Forward the Foundation

"A number of us have. It's by no means all me. Your colleague Tamwile Elar has worked with incredible dedication."

Seldon scowled.

"What's the matter with Elar?" said Dors.

Seldon said, "He keeps calling me Maestro.' "

Dors shook her head. "Well, there's a terrible crime."

Seldon ignored that and said, "And he's young."

"Worse and worse. Come, Hari, you're going to have to learn to grow old gracefully-and to begin with you'll have to show that you're enjoying yourself. That will please others and increase their enjoyment and surely you would want to do that. Come on. Move around. Don't hide here with me. Greet everyone. Smile. Ask after their health. And remember that, after the banquet, you're going to have to make a speech."

"I dislike banquets and I doubly dislike speeches."

"You'll have to, anyway. Now move!"

Seldon sighed dramatically and did as he was told. He cut quite an imposing figure as he stood in the archway leading into the main hall. The voluminous First Minister's robes of yesteryear were gone, as were the Heliconian-style garments he had favored in his youth. Now Seldon wore an outfit that bespoke his elevated status: straight pants, crisply pleated, a modified tunic on top. Embroidered in silver thread above his heart was the insignia: SELDON PSYCHOHISTORY PROJECT AT STREELING UNIVERSITY. It sparkled like a beacon against the dignified titanium-gray hue of his clothing. Seldon's eyes twinkled in a face now lined by age, his sixty years given away as much by his wrinkles as by his white hair.

He entered the room in which the children were feasting. The room had been entirely cleared, except for trestles with food upon them. The children rushed up to him as soon as they saw him-knowing, as they did, that he was the reason for the feast-and Seldon tried to avoid their clutching fingers.

"Wait, wait, children," he said. "Now stand back."

He pulled a small computerized robot from his pocket and placed it on the floor. In an Empire without robots, this was something that he could expect to be eye-popping. It had the shape of a small furry animal, but it also had the capacity to change shapes without warning (eliciting squeals of children's laughter each time) and when it did so, the sounds and motions it made changed as well.

"Watch it," said Seldon, "and play with it, and try not to break it. Later on, there'll be one for each of you."

He slipped out into the hallway leading back to the main hall and realized, as he did so, that Wanda was following him.

"Grandpa," she said.

Well, of course, Wanda was different. He swooped down and lifted her high in the air, turned her over, and put her down.

"Are you having a good time, Wanda?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, "but don't go into that room."

"Why not, Wanda? It's my room. It's the office where I work."

"It's where I had my bad dream."

"I know, Wanda, but that's all over, isn't it?" He hesitated, then he led Wanda to one of the chairs lining the hallway. He sat down and placed her on his lap.

"Wanda," he said, "are you sure it was a dream?"

"I think it was a dream."

"Were you really sleeping?"

"I think I was."

She seemed uncomfortable talking about it and Seldon decided to let it go. There was no use pushing her any further.

He said, "Well, dream or not, there were two men and they talked of lemonade death, didn't they?"

Wanda nodded reluctantly.

Seldon said, "You're sure they said lemonade?"

Wanda nodded again.

"Might they have said something else and you thought they said lemonade?"

"Lemonade is what they said."

Seldon had to be satisfied with that. "Well, run off and have a good time, Wanda. Forget about the dream."

"All right, Grandpa." She cheered up as soon as the matter of the dream was dismissed and off she went to join the festivities.

Seldon went to search for Manella. It took him an extraordinarily long time to find her, since, at every step, he was stopped, greeted, and conversed with.

Finally he saw her in the distance. Muttering, "Pardon me- Pardon me-There's someone I must-Pardon me-," he worked his way over to her with considerable trouble.

"Manella," he said and drew her off to one side, smiling mechanically in all directions.

"Yes, Hari," she said. "Is something wrong?"

"It's Wanda's dream."

"Don't tell me she's still talking about it."

"Well, it's still bothering her. Listen, we have lemonade at the party, haven't we?"

"Of course, the children adore it. I've added a couple of dozen different Mycogenian taste buds to very small glasses of different shapes and the children try them one after the other to see which taste best. The adults have been drinking it, too. I have. Why don't you taste it, Hari? It's great."

"I'm thinking. If it wasn't a dream, if the child really heard two men speak of lemonade death-" He paused, as though ashamed to continue.

Manella said, "Are you thinking that someone poisoned the lemonade? That's ridiculous. By now every child in the place would be sick or dying."

"I know," muttered Seldon. "I know."