Forward the Foundation (Page 62)

Yet, regardless of his less rational feelings, he would have to depend on other younger men-whatever his discomfort over it. Psychohistory was no longer the private preserve of himself and Amaryl. The decade of his being First Minister had converted it into a large government-sanctioned and -budgeted undertaking and, quite to his surprise, after resigning from his post as First Minister and returning to Streeling University, it had grown still larger. Hari grimaced at its ponderous-and pompous-official name: the Seldon Psychohistory Project at Streeling University. But most people simply referred to it as the Project.

The military junta apparently saw the Project as a possible political weapon and while that was so, funding was no problem. Credits poured in. In return, it was necessary to prepare annual reports, which, however, were quite opaque. Only fringe matters were reported on and even then the mathematics was not likely to be within the purview of any of the members of the junta.

It was clear as he left his old assistant that Amaryl, at least, was more than satisfied with the way psychohistory was going and yet Seldon felt the blanket of depression settle over him once more.

He decided it was the forthcoming birthday celebration that was bothering him. It was meant as a celebration of joy, but to Hari it was not even a gesture of consolation-it merely emphasized his age.

Besides, it was upsetting his routine and Hari was a creature of habit. His office and a number of those adjoining had been cleared out and it had been days since he had been able to work normally. His proper offices would be converted into halls of glory, he supposed, and it would be many days before he could get back to work. Only Amaryl absolutely refused to budge and was able to maintain his office.

Seldon had wondered, peevishly, who had thought of doing all this. It wasn’t Dors, of course. She knew him entirely too well. Not Amaryl or Raych, who never even remembered their own birthdays. He had suspected Manella and had even confronted her on the matter.

She admitted that she was all for it and had given orders for the arrangements to take place, but she said that the idea for the birthday party had been suggested to her by Tamwile Elar.

The brilliant one, thought Seldon. Brilliant in everything.

He sighed. If only the birthday were all over.

Dors poked her head through the door. "Am I allowed to come in?"

"No, of course not. Why should you think I would?"

"This is not your usual place."

"I know," sighed Seldon. "I have been evicted from my usual place because of the stupid birthday party. How I wish it were over."

"There you are. Once that woman gets an idea in her head, it takes over and grows like the big bang."

Seldon changed sides at once. "Come. She means well, Dors."

"Save me from the well-meaning," said Dors. "In any case, I’m here to discuss something else. Something which may be important."

"Go ahead. What is it?"

"I’ve been talking to Wanda about her dream-" She hesitated.

Seldon made a gargling sound in the back of his throat, then said, "I can’t believe it. Just let it go."

"No. Did you bother to ask her for the details of the dream?"

"Why should I put the little girl through that?"

"Neither did Raych, nor Manella. It was left up to me."

"But why should you torture her with questions about it?"

"Because I had the feeling I should," said Dors grimly. "In the first place, she didn’t have the dream when she was home in her bed."

"Where was she, then?"

"In your office."

"What was she doing in my office?"

"She wanted to see the place where the party would be and she walked into your office and, of course, there was nothing to see, as it’s been cleared out in preparation. But your chair was still there. The large one-tall back, tall wings, broken-down-the one you won’t let me replace."

Hari sighed, as if recalling a longstanding disagreement. "It’s not broken-down. I don’t want a new one. Go on."

"She curled up in your chair and began to brood over the fact that maybe you weren’t really going to have a party and she felt bad. Then, she tells me, she must have fallen asleep because nothing is clear in her mind, except that in her dream there were two men-not women, she was sure about that-two men, talking."

"And what were they talking about?"

"She doesn’t know exactly. You know how difficult it is to remember details under such circumstances. But she says it was about dying and she thought it was you because you were so old. And she remembers two words clearly. They were ‘lemonade death.’"

"What?"

"Lemonade death."

"What does that mean?"

"I don’t know. In any case, the talking ceased, the men left, and there she was in the chair, cold and frightened-and she’s been upset about it ever since."

Seldon mulled over Dors’s report. Then he said, "Look, dear, what importance can we attach to a child’s dream?"

"We can ask ourselves first, Hari, if it even was a dream."

"What do you mean?"

"Wanda doesn’t say outright it was. She says she ‘must have fallen asleep.’ Those are her words. She didn’t say she fell asleep, she said she must have fallen asleep."

"What do you deduce from that?"

"She may have drifted off into a half-doze and, in that state, heard two men-two real men, not two dream men-talking."

"Real men? Talking about killing me with lemonade death?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Dors," said Seldon forcefully, "I know that you’re forever foreseeing danger for me, but this is going too far. Why should anyone want to kill me?"