Prelude to Foundation

Mistress Tisalver thought about it. “Well, that’s decent of you, but it’s not only the credits. There’s the neighbors to think of. A sweaty, smelly heatsinker—”

“I doubt that he’ll be sweaty and smelly at fourteen hundred, Mistress Tisalver, but let me go on. Since Dr. Seldon must see him, then if he can’t see him here, he’ll have to see him elsewhere, but we can’t run here and there. That would be too inconvenient. Therefore, what we will have to do is to get a room elsewhere. It won’t be easy and we don’t want to do it, but we will have to. So we will pay the rent through today and leave and of course we will have to explain to Master Hummin why we have had to change the arrangements that he so kindly made for us.”

“Wait.” Mistress Tisalver’s face became a study of calculation. “We wouldn’t like to disoblige Master Hummin .?.?. or you two. How long would this creature have to stay?”

“He’s coming at fourteen hundred. He must be at work at sixteen hundred. He will be here for less than two hours, perhaps considerably less. We will meet him outside, the two of us, and bring him to Dr. Seldon’s room. Any neighbors who see us will think he is an Outworlder friend of ours.”

Mistress Tisalver nodded her head. “Then let it be as you say. Double rent for Master Seldon’s room for today and the heatsinker will visit just this one time.”

“Just this one time,” said Dors.

But later, when Seldon and Dors were sitting in her room, Dors said, “Why do you have to see him, Hari? Is interviewing a heatsinker important to psychohistory too?”

Seldon thought he detected a small edge of sarcasm in her voice and he said tartly, “I don’t have to base everything on this huge project of mine, in which I have very little faith anyway. I am also a human being with human curiosities. We were down in the heatsinks for hours and you saw what the working people there were like. They were obviously uneducated. They were low-level individuals—no play on words intended—and yet here was one who recognized me. He must have seen me on holovision on the occasion of the Decennial Convention and he remembered the word ‘psychohistory.’ He strikes me as unusual—as out of place somehow—and I would like to talk to him.”

“Because it pleases your vanity to have become known even to heatsinkers in Dahl?”

“Well .?.?. perhaps. But it also piques my curiosity.”

“And how do you know he hasn’t been briefed and intends to lead you into trouble as has happened before.”

Seldon winced. “I won’t let him run his fingers through my hair. In any case, we’re more nearly prepared now, aren’t we? And I’m sure you’ll be with me. I mean, you let me go Upperside alone, you let me go with Raindrop Forty-Three to the microfarms alone, and you’re not going to do that again, are you?”

“You can be absolutely sure I won’t,” said Dors.

“Well then, I’ll talk to the young man and you can watch out for traps. I have every faith in you.”

65

Amaryl arrived a few minutes before 1400, looking warily about. His hair was neat and his thick mustache was combed and turned up slightly at the edges. His T-shirt was startlingly white. He did smell, but it was a fruity odor that undoubtedly came from the slightly over-enthusiastic use of scent. He had a bag with him.

Seldon, who had been waiting outside for him, seized one elbow lightly, while Dors seized the other, and they moved rapidly into the elevator. Having reached the correct level, they passed through the apartment into Seldon’s room.

Amaryl said in a low hangdog voice, “Nobody home, huh?”

“Everyone’s busy,” said Seldon neutrally. He indicated the only chair in the room, a pad directly on the floor.

“No,” said Amaryl. “I don’t need that. One of you two use it.” He squatted on the floor with a graceful downward motion.

Dors imitated the movement, sitting on the edge of Seldon’s floor-based mattress, but Seldon dropped down rather clumsily, having to make use of his hands and unable, quite, to find a comfortable position for his legs.

Seldon said, “Well, young man, why do you want to see me?”

“Because you’re a mathematician. You’re the first mathematician I ever saw—close up—so I could touch him, you know.”

“Mathematicians feel like anyone else.”

“Not to me, Dr.?.?.?. Dr.?.?.?. Seldon?”

“That’s my name.”

Amaryl looked pleased. “I finally remembered. —You see, I want to be a mathematician too.”

“Very good. What’s stopping you?”

Amaryl suddenly frowned. “Are you serious?”

“I presume something is stopping you. Yes, I’m serious.”

“What’s stopping me is I’m a Dahlite, a heatsinker on Dahl. I don’t have the money to get an education and I can’t get the credits to get an education. A real education, I mean. All they taught me was to read and cipher and use a computer and then I knew enough to be a heatsinker. But I wanted more. So I taught myself.”

“In some ways, that’s the best kind of teaching. How did you do that?”

“I knew a librarian. She was willing to help me. She was a very nice woman and she showed me how to use computers for learning mathematics. And she set up a software system that would connect me with other libraries. I’d come on my days off and on mornings after my shift. Sometimes she’d lock me in her private room so I wouldn’t be bothered by people coming in or she would let me in when the library was closed. She didn’t know mathematics herself, but she helped me all she could. She was oldish, a widow lady. Maybe she thought of me as a kind of son or something. She didn’t have children of her own.”

(Maybe, thought Seldon briefly, there was some other emotion involved too, but he put the thought away. None of his business.)

“I liked number theory,” said Amaryl. “I worked some things out from what I learned from the computer and from the book-films it used to teach me mathematics. I came up with some new things that weren’t in the book- films.”

Seldon raised his eyebrows. “That’s interesting. Like what?”

“I’ve brought some of them to you. I’ve never showed them to anyone. The people around me—” He shrugged. “They’d either laugh or be annoyed. Once I tried to tell a girl I knew, but she just said I was weird and wouldn’t see me anymore. Is it all right for me to show them to you?”

“Quite all right. Believe me.”

Seldon held out his hand and after a brief hesitation, Amaryl handed him the bag he was carrying.

For a long time, Seldon looked over Amaryl’s papers. The work was naive in the extreme, but he allowed no smile to cross his face. He followed the demonstrations, not one of which was new, of course—or even nearly new—or of any importance.

But that didn’t matter.

Seldon looked up. “Did you do all of this yourself?”

Amaryl, looking more than half-frightened, nodded his head.

Seldon extracted several sheets. “What made you think of this?” His finger ran down a line of mathematical reasoning.

Amaryl looked it over, frowned, and thought about it. Then he explained his line of thinking.

Seldon listened and said, “Did you ever read a book by Anat Bigell?”

“On number theory?”

“The title was Mathematical Deduction. It wasn’t about number theory, particularly.”

Amaryl shook his head. “I never heard of him. I’m sorry.”