Isaac Asimov - Prelude to Foundation

Dors shouted back, “I’d take it off, but mine can’t compete with yours.” The laughter turned good-natured.

But one young man stepped forward, staring at Seldon with intense deep-set eyes, his face set into a humorless mask. He said, “I know you. You’re the mathematician.”

He ran forward, inspecting Seldon’s face with eager solemnity. Automatically, Dors stepped in front of Seldon and Lindor stepped in front of her, shouting, “Back, heatsinker. Mind your manners.”

Seldon said, “Wait! Let him talk to me. Why is everyone piling in front of me?”

Lindor said in a low voice, “If any of them get close, you’ll find they don’t smell like hothouse flowers.”

“I’ll endure it,” said Seldon brusquely. “Young man, what is it you want?”

“My name is Amaryl. Yugo Amaryl. I’ve seen you on holovision.”

“You might have, but what about it?”

“I don’t remember your name.”

“You don’t have to.”

“You talked about something called psychohistory.”

“You don’t know how I wish I hadn’t.”

“What?”

“Nothing. What is it you want?”

“I want to talk to you. Just for a little while. Now.”

Seldon looked at Lindor, who shook his head firmly. “Not while he’s on his shift.”

“When does your shift begin, Mr. Amaryl?” asked Seldon.

“Sixteen hundred.”

“Can you see me tomorrow at fourteen hundred?”

“Sure. Where?”

Seldon turned to Tisalver. “Would you permit me to see him in your place?”

Tisalver looked very unhappy. “It’s not necessary. He’s just a heatsinker.”

Seldon said, “He recognized my face. He knows something about me. He can’t be just an anything. I’ll see him in my room.” And then, as Tisalver’s face didn’t soften, he added, “ My room, for which rent is being paid. And you’ll be at work, out of the apartment.”

Tisalver said in a low voice, “It’s not me, Master Seldon. It’s my wife, Casilia. She won’t stand for it.”

“I’ll talk to her,” said Seldon grimly. “She’ll have to.”

Casilia Tisalver opened her eyes wide. “A heatsinker? Not in my apartment.”

“Why not? Besides, he’ll be coming to my room,” said Seldon. “At fourteen hundred.”

“I won’t have it,” said Mistress Tisalver. “This is what comes of going down to the heatsinks. Jirad was a fool.”

“Not at all, Mistress Tisalver. We went at my request and I was fascinated. I must see this young man, since that is necessary to my scholarly work.”

“I’m sorry if it is, but I won’t have it.”

Dors Venabili raised her hand. “Hari, let me take care of this. Mistress Tisalver, if Dr. Seldon must see someone in his room this afternoon, the additional person naturally means additional rent. We understand that. For today, then, the rent on Dr. Seldon’s room will be doubled.”

Mistress Tisalver thought about it. “Well, that’s decent of you, but it’s not only the credits. There’s the neighbors to think of. A sweaty, smelly heatsinker—”

“I doubt that he’ll be sweaty and smelly at fourteen hundred, Mistress Tisalver, but let me go on. Since Dr. Seldon must see him, then if he can’t see him here, he’ll have to see him elsewhere, but we can’t run here and there. That would be too inconvenient. Therefore, what we will have to do is to get a room elsewhere. It won’t be easy and we don’t want to do it, but we will have to. So we will pay the rent through today and leave and of course we will have to explain to Master Hummin why we have had to change the arrangements that he so kindly made for us.”

“Wait.” Mistress Tisalver’s face became a study of calculation. “We wouldn’t like to disoblige Master Hummin . . . or you two. How long would this creature have to stay?”

“He’s coming at fourteen hundred. He must be at work at sixteen hundred. He will be here for less than two hours, perhaps considerably less. We will meet him outside, the two of us, and bring him to Dr. Seldon’s room. Any neighbors who see us will think he is an Outworlder friend of ours.”

Mistress Tisalver nodded her head. “Then let it be as you say. Double rent for Master Seldon’s room for today and the heatsinker will visit just this one time.”

“Just this one time,” said Dors.

But later, when Seldon and Dors were sitting in her room, Dors said, “Why do you have to see him, Hari? Is interviewing a heatsinker important to psychohistory too?”

Seldon thought he detected a small edge of sarcasm in her voice and he said tartly, “I don’t have to base everything on this huge project of mine, in which I have very little faith anyway. I am also a human being with human curiosities. We were down in the heatsinks for hours and you saw what the working people there were like. They were obviously uneducated. They were low-level individuals—no play on words intended—and yet here was one who recognized me. He must have seen me on holovision on the occasion of the Decennial Convention and he remembered the word ‘psychohistory.’ He strikes me as unusual—as out of place somehow—and I would like to talk to him.”

“Because it pleases your vanity to have become known even to heatsinkers in Dahl?”

“Well . . . perhaps. But it also piques my curiosity.”

“And how do you know he hasn’t been briefed and intends to lead you into trouble as has happened before.”

Seldon winced. “I won’t let him run his fingers through my hair. In any case, we’re more nearly prepared now, aren’t we? And I’m sure you’ll be with me. I mean, you let me go Upperside alone, you let me go with Raindrop Forty-Three to the microfarms alone, and you’re not going to do that again, are you?”

“You can be absolutely sure I won’t,” said Dors.

“Well then, I’ll talk to the young man and you can watch out for traps. I have every faith in you.”

Amaryl arrived a few minutes before 1400, looking warily about. His hair was neat and his thick mustache was combed and turned up slightly at the edges. His T-shirt was startlingly white. He did smell, but it was a fruity odor that undoubtedly came from the slightly over-enthusiastic use of scent. He had a bag with him.

Seldon, who had been waiting outside for him, seized one elbow lightly, while Dors seized the other, and they moved rapidly into the elevator. Having reached the correct level, they passed through the apartment into Seldon’s room.

Amaryl said in a low hangdog voice, “Nobody home, huh?”

“Everyone’s busy,” said Seldon neutrally. He indicated the only chair in the room, a pad directly on the floor.

“No,” said Amaryl. “I don’t need that. One of you two use it.” He squatted on the floor with a graceful downward motion.

Dors imitated the movement, sitting on the edge of Seldon’s floor-based mattress, but Seldon dropped down rather clumsily, having to make use of his hands and unable, quite, to find a comfortable position for his legs.

Seldon said, “Well, young man, why do you want to see me?”

“Because you’re a mathematician. You’re the first mathematician I ever saw—close up—so I could touch him, you know.”

“Mathematicians feel like anyone else.”

“Not to me, Dr. . . . Dr. . . . Seldon?”

“That’s my name.”

Amaryl looked pleased. “I finally remembered. —You see, I want to be a mathematician too.”

“Very good. What’s stopping you?”

Amaryl suddenly frowned. “Are you serious?”

“I presume something is stopping you. Yes, I’m serious.”