“Not pretty,” muttered Seldon. “Beautiful. Very beautiful.”
“So what do we do now, Grandpa?” asked Wanda. “After all these years, psychohistory will collapse.”
“I suppose that,” said Seldon, “in a way, it’s something that can’t be helped. I’ve been predicting the breakdown of the Empire for nearly forty years and now that it’s come, psychohistory breaks down with it.”
“But psychohistory will save the Empire, at least partly.”
“I know it will, but I can’t force it to.”
“Are you just going to let it collapse?”
Seldon shook his head. “I’ll try to keep it from doing so, but I must admit that I don’t know how I’m going to do it.”
Wanda said, “I’m going to practice. There must be some way I can strengthen my push, make it easier for me to force people to do what I want them to do.”
“I wish you could manage.”
“What are you going to do, Grandpa?”
“Well, nothing much. Two days ago, when I was on my way to see the Chief Librarian, I encountered three men in the Library who were arguing about psychohistory. For some reason, one of them impressed me very much. I urged him to come see me and he agreed. The appointment is for this afternoon at my office.”
“Are you going to have him work for you?”
“I would like to—if I have enough credits to pay him with. But it can’t hurt to talk with him. After all, what can I lose?”
24
The young man arrived at precisely 4 T.S.T. (Trantorian Standard Time) and Seldon smiled. He loved punctual people. He placed his hands on his desk and made ready to heave to his feet, but the young man said, “Please, Professor, I know you have a bad leg. You needn’t stand up.”
Seldon said, “Thank you, young man. However, that does not mean that you cannot sit down. Please do.”
The young man removed his jacket and sat down.
Seldon said, “You must forgive me .?.?. when we met and set up this appointment, I neglected to learn your name—which is?.?.?.??
“Stettin Palver,” said the young man.
“Ah. Palver! Palver! The name sounds familiar.”
“It should, Professor. My grandfather boasted frequently of having known you.”
“Your grandfather. Of course. Joramis Palver. He was two years younger than I was, as I recall. I tried to get him to join me in psychohistory, but he refused. He said there was no chance of his ever learning enough mathematics to make it possible. Too bad! How is Joramis, by the way?”
Palver said solemnly, “I’m afraid that Joramis has gone the way of old men generally. He’s dead.”
Seldon winced. Two years younger than he himself was—and dead. An old friend and they had lost touch to such a degree that, when death came, it did so unknowingly.
Seldon sat there for a while and finally muttered, “I’m sorry.”
The young man shrugged. “He had a good life.”
“And you, young man, where did you have your schooling?”
“Langano University.”
Seldon frowned. “Langano? Stop me if I’m wrong, but that’s not on Trantor, is it?”
“No. I wanted to try a different world. The Universities on Trantor, as you undoubtedly know very well, are all overcrowded. I wanted to find a place where I could study in peace.”
“And what did you study?”
“Nothing much. History. Not the sort of thing that would lead one to a good job.”
(Another wince, even worse than the first. Dors Venabili had been a historian.)
Seldon said, “But you’re back here on Trantor. Why is that?”
“Credits. Jobs.”
“As an historian?”
Palver laughed. “Not a chance. I run a device that pulls and hauls. Not exactly a professional occupation.”
Seldon looked at Palver with a twinge of envy. The contours of Palver’s arms and chest were highlighted by the thin fabric of his shirt. He was well muscled. Seldon had never himself been quite that muscular.
Seldon said, “I presume that when you were at the University, you were on the boxing team.”
“Who, me? Never. I’m a Twister.”
“A Twister!” Seldon’s spirits jumped. “Are you from Helicon?”
Palver said with a certain contempt, “You don’t have to come from Helicon to be a good Twister.”
No, thought Seldon, but that’s where the best ones come from.
However, he said nothing.
He did say, though, “Well, your grandfather would not join me. How about you?”
“Psychohistory?”
“I heard you talking to the others when I first encountered you and it seemed to me that you were talking quite intelligently about psychohistory. Would you like to join me, then?”
“As I said, Professor, I have a job.”
“Pushing and hauling. Come, come.”
“It pays well.”
“Credits aren’t everything.”
“They’re quite a bit. Now you, on the other hand, can’t pay me much. I’m quite certain that you’re short of credits.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I’m guessing, in a way, I suppose. —But am I wrong?”
Seldon’s lips pressed together hard, then he said, “No, you’re not wrong and I can’t pay you much. I’m sorry. I suppose that ends our little interview.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” Palver held up his hands. “Not quite so fast, please. We’re still talking about psychohistory. If I work for you, I will be taught psychohistory, right?”
“Of course.”
“In that case, credits aren’t everything, after all. I’ll make you a deal. You teach me all the psychohistory you can and you pay me whatever you can and I’ll get by somehow. How about it?”
“Wonderful,” said Seldon joyously. “That sounds great. Now, one more thing.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. I’ve been attacked twice in recent weeks. The first time my son came to my defense, but he has since gone to Santanni. The second time I made use of my lead-filled walking stick. It worked, but I was dragged before a magistrate and accused of assault and battery—”
“Why the attacks?” interjected Palver.
“I am not popular. I have been preaching the Fall of the Empire for so long that, now that it is coming, I am blamed for it.”
“I see. Now then, what does all that have to do with the one more thing you mentioned?”
“I want you to be my bodyguard. You’re young, you’re strong, and, most of all, you’re a Twister. You’re exactly what I need.”
“I suppose it can be managed,” Palver said with a smile.
25
