"That happened automatically when the door closed and the light went on," said the Sister.
Seldon could feel air softly circulating with a small sighing sound, but where on Trantor was that ever-present sound and feel not apparent? The room was not large, but it had a cot with a firm, efficient mattress, and what were obviously clean sheets. There was a chair and table, a small refrigerator, and something that looked like an enclosed hot plate, probably a tiny food-heater.
Raindrop Forty-Three sat down on the chair, sitting stiffly upright, visibly attempting to force herself into relaxation.
Seldon, uncertain as to what he ought to do, remained standing till she gestured-a bit impatiently-for him to sit on the cot. He did so.
Raindrop Forty-Three said softly, as though talking to herself, "If it is ever known that I have been here with a man-even if only a tribesman-I shall indeed be an outcast."
Seldon rose quickly. "Then let's not stay here."
"Sit down. I can't go out when I'm in this mood. You've been asking about religion. What are you after?"
It seemed to Seldon that she had changed completely. Gone was the passivity, the subservience. There was none of the shyness, the backwardness in the presence of a male. She was glaring at him through narrowed eyes.
"I told you. Knowledge. I'm a scholar. It is my profession and my desire to know, I want to understand people in particular, so I want to learn history. For many worlds, the ancient historical records-the truly ancient historical records-have decayed into myths and legends, often becoming part of a set of religious beliefs or of supernaturalism. But if Mycogen does not have a religion, then-"
"I said we have history."
Seldon said, "Twice you've said you have history. How old?"
"It goes back twenty thousand years."
"Truly? Let us speak frankly. Is it real history or is it something that has degenerated into legend?"
"It is real history, of course."
Seldon was on the point of asking how she could tell, but thought better of it. Was there really a chance that history might reach back twenty thousand years and be authentic? He was not a historian himself, so he would have to check with Dors.
But it seemed so likely to him that on every world the earliest histories were medleys of self-serving heroisms and minidramas that were meant as morality plays and were not to be taken literally. It was surely true of Helicon, yet you would find scarcely a Heliconian who would not swear by all the tales told and insist it was all true history. They would support, as such, even that perfectly ridiculous tale of the first exploration of Helicon and the encounters with large and dangerous flying reptiles-even though nothing like flying reptiles had been found to be native to any world explored and settled by human beings.
He said instead, "How does this history begin?"
There was a faraway look in the Sister's eyes, a look that did not focus on Seldon or on anything in the room. She said, "It begins with a world-our world. One world."
"One world?" (Seldon remembered that Hummin had spoken of legends of a single, original world of humanity.)
"One world. There were others later, but ours was the first. One world, with space, with open air, with room for everyone, with fertile fields, with friendly homes, with warm people. For thousands of years we lived there and then we had to leave and skulk in one place or another until some of us found a corner of Trantor where we learned to grow food that brought us a little freedom. And here in Mycogen, we now have our own ways-and our own dreams."
"And your histories give the full details concerning the original world? The one world?"
"Oh yes, it is all in a book and we all have it. Every one of us. We carry it at all times so that there is never a moment when any one of us cannot open it and read it and remember who we are and who we were and resolve that someday we will have our world back."
"Do you know where this world is and who lives on it now?"
Raindrop Forty-Three hesitated, then shook her head fiercely. "We do not, but someday we will find it."
"And you have this book in your possession now?"
"Of course."
"May I see that book?"
Now a slow smile crossed the face of the Sister. She said, "So that's what you want. I knew you wanted something when you asked to be guided through the microfarms by me alone." She seemed a little embarrassed. "I didn't think it was the Book."
"It is all I want," said Seldon earnestly. "I really did not have my mind on anything else. If you brought me here because you thought-"
She did not allow him to finish. "But here we are. Do you or don't you want the Book?"
"Are you offering to let me see it?"
"On one condition."
Seldon paused, weighing the possibility of serious trouble if he had overcome the Sister's inhibitions to a greater extent than he had ever intended. "What condition?" he said.
Raindrop Forty-Three's tongue emerged lightly and licked quickly at her lips. Then she said with a distinct tremor in her voice, "That you remove your skincap."
46.
Hari Seldon stared blankly at Raindrop Forty-Three. There was a perceptible moment in which he did not know what she was talking about. He had forgotten he was wearing a skincap.
Then he put his hand to his head and, for the first time, consciously felt the skincap he was wearing. It was smooth, but he felt the tiny resilience of the hair beneath. Not much. His hair, after all, was fine and without much body. He said, still feeling it, "Why?"
She said, "Because I want you to. Because that's the condition if you want to see the Book."