Forward the Foundation - Isaac Asimov [244]
The members of the Project itself, those fifty or so hardy souls who remained, continued their work as well as possible. The majority were Encyclopedists, researching the source materials they would need to copy and catalogue for their eventual move to Terminus-when and if they gained full access to the Galactic Library. At this point, they were working on faith alone. Professor Seldon had lost his private office at the Library, so the prospects of any other Project member gaining special access were slim.
The remaining Project members (other than the Encyclopedists) were historical analysts and mathematicians. The historians interpreted past and current human actions and events, turning their findings over to the mathematicians, who in turn fit those pieces into the great Psychohistorical Equation. It was long painstaking work.
Many Project members had left because the rewards were so few-psychohistorians were the butt of many jokes on Trantor and limited funds had forced Seldon to enact drastic pay cuts. But the constant reassuring presence of Hari Seldon had-till now-overcome the difficult working conditions of the Project. Indeed, the Project members who had stayed on had, to a person, done so out of respect and devotion to Professor Seldon.
Now, thought Wanda Seldon bitterly, what reason is left for them to stay? A light breeze blew a piece of her blond hair across her eyes; she pushed it back absentmindedly and continued her weeding.
"Miss Seldon, may I have a moment of your time?" Wanda turned and looked up. A young man-she judged him to be in his early twenties -stood on the gravel path next to her. She immediately sensed him to be strong and fearsomely intelligent. Her grandfather had chosen wisely. Wanda rose to speak with him.
"I recognize you. You are my grandfather's bodyguard, are you not? Stettin Palver, I believe?"
"Yes, that's correct, Miss Seldon," Palver said and his cheeks reddened slightly, as if he were pleased that so pretty a girl should have given him any notice. "Miss Seldon, it is your grandfather I'd like to talk to you about. I'm very worried about him. We must do something."
"Do what, Mr. Palver? I am at a loss. Since my father"-she swallowed hard, as if she were having difficulty speaking-"died and my mother and sister disappeared, it is all I can do to get him out of bed in the morning. And to tell you the truth, it has affected me very deeply as well. You understand, don't you?" She looked into his eyes and knew that he did.
"Miss Seldon," Palver said softly, "I am terribly sorry about your losses. But you and Professor Seldon are alive and you must keep working at psychohistory. The professor seems to have given up. I was hoping that maybe you-we-could come up with something to give him hope again. You know, a reason to go on."
Ah, Mr. Palver, thought Wanda, maybe Grandpa has it right. 1 wonder if there truly is any reason to go on. But she said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Palver, I can think of nothing." She gestured toward the ground with her hoe. "And now, as you can see, I must get back to these pesky weeds."
"I don't think your grandfather has got it right. I think there truly is a reason to go on. We just have to find it."
The words struck her with full force. How had he known what she had been thinking? Unless- "You can handle minds, can't you?" Wanda asked, holding her breath, as if afraid to hear Palver's response.
"Yes, I can," the young man replied. "I always have, I think. At least, I can't remember not doing it. Half the time I'm not even consciously aware of it-I just know what people are thinking-or have thought.
"Sometimes," he continued, encouraged by the understanding he felt emanating from Wanda, "I get flashes of it coming from someone else. It's always in a crowd, though, and I can't locate whoever it is. But I know there are others like me-us-around."
Wanda grabbed Palver's hand excitedly, her gardening tool tossed