Foundation and Earth f-7

by Isaac Asimov

Trevize turned to Pelorat. “Fain?”

  “Be eager,” said Pelorat softly.

  Trevize said, “Miss Hiroko, I felt no discourtesy, but if it will make you feel better, I will gladly speak with you.”

  “Kindly spoken. I thank thee,” said Hiroko, rising.

  Trevize rose, too. “Bliss,” he said, “make sure Janov remains safe.”

  “Leave that to me. As for you, you have your—” She nodded toward his holsters.

  “I don’t think I’ll need them,” said Trevize uncomfortably.

  He followed Hiroko out of the dining room. The sun was higher in the sky now and the temperature was still warmer. There was an otherworldly smell as always. Trevize remembered it had been faint on Comporellon, a little musty on Aurora, and rather delightful on Solaria. (On Melpomenia, they were in space suits where one is only aware of the smell of one’s own body.) In every case, it disappeared in a matter of hours as the osmic centers of the nose grew saturated.

  Here, on Alpha, the odor was a pleasant grassy fragrance under the warming effect of the sun, and Trevize felt a bit annoyed, knowing that this, too, would soon disappear.

  They were approaching a small structure that seemed to be built of a pale pink plaster.

  “This,” said Hiroko, “is my home. It used to belong to my mother’s younger sister.”

  She walked in and motioned Trevize to follow. The door was open or, Trevize noticed as he passed through, it would be more accurate to say there was no door.

  Trevize said, “What do you do when it rains?”

  “We are ready. It will rain two days hence, for three hours ere dawn, when it is coolest, and when it will moisten the soil most powerfully. Then I have but to draw this curtain, both heavy and water-repellent, across the door.”

  She did so as she spoke. It seemed made of a strong canvas-like material.

  “I will leave it in place now,” she went on. “All will then know I am within but not available, for I sleep or am occupied in matters of importance.”

  “It doesn’t seem much of a guardian of privacy.”

  “Why should it not be? See, the entrance is covered.”

  “But anyone could shove it aside.”

  “With disregard of the wishes of the occupant?” Hiroko looked shocked. “Are such things done on thy world? It would be barbarous.”

  Trevize grinned. “I only asked.”

  She led him into the second of two rooms, and, at her invitation, he seated himself in a padded chair. There was something claustrophobic about the blockish smallness and emptiness of the rooms, but the house seemed designed for little more than seclusion and rest. The window openings were small and near the ceiling, but there were dull mirror strips in a careful pattern along the walls, which reflected light diffusely. There were slits in the floor from which a gentle, cool breeze uplifted. Trevize saw no signs of artificial lighting and wondered if Alphans had to wake at sunrise and go to bed at sunset.

  He was about to ask, but Hiroko spoke first, saying, “Is Madam Bliss thy woman companion?”

  Trevize said cautiously, “Do you mean by that, is she my sexual partner?”

  Hiroko colored. “I pray thee, have regard for the decencies of polite conversation, but I do mean private pleasantry.”

  “No, she is the woman companion of my learned friend.”

  “But thou art the younger, and the more goodly.”

  “Well, thank you for your opinion, but it is not Bliss’s opinion. She likes Dr. Pelorat much more than she does me.”

  “That much surprises me. Will he not share?”

  “I have not asked him whether he would, but I’m sure he wouldn’t. Nor would I want him to.”

  Hiroko nodded her head wisely. “I know. It is her fundament.”

  “Her fundament?”

  “Thou knowest. This.” And she slapped her own dainty rear end.

  “Oh, that! I understand you. Yes, Bliss is generously proportioned in her pelvic anatomy.” He made a curving gesture with his hands and winked. (And Hiroko laughed.)

  Trevize said, “Nevertheless, a great many men enjoy that kind of generosity of figure.”

  “I cannot believe so. Surely it would be a sort of gluttony to wish excess of that which is pleasant in moderation. Wouldst thou think more of me if my breasts were massive and dangling, with nipples pointing to toes? I have, in good sooth, seen such, yet have I not seen men flock to them. The poor women so afflicted must needs cover their monstrosities—as Madam Bliss does.”

  “Such oversize wouldn’t attract me, either, though I am sure that Bliss doesn’t cover her breasts for any imperfection they may have.”

  “Thou dost not, then, disapprove of my visage or form?”

  “I would be a madman to do so. You are beautiful.”

  “And what dost thou for pleasantries on this ship of thine, as thou flittest from one world to the next— Madam Bliss being denied thee?”

  “Nothing, Hiroko. There’s nothing to do. I think of pleasantries on occasion and that has its discomforts, but we who travel through space know well that there are times when we must do without. We make up for it at other times.”

  “If it be a discomfort, how may that be removed?”

  “I experience considerably more discomfort since you’ve brought up the subject. I don’t think it would be polite to suggest how I might be comforted.”

  “Would it be discourtesy, were I to suggest a way?”

  “It would depend entirely on the nature of the suggestion.”

  “I would suggest that we be pleasant with each other.”

  “Did you bring me here, Hiroko, that it might come to this?”

  Hiroko said, with a pleased smile, “Yes. It would be both my hostess-duty of courtesy, and it would be my wish, too.”

  “If that’s the case, I will admit it is my wish, too. In fact, I would like very much to oblige you in this. I would be—uh—fain to do thee pleasure.”

  18

  THE MUSIC FESTIVAL

  78.

  Lunch was in the same dining room in which they had had breakfast. It was full of Alphans, and with them were Trevize and Pelorat, made thoroughly welcome. Bliss and Fallom ate separately, and more or less privately, in a small annex.

  There were several varieties of fish, together with soup in which there were strips of what might well have been boiled kid. Loaves of bread were there for the slicing, butter and jam for the spreading. A salad, large and diffuse, came afterward, and there was a notable absence of any dessert, although fruit juices were passed about in apparently inexhaustible pitchers. Both Foundationers were forced to be abstemious after their heavy breakfast, but everyone else seemed to eat freely.

  “How do they keep from getting fat?” wondered Pelorat in a low voice.

  Trevize shrugged. “Lots of physical labor, perhaps.”

  It was clearly a society in which decorum at meals was not greatly valued. There was a miscellaneous hubbub of shouting, laughing, and thumping on the table with thick, obviously unbreakable, cups. Women were as loud and raucous as men, albeit in higher pitch.

  Pelorat winced, but Trevize, who now (temporarily, at least) felt no trace of the discomfort he had spoken of to Hiroko, felt both relaxed and good-natured.

  He said, “Actually, it has its pleasant side. These are people who appear to enjoy life and who have few, if any, cares. Weather is what they make it and food is unimaginably plentiful. This is a golden age for them that simply continues and continues.”

  He had to shout to make himself heard, and Pelorat shouted back, “But it’s so noisy.”

  “They’re used to it.”

  “I don’t see how they can understand each other in this riot.”

  Certainly, it was all lost on the two Foundationers. The queer pronunciation and the archaic grammar and word order of the Alphan language made it impossible to understand at the intense sound levels. To the Foundationers, it was like listening to the sounds of a zoo in fright.

&nbs
p; It was not till after lunch that they rejoined Bliss in a small structure, which Trevize found to be rather inconsiderably different from Hiroko’s quarters, and which had been assigned them as their own temporary living quarters. Fallom was in the second room, enormously relieved to be alone, according to Bliss, and attempting to nap.

  Pelorat looked at the door-gap in the wall and said uncertainly, “There’s very little privacy here. How can we speak freely?”

  “I assure you,” said Trevize, “that once we pull the canvas barrier across the door, we won’t be disturbed. The canvas makes it impenetrable by all the force of social custom.”

  Pelorat glanced at the high, open windows. “We can be overheard.”

  “We need not shout. The Alphans won’t eavesdrop. Even when they stood outside the windows of the dining room at breakfast, they remained at a respectful distance.”

  Bliss smiled. “You’ve learned so much about Alphan customs in the time you spent alone with gentle little Hiroko, and you’ve gained such confidence in their respect for privacy. What happened?”

  Trevize said, “If you’re aware that the tendrils of my mind have undergone a change for the better and can guess the reason, I can only ask you to leave my mind alone.”

  “You know very well that Gaia will not touch your mind under any circumstances short of life-crisis, and you know why. Still, I’m not mentally blind. I could sense what happened a kilometer away. Is this your invariable custom on space voyages, my erotomaniac friend?”

  “Erotomaniac? Come, Bliss. Twice on this entire trip. Twice!”

  “We were only on two worlds that had functioning human females on them. Two out of two, and we had only been a few hours on each.”

  “You are well aware I had no choice on Comporellon.”

  “That makes sense. I remember what she looked like.” For a few moments, Bliss dissolved in laughter. Then she said, “Yet I don’t think Hiroko held you helpless in her mighty grip, or inflicted her irresistible will on your cringing body.”

  “Of course not. I was perfectly willing. But it was her suggestion, just the same.”

  Pelorat said, with just a tinge of envy in his voice, “Does this happen to you all the time, Golan?”

  “Of course it must, Pel,” said Bliss. “Women are helplessly drawn to him.”

  “I wish that were so,” said Trevize, “but it isn’t. And I’m glad it isn’t—I do have other things I want to do in life. Just the same, in this case I was irresistible. After all, we were the first people from another world that Hiroko had ever seen or, apparently, that anyone now alive on Alpha had ever seen. I gathered from things she let slip, casual remarks, that she had the rather exciting notion that I might be different from Alphans, either anatomically or in my technique. Poor thing. I’m afraid she was disappointed.”

  “Oh?” said Bliss. “Were you?”

  “No,” said Trevize. “I have been on a number of worlds and I have had my experiences. And what I had discovered is that people are people and sex is sex, wherever one goes. If there are noticeable differences, they are usually both trivial and unpleasant. The perfumes I’ve encountered in my time! I remember when a young woman simply couldn’t manage unless there was music loudly played, music that consisted of a desperate screeching sound. So she played the music and then I couldn’t manage. I assure you—if it’s the same old thing, then I’m satisfied.”

  “Speaking of music,” said Bliss, “we are invited to a musicale after dinner. A very formal thing, apparently, that is being held in our honor. I gather the Alphans are very proud of their music.”

  Trevize grimaced. “Their pride will in no way make the music sound better to our ears.”

  “Hear me out,” said Bliss. “I gather that their pride is that they play expertly on very archaic instruments. Very archaic. We may get some information about Earth by way of them.”

  Trevize’s eyebrows shot up. “An interesting thought. And that reminds me that both of you may already have information. Janov, did you see this Monolee that Hiroko told us about?”

  “Indeed I did,” said Pelorat. “I was with him for three hours and Hiroko did not exaggerate. It was a virtual monologue on his part and when I left to come to lunch, he clung to me and would not let me go until I promised to return whenever I could in order that I might listen to him some more.”

  “And did he say anything of interest?”

  “Well, he, too—like everybody else—insisted that Earth was thoroughly and murderously radioactive; that the ancestors of the Alphans were the last to leave and that if they hadn’t, they would have died. —And, Golan, he was so emphatic that I couldn’t help believing him. I’m convinced that Earth is dead, and that our entire search is, after all, useless.”

  79.

  Trevize sat back in his chair, staring at Pelorat, who was sitting on a narrow cot. Bliss, having risen from where she had been sitting next to Pelorat, looked from one to the other.

  Finally, Trevize said, “Let me be the judge as to whether our search is useless or not, Janov. Tell me what the garrulous old man had to say to you—in brief, of course.”

  Pelorat said, “I took notes as Monolee spoke. It helped reinforce my role as scholar, but I don’t have to refer to them. He was quite stream-of-consciousness in his speaking. Each thing he said would remind him of something else, but, of course, I have spent my life trying to organize information in the search of the relevant and significant, so that it’s second nature for me now to be able to condense a long and incoherent discourse—”

  Trevize said gently, “Into something just as long and incoherent? To the point, dear Janov.”

  Pelorat cleared his throat uneasily. “Yes, certainly, old chap. I’ll try to make a connected and chronological tale out of it. Earth was the original home of humanity and of millions of species of plants and animals. It continued so for countless years until hyperspatial travel was invented. Then the Spacer worlds were founded. They broke away from Earth, developed their own cultures, and came to despise and oppress the mother planet.

  “After a couple of centuries of this, Earth managed to regain its freedom, though Monolee did not explain the exact manner in which this was done, and I dared not ask questions, even if he had given me a chance to interrupt, which he did not, for that might merely have sent him into new byways. He did mention a culture-hero named Elijah Baley, but the references were so characteristic of the habit of attributing to one figure the accomplishments of generations that there was little value in attempting to—”

  Bliss said, “Yes, Pel dear, we understand that part.”

  Again, Pelorat paused in midstream and reconsidered. “Of course. My apologies. Earth initiated a second wave of settlements, founding many new worlds in a new fashion. The new group of Settlers proved more vigorous than the Spacers, outpaced them, defeated them, outlasted them, and, eventually, established the Galactic Empire. During the course of the wars between the Settlers and the Spacers—no, not wars, for he used the word ‘conflict,’ being very careful about that—the Earth became radioactive.”

  Trevize said, with clear annoyance, “That’s ridiculous, Janov. How can a world become radioactive? Every world is very slightly radioactive to one degree or another from the moment of formation, and that radioactivity slowly decays. It doesn’t become radioactive.”

  Pelorat shrugged. “I’m only telling you what he said. And he was only telling me what he had heard—from someone who only told him what he had heard—and so on. It’s folk-history, told and retold over the generations, with who knows what distortions creeping in at each retelling.”

  “I understand that, but are there no books, documents, ancient histories which have frozen the story at an early time and which could give us something more accurate than the present tale?”

  “Actually, I managed to ask that question, and the answer is no. He said vaguely that there were books about it in ancient times and that they had long ago been lost, but that what he was telling us wa
s what had been in those books.”

  “Yes, well distorted. It’s the same story. In every world we go to, the records of Earth have, in one way or another, disappeared. —Well, how did he say the radioactivity began on Earth?”

  “He didn’t, in any detail. The closest he came to saying so was that the Spacers were responsible, but then I gathered that the Spacers were the demons on whom the people of Earth blamed all misfortune. The radioactivity—”

  A clear voice overrode him here. “Bliss, am I a Spacer?”

  Fallom was standing in the narrow doorway between the two rooms, hair tousled and the nightgown she was wearing (designed to fit Bliss’s more ample proportions) having slid off one shoulder to reveal an undeveloped breast.

  Bliss said, “We worry about eavesdroppers outside and we forget the one inside. —Now, Fallom, why do you say that?” She rose and walked toward the youngster.

  Fallom said, “I don’t have what they have,” she pointed at the two men, “or what you have, Bliss. I’m different. Is that because I’m a Spacer?”

  “You are, Fallom,” said Bliss soothingly, “but little differences don’t matter. Come back to bed.”

  Fallom became submissive as she always did when Bliss willed her to be so. She turned and said, “Am I a demon? What is a demon?”

  Bliss said over her shoulder, “Wait one moment for me. I’ll be right back.”

  She was, within five minutes. She was shaking her head. “She’ll be sleeping now till I wake her. I should have done that before, I suppose, but any modification of the mind must be the result of necessity.” She added defensively, “I can’t have her brood on the differences between her genital equipment and ours.”

  Pelorat said, “Someday she’ll have to know she’s hermaphroditic.”

  “Someday,” said Bliss, “but not now. Go on with the story, Pel.”

  “Yes,” said Trevize, “before something else interrupts us.”

  “Well, Earth became radioactive, or at least its crust did. At that time, Earth had had an enormous population that was centered in huge cities that existed for the most part underground—”