Prelude to Foundation

The Mycogenian caught the implication and seemed in no way put out by it. “They copied the Dawn World as best they could too.”

Seldon doubted that in the extreme, but he said nothing. They came to a semicircular seat of white stonite, sparkling in the light as the Sacratorium did.

“Good,” said the Mycogenian, his dark eyes gleaming with pleasure. “No one’s taken my place. I call it mine only because it’s my favorite seat. It affords a beautiful view of the side wall of the Sacratorium past the trees. Please sit down. It’s not cold, I assure you. And your companion. She is welcome to sit too. She is a tribeswoman, I know, and has different customs. She… she may speak if she wishes.”

Dors gave him a hard look and sat down.

Seldon, recognizing the fact that they might remain with this old Mycogenian a while, thrust out his hand and said, “I am Hari and my female companion is Dors. We don’t use numbers, I’m afraid.”

“To each his… or her… own,” said the other expansively. “I am Mycelium Seventy-Two. We are a large cohort.”

“Mycelium?” said Seldon a bit hesitantly.

“You seem surprised,” said Mycelium. “I take it, then, you’ve only met members of our Elder families. Names like Cloud and Sunshine and Starlight-all astronomical.”

“I must admit-” began Seldon.

“Well, meet one of the lower classes. We take our names from the ground and from the micro-organisms we grow. Perfectly respectable.”

“I’m quite certain,” said Seldon, “and thank you again for helping me with my… problem in the gravi-bus.”

“Listen,” said Mycelium Seventy-Two, “I saved you a lot of trouble. If a Sister had seen you before I did, she would undoubtedly have screamed and the nearest Brothers would have bustled you off the bus-maybe not even waiting for it to stop moving.”

Dors leaned forward so as to see across Seldon. “How is it you did not act in this way yourself?”

“I? I have no animosity against tribespeople. I’m a scholar.”

“A scholar?”

“First one in my cohort. I studied at the Sacratorium School and did very well. I’m learned in all the ancient arts and I have a license to enter the tribal library, where they keep book-films and books by tribespeople. I can view any book-film or read any book I wish to. We even have a computerized reference library and I can handle that too. That sort of thing broadens your mind. I don’t mind a little hair showing. I’ve seen pictures of men with hair many a time. And women too.” He glanced quickly at Dors.

They ate in silence for a while and then Seldon said, “I notice that every Brother who enters or leaves the Sacratorium is wearing a red sash.”

“Oh yes,” said Mycelium Seventy-Two. “Over the left shoulder and around the right side of the waist-usually very fancily embroidered.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s called an ‘obiah.’ It symbolizes the joy felt at entering the Sacratorium and the blood one would spill to preserve it.”

“Blood?” said Dors, frowning.

“Just a symbol. I never actually heard of anyone spilling blood over the Sacratorium. For that matter, there isn’t that much joy. it’s mostly wailing and mourning and prostrating one’s self over the Lost World.” His voice dropped and became soft. “Very silly.”

Dors said, “You’re not a… a believer?”

“I’m a scholar,” said Mycelium with obvious pride. His face wrinkled as he grinned and took on an even more pronounced appearance of age.

Seldon found himself wondering how old the man was. Several centuries?-No, they’d disposed of that. It couldn’t be and yet, “How old are you?” Seldon asked suddenly, involuntarily.

Mycelium Seventy-Two showed no signs of taking offense at the question, nor did he display any hesitation at answering, “Sixty-seven.”

Seldon had to know. “I was told that your people believe that in very early times everyone lived for several centuries.”

Mycelium Seventy-Two looked at Seldon quizzically. “Now how did you find that out? Someone must have been talking out of turn… but its true. There is that belief. Only the unsophisticated believe it, but the Elders encourage it because it shows our superiority. Actually, our life expectancy is higher than elsewhere because we eat more nutritionally, but living even one century is rare.”

“I take it you don’t consider Mycogenians superior,” said Seldon.

Mycelium Seventy-Two said, “There’s nothing wrong with Mycogenians. They’re certainly not inferior. Still, I think that all men are equal.-Even women,” he added, looking across at Dors.

“I don’t suppose,” said Seldon, “that many of your people would agree with that.”

“Or many of your people,” said Mycelium Seventy-Two with a faint resentment. “I believe it, though. A scholar has to. I’ve viewed and even read all the great literature of the tribespeople. I understand your culture. I’ve written articles on it. I can sit here just as comfortably with you as though you were… [tit].”

Dors said a little sharply, “You sound proud of understanding tribespeople’s ways. Have you ever traveled outside Mycogen?”

Mycelium Seventy-Two seemed to move away a little. “No.”