"I see what you mean by 'large, useless, and expensive,' " muttered Trevize.
They entered a wide and high hall, with sunlight shining through tall windows and illuminating the interior too harshly where it struck and yet leaving things obscure in the shadow. The thin atmosphere scattered little light.
In the center was a larger than life-size human figure in what seemed to be a synthetic stone. One arm had fallen off. The other arm was cracked at the shoulder and Trevize felt that if he tapped it sharply that arm, too, would break off. He stepped back as though getting too near might tempt him into such unbearable vandalism.
"I wonder who that is?" said Trevize. "No markings anywhere. I suppose those who set it up felt that his fame was so obvious he needed no identification, but now-" He felt himself in danger of growing philosophical and turned his attention away.
Pelorat was looking up, and Trevize's glance followed the angle of Pelorat's head. There were markings-carvings-on the wall which Trevize could not read.
"Amazing," said Pelorat. "Twenty thousand years old, perhaps, and, in here, protected somewhat from sun and damp, they're still legible."
"Not to me," said Trevize.
"It's in old script and ornate even for that. Let's see now-seven-one-two-" His voice died away in a mumble, and then he spoke up again. "There are fifty names listed and there are supposed to have been fifty Spacer worlds and this is 'The Hall of the Worlds.' I assume those are the names of the fifty Spacer worlds, probably in the order of establishment. Aurora is first and Solaria is last. If you'll notice, there are seven columns, with seven names in the first six columns and then eight names in the last. It is as though they had planned a seven-by-seven grid and then added Solaria after the fact. My guess, old chap, is that that list dates back to before Solaria was terraformed and populated."
"And which one is this planet we're standing on? Can you tell?"
Pelorat said, "You'll notice that the fifth one down in the third column, the nineteenth in order, is inscribed in letters a little larger than the others. The listers seem to have been self-centered enough to give themselves some pride of place. Besides-"
"What does the name read?"
"As near as I can make out, it says Melpomenia. It's a name I'm totally unfamiliar with."
"Could it represent Earth?"
Pelorat shook his head vigorously, but that went unseen inside his helmet. He said, "There are dozens of words used for Earth in the old legends. Gaia is one of them, as you know. So is Terra, and Erda, and so on. They're all short. I don't know of any long name used for it, or anything even resembling a short version of Melpomenia."
"Then we're standing on Melpomenia, and it's not Earth."
"Yes. And besides-as I started to say earlier-an even better indication than the larger lettering is that the co-ordinates of Melpomenia are given as 0, 0, 0, and you would expect co-ordinates to be referred to one's own planet."
"Co-ordinates?" Trevize sounded dumbfounded. "That list gives the coordinates, too?"
"They give three figures for each and I presume those are co-ordinates. What else can they be?"
Trevize did not answer. He opened a small compartment in the portion of the space suit that covered his right thigh and took out a compact device with wire connecting it to the compartment. He put it up to his eyes and carefully focused it on the inscription on the wall, his sheathed fingers making a difficult job out of something that would ordinarily have been a moment's work.
"Camera?" asked Pelorat unnecessarily.
"It will feed the image directly into the ship's computer," said Trevize.
He took several photographs from different angles; then said, "Wait! I've got to get higher. Help me, Janov."
Pelorat clasped his hands together, stirrup-fashion, but Trevize shook his head. "That won't support my weight. Get on your hands and knees."
Pelorat did so, laboriously, and, as laboriously, Trevize, having tucked the camera into its compartment again, stepped on Pelorat's shoulders and from them on to the pedestal of the statue. He tried to rock the statue carefully to judge its firmness, then placed his foot on one bent knee and used it as a base for pushing himself upward and catching the armless shoulder. Wedging his toes against some unevenness at the chest, he lifted himself and, finally, after several grunts, managed to sit on the shoulder. To those long-dead who had revered the statue and what it represented, what Trevize did would have seemed blasphemy, and Trevize was sufficiently influenced by that thought to try to sit lightly.
"You'll fall and hurt yourself," Pelorat called out anxiously.
"I'm not going to fall and hurt myself, but you might deafen me." Trevize unslung his camera and focused once more. Several more photographs were taken and then he replaced the camera yet again and carefully lowered himself till his feet touched the pedestal. He jumped to the ground and the vibration of his contact was apparently the final push, for the still intact arm crumbled, and produced a small heap of rubble at the foot of the statue. It made virtually no noise as it fell.
Trevize froze, his first impulse being that of finding a place to hide before the watchman came and caught him. Amazing, he thought afterward, how quickly one relives the days of one's childhood in a situation like that-when you've accidentally broken something that looks important. It lasted only a moment, but it cut deeply.
Pelorat's voice was hollow, as befitted one who had witnessed and even abetted an act of vandalism, but he managed to find words of comfort. "It's-it's all right, Golan. It was about to come down by itself, anyway."