Foundation and Earth (6 page)

“That’s true enough,” said Trevize reluctantly, “but we’ve managed to get off the subject. I don’t care if all Gaia shares your joy, Bliss, but
I
don’t want to share it. We’re living here in close quarters and I do not wish to be forced to participate in your activities even indirectly.”

Pelorat said, “This is an argument over nothing, my dear chap. I am no more anxious than you to have your privacy violated. Nor mine, for that matter. Bliss and I will be discreet; won’t we, Bliss?”

“It will be as you wish, Pel.”

“After all,” said Pelorat, “we are quite likely to be planet-bound for considerably longer periods than we will space-borne, and on planets, the opportunities for true privacy—”

“I don’t care what you do on planets,” interrupted Trevize, “but on this ship, I am master.”

“Exactly,” said Pelorat.

“Then, with that straightened out, it is time to take off.”

“But wait.” Pelorat reached out to tug at Trevize’s sleeve. “Take off for where? You don’t know where Earth is, nor do I, nor does Bliss. Nor does your computer, for you told me long ago that it lacks any information on Earth. What do you intend doing, then? You can’t simply drift through space at random, my dear chap.”

At that, Trevize smiled with what was almost joy. For the first time since he had fallen into the grip of Gaia, he felt master of his own fate.

“I assure you,” he said, “that it is not my intention to drift, Janov. I know exactly where I am going.”

PELORAT WALKED QUIETLY INTO THE PILOT-ROOM after he had waited long moments while his small tap on the door had gone unanswered. He found Trevize looking with keen absorption at the starfield.

Pelorat said,
“Golan—” and waited.

Trevize looked up. “Janov! Sit down. —Where’s Bliss?”

“Sleeping. —We’re out in space, I see.”

“You see correctly.” Trevize was not surprised at the other’s mild surprise. In the new gravitic ships, there was simply no way of detecting takeoff. There were no inertial effects; no accelerational push; no noise; no vibration.

Possessing the capacity to insulate itself from outside gravitational fields to any degree up to total, the
Far Star
lifted from a planetary surface as though it were floating on some cosmic sea. And while it did so, the gravitational effect
within
the ship, paradoxically, remained normal.

While the ship was within the atmosphere, of course, there was no need to accelerate so that the whine and vibration of rapidly passing air would be absent. As the atmosphere was left behind, however, acceleration could take place, and at rapid rates, without affecting the passengers.

It was the ultimate in comfort and Trevize did not see how it could be improved upon until such time as human beings discovered a way of whisking through hyperspace without ships, and without concern about nearby gravitational fields that might be too intense. Right now, the
Far Star
would have to speed away from Gaia’s sun for several days before the gravitational intensity was weak enough to attempt the Jump.

“Golan, my dear fellow,” said Pelorat. “May I speak with you for a moment or two? You are not too busy?”

“Not at all busy. The computer handles everything once I instruct it properly. And sometimes it seems to guess what my instructions will be, and satisfies them almost before I can articulate them.” Trevize brushed the top of the desk lovingly.

Pelorat said, “We’ve grown very friendly, Golan, in the short time we’ve known each other, although I must admit that it scarcely seems a short time to me. So much has happened. It’s really peculiar when I stop to think of my moderately long life, that half of all the events I have experienced were squeezed into the last few months. Or so it would seem. I could almost suppose—”

Trevize held up a hand. “Janov, you’re spinning outward from your original point, I’m sure. You began by saying we’ve grown very friendly in a very short time. Yes, we have, and we still are. For that matter, you’ve known Bliss an even shorter time and have grown even friendlier.”

“That’s different, of course,” said Pelorat, clearing his throat in some embarrassment.

“Of course,” said Trevize, “but what follows from our brief but enduring friendship?”

“If, my dear fellow, we still are friends, as you’ve just said, then I must pass on to Bliss, whom, as you’ve also just said, is peculiarly dear to me.”

“I understand. And what of that?”

“I know, Golan, that you are not fond of Bliss, but for my sake, I wish—”

Trevize raised a hand. “One moment, Janov. I am not overwhelmed by Bliss, but neither is she an object of hatred to me. Actually, I have no animosity toward her at all. She’s an attractive young woman and, even if she weren’t, then, for your sake, I would be prepared to find her so. It’s
Gaia
I dislike.”

“But Bliss
is
Gaia.”

“I know, Janov. That’s what complicates things so. As long as I think of Bliss as a person, there’s no problem. If I think of her as Gaia, there is.”

“But you haven’t given Gaia a chance, Golan. —Look, old chap, let me admit something. When Bliss and I are intimate, she sometimes lets me share her mind for a minute or so. Not for more than that because she says I’m too old to adapt to it. —Oh, don’t grin, Golan, you would be too old for it, too. If an Isolate, such as you or I, were to remain part of Gaia for more than a minute or two, there might be brain damage and if it’s as much as five or ten minutes, it would be irreversible. —If you could only experience it, Golan.”

“What? Irreversible brain damage? No, thanks.”

“Golan, you’re deliberately misunderstanding me. I mean, just that small moment of union. You don’t know what you’re missing. It’s indescribable. Bliss says there’s a sense of joy. That’s like saying there’s a sense of joy when you finally drink a bit of water after you have all but died of thirst. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what it’s like. You share all the pleasures that a billion people separately experience. It isn’t a steady joy; if it were you would quickly stop feeling it. It vibrates—twinkles—has a strange pulsing rhythm that doesn’t let you go. It’s more joy—no, not more—it’s a
better
joy than you could ever experience separately. I could weep when she shuts the door on me—”

Trevize shook his head. “You are amazingly eloquent, my good friend, but you sound very much as though you’re describing pseudendorphin addiction, or that of some other drug that admits you to joy in the short term at the price of leaving you permanently in horror in the long term. Not for me! I am reluctant to sell my individuality for some brief feeling of joy.”

“I still have my individuality, Golan.”

“But for how long will you have it if you keep it up, Janov? You’ll beg for more and more of your drug until, eventually, your brain will be damaged. Janov,
you mustn’t let Bliss do this to you. —Perhaps I had better speak to her about it.”

“No! Don’t! You’re not the soul of tact, you know, and I don’t want her hurt. I assure you she takes better care of me in that respect than you can imagine. She’s more concerned with the possibility of brain damage than I am. You can be sure of that.”

“Well, then, I’ll speak to you. Janov, don’t do this anymore. You’ve lived for fifty-two years with your own kind of pleasure and joy, and your brain is adapted to withstanding that. Don’t be snapped up by a new and unusual vice. There is a price for it; if not immediately, then eventually.”

“Yes, Golan,” said Pelorat in a low voice, looking down at the tips of his shoes. Then he said, “Suppose you look at it this way. What if you were a one-celled creature—”

“I know what you’re going to say, Janov. Forget it. Bliss and I have already referred to that analogy.”

“Yes, but think a moment. Suppose we imagine single-celled organisms with a human level of consciousness and with the power of thought and imagine them faced with the possibility of becoming a multicellular organism. Would not the single-celled organisms mourn their loss of individuality, and bitterly resent their forthcoming enforced regimentation into the personality of an overall organism? And would they not be wrong? Could an individual cell even imagine the power of the human brain?”

Trevize shook his head violently. “No, Janov, it’s a false analogy. Single-celled organisms
don’t
have consciousness or any power of thought—or if they do it is so infinitesimal it might as well be considered zero. For such objects to combine and lose individuality is to lose something they have never really had. A human being, however,
is
conscious and
does
have the power of thought. He has an actual consciousness and an actual independent intelligence to lose, so the analogy fails.”

There was silence between the two of them for a moment; an almost oppressive silence; and finally Pelorat, attempting to wrench the conversation in a new direction, said, “Why do you stare at the viewscreen?”

“Habit,” said Trevize, smiling wryly. “The computer tells me that there are no Gaian ships following me and that there are no Sayshellian fleets coming to meet me. Still I look anxiously, comforted by my own failure to see such ships, when the computer’s sensors are hundreds of times keener and more piercing than my eyes. What’s more, the computer is capable of sensing some properties of space very delicately, properties that my senses can’t perceive under any conditions. —Knowing all that, I still stare.”

Pelorat said, “Golan, if we are indeed friends—”

“I promise you I will do nothing to grieve Bliss; at least, nothing I can help.”

“It’s another matter now. You keep your destination from me, as though you don’t trust me with it. Where are we going? Are you of the opinion you know where Earth is?”

Trevize looked up, eyebrows lifted. “I’m sorry. I have been hugging the secret to my own bosom, haven’t I?”

“Yes, but why?”

Trevize said, “Why, indeed. I wonder, my friend, if it isn’t a matter of Bliss.”

“Bliss? Is it that you don’t want
her
to know. Really, old fellow, she is
completely
to be trusted.”

“It’s not that. What’s the use of not trusting her? I suspect she can tweak any secret out of my mind if she wishes to. I think I have a more childish reason than that. I have the feeling that you are paying attention only to her and that I no longer really exist.”

Pelorat looked horrified. “But that’s not true, Golan.”

“I know, but I’m trying to analyze my own feelings. You came to me just now with fears for our friendship,
and thinking about it, I feel as though I’ve had the same fears. I haven’t openly admitted it to myself, but I think I have felt cut out by Bliss. Perhaps I seek to ‘get even’ by petulantly keeping things from you. Childish, I suppose.”

“Golan!”

“I said it was childish, didn’t I? But where is the person who isn’t childish now and then? However, we
are
friends. We’ve settled that and therefore I will play no further games. We’re going to Comporellon.”

“Comporellon?” said Pelorat, for the moment not remembering.

“Surely you recall my friend, the traitor, Munn Li Compor. We three met on Sayshell.”

Pelorat’s face assumed a visible expression of enlightenment. “Of course I remember. Comporellon was the world of his ancestors.”

“
If
it was. I don’t necessarily believe anything Compor said. But Comporellon is a known world, and Compor said that its inhabitants knew of Earth. Well, then, we’ll go there and find out. It may lead to nothing but it’s the only starting point we have.”

Pelorat cleared his throat and looked dubious. “Oh, my dear fellow, are you sure?”

“There’s nothing about which to be either sure or not sure. We have one starting point and, however feeble it might be, we have no choice but to follow it up.”

“Yes, but if we’re doing it on the basis of what Compor told us, then perhaps we ought to consider
everything
he told us. I seem to remember that he told us, most emphatically, that Earth did not exist as a living planet—that its surface was radioactive and that it was utterly lifeless. And if that is so, then we are going to Comporellon for nothing.”

THE THREE WERE LUNCHING IN THE DINING ROOM, virtually filling it as they did so.

“This is very good,” said Pelorat, with considerable satisfaction. “Is this part of our original Terminus supply?”

“No, not at all,” said Trevize. “That’s long gone. This is part of the supplies we bought on Sayshell, before we headed out toward Gaia. Unusual, isn’t it? Some sort of seafood, but rather crunchy. As for this stuff—I was under the impression it was cabbage when I bought it, but it doesn’t taste anything like it.”

Bliss listened but said nothing. She picked at the food on her own plate gingerly.

Pelorat said gently, “You’ve got to eat, dear.”

“I know, Pel, and I’m eating.”

Trevize said, with a touch of impatience he couldn’t quite suppress, “We do have Gaian food, Bliss.”

“I know,” said Bliss, “but I would rather conserve that. We don’t know how long we will be out in space and eventually I must learn to eat Isolate food.”

“Is that so bad? Or must Gaia eat only Gaia.”

Bliss sighed. “Actually, there’s a saying of ours that goes: ‘When Gaia eats Gaia, there is neither loss nor gain.’ It is no more than a transfer of consciousness up and down the scale. Whatever I eat on Gaia
is
Gaia and when much of it is metabolized and becomes me, it is
still
Gaia. In fact, by the fact that I eat, some of what I eat has a chance to participate in a higher intensity of consciousness, while, of course, other portions of it are turned into waste of one sort or another and therefore sink in the scale of consciousness.”

She took a firm bite of her food, chewed vigorously for a moment, swallowed, and said, “It represents a vast circulation. Plants grow and are eaten by animals. Animals eat and are eaten. Any organism that dies is incorporated into the cells of molds, decay bacteria, and so on—still Gaia. In this vast circulation of
consciousness, even inorganic matter participates, and everything in the circulation has its chance of periodically participating in a high intensity of consciousness.”