Isaac Asimov - Prelude to Foundation

Dors said, “And you’re really going to help him, then?”

“Absolutely. Just as soon as I’m in a position to.”

“But ought you to make promises you’re not sure you’ll be able to keep?”

“I want to keep it. If you’re that stiff about impossible promises, consider that Hummin told Sunmaster Fourteen that I’d use psychohistory to get the Mycogenians their world back. There’s just about zero chance of that. Even if I work out psychohistory, who knows if it can be used for so narrow and specialized a purpose? There’s a real case of promising what one can’t deliver.”

But Dors said with some heat, “Chetter Hummin was trying to save our lives, to keep us out of the hands of Demerzel and the Emperor. Don’t forget that. And I think he really would like to help the Mycogenians.”

“And I really would like to help Yugo Amaryl and I am far more likely to be able to help him than I am the Mycogenians, so if you justify the second, please don’t criticize the first. What’s more, Dors”—and his eyes flashed angrily—“I really would like to find Mother Rittah and I’m prepared to go alone.”

“Never!” snapped Dors. “If you go, I go.”

Mistress Tisalver returned with her daughter in tow an hour after Amaryl had left on his way to his shift. She said nothing at all to either Seldon or Dors, but gave a curt nod of her head when they greeted her and gazed sharply about the room as though to verify that the heatsinker had left no trace. She then sniffed the air sharply and looked at Seldon accusingly before marching through the common room into the family bedroom.

Tisalver himself arrived home later and when Seldon and Dors came to the dinner table, Tisalver took advantage of the fact that his wife was still ordering some last-minute details in connection with the dinner to say in a low voice, “Has that person been here?”

“And gone,” said Seldon solemnly. “Your wife was out at the time.”

Tisalver nodded and said, “Will you have to do this again?”

“I don’t think so,” said Seldon.

“Good.”

Dinner passed largely in silence, but afterward, when the daughter had gone to her room for the dubious pleasures of computer practice, Seldon leaned back and said, “Tell me about Billibotton.”

Tisalver looked astonished and his mouth moved without any sound issuing. Casilia, however, was less easily rendered speechless.

She said, “Is that where your new friend lives? Are you going to return the visit?”

“So far,” said Seldon quietly, “I have just asked about Billibotton.”

Casilia said sharply, “It is a slum. The dregs live there. No one goes there, except the filth that make their homes there.”

“I understand a Mother Rittah lives there.”

“I never heard of her,” said Casilia, her mouth closing with a snap. It was quite clear that she had no intention of knowing anyone by name who lived in Billibotton.

Tisalver, casting an uneasy look at his wife, said, “I’ve heard of her. She’s a crazy old woman who is supposed to tell fortunes.”

“And does she live in Billibotton?”

“I don’t know, Master Seldon. I’ve never seen her. She’s mentioned sometimes in the news holocasts when she makes her predictions.”

“Do they come true?”

Tisalver snorted. “Do predictions ever come true? Hers don’t even make sense.”

“Does she ever talk about Earth?”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“The mention of Earth doesn’t puzzle you. Do you know about Earth?”

Now Tisalver looked surprised. “Certainly, Master Seldon. It’s the world all people came from . . . supposedly.”

“Supposedly? Don’t you believe it?”

“Me? I’m educated. But many ignorant people believe it.”

“Are there book-films about Earth?”

“Children’s stories sometimes mention Earth. I remember, when I was a young boy, my favorite story began, ‘Once, long ago, on Earth, when Earth was the only planet—’ Remember, Casilia? You liked it too.”

Casilia shrugged, unwilling to bend as yet.

“I’d like to see it sometime,” said Seldon, “but I mean real book-films . . . uh . . . learned ones . . . or films . . . or printouts.”

“I never heard of any, but the library—”

“I’ll try that. —Are there any taboos about speaking of Earth?”

“What are taboos?”

“I mean, is it a strong custom that people mustn’t talk of Earth or that outsiders mustn’t ask about it?”

Tisalver looked so honestly astonished that there seemed no point in waiting for an answer.

Dors put in, “Is there some rule about outsiders not going to Billibotton?”

Now Tisalver turned earnest. “No rule , but it’s not a good idea for anyone to go there. I wouldn’t.”

Dors said, “Why not?”

“It’s dangerous. Violent! Everyone is armed. —I mean, Dahl is an armed place anyway, but in Billibotton they use the weapons. Stay in this neighborhood. It’s safe.”

“So far,” said Casilia darkly. “It would be better if we left altogether. Heatsinkers go anywhere these days.” And there was another lowering look in Seldon’s direction.

Seldon said, “What do you mean that Dahl is an armed place? There are strong Imperial regulations against weapons.”

“I know that,” said Tisalver, “and there are no stun guns here or percussives or Psychic Probes or anything like that. But there are knives.” He looked embarrassed.

Dors said, “Do you carry a knife, Tisalver?”

“Me?” He looked genuinely horrified. “I am a man of peace and this is a safe neighborhood.”

“We have a couple of them in the house,” said Casilia, sniffing again. “We’re not that certain this is a safe neighborhood.”

“Does everyone carry knives?” asked Dors.

“Almost everyone, Mistress Venabili,” said Tisalver. “It’s customary. But that doesn’t mean everyone uses them.”

“But they use them in Billibotton, I suppose,” said Dors.

“Sometimes. When they’re excited, they have fights.”

“And the government permits it? The Imperial government, I mean?”

“Sometimes they try to clean Billibotton up, but knives are too easy to hide and the custom is too strong. Besides, it’s almost always Dahlites that get killed and I don’t think the Imperial government gets too upset over that.”

“What if it’s an outsider who gets killed?”

“If it’s reported, the Imperials could get excited. But what happens is that no one has seen anything and no one knows anything. The Imperials sometimes round up people on general principles, but they can never prove anything. I suppose they decide it’s the outsiders’ fault for being there. —So don’t go to Billibotton, even if you have a knife.”

Seldon shook his head rather pettishly. “I wouldn’t carry a knife. I don’t know how to use one. Not skillfully.”

“Then it’s simple, Master Seldon. Stay out.” Tisalver shook his head portentously. “Just stay out.”

“I may not be able to do that either,” said Seldon.

Dors glared at him, clearly annoyed, and said to Tisalver, “Where does one buy a knife? Or may we have one of yours?”

Casilia said quickly, “No one takes someone else’s knife. You must buy your own.”

Tisalver said, “There are knife stores all over. There aren’t supposed to be. Theoretically they’re illegal, you know. Any appliance store sells them, however. If you see a washing machine on display, that’s a sure sign.”

“And how does one get to Billibotton?” asked Seldon.