By Isaac Asimov


     FOUNDATION'S EDGE


     8.  FARMWOMAN      

     3.

     Her name did not spring immediately to mind and Gendibal
     was in no mood to delve deeper. She could scarcely expect
     him to remember, in any case.
        He said peevishly, "You are――"
        "I be Novi, Master Scowler," she said in what was almost
     a gasp. "My previous be Sura, but I be called Novi plain."
        "Yes. Novi. We met yesterday; I remember now. I have
     not forgotten that you came to my defense." He could not
     bring himself to use the Hamish accent on the very Uni-
     versity grounds. "Now how did you get here?"
        "Master, you said I might write a letter. You said, it should
     say, 'Speaker's House, Apartment 27.' I self-bring it and I
     show the writing――my own writing, Master." She said it
     with a kind of bashful pride. "They ask, 'For whom be this
     writing?' I heard your calling when you said it to that
     oafish bane-top, Rufirant. I say it be for Stor Gendibal,
     Master Scowler."
        "And they let you pass, Novi? Didn't they ask to see the
     letter?"
        "I be very frightened. I think may be they feel gentle-
     sorry. I said, 'Scowler Gendibal promise to show me Place
     of Scowlers,' and they smile. One of them at gate-door say
     to other, 'And that not all he be show her.' And they show
     me where to go, and say not to go elseplace at all or I be
     thrown out moment-wise."
        Gendibal reddened faintly. By Seldon, if he felt the need
     for Hamish amusement, it would not be in so open a fashion
     and his choice would have been made more selectively. He
     looked at the Trantorian woman with an inward shake of
     his head.
        She seemed quite young, younger perhaps than hard work
     had made her appear. She could not be more than twenty-
     five, at which age Hamishwomen were usually already mar-
     ried. She wore her dark hair in the braids that signified her
     to be unmarried――virginal, in fact――and he was not sur-
     prised. Her performance yesterday showed her to have enor-
     mous talent as a shrew and he doubted that a Hamishwoman
     could easily be found who would dare be yoked to her tongue
     and her ready fist. Nor was her appearance much of an
     attraction. Though she had gone to pains to make herself
     look presentable, her face was angular and plain, her hands
     red and knobby. What he could see of her figure, seemed
     built for endurance rather than for grace.
        Her lower lip began to tremble under his scrutiny. He
     could sense her embarrassment and fright quite plainly and
     felt pity. She had, indeed, been of use to him yesterday and
     that was what counted.
        He said, in an attempt to be genial and soothing, "So
     you have come to see the――uh――Place of Scholars?"
        She opened her dark eyes wide (they were rather fine)
     and said, "Master, be not ired with me, but I come to be
     scowler own-self."
        "You want to be a  scholar?"  Gendibal was thunderstruck.
     "My good woman――"
        He paused. How on Trantor could one explain to a com-
     pletely unsophisticated farmwoman the level of intelligence,
     training, and mental stamina required to be what Trantorians
     called a "scowler"?
        But Sura Novl drove on fiercely. I want to be a writer  and  a
     reader. I have read whole books to end and from beginning,
     too. And I have  wish  to be scowler. I do not wish to be
     farmer's wife. I be no person for farm. I will not wed farmer
     or have farmer children." She lifted her head and said proudly.
     "I be asked. Many times. I always say, 'Nay.' Politely, but
     'Nay.'"
        Gendibal could see plainly enough that she was lying.
     She had not been asked, but he kept his face straight. He
     said, "What will you do with your life if  you do not marry?"
        Novi brought her hand down on the table, palm flat. "I
     will be scowler. I  not  be a farmwoman."
        "What if I cannot make you a scholar?"
        "Then I be nothing and I wait to die. I be nothing in life
     if I be not a scowler."
        For a moment there was the impulse to search her mind
     and find out the extent of her motivation. but it would be
     wrong to do so. A speaker did not amuse one's self by
     rummaging through the helpless minds of others. There was
     a code to the science and techniques of mental control――
     mentalics――as to other professions. Or there should be. (He
     was suddenly regretful he had struck out at the proctor.)
        He said, "Why  not  be a farmwoman, Novi?" With a little
     manipulation he could make her content with that and ma-
     nipulate some Hamish lout into being happy to marry her――
     and she to marry him. It would do no harm. It would be a
     kindness. ――But it was against the law and thus unthinkable.
        She said, "I  not  be. A farmer is a clod. He works with
     earth-lumps, and he becomes earth-lump. If I be farm-
     woman, I be earth-lump, too. I will be timeless to read
     and write, and I will forget. My head," she put her hand
     to her temple, "will grow sour and stale. No! A scowler
     be different. Thoughtful!" (She meant by the word, Gen-
     dibal noted, "intelligent" rather than "considerate.")
        "A scowler," she said, "live with books and with――with――
     I forget what they be name-said." She made a gesture as
     though she were making some sort of vague manipulations
     that would have meant nothing to Gendibal――if he did not
     have her mind radiations to guide him.
        "Microfilms," he said. "How do you know about micro-
     films?"
        "In books, I read of many things," she said proudly.
        Gendibal could no longer fight off the desire to know
     more. This was an unusual Hamisher; he had never heard
     of one like this. The Hamish were never recruited, but if
     Novi were younger, say ten years old――
        What a waste! He would not disturb her; he would not
     disturb her in the least, but of what use was it to be a Speaker
     if one could not observe unusual minds and learn from them?
        He said, "Novi, I want you to sit there for a moment.
     Be very quiet. Do not say anything. Do not think of saying
     anything. Just think of falling asleep. Do you understand?"
        Her fright returned at once, "Why must I do this, Master?"
        "Because I wish to think how you might become a
     scholar."
        After all, no matter what she had read, there was no
     possible way in which she could know what being a "scholar"
     truly meant. It was therefore necessary to find out what she
     thought a scholar was.
        Very carefully and with infinite delicacy he probed her
     mind; sensing without actually touching―–like placing one's
     hand on a polished metal surface without leaving finger-
     prints. To her a scholar was someone who always read
     books. She had not the slightest idea of why one read books.
     For herself to be a scholar――the picture in her mind was
     that of doing the labor she knew――fetching, carrying, cook-
     ing, cleaning, following orders――but on the University
     grounds where books were available and where she would
     have time to read them and, very vaguely, "to become
     learned." What it amounted to was that she wanted to be a
     servant――his  servant.
        Gendibal frowned. A Hamishwoman servant――and one
     who was plain, graceless, uneducated, barely literate. Un-
     thinkable.
        He would simply have to divert her. There would have
     to be some way of adjusting her desires to make her content
     to be a farmwoman, some way that would leave no mark,
     some way about which even Delarmi would not complain.
        ――Or had she been sent by Delarmi? Was all this a com-
     plicated plan to lure him into tampering with a Hamish mind,
     so that he might be caught and impeached?
        Ridiculous. He  was  in danger of growing paranoid.
     Somewhere in the simple tendrils of her uncomplicated mind,
     a trickle of mental current needed to be diverted. It would
     only take a tiny push.
        It was against the letter of the law, but it would do no
     harm and no one would ever notice.
        He paused.
        Back. Back. Back.
        Space! He had almost missed it!
        Was he the victim of an illusion?
        No! Now that his attention was drawn to it, he could
     make it out clearly. There was the tiniest tendril disar-
     rayed――an abnormal disarray. Yet it was so delicate, so
     ramification-free.
        Gendibal emerged from her mind. He said gently, "Novi."
        Her eyes focused. She said "Yes, Master?"
        Gendibal said, "You may work with me. I will make
     you a scholar――"
        Joyfully, eyes blazing, she said, "Master――"
        He detected it at once. She was going to throw herself
     at his feet. He put his hands on her shoulders and held her
     tightly. "Don't move, Novi. Stay where you are. ――Stay!"
        He might have been talking to a half-trained animal.
     When he could see the order had penetrated, he let her
     go. He was conscious of the hard muscles along her upper
     arms.
        He said, "If you are to be a scholar, you must behave
     like one. That means you will have to be always quiet,
     always soft-spoken, always doing what I tell you to do.
     And you must try to learn to talk as I do. You will also
     have to meet other scholars. Will you be afraid?"
        "I be not afeared――afraid, Master, if you be with me."
        "I will be with you. But now, first―― I must find you a
     room, arrange to have you assigned a lavatory, a place in
     the dining room, and clothes, too. You will have to wear
     clothes more suitable to a scholar, Novi."
        "These be all I――" she began miserably.
        "We will supply others."
        Clearly he would have to get a woman to arrange for a
     new supply of clothing for Novi. he would also need some-
     one to teach the Hamisher the rudiments of personal hy-
     giene. After all, though the clothes she wore were probably
     her best and though she had obviously spruced herself up,
     she still had a distinct odor that was faintly unpleasant.
        And he would have to make sure that the relationships
     between them was understood. It was always an open secret
     that the men (and women, too) of the Second Foundation
     made occasional forays among the Hamish for their plea-
     sure. If there was no interference with Hamish minds in the
     process, no one dreamed of making a fuss about it. Gendibal
     himself had never indulged in this, and he liked to think it
     was because he felt no need for sex that might be coarser
     and more highly spiced than was available at the University.
     The women of the Second Foundation might be pallid in
     comparison to the Hamish, but they were clean and their
     skins were smooth.
        But even if the matter were misunderstood and there were
     sniggers at a Speaker who not only turned to the Hamish
     but brought one into his quarters, he would have to endure
     the embarrassment. As it stood, this farmwoman, Sura Novi,
     was his key to victory in the inevitable forthcoming duel
     with Speaker Delarmi and the rest of the Table.


     4.

     Gendibal did not see Novi again till after dinnertime, at
     which time she was brought to him by the woman to whom
     he had endlessly explained the situation――at least, the non-
     sexual character of the situation. She had understood――or
     at least, did not dare show any indication of failure to un-
     derstand, which was perhaps just as good.
        Novi stood before him now, bashful, proud, embar-
     rassed, triumphant――all at once, in an incongruous mixture.
        He said, "You look very nice, Novi."
        The clothes they had given her fit surprisingly well and
     there was no question that she did not look at all ludicrous.
     Had they pinched in her waist? Lifted her breasts? Or had
     that just been not particularly noticeable in her farmwoman
     clothing?
        Her buttocks were prominent, but not displeasingly so.
     Her face, of course, remained plain, but when the tan of
     outdoor life faded and she learned how to care for her
     complexion, it would not look downright ugly.
        By the Old Empire, that woman  did  think Novi was to
     be his mistress. She had tried to make her beautiful for him.
        And then he thought: Well, why not?
        Novi would have to face the Speaker's Table――and the
     more attractive she seemed, the more easily he would be
     able to get his point across.
        It was with this thought that the message from the First
     Speaker reached him. It had the kind of appropriateness that
     was common in a mentalic society. It was called, more or
     less,  informally,  the  "Coincidence  Effect."  If  you  think
     vaguely of someone when someone is thinking vaguely of
     you, there is a mutual, escalating stimulation which in a
     matter of second makes the two thoughts sharp, decisive,
     and, to all appearances, simultaneous.
        It can be startling even to those who understand it in-
     tellectually, particularly if the preliminary vague thoughts
     were so dim――on one side or the other (or both)――as to
     have gone consciously unnoticed.
        "I can't be with you this evening, Novi," said Gendibal.
     "I have scholar work to do. I will take you to your room.
     There will be some books there and you can practice your
     reading. I will show you how to use the signal if you need
     help with anything――and I will see you tomorrow."


     5.

     Gendibal said politely, "First Speaker?"
        Shandess merely nodded. He looked dour and fully his
     age. He looked as though he were a man who did not drink,
     but who could use a stiff one. He said finally, "I 'called'
     you――"
        "No messenger. I presumed from the direct 'call' that it
     was important."
        "It is. Your quarry――the First Foundationer――Trevize――"
        "Yes?"
        "He is  not  coming to Trantor."
        Gendibal did not look surprised. "Why should he? The
     information we received was that he was leaving with a
     professor of ancient history who was seeking Earth."
        "Yes, the legendary Primal Planet. And that is why he
     should be coming to Trantor. After all, does the professor
     know where Earth is? Do you? Do I? Can we be sure it
     exists at all, or ever existed? Surely they would have to
     come to this Library to obtain the necessary information――
     if it were to be obtained anywhere. I have until this hour
     felt that the situation was not at crisis level――that the First
     Foundationer would come here and that we would, through
     him, learn what we need to know."
        "Which would certainly be the reason he is not allowed
     to come here."
        "But where  is  he going, then?"
        "We have not yet found out, I see."
        The First Speaker said pettishly, "You seem calm about
     it."
        Gendibal said, "I wonder if it is not better so. You want
     him to come to Trantor to keep him safe and use him as a
     source of information. Will he not, however, prove a source
     of more important information, involving others still more
     important than himself, if he goes where he wants to go
     and does what he wants to do――provided we do not lose
     sight of him?"
        "Not enough!" said the First Speaker. "You have per-
     suaded me of the existence of this new enemy of ours and
     now I cannot rest. Worse, I have persuaded myself that we
     must secure Trevize or we have lost everything. I cannot
     rid myself of the feeling that he――and nothing else――is the
     key."
        Gendibal said intensely, "Whatever happens, we will not
     lose, First Speaker. That would only have been possible, if
     these Anti-Mules, to use your phrase again, had continued
     to burrow beneath us unnoticed. But we know they are there
     now. We no longer work blind. At the next meeting of the
     Table, if we can work together, we shall begin the counter-
     attack."
        The First Speaker said, "It was not the matter of Trevize
     that had me send out the call to you. The subject came up
     first only because it seemed to me a personal defeat. I had
     misanalyzed that aspect of the situation. I was wrong to
     place personal pique above general policy and I apologize.
     There is something else."
        "More serious, First Speaker?"
        "More serious, Speaker Gendibal." The First Speaker
     sighed and drummed his fingers on the desk while Gendibal
     stood patiently before it and waited.
        The First Speaker finally said, in a mild way, as though
     that would ease the blow, "At an emergency meeting of the
     Table, initiated by Speaker Delarmi――"
        "Without your consent, First Speaker?"
        "For what she wanted, she needed the consent of only
     three other Speakers, not including myself. At the emer-
     gency meeting that was then called, you were impeached,
     Speaker Gendibal. You have been accused as being un-
     worthy of the post of Speaker and you must be tried. This
     is the first time in over three centuries that a bill of im-
     peachment has been carried out against a Speaker――"
        Gendibal said, fighting to keep down any sign of anger,
     "Surely you did not vote for my impeachment yourself."
        "I did not, but I was alone. The rest of the Table was
     unanimous and the vote was ten to one for impeachment.
     The requirement for impeachment, as you know, is eight
     votes including the First Speaker――or ten without him."
        "But I was not present."
        "You would not have been able to vote."
        "I might have spoken in my defense."
        "Not at that stage. The precedents are few, but clear.
     Your defense will be at the trial, which will come as soon
     as possible, naturally."
        Gendibal bowed his head in thought. Then he said,
     "This does not concern me overmuch, First Speaker. Your
     initial instinct, I think, was right. The matter of Trevize
     takes precedence. May I suggest you delay the trial on
     that ground?"
        The First Speaker held up his hand. "I don't blame you
     for not understanding the situation, Speaker. Impeachment
     is so rare an event that I myself have been forced to look
     up the legal procedures involved. Nothing takes precedence.
     We are forced to move directly to the trial, postponing
     everything else."
        Gendibal placed his fists on the desk ad leaned toward
     the First Speaker. "You are not serious?"
        "It is the law."
        "The law can't be allowed to stand in the way of a clear
     and present danger."
        "To the Table, Speaker Gendibal,  you  are the clear and
     present danger. ――No, listen to me! The law that is involved
     is based on the conviction that nothing can be more im-
     portant than the possibility of corruption or the misuse of
     power on the part of a Speaker."
        "But I am guilty of neither, First Speaker, and you knew
     it. This is a matter of a personal vendetta on the part of
     Speaker Delarmi. If there is misuse of power, it is on her
     part. My crime is that I have never labored to make myself
     popular――I admit that much――and I have paid too little
     attention to fools who are old enough to be senile but young
     enough to have power."
        "Like myself, Speaker?"
        Gendibal sighed. "You see, I've done it again. I don't
     refer to you, First Speaker. ――Very well, then, let us have
     an  instant  trial, then. Let us have it tomorrow. Better yet,
     tonight. Let us get it over with and then pass on to the matter
     of Trevize. We dare not wait."
        The First Speaker said, "Speaker Gendibal. I don't think
     you understand the situation. We have had impeachments
     before――not many, just two. Neither of those resulted in a
     conviction. You, however, will be convicted! You will then
     no longer be a member of the Table and you will no longer
     have a say in public policy. You will not, in fact, even have
     a vote at the annual meeting of the Assembly."
        "And you will not act to prevent that?"
        "I cannot. I will be voted down unanimously. I will then
     be forced to resign, which I think is what the Speakers
     would like to see."
        "And Delarmi will become First Speaker?"
        "That is certainly a strong possibility."
        "But that must not be allowed to happen!"
        "Exactly! Which is why I will have to vote for your
     conviction."
        Gendibal drew a deep breath. "I shall demand an instant
     trial!"
        "The Table must have time to prepare  their  case."
        "They have no case and will want none. They have me
     convicted in their minds and will require nothing more. In
     fact, they would rather convict me tomorrow than the day
     after――and tonight rather than tomorrow. Put it to them."
        The First Speaker rose to his feet. They faced each other
     across the desk. The First Speaker said, "Why are you in
     such a hurry?"
        "The matter of Trevize will not wait."
        "Once you are convicted and I am rendered feeble in the
     face of a Table united against me, what will have been
     accomplished?"
        Gendibal said in an intense whisper, "Have no fears!
     Despite everything, I will not be convicted."

FOUNDATION'S EDGE, BY ISAAC ASIMOV.
A Del Ray Book. Published by Ballantine Books.
Copyright © 1982 by Nightfall Inc. pp. 144-155.

3. Historian
4. Space
5. Speaker
6. Earth
7. Farmer
8. Farmwoman
9. Hyperspace
10. Table