Prelude to Foundation (34 page)

Dors said, “ ‘Recently constructed,’ so they must change views.”

“Unless they’ve been saying ‘recently constructed’ for the last thousand years.”

Another Mycogenian stepped into the sound pattern of the scene and said in a low voice, though not as low as the whisperings of Seldon and Dors, “Greetings, Brothers.”

He did not look at Seldon and Dors as he spoke and after one involuntary and startled glance, Seldon kept his head averted. Dors had ignored it all.

Seldon hesitated. Mycelium Seventy-Two had said that there was no talking in the Sacratorium. Perhaps he had exaggerated. Then too he had not been in the Sacratorium since he was a child.

Desperately, Seldon decided he must speak. He said in a whisper, “And to you, Brother, greetings.”

He had no idea whether that was the correct formula of reply or if there was a formula, but the Mycogenian seemed to find nothing amiss in it.

“To you in Aurora,” he said.

“And to you,” said Seldon and because it seemed to him that the other expected more, he added, “in Aurora,” and there was an impalpable release of tension. Seldon felt his forehead growing moist.

The Mycogenian said, “Beautiful! I haven’t seen this before.”

“Skillfully done,” said Seldon. Then, in a burst of daring, he added, “A loss never to be forgotten.”

The other seemed startled, then said, “Indeed, indeed,” and moved away.

Dors hissed, “Take no chances. Don’t say what you don’t have to.”

“It seemed natural. Anyway, this
is
recent. But
those are disappointing robots. They are what I would expect automata to be. I want to see the organic ones—the humanoids.”

“If they existed,” said Dors with some hesitation, “it seems to me they wouldn’t be used for gardening jobs.”

“True,” said Seldon. “We must find the Elders’ aerie.”

“If
that
exists. It seems to me there is nothing in this hollow cave but a hollow cave.”

“Let’s look.”

They paced along the wall, passing from screen to screen, trying to wait at each for irregular intervals until Dors clutched Seldon’s arms. Between two screens were lines marking out a faint rectangle.

“A door,” Dors said. Then she weakened the assertion by adding, “Do you think?”

Seldon looked about surreptitiously. It was in the highest degree convenient that, in keeping with the mourning atmosphere, every face, when not fixed on a television monitor, was bent in sad concentration on the floor.

Seldon said, “How do you suppose it would open?”

“An entrance patch.”

“I can’t make out any.”

“It’s just not marked out, but there’s a slight discoloration there. Do you see it? How many palms? How many times?”

“I’ll try. Keep an eye out and kick me if anyone looks in this direction.”

He held his breath casually, touched the discolored spot to no avail, and then placed his palm full upon it and pressed.

The door opened silently—not a creak, not a scrape. Seldon stepped through as rapidly as he could and Dors followed him. The door closed behind them.

“The question is,” said Dors, “did anyone see us?”

Seldon said, “Elders must go through this door frequently.”

“Yes, but will anyone think we are Elders?”

Seldon waited, then said, “If we were observed and
if anyone thought something was wrong, this door would have been flung open again within fifteen seconds of our entering.”

“Possibly,” said Dors dryly, “or possibly there is nothing to be seen or done on this side of the door and no one cares if we enter.”

“That remains to be seen,” muttered Seldon.

The rather narrow room they had entered was somewhat dark, but as they stepped farther into it, the light brightened.

There were chairs, wide and comfortable, small tables, several davenports, a deep and tall refrigerator, cupboards.

“If this is the Elders’ aerie,” said Seldon, “the Elders seem to do themselves comfortably, despite the austerity of the Sacratorium itself.”

“As would be expected,” said Dors. “Asceticism among a ruling class—except for public show—is very rare. Put that down in your notebook for psychohistorical aphorisms.” She looked about. “And there is no robot.”

Seldon said, “An aerie is a high position, remember, and this ceiling is not. There must be upper storeys and that must be the way.” He pointed to a well-carpeted stairway.

He did not advance toward it, however, but looked about vaguely.

Dors guessed what he was seeking. She said, “Forget about elevators. There’s a cult of primitivism in Mycogen. Surely, you haven’t forgotten that, have you? There would be no elevators and, what’s more, if we place our weight at the foot of the stairs, I am quite certain it will
not
begin moving upward. We’re going to have to climb it. Several flights, perhaps.”

“
Climb
it?”

“It must, in the nature of things, lead to the aerie—if it leads anywhere. Do you want to see the aerie or don’t you?”

Together they stepped toward the staircase and began the climb.

They went up three flights and, as they did, the light level decreased perceptibly and in steady increments. Seldon took a deep breath and whispered, “I consider myself to be in pretty good shape, but I hate this.”

“You’re not used to this precise type of physical exertion.” She showed no signs of physical distress whatever.

At the top of the third flight the stairs ended and before them was another door.

“And if it’s locked?” said Seldon, more to himself than to Dors. “Do we try to break it down?”

But Dors said, “Why should it be locked when the lower door was not? If this is the Elders’ aerie, I imagine there’s a taboo on anyone but Elders coming here and a taboo is much stronger than any lock.”

“As far as those who accept the taboo are concerned,” said Seldon, but he made no move toward the door.

“There’s still time to turn back, since you hesitate,” said Dors. “In fact, I would advise you to turn back.”

“I only hesitate because I don’t know what we’ll find inside. If it’s empty—”

And then he added in a rather louder voice, “Then it’s empty,” and he strode forward and pushed against the entry panel.

The door retracted with silent speed and Seldon took a step back at the surprising flood of light from within.

And there, facing him, eyes alive with light, arms half-upraised, one foot slightly advanced before the other, gleaming with a faintly yellow metallic shine, was a human figure. For a few moments, it seemed to be wearing a tight-fitting tunic, but on closer inspection it became apparent that the tunic was part of the structure of the object.

“It’s the robot,” said Seldon in awe, “but it’s metallic.”

“Worse than that,” said Dors, who had stepped quickly to one side and then to the other. “Its eyes don’t follow me. Its arms don’t as much as tremble. It’s not alive—if one can speak of robots as being alive.”

And a man—unmistakably a man—stepped out from behind the robot and said, “Perhaps not. But I am alive.”

And almost automatically, Dors stepped forward and took her place between Seldon and the man who had suddenly appeared.

Seldon pushed Dors to one side, perhaps a shade more roughly than he intended. “I don’t need protection. This is our old friend Sunmaster Fourteen.”

The man who faced them, wearing a double sash that was perhaps his right as High Elder, said, “And you are Tribesman Seldon.”

“Of course,” said Seldon.

“And this, despite her masculine dress, is Tribeswoman Venabili.”

Dors said nothing.

Sunmaster Fourteen said, “You are right, of course, tribesman. You are in no danger of physical harm from me. Please sit down. Both of you. Since you are not a Sister, tribeswoman, you need not retire. There is a seat for you which, if you value such a distinction, you will be the first woman ever to have used.”

“I do not value such a distinction,” said Dors, spacing her words for emphasis.

Sunmaster Fourteen nodded. “That is as you wish. I
too will sit down, for I must ask you questions and I do not care to do it standing.”

They were sitting now in a corner of the room. Seldon’s eyes wandered to the metal robot.

Sunmaster Fourteen said, “It
is
a robot.”

“I know,” said Seldon briefly.

“I know you do,” said Sunmaster Fourteen with similar curtness. “But now that we have settled that matter, why are you here?”

Seldon gazed steadily at Sunmaster Fourteen and said, “To see the robot.”

“Do you know that no one but an Elder is allowed in the aerie?”

“I did not know that, but I suspected it.”

“Do you know that no tribesperson is allowed in the Sacratorium?”

“I was told that.”

“And you ignored the fact, is that it?”

“As I said, we wanted to see the robot.”

“Do you know that no woman, even a Sister, is allowed in the Sacratorium except at certain stated—and rare—occasions?”

“I was told that.”

“And do you know that no woman is at any time—or for any reason—allowed to dress in masculine garb? That holds, within the borders of Mycogen, for tribeswomen as well as for Sisters.”

“I was not told that, but I am not surprised.”

“Good. I want you to understand all this. Now, why did you want to see the robot?”

Seldon said with a shrug, “Curiosity. I had never seen a robot or even known that such a thing existed.”

“And how did you come to know that it did exist and, specifically, that it existed here?”

Seldon was silent, then said, “I do not wish to answer that question.”

“Is that why you were brought to Mycogen by Tribesman Hummin? To investigate robots?”

“No. Tribesman Hummin brought us here that we
might be secure. However, we are scholars, Dr. Venabili and I. Knowledge is our province and to gain knowledge is our purpose. Mycogen is little understood outside its borders and we wish to know more about your ways and your methods of thought. It is a natural desire and, it seems to us, a harmless—even praiseworthy—one.”

“Ah, but we do not wish the outer tribes and worlds to know about us. That is
our
natural desire and
we
are the judge of what is harmless to us and what harmful. So I ask you again, tribesman: How did you know that a robot existed in Mycogen and that it existed in this room?”

“General rumor,” said Seldon at length.

“Do you insist on that?”

“General rumor. I insist on it.”

Sunmaster Fourteen’s keen blue eyes seemed to sharpen and he said without raising his voice, “Tribesman Seldon, we have long cooperated with Tribesman Hummin. For a tribesman, he has seemed a decent and trustworthy individual. For a
tribesman
! When he brought you two to us and commended you to our protection, we granted it. But Tribesman Hummin, whatever his virtues, is still a tribesman and we had misgivings. We were not at all sure what your—or his—real purpose might be.”

“Our purpose was knowledge,” said Seldon. “Academic knowledge. Tribeswoman Venabili is a historian and I too have an interest in history. Why should we not be interested in Mycogenian history?”

“For one thing, because we do not wish you to be. —In any case, two of our trusted Sisters were sent to you. They were to cooperate with you, try to find out what it was you wanted, and—what is the expression you tribesmen use?—play along with you. Yet not in such a way that you would be too aware as to what was happening.” Sunmaster Fourteen smiled, but it was a grim smile.

“Raindrop Forty-Five,” Sunmaster Fourteen went
on, “went shopping with Tribeswoman Venabili, but there seemed nothing out of the way in what happened on those trips. Naturally, we had a full report. Raindrop Forty-Three showed you, Tribesman Seldon, our microfarms. You might have been suspicious of her willingness to accompany you alone, something that is utterly out of the question for us, but you reasoned that what applied to Brothers did not apply to tribesmen and you flattered yourself that that flimsy bit of reasoning won her over. She complied with your desire, though at considerable cost to her peace of mind. And, eventually, you asked for the Book. To have handed it over too easily might have roused your suspicion, so she pretended to a perverse desire only you could satisfy. Her self-sacrifice will not be forgotten. —I take it, tribesman, you still have the Book and I suspect you have it with you now. May I have it?”

Seldon sat in bitter silence.

Sunmaster Fourteen’s wrinkled hand remained obtrusively outstretched and he said, “How much better it would be than to wrest it from you by force.”

And Seldon handed it over. Sunmaster Fourteen leafed through its pages briefly, as though to reassure himself it was unharmed.

He said with a small sigh, “It will have to be carefully destroyed in the approved manner. Sad! —But once you had this Book, we were, of course, not surprised when you made your way out to the Sacratorium. You were watched at all times, for you cannot think that any Brother or Sister, not totally absorbed, would not recognize you for tribespeople at a glance. We know a skincap when we see one and there are less than seventy of them in Mycogen … almost all belonging to tribesmen on official business who remain entirely in secular governmental buildings during the time they are here. So you were not only seen but unmistakably identified, over and over.

“The elderly Brother who met you was careful to tell
you about the library as well as about the Sacratorium, but he was also careful to tell you what you were forbidden to do, for we did not wish to entrap you. Skystrip Two also warned you … and quite forcibly. Nevertheless, you did not turn away.

“The shop at which you bought the white kirtle and the two sashes informed us at once and from that we knew well what you intended. The library was kept empty, the librarian was warned to keep his eyes to himself, the Sacratorium was kept under-utilized. The one Brother who inadvertently spoke to you almost gave it away, but hastened off when he realized with whom he was dealing. And then you came up here.

“You see, then, that it was your intention to come up here and that we in no way lured you here. You came as a result of your own action, your own desire, and what I want to ask you—yet once again—is: Why?”