Espaciópolis: Unraveling a Spacian Crime

Espaciópolis: A City of Contrasts

We gazed upon Espaciópolis. Baley looked toward the west, but it was as the Commissioner had said: the horizon was closed. The towers of New York faded into the fog.

"I know how Espaciópolis feels," Baley muttered.

"I like your view from here," the Commissioner replied. "You can glimpse into the opening formed by the two sectors, Brunswick, under the vaults. That's the fundamental difference between us and the Spacians. We rise and agglomerate. Instead, each of them has a dome for himself. A family, a house. And land between each dome. Have you ever spoken with a Spacian, Sand?"

Cultural Divides and Urban Living

"Sometimes. About a month ago, I talked to one here at your intercom," Baley replied patiently.

"Yes, I remember. But come, I'm getting philosophical. Us and them. There are various ways of life."

Baley felt a cramping in his gut. As the Commissioner employed more circumlocutions, he imagined a more deadly conclusion.

He suggested, "Okay, but what is surprising about that? It's impossible to place eight billion people on Earth in small domes. The Spacians have much greater extent in their worlds; let them live their own way."

The Commissioner sat back in his chair, looked at Baley without blinking, and said, "Not everyone is so tolerant of cultural differences. Not between us, nor between Spacians."

The Unsettling Revelation

"Well?" Baley prompted.

"Three days ago, a Spacian died."

The corners of Baley's thin lips lifted slightly, but the effect on his long, sad face was imperceptible. He said, "I'm sorry. From something contagious, I guess. Something virulent. Perhaps some cold."

Suddenly, the Commissioner appeared startled.

"What are you talking about? The precision with which the Spacians had banished all sorts of diseases from their societies was well known." However, the Commissioner failed to grasp the sarcasm.

A Shocking Homicide

"Tell me. What did he die from?" Baley asked.

"Someone shot him with a blaster. In the chest. He flew."

Baley stiffened. Without turning around, he exclaimed, "What are you saying?"

"I'm telling you about a murder. You're a detective, and you know what murder is."

"But a Spacian! And three days ago?"

"Yes."