Isaac Asimov - Foundation's Edge

“It’s a gravitic drive,” said Pelorat. “Everything accelerates together, ourselves included, so we don’t feel anything.”

“But how does it work, Pel?”

Pelorat shrugged. “I think Trev knows,” he said, “but I don’t think he’s really in a mood to talk about it.”

Trevize had dropped down Gaia’s gravity-well almost recklessly. The ship responded to his direction, as Bliss had warned him, in a partial manner. An attempt to cross the lines of gravitic force obliquely was accepted—but only with a certain hesitation. An attempt to rise upward was utterly ignored.

The ship was still not his.

Pelorat said mildly, “Aren’t you going downward rather rapidly, Golan?”

Trevize, with a kind of flatness to his voice, attempting to avoid anger (more for Pelorat’s sake, than anything else) said, “The young lady says that Gaia will take care of us.”

Bliss said, “Surely, Pel. Gaia wouldn’t let this ship do anything that wasn’t safe. Is there anything to eat on board?”

“Yes indeed,” said Pelorat. “What would you like?”

“No meat, Pel,” said Bliss in a businesslike way, “but I’ll take fish or eggs, along with any vegetables you might have.”

“Some of the food we have is Sayshellian, Bliss,” said Pelorat. “I’m not sure I know what’s in it, but you might like it.”

“Well, I’ll taste some,” said Bliss dubiously.

“Are the people on Gaia vegetarian?” asked Pelorat.

“A lot are.” Bliss nodded her head vigorously. “It depends on what nutrients the body needs in particular cases. Lately I haven’t been hungry for meat, so I suppose I don’t need any. And I haven’t been aching for anything sweet. Cheese tastes good, and shrimp. I think I probably need to lose weight.” She slapped her right buttock with a resounding noise. “I need to lose five or six pounds right here.”

“I don’t see why,” said Pelorat. “It gives you something comfortable to sit on.”

Bliss twisted to look down at her rear as best she might, “Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Weight goes up or down as it ought. I shouldn’t concern myself.”

Trevize was silent because he was struggling with the Far Star . He had hesitated a bit too long for orbit and the lower limits of the planetary exosphere were now screaming past the ship. Little by little, the ship was escaping from his control altogether. It was as though something else had learned to handle the gravitic engines. The Far Star , acting apparently by itself, curved upward into thinner air and slowed rapidly. It then took a path on its own that brought it into a gentle downward curve.

Bliss had ignored the edgy sound of air resistance and sniffed delicately at the steam rising from the container. She said, “It must be all right, Pel, because if it weren’t, it wouldn’t smell right and I wouldn’t want to eat it.” She put a slim finger into it and then licked at the finger. “You guessed correctly, Pel. It’s shrimp or something like it. Good!”

With a gesture of dissatisfaction, Trevize abandoned the computer.

“Young woman,” he said, as though seeing her for the first time.

“My name is Bliss,” said Bliss firmly.

“Bliss, then! You knew our names.”

“Yes, Trev.”

“How did you know them?”

“It was important that I know them, in order for me to do my job. So I knew them.”

“Do you know who Munn Li Compor is?”

“I would—if it were important for me to know who he is. Since I do not know who he is, Mr. Compor is not coming here. For that matter,” she paused a moment, “no one is coming here but you two.”

“We’ll see.”

He was looking down. It was a cloudy planet. There wasn’t a solid layer of cloud, but it was a broken layer that was remarkably evenly scattered and offered no clear view of any part of the planetary surface.

He switched to microwave and the radarscope glittered. The surface was almost an image of the sky. It seemed a world of islands—rather like Terminus, but more so. None of the islands was very large and none was very isolated. It was something of an approach to a planetary archipelago. The ship’s orbit was well inclined to the equatorial plane, but he saw no sign of ice caps.

Neither were there the unmistakable marks of uneven population distribution, as would be expected, for instance, in the illumination of the night side.

“Will I be coming down near the capital city, Bliss?” asked Trevize.

Bliss said indifferently, “Gaia will put you down somewhere convenient.”

“I’d prefer a big city.”

“Do you mean a large people-grouping?”

“Yes.”

“It’s up to Gaia.”

The ship continued its downward path and Trevize tried to find amusement in guessing on which island it would land.

Whichever it might be, it appeared they would be landing within the hour.

The ship landed in a quiet, almost feathery manner, without a moment of jarring, without one anomalous gravitational effect. They stepped out, one by one: first Bliss, then Pelorat, and finally Trevize.

The weather was comparable to early summer at Terminus City. There was a mild breeze and with what seemed to be a late-morning sun shining brightly down from a mottled sky. The ground was green underfoot and in one direction there were the serried rows of trees that bespoke an orchard, while in the other there was the distant line of seashore.

There was the low hum of what might have been insect life, a flash of bird—or some small flying creature—above and to one side, and the clack-clack of what might have been some farm instrument.

Pelorat was the first to speak and he mentioned nothing he either saw or heard. Instead, he drew in his breath raspingly and said, “Ah, it smells good , like fresh-made applesauce.”

Trevize said, “That’s probably an apple orchard we’re looking at and, for all we know, they’re making applesauce.”

“On your ship, on the other hand,” said Bliss, “it smelled like— Well, it smelled terrible.”

“You didn’t complain when you were on it,” growled Trevize.

“I had to be polite. I was a guest on your ship.”

“What’s wrong with staying polite?”

“I’m on my own world now. You’re the guest. You be polite.”

Pelorat said, “She’s probably right about the smell, Golan. Is there any way of airing out the ship?”

“Yes,” said Trevize with a snap. “It can be done—if this little creature can assure us that the ship will not be disturbed. She has already shown us she can exert unusual power over the ship.”

Bliss drew herself up to her full height. “I’m not exactly little and if leaving your ship alone is what it takes to get it cleaned up, I assure you leaving it alone will be a pleasure.”

“And then we can be taken to whoever it is that you speak of as Gaia?” said Trevize.

Bliss looked amused. “I don’t know if you’re going to believe this, Trev. I’m Gaia.”

Trevize stared. He had often heard the phrase, “collect one’s thoughts” used metaphorically. For the first time in his life, he felt as though he were engaged in the process literally. Finally he said, “ You ?”

“Yes. And the ground. And those trees. And that rabbit over there in the grass. And the man you can see through the trees. The whole planet and everything on it is Gaia. We’re all individuals—we’re all separate organisms—but we all share an overall consciousness. The inanimate planet does so least of all, the various forms of life to a varying degree, and human beings most of all—but we all share.”

Pelorat said, “I think, Trevize, that she means Gaia is some sort of group consciousness.”