Prelude to Foundation

She told him and he checked the Book quickly. “There you are. The name is not listed in the index, either by that spelling or any reasonable alternative.”

“Really?”

“And they do mention other worlds in passing. Names aren’t given and there seems no interest in those other worlds except insofar as they directly impinge on the local world they speak of… at least as far as I can see from what I’ve read. In one place, they talked about ‘The Fifty.’ I don’t know what they meant. Fifty leaders? Fifty cities? It seemed to me to be fifty worlds.”

“Did they give a name to their own world, this world that seems to preoccupy them entirely?” asked Dors. “If they don’t call it Earth, what do they call it?”

“As you’d expect, they call it ‘the world’ or ‘the planet.’ Sometimes they call it ‘the Oldest’ or ‘the World of the Dawn,’ which has a poetic significance, I presume, that isn’t clear to me. I suppose one ought to read the Book entirely through and some matters will then grow to make more sense.” He looked down at the Book in his hand with some distaste. “It would take a very long time, though, and I’m not sure that I’d end up any the wiser.”

Dors sighed. “I’m sorry, Hari. You sound so disappointed.”

“That’s because I am disappointed. It’s my fault, though. I should not have allowed myself to expect too much.-At one point, come to think of it, they referred to their world as ‘Aurora.’ ”

“Aurora?” said Dors, lifting her eyebrows.

“It sounds like a proper name. It doesn’t make any sense otherwise, as far as I can see. Does it mean anything to you, Dors?”

“Aurora.” Dors thought about it with a slight frown on her face. “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of a planet with that name in the course of the history of the Galactic Empire or during the period of its growth, for that matter, but I won’t pretend to know the name of every one of the twenty-five million worlds. We could look it up in the University library-if we ever get back to Streeling. There’s no use trying to find a library here in Mycogen. Somehow I have a feeling that all their knowledge is in the Book. If anything isn’t there, they aren’t interested.”

Seldon yawned and said, “I think you’re right. In any case, there’s no use reading any more and I doubt that I can keep my eyes open any longer. Is it all right if I put out the light?”

“I would welcome it, Hari. And let’s sleep a little later in the morning.”

Then, in the dark, Seldon said softly, “Of course, some of what they say is ridiculous. For instance, they refer to a life expectancy on their world of between three and four centuries.”

“Centuries?”

“Yes, they count their ages by decades rather than by years. It gives you a queer feeling, because so much of what they say is perfectly matter-of-fact that when they come out with something that odd, you almost find yourself trapped into believing it.”

“If you feel yourself begi

“Is that so?” said Seldon, yawning again.

“It is. And the cure for advanced gullibility is to go to sleep and consider matters again the next day.”

And Seldon, pausing only long enough to think that an extended life span might well be a simple necessity for anyone trying to understand a Galaxy of people, slept.

The next morning, feeling relaxed and refreshed and eager to begin his study of the Book again, Hari asked Dors, “How old would you say the Raindrop sisters are?”

“I don’t know. Twenty… twenty-two?”

“Well, suppose they do live three or four centuries.”

“Hari. That’s ridiculous.”

“I’m saying suppose. In mathematics, we say ‘suppose’ all the time and see if we can end up with something patently untrue or self-contradictory. An extended life span would almost surely mean an extended period of development. They might seem in their early twenties and actually be in their sixties.”

“You can try asking them how old they are.”

“We can assume they’d lie.”

“Look up their birth certificates.”

Seldon smiled wryly. “I’ll bet you anything you like-a roll in the hay, if you’re willing-that they’ll claim they don’t keep records or that, if they do, they will insist those records are closed to tribespeople.”

“No bet,” said Dors. “And if that’s true, then it’s useless trying to suppose anything about their age.”

“Oh no. Think of it this way. If the Mycogenians are living extended life spans that are four or five times that of ordinary human beings, they can’t very well give birth to very many children without expanding their population tremendously. You remember that Sunmaster said something about not having the population expand and bit off his remarks angrily at that time.”

Dors said, “What are you getting at?”

“When I was with Raindrop Forty-Three, I saw no children.”

“On the microfarms?”

“Yes.”

“Did you expect children there? I was with Raindrop Forty-Five in the shops and on the residential levels and I assure you I saw a number of children of all ages, including infants. Quite a few of them.”

“Ah.” Seldon looked chagrined. “Then that would mean they can’t be enjoying extended life spans.”

Dors said, “By your line of argument, I should say definitely not. Did you really think they did?”

“No, not really. But then you can’t close your mind either and make assumptions without testing them one way or another.”

“You can waste a lot of time that way too, if you stop to chew away at things that are ridiculous on the face of it.”

“Some things that seem ridiculous on the face of it aren’t. That’s all. Which reminds me. You’re the historian. In your work, have you ever come across objects or phenomena called ‘robots’?”

“Ah! Now you’re switching to another legend and a very popular one. There are any number of worlds that imagine the existence of machines in human form in prehistoric times. These are called ‘robots.’

“The tales of robots probably originate from one master legend, for the general theme is the same. Robots were devised, then grew in numbers and abilities to the status of the almost superhuman. They threatened humanity and were destroyed. In every case, the destruction took place before the actual reliable historic records available to us today existed. The usual feeling is that the story is a symbolic picture of the risks and dangers of exploring the Galaxy, when human beings expanded outward from the world or worlds that were their original homes. There must always have been the fear of encountering other-and superior-intelligences.”

“Perhaps they did at least once and that gave rise to the legend.”

“Except that on no human-occupied world has there been any record or trace of any prehuman or nonhuman intelligence.”

“But why ‘robots’? Does the word have meaning?”

“Not that I know of, but it’s the equivalent of the familiar ‘automata.’ ”

“Automata! Well, why don’t they say so?”

“Because people do use archaic terms for flavor when they tell an ancient legend. Why do you ask all this, by the way?”

“Because in this ancient Mycogenian book, they talk of robots. And very favorably, by the way.-Listen, Dors, aren’t you going out with Raindrop Forty-Five again this afternoon?”

“Supposedly-if she shows up.”

“Would you ask her some questions and try to get the answers out of her?”

“I can try. What are the questions?”

“I would like to find out, as tactfully as possible, if there is some structure in Mycogen that is particularly significant, that is tied in with the past, that has a sort of mythic value, that can-”