Prelude to Foundation f-1

by Isaac Asimov

  He smiled and said, “Can you read, Raych?”

  Raych spat again. “Nah! Who wants ta read?”

  “Can you use a computer?”

  “A talking computer? Sure. Anyone can.”

  “I’ll tell you what, then. You take me to the nearest computer store and I’ll buy you a little computer all your own and software that will teach you to read. A few weeks and you’ll be able to read.”

  It seemed to Seldon that the boy’s eyes sparkled at the thought, but—if so—they hardened at once. “Nah. Knife or nothin’.”

  “That’s the point, Raych. You learn to read and don’t tell anyone and you can surprise people. After a while you can bet them you can read. Bet them five credits. You can win a few extra credits that way and you can buy a knife of your own.”

  The boy hesitated. “Nah! No one will bet me. No one got credits.”

  “If you can read, you can get a job in a knife store and you can save your wages and get a knife at a discount. How about that?”

  “When ya gonna buy the talking computer?”

  “Right now. I’ll give it to you when I see Mother Rittah.”

  “You got credits?”

  “I have a credit tile.”

  “Let’s see ya buy the computer.”

  The transaction was carried through, but when the boy reached for it, Seldon shook his head and put it inside his pouch. “You’ve got to get me to Mother Rittah first, Raych. Are you sure you know where to find her?”

  Raych allowed a look of contempt to cross his face. “Sure I do. I’ll take ya there, only ya better hand over the computer when we get there or I’ll get some guys I know after you and the lady, so ya better watch out.”

  “You don’t have to threaten us,” said Seldon. “We’ll take care of our end of the deal.”

  Raych led them quickly along the walkway, past curious stares.

  Seldon was silent during the walk and so was Dors. Dors was far less lost in her own thoughts, though, for she clearly remained conscious of the surrounding people at all times. She kept meeting, with a level glare, the eyes of those passersby that turned toward them. On occasion, when there were footsteps behind them, she turned to look grimly back.

  And then Raych stopped and said, “In here. She ain’t homeless, ya know.”

  They followed him into an apartment complex and Seldon, who had had the intention of following their route with a view to retracing his steps later, was quickly lost.

  He said, “How do you know your way through these alleys, Raych?”

  The boy shrugged. “I been loafin’ through them since I was a kid,” he said. “Besides, the apartments are numbered—where they ain’t broken off—and there’s arrows and things. You can’t get lost if you know the tricks.”

  Raych knew the tricks, apparently, and they wandered deeper into the complex. Hanging over it all was an air of total decay: disregarded debris, inhabitants slinking past in clear resentment of the outsiders’ invasion. Unruly youngsters ran along the alleys in pursuit of some game or other. Some of them yelled, “Hey, get out o’ the way!” when their levitating ball narrowly missed Dors.

  And finally, Raych stopped before a dark scarred door on which the number 2782 glowed feebly.

  “This is it,” he said and held out his hand.

  “First let’s see who’s inside,” said Seldon softly. He pushed the signal button and nothing happened.

  “It don’t work,” said Raych. “Ya gotta bang. Loud. She don’t hear too good.”

  Seldon pounded his fist on the door and was rewarded with the sound of movement inside. A shrill voice called out, “Who wants Mother Rittah?”

  Seldon shouted, “Two scholars!”

  He tossed the small computer, with its small package of software attached, to Raych, who snatched it, grinned, and took off at a rapid run. Seldon then turned to face the opening door and Mother Rittah.

  70

  Mother Rittah was well into her seventies, perhaps, but had the kind of face that, at first sight, seemed to belie that. Plump cheeks, a little mouth, a small round chin slightly doubled. She was very short—not quite 1.5 meters tall—and had a thick body.

  But there were fine wrinkles about her eyes and when she smiled, as she smiled at the sight of them, others broke out over her face. And she moved with difficulty.

  “Come in, come in,” she said in a soft high-pitched voice and peered at them as though her eyesight was beginning to fail. “Outsiders . . . Outworlders even. Am I right? You don’t seem to have the Trantor smell about you.”

  Seldon wished she hadn’t mentioned smell. The apartment, overcrowded and littered with small possessions that seemed dim and dusty, reeked with food odors that were on the edge of rancidity. The air was so thick and clinging that he was sure his clothes would smell strongly of it when they left.

  He said, “You are right, Mother Rittah. I am Hari Seldon of Helicon. My friend is Dors Venabili of Cinna.”

  “So,” she said, looking about for an unoccupied spot on the floor where she could invite them to sit, but finding none suitable.

  Dors said, “We are willing to stand, Mother.”

  “What?” she looked up at Dors. “You must speak briskly, my child. My hearing is not what it was when I was your age.”

  “Why don’t you get a hearing device?” said Seldon, raising his voice.

  “It wouldn’t help, Master Seldon. Something seems to be wrong with the nerve and I have no money for nerve rebuilding. —You have come to learn the future from old Mother Rittah?”

  “Not quite,” said Seldon. “I have come to learn the past.”

  “Excellent. It is such a strain to decide what people want to hear.”

  “It must be quite an art,” said Dors, smiling.

  “It seems easy, but one has to be properly convincing. I earn my fees.”

  “If you have a credit outlet,” said Seldon. “We will pay any reasonable fees if you tell us about Earth—without cleverly designing what you tell us to suit what we want to hear. We wish to hear the truth.”

  The old woman, who had been shuffling about the room, making adjustments here and there, as though to make it all prettier and more suitable for important visitors, stopped short. “What do you want to know about Earth?”

  “What is it, to begin with?”

  The old woman turned and seemed to gaze off into space. When she spoke, her voice was low and steady.

  “It is a world, a very old planet. It is forgotten and lost.”

  Dors said, “It is not part of history. We know that much.”

  “It comes before history, child,” said Mother Rittah solemnly. “It existed in the dawn of the Galaxy and before the dawn. It was the only world with humanity.” She nodded firmly.

  Seldon said, “Was another name for Earth . . . Aurora?”

  And now Mother Rittah’s face twisted into a frown. “Where did you hear that?”

  “In my wanderings. I have heard of an old forgotten world named Aurora on which humanity lived in primordial peace.”

  “It’s a lie.” She wiped her mouth as though to get the taste of what she had just heard out of it. “That name you mention must never be mentioned except as the place of Evil. It was the beginning of Evil. Earth was alone till Evil came, along with its sister worlds. Evil nearly destroyed Earth, but Earth rallied and destroyed Evil—with the help of heroes.”

  “Earth was before this Evil. Are you sure of that?”

  “Long before. Earth was alone in the Galaxy for thousands of years—millions of years.”

  “Millions of years? Humanity existed on it for millions of years with no other people on any other world?”

  “That’s true. That’s true. That’s true.”

  “But how do you know all this? Is it all in a computer program? Or a printout? Do you have anything I can read?”

  Mother Rittah shook her head. “I heard the old stories from my mother, who heard it from hers, and so on far back. I have
no children, so I tell the stories to others, but it may come to an end. This is a time of disbelief.”

  Dors said, “Not really, Mother. There are people who speculate about prehistoric times and who study some of the tales of lost worlds.”

  Mother Rittah made a motion of her arm as though to wipe it away. “They look at it with cold eyes. Scholarly. They try to fit it in with their notions. I could tell you stories for a year of the great hero Ba-Lee, but you would have no time to listen and I have lost the strength to tell.”

  Seldon said, “Have you ever heard of robots?”

  The old woman shuddered and her voice was almost a scream. “Why do you ask such things? Those were artificial human beings, evil in themselves and the work of the Evil worlds. They were destroyed and should never be mentioned.”

  “There was one special robot, wasn’t there, that the Evil worlds hated?”

  Mother Rittah tottered toward Seldon and peered into his eyes. He could feel her hot breath on his face. “Have you come to mock me? You know of these things and yet you ask? Why do you ask?”

  “Because I wish to know.”

  “There was an artificial human being who helped Earth. He was Da-Nee, friend of Ba-Lee. He never died and lives somewhere, waiting for his time to return. None knows when that time will be, but someday he will come and restore the great old days and remove all cruelty, injustice, and misery. That is the promise.” At this, she closed her eyes and smiled, as if remembering . . .

  Seldon waited a while in silence, then sighed and said, “Thank you, Mother Rittah. You have been very helpful. What is your fee?”

  “So pleasant to meet Outworlders,” the old woman replied. “Ten credits. May I offer you some refreshment?”

  “No, thank you,” said Seldon earnestly. “Please take twenty. You need only tell us how to get back to the Expressway from here. —And, Mother Rittah, if you can arrange to have some of your tales of Earth put into a computer disc, I will pay you well.”

  “I would need so much strength. How well?”

  “It would depend on how long the story is and how well it is told. I might pay a thousand credits.”

  Mother Rittah licked her lips. “A thousand credits? But how will I find you when the story is told?”

  “I will give you the computer code number at which I can be reached.”

  After Seldon gave Mother Rittah the code number, he and Dors left, thankful for the comparatively clean odor of the alley outside. They walked briskly in the direction indicated by the old woman.

  71

  Dors said, “That wasn’t a very long interview, Hari.”

  “I know. The surroundings were terribly unpleasant and I felt I had learned enough. Amazing how these folktales tend to magnify.”

  “What do you mean, ‘magnify’?”

  “Well, the Mycogenians fill their Aurora with human beings who lived for centuries and the Dahlites fill their Earth with a humanity that lived for millions of years. And both talk of a robot that lives forever. Still, it makes one think.”

  “As far as millions of years go, there’s room for—Where are we going?”

  “Mother Rittah said we go in this direction till we reach a rest area, then follow the sign for CENTRAL WALKWAY, bearing left, and keep on following the sign. Did we pass a rest area on the way in?”

  “We may be leaving by a route different from the one we came in. I don’t remember a rest area, but I wasn’t watching the route. I was keeping my eye on the people we passed and—”

  Her voice died away. Up ahead the alley swelled outward on both sides.

  Seldon remembered. They had passed that way. There had been a couple of ratty couch pads resting on the walkway floor on either side.

  There was, however, no need for Dors to watch passersby going out as she had coming in. There were no passersby. But up ahead in the rest area they spotted a group of men, rather large-sized for Dahlites, mustaches bristling, bare upper arms muscular and glistening under the yellowish indoor light of the walkway.

  Clearly, they were waiting for the Outworlders and, almost automatically, Seldon and Dors came to a halt. For a moment or two, the tableau held. Then Seldon looked behind him hastily. Two or three additional men had stepped into view.

  Seldon said between his teeth, “We’re trapped. I should not have let you come, Dors.”

  “On the contrary. This is why I’m here, but was it worth your seeing Mother Rittah?”

  “If we get out of this, it was.”

  Seldon then said in a loud and firm voice, “May we pass?”

  One of the men ahead stepped forward. He was fully Seldon’s height of 1.73 meters, but broader in the shoulders and much more muscular. A bit flabby at the waist, though, Seldon noted.

  “I’m Marron,” he said with self-satisfied significance, as though the name ought to have meaning, “and I’m here to tell you we don’t like Outworlders in our district. You want to come in, all right—but if you want to leave, you’ll have to pay.”

  “Very well. How much?”

  “All you’ve got. You rich Outworlders have credit tiles, right? Just hand them over.”

  “No.”

  “No point saying no. We’ll just take them.”

  “You can’t take them without killing me or hurting me and they won’t work without my voiceprint. My normal voiceprint.”

  “That’s not so, Master—see, I’m being polite—we can take them away from you without hurting you very much.”

  “How many of you big strong men will it take? Nine? No.” Seldon counted rapidly. “Ten.”

  “Just one. Me.”

  “With no help?”

  “Just me.”

  “If the rest of you will clear away and give us room, I would like to see you try it, Marron.”

  “You don’t have a knife, Master. You want one?”

  “No, use yours to make the fight even. I’ll fight without one.”

  Marron looked about at the others and said, “Hey, this puny guy is a sport. He don’t even sound scared. That’s sort of nice. It would be a shame to hurt him. —I tell you what, Master. I’ll take the girl. If you want me to stop, hand over your credit tile and her tile and use your right voices to activate them. If you say no, then after I’m through with the girl . . . and that’ll take some time”—he laughed—“I’ll just have to hurt you.”

  “No,” said Seldon. “Let the woman go. I’ve challenged you to a fight—one to one, you with a knife, me without. If you want bigger odds, I’ll fight two of you, but let the woman go.”

  “Stop, Hari!” cried out Dors. “If he wants me, let him come and get me. You stay right where you are, Hari, and don’t move.”

  “You hear that?” said Marron, grinning broadly. “ ‘You stay right where you are, Hari, and don’t move.’ I think the little lady wants me. You two, keep him still.”

  Each of Seldon’s arms were caught in an iron grip and he felt the sharp point of a knife in his back.

  “Don’t move,” said a harsh whisper in his ear, “and you can watch. The lady will probably like it. Marron’s pretty good at this.”

  Dors called out again. “Don’t move, Hari!” She turned to face Marron watchfully, her half-closed hands poised near her belt.

  He closed in on her purposefully and she waited till he had come within arm’s length, when suddenly her own arms flashed and Marron found himself facing two large knives.

  For a moment, he leaned backward and then he laughed. “The little lady has two knives—knives like the big boys have. And I’ve only got one. But that’s fair enough.” His knife was swiftly out. “I hate to have to cut you, little lady, because it will be more fun for both of us if I don’t. Maybe I can just knock them out of your hands, huh?”

  Dors said, “I don’t want to kill you. I’ll do all I can to avoid doing so. Just the same, I call on all to witness, that if I do kill you, it is to protect my friend, as I am honor-bound to do.”

  Marron pretended
to be terrified. “Oh, please don’t kill me, little lady.” Then he burst into laughter and was joined by the other Dahlites present.

  Marron lunged with his knife, quite wide of the mark. He tried it again, then a third time, but Dors never budged. She made no attempt to fend off any motion that was not truly aimed at her.

  Marron’s expression darkened. He was trying to make her respond with panic, but he was only making himself seem ineffectual. The next lunge was directly at her and Dors’s left-hand blade moved flashingly and caught his with a force that pushed his arm aside. Her right-hand blade flashed inward and made a diagonal slit in his T-shirt. A thin bloody line smeared the dark-haired skin beneath.

  Marron looked down at himself in shock as the onlookers gasped in surprise. Seldon felt the grip on him weaken slightly as the two who held him were distracted by a duel not going quite as they had expected. He tensed himself.

  Now Marron lunged again and this time his left hand shot outward to enclose Dors’s right wrist. Again Dors’s left-hand blade caught his knife and held it motionless, while her right hand twisted agilely and drew downward, even as Marron’s left hand closed upon it. It closed on nothing but the blade and when he opened his hand there was a bloody line down the palm.

  Dors sprang back and Marron, aware of the blood on his chest and hand, roared out chokingly, “Someone toss me another knife!”

  There was hesitation and then one of the onlookers tossed his own knife underhanded. Marron reached for it, but Dors was quicker. Her right-hand blade struck the thrown knife and sent it flying backward, whirling as it went.

  Seldon felt the grips on his arms weaken further. He lifted them suddenly, pushing up and forward, and was free. His two captors turned toward him with a sudden shout, but he quickly kneed one in the groin and elbowed the other in the solar plexus and both went down.

  He knelt to draw the knives of each and rose as double-armed as Dors. Unlike Dors, Seldon did not know how to handle the blades, but he knew the Dahlites would scarcely be aware of that.