Somehow, he thought, with as much bitterness as he could generate, the Foundation had its eyes fixed firmly on the future. It was the Second Empire and their destiny that absorbed them. They had no time, no desire, to peer back into the past - and they were irritated by those who did.
The more fools they, of course, but he could not single-handedly wipe out folly. And it might be better so. He could hug the great pursuit to his own chest and the day would come when he would be remembered as the great Pioneer of the Important.
That meant, of course (and he was too intellectually honest to refuse to perceive it), that he, too, was absorbed in the future - a future in which he would be recognized, and in which he would be a hero on a par with Hari Seldon. In fact, he would be the greater, for how could the working out of a clearly visualized future a millennium long stand comparison with the working out of a lost past at least twenty-five millennia old.
And this was the day; this was the day.
The Mayor had said it would be the day after Seldon's image made its appearance. That was the only reason Pelorat had been interested in the Seldon Crisis that for months had occupied every mind on Terminus and indeed almost every mind in the Federation.
It had seemed to him to make the most trifling difference as to whether the capital of the Foundation had remained here at Terminus, or had been shifted somewhere else. And now that the crisis had been resolved, he remained unsure as to which side of the matter Hari Seldon had championed, or if the matter under dispute had been mentioned at all.
It was enough that Seldon had appeared and that now this was the day.
It was a little after two in the afternoon that a ground-car slid to a halt in the driveway of his somewhat isolated house just outside Terminus proper.
A rear door slid back. A guard in the uniform of the Mayoralty Security Corps stepped out, then a young man, then two more guards.
Pelorat was impressed despite himself. The Mayor not only knew of his work but clearly considered it of the highest importance. The person who was to be his companion was given an honor guard, and he had been promised a first-class vessel which his companion would be able to pilot. Most flattering! Most -
Pelorat's housekeeper opened the door. The young man entered and the two guards positioned themselves on either side of the entrance. Through the window, Pelorat saw that the third guard remained outside and that a second ground-car had now pulled up. Additional guards!
Confusing!
He turned to find the young man in his room and was surprised to find that he recognized him. He had seen him on holocasts. He said, "You're that Councilman. You're Trevize!"
"Golan Trevize. That's right. You are Professor Janov Pelorat?"
"Yes, yes," said Pelorat. "Are you he who will - "
"We are going to be fellow travelers," said Trevize woodenly. "Or so I have been told."
"But you're not a historian."
"No, I'm not. As you said, I'm a Councilman, a politician."
"Yes, Yes, But what am I thinking about? I am a historian, therefore what need for another? You can pilot a spaceship."
"Yes, I'm pretty good at that."
"Well, that's what we need, then. Excellent! I'm afraid I'm not one of your practical thinkers, young man, so if it should happen that you are, we'll make a good team."
Trevize said, "I am not, at the moment, overwhelmed with the excellence of my own thinking, but it seems we have no choice but to try to make it a good team."
"Let's hope, then, that I can overcome my uncertainty about space. I've never been in space, you know, Councilman. I am a groundhog, if that's the term. Would you like a glass of tea, by the way? I'll have Moda prepare us something. It is my understanding that it will be some hours before we leave, after all. I am prepared right now, however. I have what is necessary for both of us. The Mayor has been most co-operative. Astonishing - her interest in the project."
Trevize said, "You've known about this, then? How long?"
"The Mayor approached me" (here Pelorat frowned slightly and seemed to be making certain calculations) "two, or maybe three, weeks ago. I was delighted. And now that I have got it clear in my head that I need a pilot and not a second historian, I am also delighted that my companion will be you, my dear fellow."
"Two, maybe three, weeks ago," repeated Trevize, sounding a little dazed. "She was prepared all this time, then. And I..." He faded out.
"Pardon me?"
"Nothing, Professor. I have a bad habit of muttering to myself. It is something you will have to grow accustomed to, if our trip extends itself."
"It will. It will," said Pelorat, bustling the other to the dining room table, where an elaborate tea was being; prepared by his housekeeper. "Quite open-ended. The Mayor said we were to take as long as we liked and that the Galaxy lay all before us and, indeed, that wherever we went we could call upon Foundation funds. She said, of course, that we would have to be reasonable. I promised that much." He chuckled and rubbed his hands: "Sit down, my good fellow, sit down. This may be our last meal on Terminus for a very long time."
Trevize sat down. He said, "Do you have a family, Professor?"
"I have a son. He's on the faculty at Santanni University. A chemist, I believe, or something like that. He took after his mother's side. She hasn't been with me for a long time, so you see I have no responsibilities, no active hostages to fortune. I trust you have none - help yourself to the sandwiches, my boy."
"No hostages at the moment. A few women. They come and go."
"Yes. Yes. Delightful when it works out. Even more delightful when you find it need not be taken seriously. - No children, I take it.