Isaac Asimov - Forward the Foundation

“Nothing much. History. Not the sort of thing that would lead one to a good job.”

(Another wince, even worse than the first. Dors Venabili had been a historian.)

Seldon said, “But you’re back here on Trantor. Why is that?”

“Credits. Jobs.”

“As an historian?”

Palver laughed. “Not a chance. I run a device that pulls and hauls. Not exactly a professional occupation.”

Seldon looked at Palver with a twinge of envy. The contours of Palver’s arms and chest were highlighted by the thin fabric of his shirt. He was well muscled. Seldon had never himself been quite that muscular.

Seldon said, “I presume that when you were at the University, you were on the boxing team.”

“Who, me? Never. I’m a Twister.”

“A Twister!” Seldon’s spirits jumped. “Are you from Helicon?”

Palver said with a certain contempt, “You don’t have to come from Helicon to be a good Twister.”

No, thought Seldon, but that’s where the best ones come from.

However, he said nothing.

He did say, though, “Well, your grandfather would not join me. How about you?”

“Psychohistory?”

“I heard you talking to the others when I first encountered you and it seemed to me that you were talking quite intelligently about psychohistory. Would you like to join me, then?”

“As I said, Professor, I have a job.”

“Pushing and hauling. Come, come.”

“It pays well.”

“Credits aren’t everything.”

“They’re quite a bit. Now you, on the other hand, can’t pay me much. I’m quite certain that you’re short of credits.”

“Why do you say that?”

“I’m guessing, in a way, I suppose. —But am I wrong?”

Seldon’s lips pressed together hard, then he said, “No, you’re not wrong and I can’t pay you much. I’m sorry. I suppose that ends our little interview.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Palver held up his hands. “Not quite so fast, please. We’re still talking about psychohistory. If I work for you, I will be taught psychohistory, right?”

“Of course.”

“In that case, credits aren’t everything, after all. I’ll make you a deal. You teach me all the psychohistory you can and you pay me whatever you can and I’ll get by somehow. How about it?”

“Wonderful,” said Seldon joyously. “That sounds great. Now, one more thing.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I’ve been attacked twice in recent weeks. The first time my son came to my defense, but he has since gone to Santanni. The second time I made use of my lead-filled walking stick. It worked, but I was dragged before a magistrate and accused of assault and battery—”

“Why the attacks?” interjected Palver.

“I am not popular. I have been preaching the Fall of the Empire for so long that, now that it is coming, I am blamed for it.”

“I see. Now then, what does all that have to do with the one more thing you mentioned?”

“I want you to be my bodyguard. You’re young, you’re strong, and, most of all, you’re a Twister. You’re exactly what I need.”

“I suppose it can be managed,” Palver said with a smile.

“See there, Stettin,” Seldon said as the two were taking an early evening stroll in one of Trantor’s residential sectors near Streeling. The older man pointed to debris—assorted refuse jettisoned from passing ground-cars or dropped by careless pedestrians—strewn along the walkway. “In the old days,” Seldon continued, “you would never see litter like this. The security officers were vigilant and municipal maintenance crews provided round-the-clock upkeep of all public areas. But, most important, no one would even think of dumping his trash in such a manner. Trantor was our home; we took pride in it. Now”— Seldon shook his head sadly, resignedly, and sighed—“it’s—” He broke off abruptly.

“You there, young man!” Seldon shouted at an ill-kempt fellow who had moments before passed them, going in the opposite direction. He was munching a treat just popped into his mouth; the wrapper had been tossed to the ground without so much as a downward glance. “Pick that up and dispose of it properly,” Seldon admonished as the young man eyed him sullenly.

“Pick it up yourself,” the boy snarled and then he turned and walked away.

“It’s another sign of society’s breakdown, as predicted by your psychohistory, Professor Seldon,” Palver said.

“Yes, Stettin. All around us the Empire is falling apart, piece by piece. In fact, it’s already smashed—there’s no turning back now. Apathy, decay, and greed have all played their parts in destroying the once-glorious Empire. And what will take its place? Why—”

Here Seldon broke off at the sight of Palver’s face. The younger man seemed to be listening intently—but not to Seldon’s voice. His head was cocked to one side and his face had a far-off look. It was as if Palver were straining to hear some sound inaudible to everyone but himself.

Suddenly he snapped back to the here and now. With an urgent glance around them, Palver took hold of Seldon’s arm. “Hari, quick, we must get away. They’re coming . . .” And then the still evening was broken by the harsh sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Seldon and Palver spun around, but it was too late; a band of attackers was upon them. This time, however, Hari Seldon was prepared. He immediately swung his cane in a wide arc around Palver and himself. At this, the three attackers—two boys and a girl, all teenage ruffians—laughed.

“So, you’re not goin’ to make it easy, are you, old man?” snorted the boy who appeared to be the group’s ringleader. “Why, me and my buddies, we’ll take you out in two seconds flat. We’ll—” All of a sudden, the ringleader was down, the victim of a perfectly placed Twist-kick to his abdomen. The two ruffians who were still standing quickly dropped to a crouch in preparation for attack. But Palver was quicker. They, too, were felled almost before they knew what hit them.

And then it was over—almost as soon as it started. Seldon stood off to the side, leaning heavily on his cane, shaking at the thought of his narrow escape. Palver, panting slightly from exertion, surveyed the scene. The three attackers were out cold on the deserted walkway under the darkening dome.

“Come on, let’s get out of here quickly!” Palver urged again, only this time it was not the attackers they would be fleeing.

“Stettin, we can’t leave,” protested Seldon. He gestured toward the unconscious would-be muggers. “They’re really nothing more than children. They may be dying. How can we just walk away? It’s inhumane—that’s what it is—and humanity is exactly what I’ve been working all these years to protect.” Seldon struck the ground with his cane for emphasis and his eyes gleamed with conviction.

“Nonsense,” retorted Palver. “What’s inhumane is the way muggers like that prey on innocent citizens like you. Do you think they’d have given you a second thought? They’d just as soon stick a knife in your gut to steal your last credit—and then kick you as they ran! They’ll come to soon enough and slink away to lick their wounds. Or someone will find them and call the central office.

“But, Hari, you must think . After what happened last time, you stand to lose everything if you’re linked to another beating. Please, Hari, we must run!” With this, Palver grabbed Seldon’s arm and Seldon, after a last backward glance, allowed himself to be led away.

As the footsteps of the rapidly departing Seldon and Palver diminished in the distance, another figure emerged from his hiding place behind some trees. Chuckling to himself, the sullen-eyed youth muttered, “You’re a fine one to tell me what’s right and what’s wrong, Professor.” With that, he spun on his heel and headed off to summon the security officers.