Prelude to Foundation

MYCOGEN— .?.?.?The microfarms of Mycogen are legendary, though they survive today only in such oft-used similes as “rich as the microfarms of Mycogen” or “tasty as Mycogenian yeast.” Such encomiums tend to intensify with time, to be sure, but Hari Seldon visited those microfarms in the course of The Flight and there are references in his memoirs that would tend to support the popular opinion?.?.?.

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

41

“That was good!” said Seldon explosively. “It was considerably better than the food Graycloud brought—”

Dors said reasonably, “You have to remember that Graycloud’s woman had to prepare it on short notice in the middle of the night.” She paused and said, “I wish they would say ‘wife.’ They make ‘woman’ sound like such an appanage, like ‘my house’ or ‘my robe.’ It is absolutely demeaning.”

“I know. It’s infuriating. But they might well make ‘wife’ sound like an appanage as well. It’s the way they live and the Sisters don’t seem to mind. You and I aren’t going to change it by lecturing. —Anyway, did you see how the Sisters did it?”

“Yes, I did and they made everything seem very simple. I doubted I could remember everything they did, but they insisted I wouldn’t have to. I could get away with mere heating. I gathered the bread had some sort of microderivative added to it in the baking that both raised the dough and lent it that crunchy consistency and warm flavor. Just a hint of pepper, didn’t you think?”

“I couldn’t tell, but whatever it was, I didn’t get enough. And the soup. Did you recognize any of the vegetables?”

“No.”

“And what was the sliced meat? Could you tell?”

“I don’t think it was sliced meat, actually. We did have a lamb dish back on Cinna that it reminded me of.”

“It was certainly not lamb.”

“I said that I doubted it was meat at all. —I don’t think anyone outside Mycogen eats like this either. Not even the Emperor, I’m sure. Whatever the Mycogenians sell is, I’m willing to bet, near the bottom of the line. They save the best for themselves. We had better not stay here too long, Hari. If we get used to eating like this, we’ll never be able to acclimatize ourselves to the miserable stuff they have outside.” She laughed.

Seldon laughed too. He took another sip at the fruit juice, which tasted far more tantalizing than any fruit juice he had ever sipped before, and said, “Listen, when Hummin took me to the University, we stopped at a roadside diner and had some food that was heavily yeasted. It tasted like—No, never mind what it tasted like, but I wouldn’t have thought it conceivable, then, that microfood could taste like this. I wish the Sisters were still here. It would have been polite to thank them.”

“I think they were quite aware of how we would feel. I remarked on the wonderful smell while everything was warming and they said, quite complacently, that it would taste even better.”

“The older one said that, I imagine.”

“Yes. The younger one giggled. —And they’ll be back. They’re going to bring me a kirtle, so that I can go out to see the shops with them. And they made it clear I would have to wash my face if I was to be seen in public. They will show me where to buy some good-quality kirtles of my own and where I can buy ready-made meals of all kinds. All I’ll have to do is heat them up. They explained that decent Sisters wouldn’t do that, but would start from scratch. In fact, some of the meal they prepared for us was simply heated and they apologized for that. They managed to imply, though, that tribespeople couldn’t be expected to appreciate true artistry in cooking, so that simply heating prepared food would do for us. —They seem to take it for granted, by the way, that I will be doing all the shopping and cooking.”

“As we say at home, ‘When in Trantor, do as the Trantorians do.’?”

“Yes, I was sure that would be your attitude in this case.”

“I’m only human,” said Seldon.

“The usual excuse,” said Dors with a small smile.

Seldon leaned back with a satisfactory well-filled feeling and said, “You’ve been on Trantor for two years, Dors, so you might understand a few things that I don’t. Is it your opinion that this odd social system the Mycogenians have is part of a supernaturalistic view they have?”

“Supernaturalistic?”

“Yes. Would you have heard that this was so?”

“What do you mean by ‘supernaturalistic’?”

“The obvious. A belief in entities that are independent of natural law, that are not bound by the conservation of energy, for instance, or by the existence of a constant of action.”

“I see. You’re asking if Mycogen is a religious community.”

It was Seldon’s turn. “Religious?”

“Yes. It’s an archaic term, but we historians use it—our study is riddled with archaic terms. ‘Religious’ is not precisely equivalent to ‘supernaturalistic,’ though it contains richly supernaturalistic elements. I can’t answer your specific question, however, because I’ve never made any special investigation of Mycogen. Still, from what little I’ve seen of the place and from my knowledge of religions in history, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Mycogenian society was religious in character.”

“In that case, would it surprise you if Mycogenian legends were also religious in character?”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

“And therefore not based on historical matter?”

“That wouldn’t necessarily follow. The core of the legends might still be authentically historic, allowing for distortion and supernaturalistic intermixture.”

“Ah,” said Seldon and seemed to retire into his thoughts.

Finally Dors broke the silence that followed and said, “It’s not so uncommon, you know. There is a considerable religious element on many worlds. It’s grown stronger in the last few centuries as the Empire has grown more turbulent. On my world of Cinna, at least a quarter of the population is tritheistic.”

Seldon was again painfully and regretfully conscious of his ignorance of history. He said, “Were there times in past history when religion was more prominent than it is today?”

“Certainly. In addition, there are new varieties springing up constantly. The Mycogenian religion, whatever it might be, could be relatively new and may be restricted to Mycogen itself. I couldn’t really tell without considerable study.”

“But now we get to the point of it, Dors. Is it your opinion that women are more apt to be religious than men are?”

Dors Venabili raised her eyebrows. “I’m not sure if we can assume anything as simple as that.” She thought a bit. “I suspect that those elements of a population that have a smaller stake in the material natural world are more apt to find solace in what you call supernaturalism—the poor, the disinherited, the downtrodden. Insofar as supernaturalism overlaps religion, they may also be more religious. There are obviously many exceptions in both directions. Many of the downtrodden may lack religion; many of the rich, powerful, and satisfied may possess it.”

“But in Mycogen,” said Seldon, “where the women seem to be treated as subhuman—would I be right in assuming they would be more religious than the men, more involved in the legends that the society has been preserving?”

“I wouldn’t risk my life on it, Hari, but I’d be willing to risk a week’s income on it.”

“Good,” said Seldon thoughtfully.

Dors smiled at him. “There’s a bit of your psychohistory, Hari. Rule number 47,854: The downtrodden are more religious than the satisfied.”