Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Earth

Trevize said, “No, no, it is your turn. Will you support me if I show you that the mission is of importance to Comporellon?”

Minister Lizalor rose from the couch, a tall, overpowering presence. “I am hungry, Councilman Trevize, and I will get no further on an empty stomach. I will offer you something to eat and drink—in moderation. After that, we will finish the matter.”

And it seemed to Trevize that there was a rather carnivorous look of anticipation about her at that moment, so that he tightened his lips with just a bit of unease.

The meal might have been a nourishing one, but it was not one to delight the palate. The main course consisted of boiled beef in a mustardy sauce, resting on a foundation of a leafy vegetable Trevize did not recognize. Nor did he like it for it had a bitter-salty taste he did not enjoy. He found out later it was a form of seaweed.

There was, afterward, a piece of fruit that tasted something like an apple tainted by peach (not bad, actually) and a hot, dark beverage that was bitter enough for Trevize to leave half behind and ask if he might have some cold water instead. The portions were all small, but, under the circumstances, Trevize did not mind.

The meal had been private, with no servants in view. The Minister had herself heated and served the food, and herself cleared away the dishes and cutlery.

“I hope you found the meal pleasant,” said Lizalor, as they left the dining room.

“Quite pleasant,” said Trevize, without enthusiasm.

The Minister again took her seat on the couch. “Let us return then,” she said, “to our earlier discussion. You had mentioned that Comporellon might resent the Foundation’s lead in technology and its overlordship of the Galaxy. In a way that’s true, but that aspect of the situation would interest only those who are interested in interstellar politics, and they are comparatively few. What is much more to the point is that the average Comporellian is horrified at the immorality of the Foundation. There is immorality in most worlds, but it seems most marked in Terminus. I would say that any anti-Terminus animus that exists on this world is rooted in that, rather than in more abstract matters.”

“Immorality?” said Trevize, puzzled. “Whatever the faults of the Foundation you have to admit it runs its part of the Galaxy with reasonable efficiency and fiscal honesty. Civil rights are, by and large, respected and—”

“Councilman Trevize, I speak of sexual morality.”

“In that case, I certainly don’t understand you. We are a thoroughly moral society, sexually speaking. Women are well represented in every facet of social life. Our Mayor is a woman and nearly half the Council consists of—”

The Minister allowed a look of exasperation to fleet across her face. “Councilman, are you mocking me? Surely you know what sexual morality means. Is, or is not, marriage a sacrament upon Terminus?”

“What do you mean by sacrament?”

“Is there a formal marriage ceremony binding a couple together?”

“Certainly, if people wish it. Such a ceremony simplifies tax problems and inheritance.”

“But divorce can take place.”

“Of course. It would certainly be sexually immoral to keep people tied to each other, when—”

“Are there no religious restrictions?”

“Religious? There are people who make a philosophy out of ancient cults, but what has that to do with marriage?”

“Councilman, here on Comporellon, every aspect of sex is strongly controlled. It may not take place out of marriage. Its expression is limited even within marriage. We are sadly shocked at those worlds, at Terminus, particularly, where sex seems to be considered a mere social pleasure of no great importance to be indulged in when, how, and with whom one pleases without regard to the values of religion.”

Trevize shrugged. “I’m sorry, but I can’t undertake to reform the Galaxy, or even Terminus—and what has this to do with the matter of my ship?”

“I’m talking about public opinion in the matter of your ship and how it limits my ability to compromise the matter. The people of Comporellon would be horrified if they found you had taken a young and attractive woman on board to serve the lustful urges of you and your companion. It is out of consideration for the safety of the three of you that I have been urging you to accept peaceful surrender in place of a public trial.”

Trevize said, “I see you have used the meal to think of a new type of persuasion by threat. Am I now to fear a lynch mob?”

“I merely point out dangers. Will you be able to deny that the woman you have taken on board ship is anything other than a sexual convenience?”

“Of course I can deny it. Bliss is the companion of my friend, Dr. Pelorat. He has no other competing companion. You may not define their state as marriage, but I believe that in Pelorat’s mind, and in the woman’s, too, there is a marriage between them.”

“Are you telling me you are not involved yourself?”

“Certainly not,” said Trevize. “What do you take me for?”

“I cannot tell. I do not know your notions of morality.”

“Then let me explain that my notions of morality tell me that I don’t trifle with my friend’s possessions—or his companionships.”

“You are not even tempted?”

“I can’t control the fact of temptation, but there’s no chance of my giving in to it.”

“No chance at all? Perhaps you are not interested in women.”

“Don’t you believe that. I am interested.”

“How long has it been since you have had sex with a woman?”

“Months. Not at all since I left Terminus.”

“Surely you don’t enjoy that.”

“I certainly don’t,” said Trevize, with strong feeling, “but the situation is such that I have no choice.”

“Surely your friend, Pelorat, noting your suffering, would be willing to share his woman.”

“I show him no evidence of suffering, but if I did, he would not be willing to share Bliss. Nor, I think, would the woman consent. She is not attracted to me.”

“Do you say that because you have tested the matter?”

“I have not tested it. I make the judgment without feeling the need to test it. In any case, I don’t particularly like her.”

“Astonishing! She is what a man would consider attractive.”

“Physically, she is attractive. Nevertheless, she does not appeal to me. For one thing, she is too young, too childlike in some ways.”

“Do you prefer women of maturity, then?”

Trevize paused. Was there a trap here? He said cautiously, “I am old enough to value some women of maturity. And what has this to do with my ship?”

Lizalor said, “For a moment, forget your ship. —I am forty-six years old, and I am not married. I have somehow been too busy to marry.”

“In that case, by the rules of your society, you must have remained continent all your life. Is that why you asked how long it had been since I have had sex? Are you asking my advice in the matter? —If so, I say it is not food and drink. It is uncomfortable to do without sex, but not impossible.”

The Minister smiled and there was again that carnivorous look in her eyes. “Don’t mistake me, Trevize. Rank has its privileges and it is possible to be discreet. I am not altogether an abstainer. Nevertheless, Comporellian men are unsatisfying. I accept the fact that morality is an absolute good, but it does tend to burden the men of this world with guilt, so that they become unadventurous, unenterprising, slow to begin, quick to conclude, and, in general, unskilled.”

Trevize said, very cautiously, “There is nothing I can do about that, either.”

“Are you implying that the fault may be mine? That I am uninspiring?”