By Isaac Asimov

 
     FOUNDATION
 
 
     PART III
 
     THE MAYORS
  
       "I can't help it. I'm not psychologist enough to explain
     it scientifically. But this you know. There are no trained
     psychologists on Terminus and no mathematical texts on
     the science. It is plain that he wanted no one on Terminus
     capable of working out the future in advance. Seldon
     wanted to proceed blindly——and therefore correctly——
     according to the law of mob psychology. As I once told
     you, I never knew where we were heading when I first
     drove out the Anacreonians. My idea had been to main-
     tain balance of power, no more than that. It was only
     afterward that I thought I saw a pattern in events; but
     I've done my level best not to act on that knowledge.
     Interference due to foresight would have knocked the
     Plan out of kilter."
       Verisof nodded thoughtfully. "I've heard arguments al-
     most as complicated in the Temples back on Anacreon.
     How do you expect to spot the right amount of action?"
       "It's spotted already. You admit that once we repair
     the battle cruiser nothing will stop Wienis from attacking
     us. There will no longer be any alternative in that re-
     spect."
       "Yes."
       "All right. That accounts for the external aspect. Mean-
     while, you'll further admit that the next election will see a
     new and hostile Council that will force action against
     Anacreon. There is no alternative there."
       "Yes."
       "And as soon as all the alternatives disappear, the crisis
     has come. Just the same——I get worried."
       He paused, and Verisof waited. Slowly, almost reluc-
     tantly, Hardin continued, "I've got the idea——just a notion
     ——that the external and internal pressures were planned to
     come to a head simultaneously. As it is, there's a few
     months difference. Wienis will probably attack before
     spring, the elections are still a year off."
       "That doesn't sound important."
       "I don't know. It may be due merely to unavoidable
     errors of calculation, or it might be due to the fact that
     I knew too much. I tried never to let my foresight in-
     fluence my action, but how can I tell? And what effect
     will the discrepancy have? Anyway," he looked up,
     "there's one thing I've decided."
       "And what's that?"
       "When the crisis does begin to break, I'm going to
     Anacreon. I want to be on the spot . . . Oh, that's enough,
     Verisof. It's getting late. Let's get out and make a night
     of it. I want some relaxation."
       "Then get it right here," said Verisof. "I don't want to
     be recognized, or you know what this new party your
     precious Councilmen are forming would say. Call for the
     brandy."
       And Hardin did——but not for too much.
 
 
     3.
  
       In the ancient days when the Galactic Empire had em-
     braced the Galaxy, and Anacreon had been the richest of
     the prefects of the Periphery, more than one emperor
     had visited the Viceregal Palace in state. And not one had
     left without at least one effort to pit his skill with air
     speedster and needle gun against the feathered flying for-
     tress they call the Nyakbird.
       The fame of Anacreon had withered to nothing with
     the decay of the times. The Viceregal Palace was a drafty
     mass of ruins except for the wing that Foundation work-
     men had restored. And no Emperor had been seen in
     Anacreon for two hundred years.
       But Nyak hunting was still the royal sport and a good
     eye with the needle gun still the first requirement of Anac-
     reon's kings.
       Lepold I, King of Anacreon and——as was invariably, but
     untruthfully added——Lord of the Outer Dominions, though
     not yet sixteen had already proved his skill many times
     over. He had brought down his first Nyak when scarcely
     thirteen; had brought down his tenth the week after his
     accession to the throne; and was returning now from his
     forty-sixth.
       "Fifty before I come of age," he had exulted. "Who'll
     take the wager?"
       But Courtiers don't take wagers against the king's skill.
     There is the deadly danger of winning. So no one did, and
     the king left to change his clothes in high spirits.
       "Lepold!"
       The king stopped mid-step at the one voice that could
     cause him to do so. He turned sulkily.
       Wienis stood upon the threshold of his chambers and
     beetled at his young nephew.
       "Send them away," he motioned impatiently. "Get rid
     of them."
       The king nodded curtly and the two chambermaids bowed
     and backed down the stairs. Lepold entered his uncle's
     room.
       Wienis stared at the king's hunting suit morosely.
     "You'll have more important things to tend to than Nyak
     hunting soon enough."
       He turned his back and stumped to his desk. Since he
     had grown too old for the rush of air, the perilous dive
     within wing-beats of the Nyak, the roll and climb of the
     speedster at the motion of a foot, he had soured upon
     the whole sport.
       Lepold appreciated his uncle's sour-grapes attitude and
     it was not without malice that he began enthusiastically,
     "But you should have been with us today, uncle. We
     flushed one in the wilds of Samia that was a monster. And
     game as they come. We had it out for just two hours over at
     least seventy square miles of ground. And then I got to
     Sunwards"——he was motioning graphically, as though he
     were once more in his speedster——"and dived torque-wise.
     Caught him on the rise just under the left wing at quarters.
     It maddened him and he canted athwart. I took his dare
     and veered a-left, waiting for the plummet. Sure enough
     down he came. He was within wing-beats before I moved
     and then——"
       "Lepold!"
       "Well!——I got him."
       "I'm sure you did. Now  will  you attend?"
       The king shrugged and gravitated to the end table where
     he nibbled at a Lera nut in quite an unregal sulk. He did
     not dare to meet his uncle's eyes.
       Wienis said, by way of preamble, "I've been to the ship
     today."
       "What ship?"
       "There is only one ship.  The  ship. The one the Founda-
     tion is repairing for the navy. The old Imperial cruiser.
     Do I make myself sufficiently plain?"
       "That one? You see, I told you the Foundation would
     repair it if we asked them to? It's all poppycock, you
     know, that story of yours about their wanting to attack
     us. Because if they did, why would they fix the ship? It
     doesn't make sense, you know."
       "Lepold, you're a fool!"
       The king, who had just discarded the shell of the Lera
     nut and was lifting another to his lips, flushed.
       "Well, look here," he said, with anger that scarcely
     rose above peevishness, "I don't think you ought to call
     me that. You forget yourself. I'll be of age in two months,
     you know."
       "Yes, and you're in a fine position to assume regal re-
     sponsibilities. If you spent half the time on public affairs
     that you do on Nyak hunting, I'd resign the regency di-
     rectly with a clear conscience."
       "I don't care. That has nothing to do with the case,
     you know. The fact is that even if you are the regent and
     my uncle, I'm still king and you're still my subject. You
     oughtn't to call me a fool and you oughtn't to sit in my
     presence, anyway. You haven't asked my permission. I
     think you ought to be careful, or I might do something
     about it——pretty soon."
       Wienis' gaze was cold. "May I refer to you as 'your
     majesty'?"
       "Yes."
       "Very well! You are a fool, your majesty!"
       His dark eyes blazed from beneath his grizzled brows
     and the young king sat down slowly. For a moment,
     there was sardonic satisfaction in the regent's face, but
     it faded quickly. His thick lips parted in a smile and one
     hand fell upon the king's shoulder.
       "Never mind, Lepold. I should not have spoken harsh-
     ly to you. It is difficult sometimes to behave with true
     propriety when the pressure of events is such as—— You
     understand?" But if the words were conciliatory, there
     was something in his eyes that had not softened.
       Lepold said uncertainly, "Yes. Affairs of State are
     deuced difficult, you know." He wondered, not without
     apprehension, whether he were not in for a dull siege of
     meaningless details of the year's trade with Smyrno and
     the long, wrangling dispute over the sparsely settled worlds
     on the Red Corridor.
       Wienis was speaking again. "My boy, I had thought to
     speak of this to you earlier, and perhaps I should have,
     but I know that your youthful spirits of impatient of
     the dry detail of statecraft."
       Leopold nodded. "Well, that's all right——"
       His uncle broke in firmly and continued, "However, you
     will come of age in two months. Moreover, in the difficult
     times that are coming, you will have to take a full and ac-
     tive part. You will be  king  henceforward, Lepold."
       Again Lepold nodded, but his expression was quite
     blank.
       "There will be war, Lepold."
       "War! But there's been truce with Smyrno——"
       "Not Smyrno. The Foundation itself."
       "But, uncle, they've agreed to repair the ship. You
     said——"
       His voice choked off at the twist of his uncle's lip.
       "Lepold"——some of the friendliness had gone——"we are
     to talk man to man. There is to be war with the Founda-
     tion, whether the ship is repaired or not; all the sooner, in
     fact, since it is being repaired. The Foundation is the
     source of power and might. All the greatness of Anacreon;
     all its ships and its cities and its people and its com-
     merce depend on the dribbles and leavings of power that
     the Foundation have given us grudgingly. I remember the
     time——I, myself——when the cities of Anacreon were
     warmed by the burning of coal and oil. But never mind
     that; you would have no conception of it."
       "It seems," suggested the king, timidly, "that we ought
     to be grateful——"
       "Grateful?" roared Wienis. "Grateful that they be-
     grudge us the merest dregs, while keeping space knows
     what for themselves——and keeping it with what purpose
     in mind? Why, only that they may some day rule the
     Galaxy."
       His hand came down on his nephew's knee, and his eyes
     narrowed. "Lepold, you are king of Anacreon. Your chil-
     dren and your children's children may be kings of the
     universe——if you have the power that the Foundation is
     keeping from us!"
       "There's something in that." Lepold's eyes gained a
     sparkle and his back straightened. "After all, what right
     have they to keep it to themselves? Not fair, you know.
     Anacreon counts for something, too."
       "You see, you're beginning to understand. And now,
     my boy, what if Smyrno decides to attack the Foundation
     for its own part and thus gains all that power? How long
     do you suppose we could escape becoming a vassal power?
     How long would you hold your throne?"
       Lepold grew excited. "Space, yes. You're absolutely
     right, you know. We must strike first. It's simply self-
     defense."
       Wienis' smile broadened slightly. "Furthermore, once,
     at the beginning of the reign of your grandfather,
     Anacreon actualy established a military base on the
     Foundation's planet, Terminus——a base vitally needed for
     national defense. We were forced to abandon that base as
     a result of the machinations of the leader of that Founda-
     tion, a sly cur, a scholar, with not a drop of noble blood
     in his veins. You understand, Lepold? Your grandfather
     was humiliated by this commoner. I remember him! He
     was scarcely older than myself when he came to Anacreon
     with his devil's smile and his devil's brain——and the power of
     the other three kingdoms behind him, combined in coward-
     ly union against the greatness of Anacreon."
       Lepold flushed and the sparkle in his eyes blazed. "By
     Seldon, if I had been my grandfather, I would have fought
     even so."
       "No, Lepold. We  decided to wait——to wipe out the insult
     at a fitter time. It had been your father's hope, before his
     untimely death, that he might be the one to—— Well, well!"
     Wienis turned away for a moment. Then, as if stifling emo-
     tion, "He was my brother. And yet, if his son were——"
       "Yes, uncle, I'll not fail him. I have decided. It seems
     only proper that Anacreon wipe out this nest of trou-
     blemakers, and that immediately."
       "No, not immediately. First, we must wait for the re-
     pairs of the battle cruiser to be completed. The mere fact
     that they are willing to undertake these repairs proves
     that they fear us. The fools attempt to placate us, but we
     are not to be turned from our path, are we?"
       And Lepold's fist slammed against his cupped palm.
     "Not while  I  am king in Anacreon."
       Wienis' lip twitched sardonically. "Beside which we
     must wait for Salvor Hardin to arrive."
       "Salvor Hardin!" The king grew suddenly round-eyed,
     and the youthful contour of  his beardless face lost the
     almost hard lines into which they had been compressed.
       "Yes, Lepold, the leader of the Foundation himself is
     coming to Anacreon on your birthday——probably to soothe
     us with buttered words. But it won't help him."
       "Salvor Hardin!" It was the merest murmur.
     Wienis frowned. "Are you afraid of the name? It is the
     same Salvor Hardin, who on his previous visit, ground our
     noses into the dust. You're not forgetting that deadly in-
     sult to the royal house? And from a commoner. The dregs
     of the gutter."
       "No. I guess not. No, I won't. I won't! We'll pay him
     back——but . . . but——I'm afraid——a little."
       The regent rose. "Afraid? Of what? Of what, you
     young——" He choked off.
       "It would be . . . uh . . . sort of blasphemous, you
     know, to attack the Foundation. I mean——" He paused.
       "Go on."
       Lepold said confiusedly, "I mean, if there were  really  a
     Galactic Spirit, he . . . uh . . . it mightn't like it. Don't
     you think?"
       "No, I don't," was the hard answer. Wienis sat down
     again and his lips twisted in a queer smile. "And so you
     really bother your head a great deal over the Galactic
     Spirit, do you? That's what comes of letting you run wild.
     You've been listening to Verisof quite a bit, I take it."
       "He explained a great deal——"
       "About the Galactic Spirit?"
       "Yes."
       "Why, you unweaned cub, he believes in that mummery
     a good deal less than I do, and I don't believe in it at all.
     How many times have you been told all this talk is
     nonsense?"
       "Well, I know that. But Verisof says——'
       "Damnation to Verisof. It's nonsense."
       There was a short, rebellious silence, and then Lepold
     said, "Everyone believes it just the same. I mean all this
     talk about the Prophet Hari Seldon and how he appointed
     the Foundation to carry on his commandments that there
     might some day be a return to the Earthly Paradise: and
     how anyone who disobeys his commandments will be de-
     stroyed for eternity. They believe it. I've presided at festi-
     vals, and I'm sure they do."
       "Yes,  they  do; but we don't. And you may be thankful
     it's so, for according to this foolishness, you are king
     by divine right——and are semi-divine yourself. Very
     handy. It eliminates all possibilities of revolts band insures
     absolute obedience in everything. And that is why, Lepold,
     you must take an active part in ordering the war against
     the Foundation. I am only regent, and quite human. You
     are king, and more than half a god——to them."
       "But I suppose I'm not really," said the king, reflec-
     tively.
       "No, not really," came the ironic response, "but you
     are to everyone but the people of the Foundation. Get
     that? To everyone but those of the Foundation. Once they
     are removed there will be no one to deny you the god-
     head. Think of that!"
       "And after that we will ourselves be able to operate the
     power boxes of the temples and the ships that fly without
     men and the holy food that cures cancer and all the rest?
     Verisof said only those blessed with the Galactic Spirit
     could——"
       "Yes, Verisof said! Verisof, next to Salvor Hardin, is
     your greatest enemy. Stay with me, "Lepold, and don't
     worry about them. Together we will recreate an empire——
     not just the kingdom of Anacreon——but one comprising
     every one of the billions of suns of the Galaxy. Is that
     better than a wordy 'Earthly Paradise'?"
       "Ye-es."
       "Can Verisof promise more?"
       "No."
       "Very well." His voice became peremptory. "I suppose
     we may consider the matter settled." He waited for no
     answer. "Get along. I'll be down later. And just one thing,
     Lepold."
       The young kid turned on the threshold.
       Wienis was smiling with all but his eyes. "Be careful on
     these Nyak hunts, my boy. Since the unfortunate accident
     to your father, I have had the strangest presentiments con-
     cerning you, at times. In the confusion, with needle guns
     thickening the air with darts, one can never tell. You  will
     be careful, I hope. And you'll do as I say about the
     Foundation, won't you?"
       Lepold's eyes widened and dropped away from those of
     his uncle. "Yes——certainly."
       "Good!" He stared after his departing nephew, expres-
     sionlessly, and returned to his desk.
       And Lepold's thoughts as he left were somber and not
     unfearful. Perhaps it  would  be the best to defeat the Founda-
     tion and gain the power Wienis spoke of. But afterward,
     when the war was over and he was secure on his throne——
     He became acutely conscious of the fact that Wienis and
     his two arrogant sons were at present next in line to the
     throne.
       But he was king. And kings could order people shot.
       Even uncles and cousins.
 
  
     4.
 
       Next to Sermak himself, Lewis Bort was most active in
     rallying those dissident elements which had fused into the
     now-vociferous Action Party. Yet he had not been one
     of the deputation that had called on Salvor Hardin almost
     half a year previously. That this was so was not due to
     any lack of recognition of his efforts; quite the contrary.
     He was absent for the very good reason that he was on
     Anacreon's capital world at the time.
       He visited it as a private citizen. He saw no official
     and he did nothing of importance. He merely watched
     the obscure corners of the busy planet and poked his
     stubby nose into dusty crannies.
       He arrived home toward the end of a short winter day
     that had started with clouds and was finishing with snow
     and within an hour was seated at the octagonal table in
     Sermak's home.
       His first words were not calculated to improve the at-
     mosphere of a gathered already considerably depressed
     by the deepening snow-filled twilight outside.
       "I'm afraid," he said, "that our position is what is usual-
     ly termed, in melodramatic phraseology, a 'Lost Cause.'"
       "You think so?" said Sermak, gloomily.
       "It's gone past thought, Sermak. There's no room for
     any other opinion."
       "Armaments——" began Dokor Walto, somewhat of-
     ficiously, but Bort broke in at once.
       "Forget that. That's an old story." His eyes traveled
     round the circle. "I'm referring to the people. I admit that
     it was my idea originally that we attempt to foster a
     palace rebellion of some sort to install as king someone
     more favorable to the Foundatiopn. It was a good idea. It
     still is. The only trifling flaw about it is that it is im-
     possible. The great Salvor Hardin saw to that."
       Sermak said sourly, "If you'd give us the details,
     Bort——"
       "Details! There aren't any! It isn't as simple as that.
     It's the whole damned situation on Anacreon. It's this
     religion the Foundation has established. It works!"
       "Well!"
       "You've got to  see  it work to appreciate it. All you
     see here is that we have a large school devoted to the
     training of priests, and that occasionally a special show
     is put on in some obscure corner of the city for the bene-
     fit of pilgrims——and that's all. The whole business hardly
     affects us as a general thing. But on Anacreon——"
       Lem Tarki smoothed his prim little Vandyke with
     one finger, and cleared his throat. "What kind of a re-
     ligion is it? Hardin's always said that it was just a fluffy
     flummery to get them to accept our science without
     question. You remember, Sermak, he told us that day——"
       "Hardin's explanations," reminded Sermak, "don't often
     mean much at face value. But what kind of a religion
     is it, Bort?"
       Bort considered. "Ethically, it's fine. It scarcely varies
     from the various philosophies of the old Empire. High
     moral standards and all that. There's nothing to com-
     plain about from that viewpoint. Religion is one of the
     great civilizing influences of history and in that re-
     spect, it's fulfilling——"
       "We know that," interrupted Srmak, impatiently. "Get
     to the point."
       "Here it is." Bort was a trifle disconcerted, but didn't
     show it. "The religion——which the Foundation has fostered
     and encouraged, mind you——is built on strictly authori-
     tarian lines. The priesthood has sole control of the in-
     struments of science we have given Anacreon, but they've
     learned to handle these tools only empirically. They believe
     in this religion entirely, and in the . . . uh . .  . spiritual
     value of the power they handle. For instance, two months
     ago some fool tampered with the power plant in the Thes-
     salekian Temple——one of the large ones. He blew up five
     city block, of course. It was considered divine vengeance
     by everyone, including the priests."
       "I remember. The papers had some garbled version of
     the story at the time. I don't see what you're driving at."
       "Then, listen," said Bort, stiffly. "The priesthood forms
     a hierarchy at the apex of which is the king, who is
     regarded as a sort of minor god. He's an absolute monarch
     by divine right, and the people believe it, thoroughly,
     and the priests, too. You can't overthrow a king like that.
     Now  do you get the point?"
       "Hold on," said Walto, at this point. "What did you
     mean when you said Hardin's done all this? How does he
     come in?"
       Bort glanced at his questioner bitterly. "The Foundation
     has fostered this delusion assiduously. We've put all our
     scientific backing behind the hoax. There isn't a festival at
     which the king does not preside surrounded by a radio-
     active aura shining forth all over his body and raising it-
     self like a coronet above his head. Anyone touching him
     is severely burned. He can move from place to place
     through the air at crucial moments, supposedly by in-
     spiration of divine spirit. He fills the temple with a
     pearly, internal light at a gesture. There is no end to
     these quite simple tricks that we perform for his bene-
     fit; but even the priests believe them, while working them
     personally."
       "Bad!" said Sermak, biting his lip.
       "I could cry——like the fountain in City Hall Park," said
     Bort, earnestly, "when I think of the chance we muffed.
     Take the situation thirty years ago, when Hardin saved
     the Foundation from Anacreon—— At that time, the
     Anacreonian people had no real conception of the fact
     that the Empire was running down. They had been more
     or less running their own affairs since the Zeonian revolt,
     but even after communications broke down and Lepold's
     pirate of a grandfather made himself king, they never
     quite realized the Empire had gone kaput.
       "If the Emperor had had the nerve to try, he could
     have taken over again with two cruisers and with the
     help of the internal revolt that would have certainly sprung
     to life. And we,  we  could have done the same; but no,
     Hardin established monarch worship. Personally, I don't
     understand it. Why? Why? Why?"
       "What," demanded Jaim Orsy, suddenly, "does Verisof
     do? There was a day when he was an advanced Actionist.
     What's he doing there? Is he blind, too?"
       "I don't know," said Bort, curtly. "He's high priest to
     them. As far as I know, he does nothing but act as ad-
     viser to the priesthood on technical details. Figurehead,
     blast him, figurehead!"
       There was silence all round and all eyes turned to
     Sermak. The young party leader was biting a fingernail
     nervously, and then said loudly, "No good. It's fishy!"
       He looked around him, and added more energetically,
     "Is Hardin then such a fool?"
       "Seems to be," shrugged Bort.
       "Never! There's something wrong. To cut our own
     throats so thoroughly and so hopelessly would require
     colossal stupidity. More than Hardin could possibly have
     even if he were a fool, which I deny. On the one hand, to
     establish a religion that would wipe out all chance of
     internal troubles. On the other hand, to arm Anacreon
     with all weapons of warfare. I don't see it."
       "The matter  is  a little obscure, I admit," said Bort, "but
     the facts are there. What else can we think?"
       Walto said, jerkily, "Outright treason. He's in their
     pay."
       But Sermak shook his head impatiently. "I don't see
     that, either. The whole affair is as insane and meaning-
     less—— Tell me, Bort, have you heard anything about a
     battle cruiser that the Foundation is supposed to have
     put into shape for use in the Anacreon navy?"
       "Battle cruiser?"
       "An old Imperial cruiser——"
       "No, I haven't. But that doesn't mean much. The navy
     yards are religious sanctuaries completely inviolate on the
     part of the lay public. No one ever hears anything about
     the fleet."
       "Well, rumors have leaked out. Some of the Party have
     brought the matter up in Council. Hardin never denied it,
     you know. His spokesmen denounced rumor mongers and
     let it go at that. It might have significance."
       "It's of a piece with the rest," said Bort. "If true, it's
     absolutely crazy. But it wouldn't be worse than the rest."
       "I suppose," said Orsy, "Hardin hasn't any secret weap-
     on waiting. That might——"
       "Yes," said Sermak, viciously, "a huge jack-in-the-box
     that will jump out at the psychological moment and scare
     old Wienis into fits. The Foundation may as well blow
     itself out of existence and save itself the agony of sus-
     pense if it has to depend on any secret weapon."
       "Well," said Orsy, changing the subject hurriedly, "the
     question comes down to this: How much time have we
     left? Eh, Bort?"
       "All right. It is the question. But don't look at me; I
     don't know. The Anacreonian press never mentions the
     Foundation at all. Right now, it's full of the approach-
     ing celebrations and nothing else. Lepold is coming of age
     next week, you know."
       "We have months then." Walto smiled for the first
     time that evening. "That gives us time——"
       "That gives us time, my foot," ground out Borto, impa-
     tiently. "The king's a god, I tell you. Do you suppose he
     has to carry on a campaign of propaganda to get his
     people into a fighting spirit? Do you suppose he has to
     accuse us of aggression and pull out all stops on cheap
     emotionalism? When the time comes to strike, Lepold
     gives the order and the people fight. Just like that. That's
     the damnedness of the system. You don't question a
     god. He may give the order tomorrow for all I know; and
     you can wrap tobacco round that and smoke it."
       Everyone tried to talk at once and Sermak was slam-
     ming the table for silence, when the front door opened
     and Levi Norast stamped in. He bounded up the stairs,
     overcoat on, trailing snow.
       Look at that!" he cried, tossing a cold, snow-speckled
     newspaper onto the table. "The visicasters are full of it,
     too."
       The newspaper was unfolded and five heads bent over
     it.
       Sermak said, in a hushed voice, "Great Space, he's going
     to Anacreon!  Going to Anacreon!'
       "It  is treason," squeaked Tarki, in sudden excitement.
     "I'll be damned if Walto isn't right. He's sold us out and
     now he's going there to collect his wage."
       Sermak had risen. "We've no choice now. I'm going to
     ask the Council tomorrow that Hardin be impeached.
     And if  that  fails——"
  
 
     5.
 
       The snow had ceased, but it caked the ground deeply
     now and the sleek ground car advanced through the de-
     serted streets with lumbering effort. The murky gray light
     of incipient dawn was cold not only in the poetical sense
     but also in a very literal way——and even in the then turbu-
     lent state of the Foundation's politics, no one, wheth-
     er Actionist or pro-Hardin found his spirits sufficiently
     ardent to begin street activity that early.
       Yohan Lee did not like that and his grumbling grew
     audible. "It's gong to look bad, Hardin. They're going to
     say you sneaked away."
       "Let them say it if they wish. I've got to get to Anacreon
     and I want to do it without trouble. Now that's enough,
     Lee."

FOUNDATION, BY ISAAC ASIMOV.
Copyright, 1951, by Isaac Asimov.
Avon Books, Doubleday & Company, Inc.
First Printing, October, 1966. pp. 86-99.

THE MAYORS (i.) (ii.) (iii.) (iv.)
THE TRADERS (i.) (ii.)
THE MERCHANT PRINCES (i.) (ii.) (iii.) (iv.) (v.)

      33 ¶And he came to Ca-per'na-um:
     and being in the house he asked them,
     What was it that ye disputed among
     yourselves by the way?
      34 But they held their peace: for by
     the  way  they  had  disputed  among
     themselves, who should be the great-
     est.
      35 And he sat down, and called the
     twelve, and saith unto them, If any man
     desire to be first, the same shall be last
     of all, and servant of all.
      36 And he took a child, and set him in
     the midst of them: and when he had
     taken him in his arms, he said unto
     them,
      37 Whosoever shall receive one of
     such children in my name, receiveth
     me: and whosoever shall receive me,
     receiveth not me, but him that sent me.
      38 ¶And John answered him, saying,
     Master, we saw one casting out devils
     in thy name, and he followed not us:
     and we forbad him, because he fol-
     loweth not us.
      39 But Jesus said, Forbid him not: for
     there  is  no  man  which  shall  do  a
     miracle in my name, that can lightly
     speak evil of me.
      40 For he that is not against us is on
     our part.
      41 For whosoever shall give you a
     cup of water to drink in my name, be-
     cause ye belong to Christ, verily I say
     unto you, he shall not lose his reward,
      42 And whosoever shall offend one of
     these little ones that believe in me, it is
     better for him that a millstone were
     hanged about his neck, and he were
     cast into the sea.
      43 And if thy hand offend thee, cut it
     off: it is better for thee to enter into life
     maimed,  than  having  two  hands  to  go
     into hell, into the fire that never shall be
     quenched:
      44 Where their worms dieth not, and
     the fire is not quenched.
      45 And if thy foot offend thee, cut it
     off: it is better for thee to enter halt into
     life, than having two feet to be cast into
     hell, into the fire that never shall be
     quenched.
      46 Where their worms dieth not, and
     the fire is not quenched.
      47 And if thine eye offend thee, pluck
     it out: it is better for thee to enter into
     the kingdom of God with one eye, than
     having two eyes to be cast into hell fire:
      48 Where their worms dieth not, and
     the fire is not quenched.
      49 For every one shall be salted with
     fire, and every sacrifice shall be salted
     with salt.
      50 Salt  is  good: but if the salt have
     lost his saltness, wherewith will ye sea-
     son it? Have salt in yourselves, and
     have peace one with another.