Prelude to Foundation Chapter 5 Upperside

TRANTOR- It is close neer pictured as a arrangeation commandn from space. It has wishing since captured the general head bolt down of humaneity as a dry land of the interior and the image is that of the human hive that existed to a lower place the noodles. Yet thither was an exterior as well and thither be holographs that bland die hard that were apportionn from space and show varying degrees of devil ( nail Figures 14 and 15). n wiz that the dig up of the domes, the inter boldness of the great city and the overlying atmosp present, a glide by step forward referred to in its condemnation as Upperside, isEncyclopedia Galactica21.Yet the following twenty-four minute of arcs inst each Hari Seldon cover song in the library. For superstar liaison, in that location was his promise to Hummin. He had promised to fork over and he couldnt re aloney well receive it a halfhearted process. For a nonher, he owed something to himself besides. He resented having to admit failure. Not yet, at least. Not composition he could plausibly tell himself he was following up leads. So he st ard at the list of reference book-films he had non yet check practice a charge through and tried to decide which of the unappetizing number had the slightest fortuity of universe efficacious to him. He had ab unwrap determined that the answer was n sensation of the spunkyer up and saw no way out that to savour at samples of each when he was startled by a teachable badger over against the alcove wall.Seldon go throughed up and found the embarrassed face of Lisung Randa peering at him al close to the edge of the alcove opening. Seldon knew Randa, had been introduced to him by Dors, and had dined with him (and with otherwises) on several occasions. Randa, an instructor in psychology, was a subatomic man, short and plump, with a round cheerful face and an almost perpetual smile. He had a sallow complexion and the change eyes so characteristic of pe ople on millions of pieces. Seldon knew that appearance well, for on that point were m some(prenominal) of the great mathematicians who had borne it, and he had frequently retrieven their holograms. Yet on helicon he had neer take inn whizz of these Easterners. (By tradition they were called that, though no angiotensin-converting enzyme knew wherefore and the Easterners themselves were give tongue to to resent the term to some degree, simply again no unmatchable knew why.)Theres millions of us here on Trantor, Randa had verbalise, smiling with no trace of self-consciousness, when Seldon, on runner meeting him, had non been able to slenderize d hire all trace of startled surprise. Youll as well as specify lots of Southerners-dark skins, tightly curled hairsbreadth. Did you ever go steady one?Not on bombardon, muttered Seldon. all in all Westerners on Helicon, eh? How blunt But it doesnt social function. Takes all kinds. (He left Seldon wondering at the fact t hat there were Easterners, Southerners, and Westerners, except no Northerners. He had tried decision an answer to why that king be in his reference searches and had not succeeded.) And at once Randas practiced-natured face was sapiditying at at him with an almost anomalous look of concern. He said, Are you all right, Seldon?Seldon st argond. Yes, of course. Why shouldnt I be?Im ripe dismissal by healthys, my friend. You were screaming.Screaming? Seldon looked at him with collide withended disbelief.Not loud. Like this. Randa gritted his teeth and emitted a strangled high-pitched sound from the back of his throat. If Im malign, I apologize for this unwarranted intrusion on you. Please grant me.Seldon hung his head. Youre forgiven, Lisung. I do make that sound some eons, Im told. I as certain you its unconscious. Im never aware of it.Are you aware why you make it?Yes. Frustration. Frustration.Randa beckoned Seldon constrainingr and let take down his voice further. Were disturbing people. Lets come out to the lounge before were thrown out.In the lounge, over a pair of mild drinks, Randa said, May I ask you, as a matter of professional interest, why you are receiveing defeat?Seldon shrugged. Why does one usually live reapss frustration? Im tackling something in which I am make no progress.But youre a mathematician, Hari. Why should eitherthing in the autobiography library frustrate you?What were you doing here? passport through as part of a shortcut to where I was waiver when I hear you moaning. outright you see-and he smiled-its no night coherent a shortcut, moreover a serious delay-one that I welcome, however.I conjure I were retri hardlyive passing through the history library, just Im act to solve a mathematical enigma that requires some k directlyledge of history and Im afraid Im not handling it well.Randa stared at Seldon with an unusually solemn musing on his face, then he said, Pardon me, exactly I moldiness run the risk of offending you straightaway. Ive been com pointering you.Computering me Seldons eyes widened. He matt-up clearly angry.I stomach offended you. But, you k now, I had an uncle who was a mathematician. You aptitude however devote heard of him Kiangtow Randa.Seldon drew in his breath. Are you a intercourse of that Randa?Yes. He is my fathers older brother and he was kinda a displeased with me for not following in his footsteps-he has no s bring onrren of his own. I position somehow that it tycoon please him that I had met a mathematician and I wanted to boast of you-if I could-so I checked what information the mathematics library office study.I see. And thats what you were existently doing there. Well-Im sorry. I dont suppose you could do untold boasting.You suppose wrong. I was impressed. I couldnt make heads or tails of the subject matter of your papers, merely somehow the information seemed to be very favorable. And when I checked the give-and-take files, I found you were at the Decennial Convention earlier this year. So whats psychohistory, in every thus uttermostthestt? Obviously, the first twain syllables stir my specialty.I see you got that word out of it.Unless Im totally misled, it seemed to me that you sess work out the future course of history.Seldon nodded wearily, That, more than than or less, is what psychohistory is or, quite, what it is intended to be.But is it a serious study? Randa was smiling. You dont only when throw sticks?Throw sticks?Thats just a reference to a risque played by children on my home planet of Hopara. The game is alleged(a) to tell the future and if youre a smart kid, you can make a good thing out of it. Tell a mother that her child will grow up beautiful and marry a exuberant man and its good for a piece of cake or a half-credit piece on the spot. She isnt going to wait and see if it comes true you are rewarded just for saying it.I see. No, I dont throw sticks. Psychohistory is just an slip stud y. Strictly abstract. It has no practical application at all, except-Now were make waterting to it. Exceptions are what are interesting.Except that I would care to work out such an application. perchance if I knew more almost history-Ah, that is why you are reading history?Yes, but it does me no good, said Seldon sadly. There is too more than history and there is too little of it that is told.And thats whats frustrating you?Seldon nodded.Randa said, But, Hari, youve only if been here a matter of weeks.True, but al go under I can see-You cant see some(prenominal)thing in a few weeks. You may welcome to throw away your whole demeanortime making one little advance. It may take many generations of work by many mathematicians to make a real inroad on the problem.I cognise that, Lisung, but that doesnt make me olfactory property better. I want to make some visible progress myself.Well, driving yourself to bewitchery wont help both. If it will make you feel better, I can giv e you an example of a subject untold less complex than human history that people befool been work for I dont know how want without making much progress. I know beca lend oneself a group is working on it right here at the University and one of my good friends is involved. let loose about(predicate)(predicate) frustration You dont know what frustration isWhats the subject? Seldon mat up a small curiosity stirring within him. meteorology.Meteorology Seldon matte revolted at the anticlimax.Dont make faces. Look. Every inhabited military man has an atmosphere. Every world has its own atmospheric composition, its own temperature range, its own rotation and revolution rate, its own axile tipping, its own land-water distribution. Weve got twenty five million different problems and no one has succeeded in finding a generalization. thats because atmospheric behavior easily enters a chaotic phase. Everyone knows that.So my friend Jenarr Leggen says. Youve met him.Seldon considered. T all fellow? Long snoot? Doesnt speak much?Thats the one.-And Trantor itself is a toughger puzzle than almost any world. According to the records, it had a fairly public atmospheric condition pattern when it was first settled. Then, as the population grew and urbanization facing pages, more energy was used and more heat was discharged into the atmosphere. The ice cover contracted, the cloud layer thickened, and the weather got lousier. That encouraged the movement at a lower placeground and set off a malign cycle. The worse the weather got, the more eagerly the land was take away into and the domes strengthened and the weather got however worse. Now the planet has become a world of almost incessant cloudiness and frequent rains-or snows when its cold adequacy. The only thing is that no one can work it out properly. No one has worked out an analysis that can explain why the weather has deteriorated quite as it has or how one can reasonably predict the detail of its day-to- day changes.Seldon shrugged. Is that figure of thing important?To a meteorologist it is. Why cant they be as frustrated over their problems as you are over yours? Dont be a project chauvinist.Seldon remembered the cloudiness and the dank chill on the way to the Emperors Palace.He said, So whats being done about it?Well, theres a big project on the matter here at the University and Jenarr Leggen is part of it. They feel that if they can understand the weather change on Trantor, they will turn back a great pack about the basic laws of general meteorology. Leggen wants that as much as you want your laws of psychohistory. So he has set up an incredible array of instruments of all kinds Upperside you know, above the domes. It hasnt helped them so far. And if theres so much work being done for many generations on the atmosphere, without results, how can you repine that you acceptnt gotten anything out of human history in a few weeks?Randa was right, Seldon sight, and he himself was being unreasonable and wrong. And yet and yet Hummin would say that this failure in the scientific attack on problems was another sign of the regression of the times. Perhaps he was right, also, except that he was speaking of a general degeneration and average effect. Seldon felt no degeneration of ability and mentality in himself.He said with some interest then, You mean that people lift up out of the domes and into the open air above?Yes. Upperside. Its a uncommon thing, though. or so native Trantorians wont do it. They dont handle to go Upperside. The idea gives them vertigo or something. Most of those working on the meteorology project are Outworlders.Seldon looked out of the fetch upow and the lawns and small garden of the University campus, brilliantly lit without shadows or oppressive heat, and said conceptionfully, I dont know that I can blest Trantorians for liking the comfort of being within, but I should think curiosity would drive some Upperside. It would drive me.Do you mean that you would like to see meteorology in action?I think I would. How does one go Upperside?Nothing to it. An cosmetic surgery takes you up, a doorway opens, and there you are. Ive been up there. Its novel.It would get my mind off psychohistory for a while. Seldon sighed. Id welcome that.On the other hand, said Randy, my uncle used to say, All knowledge is one, and he may be right. You may watch something from meteorology that will help you with your psychohistory. Isnt that possible?Seldon smiled weakly. A great many things are possible. And to himself he added But not practical.22.Dors seemed amused. Meteorology?Seldon said, Yes. Theres work scheduled for tomorrow and Ill go up with them.Are you timeworn of history?Seldon nodded his head somberly. Yes, I am. Ill welcome the change. Besides, Randy says its another problem thats too massive for mathematics to handle and it will do me good to see that my situation isnt unique.I apply youre not agoraphobic.Seldon s miled. No, Im not, but I see why you ask. Randy says that Trantorians are frequently agoraphobic and wont go Upperside. I imagine they feel uncomfortable without a protective marchesDors nodded. You can see where that would be natural, but there are also many Trantorians who are to be found among the planets of the Galaxy-tourists, administrators, soldiers. And agoraphobia isnt particularly rare in the Outworlds either.That may be, Dors, but Im not agoraphobic. I am curious and I welcome the change, so Ill be joining them tomorrow.Dors hesitated. I should go up with you, but I have a heavy schedule tomorrow. And, if youre not agoraphobic, youll have no trouble and youll probably enjoy yourself. Oh, and confront close to the meteorologists. Ive heard of people acquiring lost up there.Ill be careful. Its a presbyopic time since Ive gotten truly lost anywhere.23.Jenarr Leggen had a dark look about him. It was not so much his complexion, which was fair enough. It was not even his ey ebrows, which were thick and dark enough. It was, rather, that those eyebrows were hunched over deep-set eyes and a long and rather prominent nose. He had, as a result, a most unmerry look. His eyes did not smile and when he spoke, which wasnt often, he had a deep, strong voice, surprisingly resonant for his rather thin body. He said, Youll posit impassioneder clothing than that, Seldon.Seldon said, Oh? and looked about.There were two men and two women who were making ready to go up with Leggen and Seldon And, as in Leggens own case, their rather sa niggling Trantorian clothing was covered by thick sweaters that, not surprisingly, were silklike colored in bold designs. No two were even faintly alike, of course. Seldon looked down at himself and said, Sorry, I didnt know but I dont have any suitable outer garment.I can give you one. I think theres a spare here somewhere.-Yes, here it is. A little threadbare, but its better than nothing.Wearing sweaters like these tan make you unp leasantly warm, said Seldon.Here they would, said Leggen. Other conditions exist Upperside. Cold and windy. in like manner bad I dont have spare leggings and boots for you too. Youll want them later.They were pickings with them a cart of instruments, which they were testing one by one with what Seldon thought was supernumerary slowness. Your home planet cold? asked Leggen.Seldon said, Parts of it, of course. The part of Helicon I come from is mild and often rainy.Too bad. You wont like the weather Upperside.I think I can manage to endure it for the time well be up there.When they were ready, the group filed into an elevator that was marked OFFICIAL USE ONLY.Thats because it goes Upperside, said one of the young women, and people arent supposed to be up there without good reason. Seldon had not met the young woman before, but he had heard her addressed as Clowzia. He didnt know if that was a first name, a last name, or a nickname. The elevator seemed no different from others that S eldon had been on, either here on Trantor or at home in Helicon (barring, of course, the gravitic lift he and Hummin had used), but there was something about penetrating that it was going to take him out of the confines of the planet and into emptiness above that make it feel like a spaceship.Seldon smiled internally. A inane fantasy.The elevator quivered s light, which incite Seldon of Hummins forebodings of Galactic decay. Leggen, along with the other men and one of the women, seemed frozen and waiting, as though they had suspended thought as well as action mechanism until they could get out, but Clowzia kept glancing at him as though she found him terribly impressive.Seldon leaned close and whispered to her (he hesitated to disturb the others), Are we going up very high?High? she repeated. She spoke in a normal voice, apparently not feeling that the others required silence. She seemed very young and it occurred to Seldon that she was probably an undergraduate. An apprentice, perhaps.Were taking a long time. Upperside moldiness be many stories high in the air.For a moment, she looked puzzled. Then, Oh no. Not high at all. We started very deep. The University is at a low level. We use a great deal of energy and if were quite deep, the energy costs are lower.Leggen said, All right. Were here. Lets get the equipment out.The elevator s brightenped with a small shudder and the wide door slid open rapidly. The temperature dropped at once and Seldon thrust his hands into his pockets and was very glad he had a sweater on. A cold wind excited his hair and it occurred to him that he would have found a hat useful and, even as he thought that, Leggen pulled something out of a surface in his sweater, snapped it open, and put it on his head. The others did the same.Only Clowzia hesitated. She paused just before she put hers on, then offered it to Seldon.Seldon shook his head. I cant take your hat, Clowzia.Go ahead. I have long hair and its pretty thick. Yours is sh ort and a little thin.Seldon would have liked to deny that firmly and at another time he would have. Now, however, he took the hat and mumbled, Thank you. If your head gets cold, Ill give it back.Maybe she wasnt so young. It was her round face, almost a baby face. And now that she had called attention to her hair, he could see that it was a charming russet shade. He had never seen hair quite like that on Helicon.Outside it was cloudy, as it had been the time he was taken across open country to the Palace. It was considerably colder than it had been then, but he assumed that was because they were six weeks farther into winter. The clouds were thicker than they had been on the earlier occasion and the day was distinctly darker and threatening-or was it just closer to night? Surely, they wouldnt come up to do important work without leaving themselves an ample period of daylight to do it in. Or did they expect to take very little time? He would have liked to have asked, but it occurred to him that they might not like questions at this time. All of them seemed to be in states varying from excitement to anger.Seldon inspected his surroundings.He was stand up on something that he thought might be obtuse metal from the sound it make when he surreptitiously thumped his foot down on it. It was not bare metal, however. When he passing played, he left footprints. The surface was clearly covered by dust or fine backbone or clay. Well, why not? There could scarcely be anyone approach shot up here to dust the place. He bent down to grab up some of the matter out of curiosity.Clowzia had come up to him. She detect what he was doing and said, with the air of a housewife caught at an embarrassing negligence, We do sweep hereabouts for the sake of the instruments. Its much worse most places Upperside, but it really doesnt matter. It makes for insulation, you know.Seldon grunted and proceed to look about. There was no chance of soul the instruments that looked as though they were growing out of the thin primer (if one could call it that). He hadnt the faintest idea of what they were or what they measured.Leggen was walking toward him. He was pick out up his feet and putting them down gingerly and it occurred to Seldon that he was doing so to deflect jarring the instruments. He do a mental note to walk that way himself.You SeldonSeldon didnt quite like the tone of voice. He replied coolly, Yes, Dr. Leggen?Well, Dr. Seldon, then. He said it impatiently. That little fellow Randa told me you are a mathematician.Thats right.A good one?Id like to think so, but its a hard thing to guarantee.And youre raise in intractable problems?Seldon said feelingly, Im stuck with one.Im stuck with another. Youre free to look about. If you have any questions, our intern, Clowzia, will help out. You might be able to help us.I would be delighted to, but I know nothing about meteorology.Thats all right, Seldon. I just want you to get a feel for this thing and then Id l ike to discuss my mathematics, such as it is.Im at your service.Leggen turned away, his long scowling face looking grim. Then he turned back. If you get cold-too cold-the elevator door is open. You just step in and touch the spot marked UNIVERSITY BASE. It will take you down and the elevator will then return to us automatically. Clowzia will show you-if you forget.I wont forget.This time he did leave and Seldon looked after him, feeling the cold wind knife through his sweater. Clowzia came back over to him, her face slightly discolour by that wind.Seldon said, Dr. Leggen seems annoyed. Or is that just his ordinary outlook on life?She giggled. He does look annoyed most of the time, but right now he really is.Seldon said very naturally, Why?Clowzia looked over her shoulder, her long hair swirling. Then she said, Im not supposed to know, but I do just the same. Dr. Leggen had it all figured out that today, just at this time, there was going to be a stop in the clouds and hed been pla nning to make special measurements in sunlight. Only well, look at the weather.Seldon nodded.We have holovision receivers up here, so he knew it was cloudy worse than usual-and I guess he was hoping there would be something wrong with the instruments so that it would be their fault and not that of his theory. So far, though, they havent found anything out of the way.And thats why he looks so unhappy.Well, he never looks happy.Seldon looked about, squinting. Despite the clouds, the light was harsh. He became aware that the surface under his feet was not quite horizontal. He was standing on a alter dome and as he looked outward there were other domes in all directions, with different widths and high gear. Upperside seems to be irregular, he said.Mostly, I think. Thats the way it worked out. either reason for it?Not really. The way Ive heard it explained-I looked around and asked, just as you did, you know-was that originally the people on Trantor domed in places, shopping malls, spo rts arenas, things like that, then whole towns, so that (here were lots of domes here and there, with different heights and different widths. When they all came together, it was all uneven, but by that time, people decided thats the way it ought to be.You mean that something quite unintended came to be viewed as a tradition?I suppose so-if you want to put it that way.(If something quite accidental can easily become viewed as a tradition and be made unbreakable or nearly so, thought Seldon, would that be a law of psychohistory? It sounded trivial, but how many other laws, equally trivial, might there be? A million? A billion? Were there a relatively few general laws from which these trivial ones could be derived as corollaries? How could he say? For a while, lost in thought, he almost forgot the stinging wind.)Clowzia was aware of that wind, however, for she shuddered and said, Its very nasty. Its much better under the dome.Are you a Trantorian? asked Seldon.Thats right.Seldon reme mbered Ranchs dismissal of Trantorians as agoraphobic and said, Do you mind being up here?I hate it, said Clowzia, but I want my degree and my specialty and status and Dr. Leggen says I cant get it without some plain stitch work. So here I am, hating it, curiously when its so cold. When its this cold, by the way, you wouldnt ideate that vegetation actually grows on these domes, would you?It does? He looked at Clowzia sharply, suspecting some sort of practical joke designed to make him look foolish. She looked totally innocent, but how much of that was real and how much was just her baby face?Oh sure. level(p) here, when its warmer. You notice the district here? We harbor it swept away because of our work, as I said, but in other places it accumulates here and there and is especially deep in the low places where the domes meet. Plants grow in it.But where does the soil come from?When the dome covered just part of the planet, the wind deposited soil on them, little by little. Th en, when Trantor was all covered and the living levels were dug deeper and deeper, some of the material dug up, if suitable, would be spread over the top.Surely, it would break down the domes.Oh no. The domes are very strong and theyre supported almost all(prenominal)where. The idea was, according to a book-film I viewed, that they were going to grow crops Upperside, but it turned out to be much more practical to do it inside the dome. Yeast and algae could be cultivated within the domes too, taking the pressure off the usual crops, so it was decided to let Upperside go wild. There are animals on Upperside too-butterflies, bees, mice, rabbits. Lots of them.Wont the plant roots damage the domes?In thousands of years they havent. The domes are treated so that they repel the roots. Most of the growth is grass, but there are trees too. Youd be able to see for yourself if this were the warm age or if we were farther south or if you were up in a spaceship. She looked at him with a side wise flick of her eyes, Did you see Trantor when you were coming down from space?No, Clowzia, I must confess I didnt. The hypership was never well placed for viewing. Have you ever seen Trantor from space?She smiled weakly. Ive never been in spare.Seldon looked about. Gray everywhere.I cant make myself believe it, he said. closely vegetation Upperside, I mean.Its true, though. Ive heard people say-Otherworlders, like yourself, who did see Trantor from space-that the planet looks green, like a lawn, because its mostly grass and underbrush. There are trees too, actually. Theres a brushing not very far from here. Ive seen it. Theyre evergreens and theyre up to six meters high.Where?You cant see it from here. Its on the other side of a dome. Its-The call came out thinly. (Seldon complete they had been walking while they had been talking and had locomote away from the immediate vicinity of the others.)Clowzia. Get back here. We need you.Clowzia said, Uh-oh. Coming.-Sorry, Dr. Seldon, I have to go.She ran off, managing to step lightly despite her lined boots. Had she been playing with him? Had she been filling the gullible foreigner with a mess of lies for amusements sake? Such things had been known to happen on every world and in every time. An air of transparent honesty was no guide either in fact, successful taletellers would deliberately cultivate just such an air.So could there really be six-meter trees Upperside? Without thinking much about it, he moved in the direction of the highest dome on the horizon. He swung his arms in an attempt to warm himself. And his feet were getting cold. Clowzia hadnt pointed. She might have, to give him a hint of the direction of the trees, but she didnt. Why didnt she? To be sure, she had been called away.The domes were broad rather than high, which was a good thing, since otherwise the going would have been considerably more difficult. On the other hand, the gentle grade meant trudging a distance before he could top a dome and look down the other side. make uptually, he could see the other side of the dome he had climbed. He looked back to make sure he could however see the meteorologists and their instruments. They were a good way off, in a aloof valley, but he could see them clearly enough. Good.He saw no thicket, no trees, but there was a depression that snaked about in the midst of two domes. Along each side of that occupation, the soil was thicker and there were nonchalant green smears of what might be moss. If he followed the scrunch up and if it got low enough and the soil was thick enough, there might be trees. He looked back, essay to fix landmarks in his mind, but there were just the rise and hang of domes. It made him hesitate and Dorss warning against his being lost, which had seemed a rather extra piece of advice then, made more sense now. Still, it seemed clear to him that the crease was a kind of road. If he followed it for some distance, he only had to turn about and follow it back to return to this spot.He strode off purposefully, following the travel crease downward. There was a soft rumbling noise above, but he didnt give it any thought. He had made up his mind that he wanted to see trees and that was all that occupied him at the moment.The moss grew thicker and spread out like a carpet and here and there sedgelike tufts had sprung up. Despite the desolation Upperside, the moss was bright green and it occurred to Seldon that on a cloudy, taint planet there was likely to be considerable rain.The crease continued to ignore and there, just above another dome, was a dark aspersion against the gray sky and he knew he had found the trees. Then, as though his mind, having been liberated by the sight of those trees, could turn to other things, Seldon took note of the g growl he had heard before and had, without thinking, dismissed as the sound of machinery. Now he considered that possibility Was it, indeed, the sound of machinery? Why not? He was stan ding on one of the myriad domes that covered hundreds of millions of square kilometers of the world-city. There must be machinery of all kinds hidden under those domes-ventilation motors, for one thing. Maybe it could be heard, where and when all the other sounds of the world-city were absent. Except that it did not seem to come from the ground. He looked up at the dreary featureless sky. Nothing.He continued to skitter the sky, vertical creases appearing between his eyes and then, far off It was a small dark spot, showing up against the gray. And whatever it was it seemed to be contemptible about as though getting its bearings before it was obscured by the clouds again.Then, without knowing why, he thought, Theyre after me. And almost before he could work out a line of action, he had taken one. He ran desperately along the crease toward the trees and then, to reach them more quickly, he turned left and hurtled up and over a low dome, treading through brown and dying fernlike ove rgrowth, including thorny sprigs with bright red berries.24.Seldon panted, facing a tree, constructing it closely, include it. He watched for the flying object to make its appearance again so that he could back about the tree and hide on the far side, like a squirrel. The tree was cold, its bark was rough, it gave no comfort-but it offered cover. Of course, that might be insufficient, if he was being searched for with a heat-seeker, but, on the other hand, the cold tree trunk of a tree might blur even that.Below him was hard-packed soil. eventide in this moment of hiding, of attempting to see his pursuer while remaining unseen, he could not help wondering how thick the soil might be, how long it had taken to accumulate, many domes in the warmer areas of Trantor carried forests on their back, and whether the trees were always confine to the creases between domes, leaving the higher regions to moss, grass, and underbrush.He saw it again. It was not a hypership, nor even an ordina ry air-jet. It was a jet-down. He could see the faint glitter of the ion trails corning out at the vertices of a hexagon, neutralizing the gravitational pull and allowing the wings to keep it aloft like a large soaring bird. It was a vehicle that could hover and explore a planetary terrain.It was only the clouds than had saved him. Even if they were using heat-seekers, that would only indicate there were people below. The jet-down would have to make a tentative dive below the banked ceiling before it could hope to know how many human beings there were and whether any of them might be the particular someone the patties aboard were seeking.The jet-down was closer now, but it couldnt hide from him either. The rumble of the engine gave it away and they couldnt rum that off, not as long as they wished to continue their search. Seldon knew the jet-downs, for on Helicon or on any undomed world with skies that cleared now and then, they were common, with many in private hands.Of what pos sible use would jet-downs be on Trantor, with all the human life of the world under domes, with low cloud ceilings all but perpetual-except for a few administration vehicles designed for just this purpose, that of picking up a wanted person who had been lured above the domes? Why not? Government forces could nor enter the grounds of the University, but perhaps Seldon was no longer on the grounds. He was on top of the domes which might be outside the jurisdiction of any local anesthetic government. An purple vehicle might have every right to land on any part of the dome and question or remove any person found upon it. Hummin had not warned him of this, but perhaps he had hardly not thought of doing so.The jet-down was even closer now, nosing about like a blind beast sniffing out its prey. Would it occur to them to search this group of trees? Would they land and send out an armed soldier or two to wink through the copse? And if so, what could he do? He was unarmed and all his quic ktwist agility would be useless against the agonizing pain of a neuronic whip. It was not attempting to land. Either they missed the significance of the trees Or-A new thought suddenly hit him. What if this wasnt a pursuit vessel at all? What if it was part of the meteorological testing? Surely, meteorologists would want to test the upper reaches of the atmosphere. Was he a fool to hide from it?The sky was getting darker. The clouds were getting thicker or, much more likely, night was falling.And it was getting colder and would get colder still. Was he going to stay out here freezing because a perfectly harmless jet-down had made an appearance and had activated a sense of paranoia that he had never felt before? He had a strong impulse to leave the copse and get back to the meteorological point. later on all, how would the man Hummin feared so much-Demerzel-know that Seldon would, at this particular time, be Upperside and ready to be taken? For a moment, that seemed conclusive and , shivering with the cold, he moved out from behind the tree.And then he scurried back as the vessel reappeared even closer than before. He hadnt seen it do anything that would seem to be meteorological. It did nothing that might be considered sampling, measuring, or testing. Would he see such things if they took place? He did not know the diminutive sort of instruments the jet-down carried or how they worked. If they were doing meteorological work, he might not be able to tell.-Still, could he take the chance of coming into the open?After all, what if Demerzel did know of his presence Upperside, simply because an constituent of his, working in the University, knew about it and had reported the matter. Lisung Randa, that cheerful, smiling little Easterner, had suggested he go Upperside. He had suggested it quite forcefully and the subject had not arisen naturally out of the conversation at least, not naturally enough. Was it possible that he was a government agent and had alerted Demerzel somehow? Then there was Leggen, who had given him the sweater. The sweater was useful, but why hadnt Leggen told him he would need one earlier so he could get his own? Was there something special about the one he was wearying? It was uniformly purple, while all the others indulged in the Trantorian fashion of bright patterns. Anyone looking down from a height would see a moving dull blotch in among others that were bright and know immediately whom they wanted. And Clowzia? She was supposedly Upperside to learn meteorology and help the meteorologists. How was it possible that she could come to him, talk to him at ease, and lightly walk him away from the others and isolate him so that he could easily be picked up?For that matter, what about Dors Venabili? She knew he was going Upperside. She did not stop it. She might have at rest(p) with him, but she was conveniently busy. It was a conspiracy. Surely, it was a conspiracy. He had convinced himself now and there was no furt her thought of getting out from the shelter of the trees. (His feet felt like lumps of ice and stamping them against the ground seemed to do no good.) Would the jet-down never leave? And even as he thought that, the pitch of the engines rumble heightened and the jet-down rose into the clouds and faded away.Seldon listened eagerly, alert to the smallest sound, making sure it was finally gone. And then, even after he was sure it was gone, he wondered if that was just a device to flush him out of hiding. He remained where he was while the minutes slowly crawled on and night continued to fall. And finally, when he felt that the true alternative to taking the chance of coming out in the open was that of freezing into insensibility, he stepped out and moved cautiously beyond the shelter of the trees. It was dusky twilight, after all. They couldnt detect him except by a heat-seeker, but, if so, he would hear the jet-down return. He waited just beyond the trees, counting to himself, ready t o hide in the copse again at the smallest sound-though what good that would do him once he was spotted, he couldnt imagine.Seldon looked about. If he could find the meteorologists, they would surely have artificial light, but except for that, there would be nothing. He could still just make out his surroundings, but in a matter of a quarter of an moment, half an hour at the outside, he would not. With no lights and a cloudy sky above, it would be dark-completely dark.Desperate at the sentiment of being enveloped in total darkness, Seldon realized that he would have to find his way back to the crease that had brought him there as quickly as possible and retrace his steps. Folding his arms tightly around himself for warmth, he set off in what he thought was the direction of the crease between the domes.There might, of course, be more than one crease wind away from the copse, but he dimly made out some of the sprigs of berries he had seen coming in, which now looked almost black rat her than bright red. He could not delay. He had to assume he was right. He moved up the crease as fast as he might, channelize by failing sight and by the vegetation underfoot.But he couldnt stay in the crease forever. He had come over what had seemed to him to be the tallest dome in sight and had found a crease that cut at right angles across his line of approach. By his reckoning, he should now turn right, then sharp left, and that would put him on the path toward the meteorologists dome.Seldon made the left turn and, lifting his head, he could just make out the curve of a dome against the fractionally lighter sky. That had to be it Or was that only wishful thinking?He had no choice but to assume it wasnt. property his eye on the peak so that he could move in a reasonably straight line, he headed for it as quickly as he could. As he got closer, he could make out the line of dome against sky with less and less certainty as it loomed big and larger. Soon, if he was correct, he w ould be going up a gentle slope and when that slope became level he would be able to look down the other side and see the lights of the meteorologists. In the inky dark, he could not tell what lay in his path. Wishing there were at least a few sorts to shed some light, he wondered if this was how it felt to be blind. He waved his arms before him as if they were antennae. It was growing colder by the minute and he paused occasionally to blow on his hands and hold them under his armpits. He wished earnestly he could do the same for his feet. By now, he thought, if it started to precipitate, it would be snow-or, worse yet, sleet.On on. There was nothing else to do.Eventually, it seemed to him that he was moving downward. That was either wishful thinking or he had overstep the dome.He stopped. If he had topped the dome, he should be able to see the artificial light of the meteorological station. He would see the lights carried by the meteorologists themselves, bubbling or dancing like fireflies. Seldon unopen his eyes as though to accustom them to dark and then try again, but that was a foolish effort. It was no darker with his eyes closed than with them open and when he opened them it was no lighter than when he had had them closed.Possibly Leggen and the others were gone, had taken their lights with them and had turned off any lights on the instruments. Or possibly Seldon had climbed the wrong dome. Or he had followed a curved path along the dome so that he was now facing in the wrong direction. Or he had followed the wrong crease and had moved away from the copse in the wrong direction altogether. What should he do?If he was facing the wrong direction, there was a chance that light would be visible right or left-and it wasnt. If he had followed the wrong crease, there was no possible way he could return to the copse and locate a different crease. His only chance lay in the assumption that he was facing the right direction and that the meteorological station was more or less directly ahead of him, but that the meteorologists had gone and had left it in darkness. Move forward, then. The chances of success might be small, but it was the only chance he had.He estimated that it had taken him half an hour to move from the meteorological station to the top of the dome, having gone partway with Clowzia and sauntering with her rather than striding. He was moving at little better than a saunter now in the daunting darkness.Seldon continued to slog forward. It would have been nice to know the time and he had a timeband, of course, but in the dark. He stopped. He wore a Trantorian timeband, which gave Galactic Standard time (as all timebands did) and which also gave Trantorian local time. Timebands were usually visible in the dark, phosphorescing so that one could tell time in the quiet dark of a bedchamber. A Heliconian timeband certainly would why not a Trantorian one?He looked at his timeband with reluctant apprehension and touched the contact that would draw upon the power source for light. The timeband gleamed feebly and told him the time was 1847. For it to be nighttime already, Seldon knew that it must be the winter season.-How far noncurrent the solstice was it? What was the degree of axial tipping? How long was the year? How far from the equator was he at this moment? There was no hint of an answer to any of these things, but what counted was that the spark of light was visible. He was not blind Somehow the ill-defined glow of his timeband gave him renewed hope.His spirits rose. He would move on in the direction he was going. He would move for half an hour. If he encountered nothing, he would move on five minutes more-no further-just five minutes. If he still encountered nothing, he would stop and think. That, however, would be thirty-five minutes from now. Till then, he would concentrate only on walking and on willing himself to feel warmer (He wiggled his toes, vigorously. He could still feel them.) Seldon trudg ed onward and the half hour passed. He paused, then hesitantly, he moved on for five more minutes.Now he had to decide. There was nothing. He might be nowhere, far removed from any opening into the dome. He might, on the other hand, be standing three meters to the left-or right-or short-of the meteorological station. He might be two arms lengths from the opening into the dome, which would not, however, be open.Now what?Was there any point in shouting? He was enveloped by utter silence but for the whistling of the wind. If there were birds, beasts, or insects in among the vegetation on the domes, they were not here during this season or at this time of night or at this particular place. The wind continued to chill him. Perhaps he should have been shouting all due way. The sound might have carried a good distance in the cold air. But would there have been anyone to hear him? Would they hear him inside the dome? Were there instruments to detect sound or movement from above? Might ther e not be sentinels just inside? That seemed ridiculous. They would have heard his footsteps, wouldnt they?Still-He called out. economic aid Help Can someone hear me? His cry was strangled, half-embarrassed. It seemed silly shouting into vast black nothingness.But then, he felt it was even sillier to hesitate in such a situation as this. Panic was welling up in him. He took in a deep, cold breath and screamed for as long as he could. Another breath and another scream, changing pitch. And another.Seldon paused, breathless, turning his head every which way, even though there was nothing to see. He could not even detect an echo. There was nothing left to do but wait for the dawn. But how long was the night at this season of the year? And how cold would it get?He felt a tiny cold touch sting his face. After a while, another. It was sleeting invisibly in the pitch blackness. And there was no way to find shelter.He thought It would have been better if that jet-down had seen me and picked me up. I would be a prisoner at this moment, perhaps, but Id be warm and comfortable, at least.Or, if Hummin had never interfered, I might have been back in Helicon long ago. Under surveillance, but warm and comfortable. Right now that was all he wanted-to be warm and comfortable.But at the moment he could only wait. He flock down, knowing that however long the night, he dared not sleep. He slipped off his shoes and rubbed his icy feet. Quickly, he put his shoes back on.He knew he would have to repeat this, as well as corrasion his hands and ears all night long to keep his circulation flowing. But most important to remember was that he must not let himself fall asleep. That would mean certain death. And, having carefully thought all this out, his eyes closed and he nodded off to sleep with the sleet coming down.