Isaac Asimov - Foundation's Edge

He brooded about the matter and went on in a lower voice, “We took far too much for granted with the First Foundation. We must place them under closer supervision. We must knit the Galaxy closer together somehow. We must make use of mentalics to build a closer co-operation of consciousness. That would fit the Plan. I’m convinced of that and I’ll see to it.”

Novi said anxiously, “Master?”

Gendibal smiled suddenly. “I’m sorry. I’m talking to myself. —Novi, do you remember Rufirant?”

“That bone-skulled farmer who attacked you? I should say I do.”

“I’m convinced that First Foundation agents, armed with personal shields, arranged that, together with all the other anomalies that have plagued us. Imagine being blind to a thing like that. But then, I was bemused into overlooking the First Foundation altogether by this myth of a mysterious world, this Sayshellian superstition concerning Gaia. There, too, your mind came in handy. It helped me determine that the source of that mentalic field was the warship and nothing else.”

He rubbed his hands.

Novi said timidly, “Master?”

“Yes, Novi?”

“Will you not be rewarded for what you have done?”

“Indeed I will. Shandess will retire and I will be First Speaker. Then will come my chance to make us an active factor in revolutionizing the Galaxy.”

“First Speaker?”

“Yes, Novi. I will be the most important and the most powerful scholar of them all.”

“The most important?” She looked woebegone.

“Why do you make a face, Novi? Don’t you want me to be rewarded?”

“Yes, Master, I do. —But if you are the most important scholar of them all, you will not want a Hamish-woman near you. It would not be fitting.”

“Won’t I, though? Who will stop me?” He felt a gush of affection for her. “Novi, will you stay with me wherever I go and whatever I am. Do you think I would risk dealing with some of the wolves we occasionally have at the Table without your mind always there to tell me, even before they know themselves, what their emotions might be—your own innocent, absolutely smooth mind. Besides—” He seemed startled by a sudden revelation. “Even aside from that, I—I like having you with me and I intend having you with me. —That is, if you are willing.”

“Oh, Master,” whispered Novi and, as his arm moved around her waist, her head sank to his shoulder.

Deep within, where the enveloping mind of Novi could scarcely be aware of it, the essence of Gaia remained and guided events, but it was that impenetrable mask that made the continuance of the great task possible.

And that mask—the one that belonged to a Hamish-woman—was completely happy. It was so happy that Novi was almost reconciled for the distance she was from herself / them / all, and she was content to be, for the indefinite future, what she seemed to be.

Pelorat rubbed his hands and said, with carefully controlled enthusiasm, “How glad I am to be back on Gaia.”

“Umm,” said Trevize abstractedly.

“You know what Bliss has told me? The Mayor is going back to Terminus with a commercial treaty with Sayshell. The Speaker from the Second Foundation is going back to Trantor convinced that he has arranged it—and that woman, Novi, is going back with him to see to it that the changes that will bring about Galaxia are initiated. And neither Foundation is in the least aware that Gaia exists. It’s absolutely amazing.”

“I know,” said Trevize. “I was told all this, too. But we know that Gaia exists and we can talk.”

“Bliss doesn’t think so. She says no one would believe us, and we would know that. Besides, I, for one, have no intention of ever leaving Gaia.”

Trevize was pulled out of his inner musing. He looked up and said, “What?”

“I’m going to stay here. —You know, I can’t believe it. Just weeks ago, I was living a lonely life on Terminus, the same life I had lived for decades, immersed in my records and my thoughts and never dreaming anything but that I would go to my death, whenever it might be, still immersed in my records and my thoughts and still living my lonely life—contentedly vegetating. Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, I became a Galactic traveler; I was involved with a Galactic crisis; and—do not laugh, Golan—I have found Bliss.”

“I’m not laughing, Janov,” said Trevize, “but are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

“Oh yes. This matter of Earth is no longer important to me. The fact that it was the only world with a diverse ecology and with intelligent life has been adequately explained. The Eternals, you know.”

“Yes, I know. And you’re going to stay on Gaia?”

“Absolutely. Earth is the past and I’m tired of the past. Gaia is the future.”

“You’re not part of Gaia, Janov. Or do you think you can become part of it?”

“Bliss says that I can become somewhat a part of it—intellectually if not biologically. She’ll help, of course.”

“But since she is part of it, how can you two find a common life, a common point of view, a common interest—”

They were in the open and Trevize looked gravely at the quiet, fruitful island, and beyond it the sea, and on the horizon, purpled by distance, another island—all of it peaceful, civilized, alive, and a unit.

He said, “Janov, she is a world; you are a tiny individual. What if she gets tired of you? She is young—”

“Golan, I’ve thought of that. I’ve thought of nothing but that for days. I expect her to grow tired of me; I’m no romantic idiot. But whatever she gives me till then will be enough. She has already given me enough. I have received more from her than I dreamed existed in life. If I saw her no more from this moment on, I have ended the winner.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Trevize gently. “I think you are a romantic idiot and, mind you, I wouldn’t want you any other way. Janov, we haven’t known each other for long, but we’ve been together every moment for weeks and—I’m sorry if it sounds silly—I like you a great deal.”

“And I, you, Golan,” said Pelorat.

“And I don’t want you hurt. I must talk to Bliss.”

“No no. Please don’t. You’ll lecture her.”

“I won’t lecture her. It’s not entirely to do with you—and I want to talk to her privately. Please, Janov, I don’t want to do it behind your back, so grant me your willingness to have me talk to her and get a few things straight. If I am satisfied, I will give you my heartiest congratulations and goodwill—and I will forever hold my peace, whatever happens.”

Pelorat shook his head. “You’ll ruin things.”

“I promise I won’t. I beg you—”

“Well—But do be careful, my dear fellow, won’t you?”

“You have my solemn word.”

Bliss said, “Pel says you want to see me.”

Trevize said, “Yes.”

They were indoors, in the small apartment allotted to him.

She sat down gracefully, crossed her legs, and looked at him shrewdly, her beautiful brown eyes luminous and her long, dark hair glistening.

She said, “You disapprove of me, don’t you? You have disapproved of me from the start.”

Trevize remained standing. He said, “You are aware of minds and of their contents. You know what I think of you and why.”

Slowly Bliss shook her head. “Your mind is out of bounds to Gaia. You know that. Your decision was needed and it had to be the decision of a clear and untouched mind. When your ship was first taken, I placed you and Pel within a soothing field, but that was essential. You would have been damaged—and perhaps rendered useless for a crucial time—by panic or rage. And that was all. I could never go beyond that and I haven’t—so I don’t know what you’re thinking.”