"Three days!" said Seldon, half-impressed, half-horrified.
"Three days," said Dors Venabili, nodding her head. "The University would consider nothing less."
"The expense! The labor!" said Seldon, frowning.
"The expense is minimal," said Dors, "compared to what you have done for the University. And the labor is all voluntary. The students turned out and took care of everything."
A from-the-air view of the University appeared now, panoramically, and Seldon stared at it with a smile forcing itself onto his countenance.
Dors said, "You're pleased. You've done nothing but grouse these past few months about how you didn't want any celebration for being an old man-and now look at you."
"Well, it is flattering. I had no idea that they would do anything like this."
"Why not? You're an icon, Hari. The whole world-the whole Empire-knows about you."
"They do not," said Seldon, shaking his head vigorously. "Not one in a billion knows anything at all about me-and certainly not about psychohistory. No one outside the Project has the faintest knowledge of how psychohistory works and not everyone inside does, either."
"That doesn't matter, Hari. It's you. Even the quadrillions who don't know anything about you or your work know that Hari Seldon is the greatest mathematician in the Empire."
"Well," said Seldon, looking around, "they certainly are making me feel that way right now. But three days and three nights! The place will be reduced to splinters."
"No, it won't. All the records have been stored away. The computers and other equipment have been secured. The students have set up a virtual security force that will prevent anything from being damaged."
"You've seen to all of that, haven't you, Dors?" said Seldon, smiling at her fondly.
"A number of us have. It's by no means all me. Your colleague Tamwile Elar has worked with incredible dedication."
Seldon scowled.
"What's the matter with Elar?" said Dors.
Seldon said, "He keeps calling me Maestro.' "
Dors shook her head. "Well, there's a terrible crime."
Seldon ignored that and said, "And he's young."
"Worse and worse. Come, Hari, you're going to have to learn to grow old gracefully-and to begin with you'll have to show that you're enjoying yourself. That will please others and increase their enjoyment and surely you would want to do that. Come on. Move around. Don't hide here with me. Greet everyone. Smile. Ask after their health. And remember that, after the banquet, you're going to have to make a speech."
"I dislike banquets and I doubly dislike speeches."
"You'll have to, anyway. Now move!"
Seldon sighed dramatically and did as he was told. He cut quite an imposing figure as he stood in the archway leading into the main hall. The voluminous First Minister's robes of yesteryear were gone, as were the Heliconian-style garments he had favored in his youth. Now Seldon wore an outfit that bespoke his elevated status: straight pants, crisply pleated, a modified tunic on top. Embroidered in silver thread above his heart was the insignia: SELDON PSYCHOHISTORY PROJECT AT STREELING UNIVERSITY. It sparkled like a beacon against the dignified titanium-gray hue of his clothing. Seldon's eyes twinkled in a face now lined by age, his sixty years given away as much by his wrinkles as by his white hair.
He entered the room in which the children were feasting. The room had been entirely cleared, except for trestles with food upon them. The children rushed up to him as soon as they saw him-knowing, as they did, that he was the reason for the feast-and Seldon tried to avoid their clutching fingers.
"Wait, wait, children," he said. "Now stand back."
He pulled a small computerized robot from his pocket and placed it on the floor. In an Empire without robots, this was something that he could expect to be eye-popping. It had the shape of a small furry animal, but it also had the capacity to change shapes without warning (eliciting squeals of children's laughter each time) and when it did so, the sounds and motions it made changed as well.
"Watch it," said Seldon, "and play with it, and try not to break it. Later on, there'll be one for each of you."
He slipped out into the hallway leading back to the main hall and realized, as he did so, that Wanda was following him.
"Grandpa," she said.
Well, of course, Wanda was different. He swooped down and lifted her high in the air, turned her over, and put her down.
"Are you having a good time, Wanda?" he asked.
"Yes," she said, "but don't go into that room."
"Why not, Wanda? It's my room. It's the office where I work."
"It's where I had my bad dream."
"I know, Wanda, but that's all over, isn't it?" He hesitated, then he led Wanda to one of the chairs lining the hallway. He sat down and placed her on his lap.
"Wanda," he said, "are you sure it was a dream?"
"I think it was a dream."
"Were you really sleeping?"
"I think I was."
She seemed uncomfortable talking about it and Seldon decided to let it go. There was no use pushing her any further.
He said, "Well, dream or not, there were two men and they talked of lemonade death, didn't they?"
Wanda nodded reluctantly.
Seldon said, "You're sure they said lemonade?"
Wanda nodded again.
"Might they have said something else and you thought they said lemonade?"
"Lemonade is what they said."
Seldon had to be satisfied with that. "Well, run off and have a good time, Wanda. Forget about the dream."