing more elaborate, and on the whole, more beautiful in all that time. An individual life is one thread in the tapestry and what is one thread compared to the whole?"

which was my point of Tsal Nam's Story (perhaps a self-critique of my own work sometime later...). what is one life compared to all of humanity?

another bit that i loved of the book, a speech by Gladia, who is 235 years old, addressing a group of humans who can never aspire to reach even half her age:

" 'Measure the length of life by events and deeds, accomplishments and excitements, and I am a child, younger than any of you. The large number of my years have served merely to bore and weary me; the smaller number of yours to enrich and excite you. So tell me again, Madam Lambid, how old are you?'

Lambid smiled, 'Fifty-four good years, Madam Gladia.' "

is a life wasted better than a noble death?

back to the book.