Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Earth

“You read it like a film, old chap,” said Pelorat admiringly.

“Don’t be too impressed,” said Trevize, smiling affectionately. “The computer has given me the applicable statistics of the world, including its slightly low average temperature. It is easy to deduce something you already know. In fact, Comporellon is at the edge of an ice age and would be having one, if the configuration of its continents were more suitable to such a condition.”

Bliss bit at her lower lip. “I don’t like a cold world.”

“We’ve got warm clothing,” said Trevize.

“That doesn’t matter. Human beings aren’t adapted to cold weather, really. We don’t have thick coats of hair or feathers, or a subcutaneous layer of blubber. For a world to have cold weather seems to indicate a certain indifference to the welfare of its own parts.”

Trevize said, “Is Gaia a uniformly mild world?”

“Most of it, yes. There are some cold areas for cold-adapted plants and animals, and some hot areas for heat-adapted plants and animals, but most parts are uniformly mild, never getting uncomfortably hot or uncomfortably cold, for those between, including human beings, of course.”

“Human beings, of course. All parts of Gaia are alive and equal in that respect, but some, like human beings, are obviously more equal than others.”

“Don’t be foolishly sarcastic,” said Bliss, with a trace of waspishness. “The level and intensity of consciousness and awareness are important. A human being is a more useful portion of Gaia than a rock of the same weight would be, and the properties and functions of Gaia as a whole are necessarily weighted in the direction of the human being—not as much so as on your Isolate worlds, however. What’s more, there are times when it is weighted in other directions, when that is needed for Gaia as a whole. It might even, at long intervals, be weighted in the direction of the rocky interior. That, too, demands attention or, in the lack of that attention all parts of Gaia might suffer. We wouldn’t want an unnecessary volcanic eruption, would we?”

“No,” said Trevize. “Not an unnecessary one.”

“You’re not impressed, are you?”

“Look,” said Trevize. “We have worlds that are colder than average and worlds that are warmer; worlds that are tropical forests to a large extent, and worlds that are vast savannahs. No two worlds are alike, and every one of them is home to those who are used to it. I am used to the relative mildness of Terminus—we’ve tamed it to an almost Gaian moderation, actually—but I like to get away, at least temporarily, to something different. What we have, Bliss, that Gaia doesn’t have, is variation. If Gaia expands into Galaxia, will every world in the Galaxy be forced into mildness? The sameness would be unbearable.”

Bliss said, “If that is so, and if variety seems desirable, variety will be maintained.”

“As a gift from the central committee, so to speak?” said Trevize dryly. “And as little of it as they can bear to part with? I’d rather leave it to nature.”

“But you haven’t left it to nature. Every habitable world in the Galaxy has been modified. Every single one was found in a state of nature that was uncomfortable for humanity, and every single one was modified until it was as mild as could be managed. If this world here is cold, I am certain that is because its inhabitants couldn’t warm it any further without unacceptable expense. And even so, the portions they actually inhabit we can be sure are artificially warmed into mildness. So don’t be so loftily virtuous about leaving it to nature.”

Trevize said, “You speak for Gaia, I suppose.”

“I always speak for Gaia. I am Gaia.”

“Then if Gaia is so certain of its own superiority, why did you require my decision? Why have you not gone ahead without me?”

Bliss paused, as though to collect her thoughts. She said, “Because it is not wise to trust one’s self overmuch. We naturally see our virtues with clearer eyes than we see our defects. We are anxious to do what is right; not necessarily what seems right to us, but what is right, objectively, if such a thing as objective right exists. You seem to be the nearest approach to objective right that we can find, so we are guided by you.”

“So objectively right,” said Trevize sadly, “that I don’t even understand my own decision and I seek its justification.”

“You’ll find it,” said Bliss.

“I hope so,” said Trevize.

“Actually, old chap,” said Pelorat, “it seems to me that this recent exchange was won rather handily by Bliss. Why don’t you recognize the fact that her arguments justify your decision that Gaia is the wave of the future for humanity?”

“Because,” said Trevize harshly, “I did not know those arguments at the time I made my decision. I knew none of these details about Gaia. Something else influenced me, at least unconsciously, something that doesn’t depend upon Gaian detail, but must be more fundamental. It is that which I must find out.”

Pelorat held up a placating hand. “Don’t be angry, Golan.”

“I’m not angry. I’m just under rather unbearable tension. I don’t want to be the focus of the Galaxy.”

Bliss said, “I don’t blame you for that, Trevize, and I’m truly sorry that your own makeup has somehow forced you into the post. —When will we be landing on Comporellon?”

“In three days,” said Trevize, “and only after we stop at one of the entry stations in orbit about it.”

Pelorat said, “There shouldn’t be any problem with that, should there?”

Trevize shrugged. “It depends on the number of ships approaching the world, the number of entry stations that exist, and, most of all, on the particular rules for permitting and refusing admittance. Such rules change from time to time.”

Pelorat said indignantly, “What do you mean refusing admittance? How can they refuse admittance to citizens of the Foundation? Isn’t Comporellon part of the Foundation dominion?”

“Well, yes—and no. There’s a delicate matter of legalism about the point and I’m not sure how Comporellon interprets it. I suppose there’s a chance we’ll be refused admission, but I don’t think it’s a large chance.”

“And if we are refused, what do we do?”

“I’m not sure,” said Trevize. “Let’s wait and see what happens before we wear ourselves out making contingency plans.”

They were close enough to Comporellon now for it to appear as a substantial globe without telescopic enlargement. When such enlargement was added, however, the entry stations themselves could be seen. They were farther out than most of the orbiting structures about the planet and they were well lit.

Approaching as the Far Star was from the direction of the planet’s southern pole, half its globe was sunlit constantly. The entry stations on its night side were naturally more clearly seen as sparks of light. They were evenly spaced in an arc about the planet. Six of them were visible (plus six on the day side undoubtedly) and all were circling the planet at even and identical speeds.

Pelorat, a little awed at the sight, said, “There are other lights closer to the planet. What are they?”

Trevize said, “I don’t know the planet in detail so I can’t tell you. Some might be orbiting factories or laboratories or observatories, or even populated townships. Some planets prefer to keep all orbiting objects outwardly dark, except for the entry stations. Terminus does, for instance. Comporellon conducts itself on a more liberal principle, obviously.”

“Which entry station do we go to, Golan?”

“It depends on them. I’ve sent in my request to land on Comporellon and we’ll eventually get our directions as to which entry station to go to, and when. Much depends on how many incoming ships are trying to make entry at present. If there are a dozen ships lined up at each station, we will have no choice but to be patient.”