Forward the Foundation

"All right. I don't care if she is Wanda's grandmother, Hari. I'm her mother, after all, and my wishes come first."

"Absolutely," said Seldon soothingly and looked after Manella as she left. That was another burden-the unending competition between those two women.

9

Tamwile Elar was thirty-six years old and had joined Seldon's Psychohistory Project as Senior Mathematician four years earlier. He was a tall man, with a habitual twinkle in his eye and with more than a touch of self-assurance as well.

His hair was brown and had a loose wave in it, the more noticeable because he wore it rather long. He had an abrupt way of laughing, but there was no fault to be found with his mathematical ability.

Elar had been recruited from the West Mandanov University and Seldon always had to smile when he remembered how suspicious Yugo Amaryl had been of him at first. But then, Amaryl was suspicious of everyone. Deep in his heart (Seldon felt sure), Amaryl felt that psychohistory ought to have remained his and Hari's private province.

But even Amaryl was now willing to admit that Elar's membership in the group had eased his own situation tremendously. Yugo said, "His techniques for avoiding chaos are unique and fascinating. No one else in the Project could have worked it out the way he did. Certainly nothing of this sort ever occurred to me. It didn't occur to you, either, Hari."

"Well," said Seldon grumpily, "I'm getting old."

"If only," said Amaryl, "he didn't laugh so loud."

"People can't help the way they laugh."

Yet the truth was that Seldon found himself having a little trouble accepting Elar. It was rather humiliating that he himself had come nowhere near the "achaotic equations," as they were now called. It didn't bother Seldon that he had never thought of the principle behind the Electro-Clarifier-that was not really his field. The achaotic equations, however, he should, indeed, have thought of-or at least gotten close to.

He tried reasoning with himself. Seldon had worked out the entire basis for psychohistory and the achaotic equations grew naturally out of that basis. Could Elar have done Seldon's work three decades earlier? Seldon was convinced that Elar couldn't have. And was it so remarkable that Elar had thought up the principle of achaotism once the basis was in place?

All this was very sensible and very true, yet Seldon still found himself uneasy when facing Elar. Just slightly edgy. Weary age facing flamboyant youth.

Yet Elar never gave him obvious cause for feeling the difference in years. He never failed to show Seldon full respect or in any way to imply that the older man had passed his prime.

Of course, Elar was interested in the forthcoming festivities and had even, as Seldon had discovered, been the first to suggest that Seldon's birthday be celebrated. (Was this a nasty emphasis on Seldon's age? Seldon dismissed the possibility. If he believed that, it would mean he was picking up some of Dors's tricks of suspicion.

Elar strode toward him and said, "Maestro-" And Seldon winced, as always. He much preferred to have the senior members of the Project call him Hari, but it seemed such a small point to make a fuss over.

"Maestro," said Elar. "The word is out that you've been called in for a conference with General Tennar."

"Yes. He's the new head of the military junta and I suppose he wants to see me to ask what psychohistory is all about. They've been asking me that since the days of Cleon and Demerzel." (The new head! The junta was like a kaleidoscope, with some of its members periodically falling from grace and others rising from nowhere.)

"But it's my understanding he wants it now-right in the middle of the birthday celebration."

"That doesn't matter. You can all celebrate without me."

"No, we can't, Maestro. I hope you don't mind, but some of us got together and put in a call to the Palace and put the appointment off for a week."

"What?" said Seldon annoyed. "Surely that was presumptuous of you-and risky, besides."

"It worked out well. They've put it off and you'll need that time."

"Why would I need a week?"

Elar hesitated. "May I speak frankly, Maestro?"

"Of course you can. When have I ever asked that anyone speak to me m any way but frankly?"

Elar flushed slightly, his fair skin reddening, but his voice remained steady. "It's not easy to say this, Maestro. You're a genius at mathematics. No one on the Project has any doubt of that. No one in the Empire-they knew you and understood mathematics-would have any doubt about it. However, it is not given to anybody to be a universal genius."

"I know that as well as you do, Elar."

"I know you do. Specifically, though, you lack the ability to handle ordinary people-shall we say, stupid people. You lack a certain deviousness, a certain ability to sidestep, and if you are dealing with someone who is both powerful in government and somewhat stupid, you can easily endanger the Project and, for that matter, your own life, simply because you are too frank."