Prelude to Foundation

Seldon, still playing with the device, said, “Whoops! It went on. Or something went on. But I don’t hear anything.”

Dors frowned and picked up a small felt-lined cylinder that remained behind on the end table. She put it to her ear. “There’s a voice coming out of this,” she said. “Here, try it.” She handed it to him.

Seldon did so and said, “Ouch! It clips on.” He listened and said, “Yes, it hurt my ear. You can hear me, I take it.-Yes, this is our room. No, I don’t know its number. Dors, have you any idea of the number?”

Dors said, “There’s a number on the speaker. Maybe that will do.”

“Maybe,” said Seldon doubtfully. Then he said into the speaker, “The number on this device is 6LT-3648A. Will that do?-Well, where do I find out how to use this device properly and how to use the kitchen, for that matter?-What do you mean, ‘It all works the usual way?’ That doesn’t do me any good. See here, I’m a… a tribesman, an honored guest. I don’t know the usual way.-Yes, I’m sorry about my accent and I’m glad you can recognize a tribesman when you hear one. My name is Hari Seldon.”

There was a pause and Seldon looked up at Dors with a longsuffering expression on his face. “He has to look me up. And I suppose he’ll tell me he can’t find me.-Oh, you have me? Good! In that case, can you give me the information?-Yes. Yes.-Yes.-And how can I call someone outside Mycogen?-Oh, then what about contacting Sunmaster Fourteen, for instance?-Well, his assistant then, his aide, whatever?-Uh-huh.-Thank you.”

He put the speaker down, unhooked the hearing device from his ear with a little difficulty, turned the whole thing off, and said, “They’ll arrange to have someone show us anything we need to know, but he can’t promise when that might be. You can’t call outside Mycogen-not on this thing anyway-so we couldn’t get Hummin if we needed him. And if I want Sunmaster Fourteen, I’ve got to go through a tremendous rigmarole. This may be an egalitarian society, but there seem to be exceptions that I bet no one will openly admit.” He looked at his watch. “In any case, Dors, I’m not going to view a cookbook and still less am I going to view learned essays. My watch is still telling University time, so I don’t know if it’s officially bedtime and at the moment I don’t care. We’ve been awake most of the night and I would like to sleep.”

“That’s all right with me. I’m tired too.”

“Thanks. And whenever a new day starts after we’ve caught up on our sleep, I’m going to ask for a tour of their microfood plantations.”

Dors looked startled. “Are you interested?”

“Not really, but if that’s the one thing they’re proud of, they should be willing to talk about it and once I get them into a talking mood then, by exerting all my charm, I may get them to talk about their legends too. Personally, I think that’s a clever strategy.”

“I hope so,” said Dors dubiously, “but I think that the Mycogenians will not be so easily trapped.”

“We’ll see,” said Seldon grimly. “I mean to get those legends.”

The next morning found Hari using the calling device again. He was angry because, for one thing, he was hungry.

His attempt to reach Sunmaster Fourteen was deflected by someone who insisted that Sunmaster could not be disturbed.

“Why not?” Seldon had asked waspishly.

“Obviously, there is no need to answer that question,” came back a cold voice.

“We were not brought here to be prisoners,” said Seldon with equal coldness. “Nor to starve.”

“I’m sure you have a kitchen and ample supplies of food.”

“Yes, we do,” said Seldon. “And I do not know how to use the kitchen devices, nor do I know how to prepare the food. Do you eat it raw, fry it, boil it, roast it…?”

“I can’t believe you are ignorant in such matters.”

Dors, who had been pacing up and down during this colloquy, reached for the device and Seldon fended her off, whispering, “He’ll break the co

Then, into the device, he said more firmly than ever, “What you believe or don’t believe doesn’t matter to me in the least. You send someone here-someone who can do something about our situation-or when I reach Sunmaster Fourteen, as I will eventually, you will pay for this.”

Nevertheless, it was two hours before someone arrived (by which time Seldon was in a state of savagery and Dors had grown rather desperate in her attempt to soothe him).

The newcomer was a young man whose bald pate was slightly freckled and who probably would have been a redhead otherwise.

He was bearing several pots and he seemed about to explain them when he suddenly looked uneasy and turned his back on Seldon in alarm. “Tribesman,” he said, obviously agitated. “Your skincap is not well adjusted.”

Seldon, whose impatience had reached the breaking point, said, “That doesn’t bother me.”

Dors, however, said, “Let me adjust it, Hari. It’s just a bit too high here on the left side.”

Seldon then growled, “You can turn now, young man. What is your name?”

“I am Graycloud Five,” said the Mycogenian uncertainly as he turned and looked cautiously at Seldon. “I am a novitiate. I have brought a meal for you.” He hesitated. “From my own kitchen, where my woman prepared it, tribesman.” He put the pots down on the table and Seldon raised one lid and sniffed the contents suspiciously. He looked up at Dors in surprise.

“You know, it doesn’t smell bad.”

Dors nodded. “You’re right. I can smell it too.”

Graycloud said, “It’s not as hot as it ought to be. It cooled off in transport. You must have crockery and cutlery in your kitchen.”

Dors got what was needed, and after they had eaten, largely and a bit greedily, Seldon felt civilized once more.

Dors, who realized that the young man would feel unhappy at being alone with a woman and even unhappier if she spoke to him, found that, by default, it fell to her to carry the pots and dishes into the kitchen and wash them-once she deciphered the controls of the washing device.

Meanwhile, Seldon asked the local time and said, somewhat abashed, “You mean it’s the middle of the night?”

“Indeed, tribesman,” said Graycloud. “That’s why it took a while to satisfy your need.”

Seldon understood suddenly why Sunmaster could not be disturbed and thought of Graycloud’s woman having to be awakened to prepare him a meal and felt his conscience gnaw at him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We are only tribespeople and we didn’t know how to use the kitchen or how to prepare the food. In the morning, could you have someone arrive to instruct us properly?”

“The best I can do, tribesmen,” said Graycloud placatingly, “is to have two Sisters sent in. I ask your pardon for inconveniencing you with feminine presence, but it is they who know these things.”

Dors, who had emerged from the kitchen, said (before remembering her place in the masculine Mycogenian society), “That’s fine, Graycloud. We’d love to meet the Sisters.”

Graycloud looked at her uneasily and fleetingly, but said nothing.

Seldon, convinced that the young Mycogenian would, on principle, refuse to have heard what a woman said to him, repeated the remark. “That’s fine, Graycloud. We’d love to meet the Sisters.”

His expression cleared at once. “I will have them here as soon as it is day.”

When Graycloud had left, Seldon said with some satisfaction, “The Sisters are likely to be exactly what we need.”

“Indeed? And in what way, Hari?” asked Dors.

“Well, surely if we treat them as though they are human beings, they will be grateful enough to speak of their legends.”

“If they know them,” said Dors skeptically. “Somehow I have no faith that the Mycogenians bother to educate their women very well.”