Isaac Asimov - Forward the Foundation

Dors did not answer directly. She said, “You went on to talk to Dr. Seldon about his forthcoming meeting with the General and urged him—rather pressingly—to let you take his place and run the risks that might follow. The result was, of course, that Dr. Seldon insisted rather vehemently on seeing the General himself, which one can argue was precisely what you wanted him to do.”

Elar emitted a short nervous laugh. “With all due respect, this does sound like paranoia, Doctor.”

Dors pressed on. “And then, after the party, it was you, wasn’t it, who was the first to suggest that a group of us go to the Dome’s Edge Hotel?”

“Yes and I remember you saying it was a good idea.”

“Might it not have been suggested in order to make the junta uneasy, as yet another example of Hari’s popularity? And might it not have been arranged to tempt me into invading the Palace grounds?”

“Could I have stopped you?” said Elar, his incredulity giving way to anger. “You had made up your own mind about that.”

Dors paid no attention. “And, of course, you hoped that by entering the Palace grounds I might make sufficient trouble to turn the junta even further against Hari.”

“But why, Dr. Venabili? Why would I be doing this?”

“One might say it was to get rid of Dr. Seldon and to succeed him as director of the Project.”

“How can you possibly think this of me? I can’t believe you are serious. You’re just doing what you said you would at the start of this exercise—just showing me what can be done by an ingenious mind intent on finding so-called evidence.”

“Let’s turn to something else. I said that you were in a position to use the empty rooms for private conversations and that you may have been there with a member of the junta.”

“That is not even worth a denial.”

“But you were overheard. A little girl wandered into the room, curled up in a chair out of sight, and overheard your conversation.”

Elar frowned. “What did she hear?”

“She reported that two men were talking about death. She was only a child and could not repeat anything in detail, but two words did impress her and they were ‘lemonade death.’ ”

“Now you seem to be changing from fantasy to—if you’ll excuse me—madness. What can ‘lemonade death’ mean and what would it have to do with me?”

“My first thought was to take it literally. The girl in question is very fond of lemonade and there was a good deal of it at the party, but no one had poisoned it.”

“Thanks for granting sanity that much.”

“Then I realized the girl had heard something else, which her imperfect command of the language and her love of the beverage had perverted into ‘lemonade.’ ”

“And have you invented a distortion?” Elar snorted.

“It did seem to me for a while that what she might have heard was ‘laymen-aided death.’ ”

“What does that mean?”

“An assassination carried through by laymen—by nonmathematicians.”

Dors stopped and frowned. Her hand clutched her chest.

Elar said with sudden concern, “Is something wrong, Dr. Venabili?”

“No,” said Dors, seeming to shake herself.

For a few moments she said nothing further and Elar cleared his throat. There was no sign of amusement on his face any longer, as he said, “Your comments, Dr. Venabili, are growing steadily more ridiculous and—well, I don’t care if I do offend you, but I have grown tired of them. Shall we put an end to this?”

“We are almost at an end, Dr. Elar. Layman-aided may indeed be ridiculous, as you say. I had decided that in my own mind, too. —You are, in part, responsible for the development of the Electro-Clarifier, aren’t you?”

Elar seemed to stand straighter as he said with a touch of pride, “Entirely responsible.”

“Surely not entirely. I understand it was designed by Cinda Monay.”

“A designer. She followed my instructions.”

“A layman . The Electro-Clarifier is a layman-aided device.”

With suppressed violence Elar said, “I don’t think I want to hear that phrase again. Once more, shall we put an end to this?”

Dors forged on, as if she hadn’t heard his request. “Though you give her no credit now, you gave Cinda credit to her face—to keep her working eagerly, I suppose. She said you gave her credit and she was very grateful because of it. She said you even called the device by her name and yours, though that’s not the official name.”

“Of course not. It’s the Electro-Clarifier.”

“And she said she was designing improvements, intensifiers, and so on—and that you had the prototype of an advanced version of the new device for testing.”

“What has all this to do with anything?”

“Since Dr. Seldon and Dr. Amaryl have been working with the Electro-Clarifier, both have in some ways deteriorated. Yugo, who works with it more, has also suffered more.”

“The Electro-Clarifier can, in no way, do that kind of damage.”

Dors put her hand to her forehead and momentarily winced. She said, “And now you have a more intense Electro-Clarifier that might do more damage, that might kill quickly, rather than slowly.”

“Absolute nonsense.”

“Now consider the name of the device, a name which, according to the woman who designed it, you are the only one to use. I presume you called it the Elar-Monay Clarifier.”

“I don’t ever recall using that phrase,” said Elar uneasily.

“Surely you did. And the new intensified Elar-Monay Clarifier could be used to kill with no blame to be attached to anyone—just a sad accident through a new and untried device. It would be the ‘Elar-Monay death’ and a little girl heard it as ‘lemonade death.’ ”

Dors’s hand groped at her side.

Elar said softly, “You are not well, Dr. Venabili.”

“I am perfectly well. Am I not correct?”

“Look, it doesn’t matter what you can twist into lemonade. Who knows what the little girl may have heard? It all boils down to the deadliness of the Electro-Clarifier. Bring me into court or before a scientific investigating board and let experts—as many as you like—check the effect of the Electro-Clarifier, even the new intensified one, on human beings. They will find it has no measurable effect.”

“I don’t believe that,” muttered Venabili. Her hands were now at her forehead and her eyes were closed. She swayed slightly.

Elar said, “It is clear that you are not well, Dr. Venabili. Perhaps that means it is my turn to talk. May I?”

Dors’s eyes opened and she simply stared.

“I’ll take your silence for consent, Doctor. Of what use would it be for me to try to to get rid of Dr. Seldon and Dr. Amaryl in order to take my place as director? You would prevent any attempt I made at assassination, as you now think you are doing. In the unlikely case that I succeeded in such a project and was rid of the two great men, you would tear me to pieces afterward. You’re a very unusual woman—strong and fast beyond belief—and while you are alive, the Maestro is safe.”

“Yes,” said Dors, glowering.

“I told this to the men of the junta. —Why should they not consult me on matters involving the Project? They are very interested in psychohistory, as well they ought to be. It was difficult for them to believe what I told them about you—until you made your foray into the Palace grounds. That convinced them, you can be sure, and they agreed with my plan.”

“Aha. Now we come to it,” Dors said weakly.

“I told you the Electro-Clarifier cannot harm human beings. It cannot. Amaryl and your precious Hari are just getting old , though you refuse to accept it. So what? They are fine—perfectly human . The electromagnetic field has no effect of any importance on organic materials. Of course, it may have adverse effects on sensitive electromagnetic machinery and, if we could imagine a human being built of metal and electronics, it might have an effect on it. Legends tell us of such artificial human beings. The Mycogenians have based their religion on them and they call such beings “robots.” If there were such a thing as a robot, one would imagine it would be stronger and faster by far than an ordinary human being, that it would have properties, in fact, resembling those you have, Dr. Venabili. And such a robot could, indeed, be stopped, hurt, even destroyed by an intense Electro-Clarifier, such as the one that I have here, one that has been operating at low energy since we began our conversation. That is why you are feeling ill, Dr. Venabili—and for the first time in your existence, I’m sure.”