Prelude to Foundation - Isaac Asimov [122]
"How about air-conditioning?" said Dors.
"There is air-conditioning, but it's a matter of expense. We ventilate and dehumidify and cool, but if we go too far, then we're using up too much energy and the whole process becomes too expensive."
Tisalver stopped at a door at which he signaled. It opened to a blast of cooler air and he muttered, "We ought to be able to get someone to help show us around and he'll control the remarks that Mistress Venabili will otherwise be the victim of . . . at least from the men."
"Remarks won't embarrass me," said Dors.
"They will embarrass me," said Tisalver.
A young man walked out of the office and introduced himself as Hano Linder. He resembled Tisalver quite closely, but Seldon decided that until he got used to the almost universal shortness, swarthiness, black hair, and luxuriant mustaches, he would not be able to see individual differences easily.
Lindor said, "I'll be glad to show you around for what there is to see. It's not one of your spectaculars, you know." He addressed them all, but his eyes were fixed on Dors. He said, "It's not going to be comfortable. I suggest we remove our shirts."
"It's nice and cool in here," said Seldon.
"Of course, but that's because we're executives. Rank has its privileges. Out there we can't maintain air-conditioning at this level. That's why they get paid more than I do. In fact, those are the best-paying jobs in Dahl, which is the only reason we get people to work down here. Even so, it's getting harder to get heatsinkers all the time." He took a deep breath. "Okay, out into the soup."
He removed his own shirt and tucked it into his waistband. Tisalver did the same and Seldon followed suit.
Linder glanced at Dors and said, "For your own comfort, Mistress, but it's not compulsory."
"That's all right," said Dors and removed her shirt.
Her brassiere was white, unpadded, and showed considerable cleavage.
"Mistress," said Lindor, "That's not-" He thought a moment, then shrugged and said, "All right. We'll get by."
At first, Seldon was aware only of computers and machinery, huge pipes, flickering lights, and flashing screens.
The overall light was comparatively dim, though individual sections of machinery were illuminated. Seldon looked up into the almost-darkness. He said, "Why isn't it better lit?"
"It's lit well enough . . . where it should be," said Lindor. His voice was well modulated and he spoke quickly, but a little harshly. "Overall illumination is kept low for psychological reasons. Too bright is translated, in the mind, into heat. Complaints go up when we turn up the lights, even when the temperature is made to go down."
Dors said, "It seems to be well computerized. I should think the operations could be turned over to computers altogether. This sort of environment is made for artificial intelligence."
"Perfectly right," said Lindor, "but neither can we take a chance on any failures. We need people on the spot if anything goes wrong. A misfunctioning computer can raise problems up to two thousand kilometers away."
"So can human error. Isn't that so?" said Seldon.
"Oh yes, but with both people and computers on the job, computer error can be more quickly tracked down and corrected by people and, conversely, human error can be more quickly corrected by computers. What it amounts to is that nothing serious can happen unless human error and computer error take place simultaneously. And that hardly ever happens."
"Hardly ever, but not never, eh?" said Seldon.
"Almost never, but not never. Computers aren't what they used to be and neither are people."
"That's the way it always seems," said Seldon, laughing slightly.
"No no. I'm not talking memory. I'm not talking good old days. I'm talking statistics."
At this, Seldon recalled Hummin talking of the degeneration of the times.
"See what I mean?" said Lindor, his voice dropping. "There's a bunch of people, at the C-3 level from the looks of them, drinking. Not one of them is at