Then Joranum looked at Raych, smiled, and pushed Namarti to one side. It occurred to Raych that, while Namarti was the brains of the team, it was Joranum who clearly had the charisma.
Joranum strode toward him and held out a plump, slightly moist hand. "Well well. Professor Seldon's young man. How are you?"
"Fine, thank you, sir."
"You had some trouble getting here, I understand."
"Not too much, sir."
"And you've come with a message from your father, I trust. I hope he is reconsidering his decision and has decided to join me in my great crusade."
"I don't think so, sir."
Joranum frowned slightly. "Are you here without his knowledge?"
"No, sir. He sent me."
"I see. Are you hungry, lad?"
"Not at the moment, sir."
"Then would you mind if I eat? I don't get much time for the ordinary amenities of life," he said, smiling broadly.
"It's all right with me, sir."
Together, they moved to a table and sat down. Joranum unwrapped a sandwich and took a bite. His voice slightly muffled, he said, "And why did he send you, son?"
Raych shrugged. "I think he thought I might find out something about you that he could use against you. He's heart and soul with First Minister Demerzel."
"And you're not?"
"No, sir. I'm a Dahlite."
"I know you are, Mr. Seldon, but what does that mean?"
"It means I'm oppressed, so I'm on your side and I want to help you. Of course, I wouldn't want my father to know."
"There's no reason he should know. How do you propose to help me?" He glanced quickly at Namarti, who was leaning against his desk, listening, with his arms folded and his expression lowering. "Do you know anything about psychohistory?"
"No, sir. My father don't talk to me about that-and if he did, I wouldn't get it. I don't think he's getting anywhere with that stuff."
"Are you sure?"
"Sure I'm sure. There's a guy there, Yugo Amaryl, also a Dahlite, who talks about it sometimes. I'm sure nothing is happening."
"Ah! And can I see Yugo Amaryl sometime, do you suppose?"
"I don't think so. He ain't much for Demerzel, but he's all for my father. He wouldn't cross him."
"But you would?"
Raych looked unhappy and he muttered stubbornly, "I'm a Dahlite."
Joranum cleared his throat. "Then let me ask you again. How do you propose to help me, young man?"
"I've got something to tell you that maybe you won't believe."
"Indeed? Try me. If I don't believe it, I will tell you so."
"It's about First Minister Eto Demerzel."
"Well?"
Raych looked around uneasily. "Can anyone hear me?"
"Just Namarti and myself."
"All right, then listen. This guy Demerzel ain't a guy. He's a robot."
"What!" exploded Joranum.
Raych felt moved to explain. "A robot is a mechanical man, sir. He ain't human. He's a machine."
Namarti broke out passionately, "Jo-Jo, don't believe that. It's ridiculous."
But Joranum held up an admonitory hand. His eyes were gleaming. "Why do you say that?"
"My father was in Mycogen once. He told me all about it. In Mycogen they talk about robots a lot."
"Yes, I know. At least, I have heard so."
"The Mycogenians believe that robots were once very common among their ancestors, but they were wiped out."
Namarti's eyes narrowed. "But what makes you think that Demerzel is a robot? From what little I have heard of these fantasies, robots are made out of metal, aren't they?"
"That's so," said Raych earnestly. "But what I heard is that there were a few robots that look just like human beings and they live forever-"
Namarti shook his head violently. "Legends! Ridiculous legends! JoJo, why are we listening-"
But Joranum cut him off quickly. "No, G.D. I want to listen. I've heard these legends, too."
"But it's nonsense, Jo-Jo."
"Don't be in such a rush to say 'nonsense.' And even if it were, people live and die by nonsense. It's not what is so much as what people think is. Tell me, young man, putting legends to one side, what makes you think Demerzel is a robot? Let's suppose that robots exist. What is it, then, about Demerzel that makes you say he is a robot? Did he tell you so?"
"No, sir," said Raych.
"Did your father tell you so?" asked Joranum.
"No, sir. It's just my own idea, but I'm sure of it."
"Why? What makes you so sure?"
"It's just something about him. He doesn't change. He doesn't get older. He doesn't show emotions. Something about him looks like he's made of metal."
Joranum sat back in his chair and looked at Raych for an extended time. It was almost possible to hear his thoughts buzzing.
Finally he said, "Suppose he is a robot, young man. Why should you care? Does it matter to you?"
"Of course it matters to me," said Raych. "I'm a human being. I don't want no robot in charge of running the Empire."
Joranum turned to Namarti with a gesture of eager approval. "Do you hear that, G.D.? 'I'm a human being. I don't want no robot in charge of running the Empire.' Put him on holovision and have him say it. Have him repeat it over and over till it's drummed into every person on Trantor-"
"Hey," said Raych, finally catching his breath. "I can't say that on holovision. I can't let my father find out-"
"No, of course not," said Joranum quickly. "We couldn't allow that. We'll just use the words. We'll find some other Dahlite. Someone from each of the sectors, each in his own dialect, but always the same message: 'I don't want no robot in charge of running the Empire.'"