by Isaac Asimov
“I understand her, too,” said Trevize, oscillating one hand to indicate his understanding wasn’t perfect. “I hope she understands me.”
He said, smiling, and assuming a friendly expression, “We come from across space. We come from another world.”
“That is well,” said the young woman, in her clear soprano. “Comes thy ship from the Empire?”
“It comes from a far star, and the ship is named Far Star.”
The young woman looked up at the lettering on the ship. “Is that what that sayeth? If that be so, and if the first letter is an F, then, behold, it is imprinted backward.”
Trevize was about to object, but Pelorat, in an ecstasy of joy, said, “She’s right. The letter F did reverse itself about two thousand years ago. What a marvelous chance to study Classical Galactic in detail and as a living language.”
Trevize studied the young woman carefully. She was not much more than 1.5 meters in height, and her breasts, though shapely, were small. Yet she did not seem unripe. The nipples were large and the areolae dark, though that might be the result of her brownish skin color.
He said, “My name is Golan Trevize; my friend is Janov Pelorat; the woman is Bliss; and the child is Fallom.”
“Is it the custom, then, on the far star from which you come, that the men be given a double name? I am Hiroko, daughter of Hiroko.”
“And your father?” interposed Pelorat suddenly.
To which Hiroko replied with an indifferent shrug of her shoulder. “His name, so sayeth my mother, is Smool, but it is of no importance. I know him not.”
“And where are the others?” asked Trevize. “You seem to be the only one to be here to greet us.”
Hiroko said, “Many men are aboard the fishboats; many women are in the fields. I take holiday these last two days and so am fortunate enough to see this great thing. Yet people are curious and the ship will have been seen as it descended, even from a distance. Others will be here soon.”
“Are there many others on this island?”
“There are more than a score and five thousand,” said Hiroko with obvious pride.
“And are there other islands in the ocean?”
“Other islands, good sir?” She seemed puzzled.
Trevize took that as answer enough. This was the one spot on the entire planet that was inhabited by human beings.
He said, “What do you call your world?”
“It is Alpha, good sir. We are taught that the whole name is Alpha Centauri, if that has more meaning to thee, but we call it Alpha only and, see, it is a fair-visaged world.”
“A what world?” said Trevize, turning blankly to Pelorat.
“A beautiful world, she means,” said Pelorat.
“That it is,” said Trevize, “at least here, and at this moment.” He looked up at the mild blue morning sky, with its occasional drift of clouds. “You have a nice sunny day, Hiroko, but I imagine there aren’t many of those on Alpha.”
Hiroko stiffened. “As many as we wish, sir. The clouds may come when we need rain, but on most days it seemeth good to us that the sky is fair above. Surely a goodly sky and a quiet wind are much to be desired on those days when the fishboats are at sea.”
“Do you people control the weather, then, Hiroko?”
“Did we not, Sir Golan Trevize, we would be soggy with rain.”
“But how do you do that?”
“Not being a trained engineer, sir, I cannot tell thee.”
“And what might be the name of this island on which you and your people live?” said Trevize, finding himself trapped in the ornate sound of Classical Galactic (and wondering desperately if he had the conjugations right).
Hiroko said, “We call our heavenly island in the midst of the vast sea of waters New Earth.”
At which Trevize and Pelorat stared at each other with surprise and delight.
76.
There was no time to follow up on the statement. Others were arriving. Dozens. They must consist of those, Trevize thought, who were not on the ships or in the fields, and who were not from too far away. They came on foot for the most part, though two ground-cars were in evidence—rather old and clumsy.
Clearly, this was a low-technology society, and yet they controlled the weather.
It was well known that technology was not necessarily all of a piece; that lack of advance in some directions did not necessarily exclude considerable advance in others—but surely this example of uneven development was unusual.
Of those who were now watching the ship, at least half were elderly men and women; there were also three or four children. Of the rest, more were women than men. None showed any fear or uncertainty whatever.
Trevize said in a low voice to Bliss, “Are you manipulating them? They seem—serene.”
“I’m not in the least manipulating them,” said Bliss. “I never touch minds unless I must. It’s Fallom I’m concerned with.”
Few as the newcomers were to anyone who had experienced the crowds of curiosity-seekers on any normal world in the Galaxy, they were a mob to Fallom, to whom the three adults on the Far Star had been something to grow accustomed to. Fallom was breathing rapidly and shallowly, and her eyes were half-closed. Almost, she seemed in shock.
Bliss was stroking her, softly and rhythmically, and making soothing sounds. Trevize was certain that she was delicately accompanying it all by an infinitely gentle rearrangement of mental fibrils.
Fallom took in a sudden deep breath, almost a gasp, and shook herself, in what was perhaps an involuntary shudder. She raised her head and looked at those present with something approaching normality and then buried her head in the space between Bliss’s arm and body.
Bliss let her remain so, while her arm, encircling Fallom’s shoulder, tightened periodically as though to indicate her own protective presence over and over.
Pelorat seemed rather awestruck, as his eyes went from one Alphan to another. He said, “Golan, they differ so among themselves.”
Trevize had noticed that, too. There were various shades of skin and hair color, including one brilliant redhead with blue eyes and freckled skin. At least three apparent adults were as short as Hiroko, and one or two were taller than Trevize. A number of both sexes had eyes resembling those of Hiroko, and Trevize remembered that on the teeming commercial planets of the Fili sector, such eyes were characteristic of the population, but he had never visited that sector.
All the Alphans wore nothing above the waist and among the women the breasts all seemed to be small. That was the most nearly uniform of all the bodily characteristics that he could see.
Bliss said suddenly, “Miss Hiroko, my youngster is not accustomed to travel through space and she is absorbing more novelty than she can easily manage. Would it be possible for her to sit down and, perhaps, have something to eat and drink?”
Hiroko looked puzzled, and Pelorat repeated what Bliss had said in the more ornate Galactic of the mid-Imperial period.
Hiroko’s hand then flew to her mouth and she sank to her knees gracefully. “I crave your pardon, respected madam,” she said. “I have not thought of this child’s needs, nor of thine. The strangeness of this event has too occupied me. Wouldst thou—would you all—as visitors and guests, enter the refectory for morning meal? May we join you and serve as hosts?”
Bliss said, “That is kind of you.” She spoke slowly and pronounced the words carefully, hoping to make them easier to understand. “It would be better, though, if you alone served as hostess, for the sake of the comfort of the child who is unaccustomed to being with many people at once.”
Hiroko rose to her feet. “It shall be as thou hast said.”
She led them, in leisurely manner, across the grass. Other Alphans edged closer. They seemed particularly interested in the clothing of the newcomers. Trevize removed his light jacket, and handed it to a man who had sidled toward him and had laid a questing finger upon it.
“Here,” he said, “look it over, but return it.”
Then he said to Hiroko. “See that I get it back, Miss Hiroko.”
“Of a surety, it will be backhanded, respected sir.” She nodded her head gravely.
Trevize smiled and walked on. He was more comfortable without the jacket in the light, mild breeze.
He had detected no visible weapons on the persons of any of those about him, and he found it interesting that no one seemed to show any fear or discomfort over Trevize’s. They did not even show curiosity concerning them. It might well be that they were not aware of the objects as weapons at all. From what Trevize had so far seen, Alpha might well be a world utterly without violence.
A woman, having moved rapidly forward, so as to be a little ahead of Bliss, turned to examine her blouse minutely, then said, “Hast thou breasts, respected madam?”
And, as though unable to wait for an answer, she placed her hand lightly on Bliss’s chest.
Bliss smiled and said, “As thou hast discovered, I have. They are perhaps not as shapely as thine, but I hide them not for that reason. On my world, it is not fitting that they be uncovered.”
She whispered in an aside to Pelorat, “How do you like the way I’m getting the hang of Classical Galactic?”
“You did that very well, Bliss,” said Pelorat.
The dining room was a large one with long tables to which were attached long benches on either side. Clearly, the Alphans ate community-fashion.
Trevize felt a pang of conscience. Bliss’s request for privacy had reserved this space for five people and forced the Alphans generally to remain in exile outside. A number, however, placed themselves at a respectful distance from the windows (which were no more than gaps in the wall, unfilled even by screens), presumably so that they might watch the strangers eat.
Involuntarily, he wondered what would happen if it were to rain. Surely, the rain would come only when it was needed, light and mild, continuing without significant wind till enough had fallen. Moreover, it would always come at known times so that the Alphans would be ready for it, Trevize imagined.
The window he was facing looked out to sea, and far out at the horizon it seemed to Trevize that he could make out a bank of clouds similar to those that so nearly filled the skies everywhere but over this little spot of Eden.
There were advantages to weather control.
Eventually, they were served by a young woman on tiptoeing feet. They were not asked for their choice, but were merely served. There was a small glass of milk, a larger of grape juice, a still larger of water. Each diner received two large poached eggs, with slivers of white cheese on the side. Each also had a large platter of broiled fish and small roasted potatoes, resting on cool, green lettuce leaves.
Bliss looked with dismay at the quantity of food before her and was clearly at a loss where to begin. Fallom had no such trouble. She drank the grape juice thirstily and with clear evidence of approval, then chewed away at the fish and potatoes. She was about to use her fingers for the purpose, but Bliss held up a large spoon with tined ends that could serve as a fork as well, and Fallom accepted it.
Pelorat smiled his satisfaction and cut into the eggs at once.
Trevize, saying, “Now to be reminded what real eggs taste like,” followed suit.
Hiroko, forgetting to eat her own breakfast in her delight at the manner in which the others ate (for even Bliss finally began, with obvious relish), said, at last, “Is it well?”
“It is well,” said Trevize, his voice somewhat muffled. “This island has no shortage of food, apparently. —Or do you serve us more than you should, out of politeness?”
Hiroko listened with intent eyes, and seemed to grasp the meaning, for she said, “No, no, respected sir. Our land is bountiful, our sea even more so. Our ducks give eggs, our goats both cheese and milk. And there are our grains. Above all, our sea is filled with countless varieties of fish in numberless quantity. The whole Empire could eat at our tables and consume not the fish of our sea.”
Trevize smiled discreetly. Clearly, the young Alphan had not the smallest idea of the true size of the Galaxy.
He said, “You call this island New Earth, Hiroko. Where, then, might Old Earth be?”
She looked at him in bewilderment. “Old Earth, say you? I crave pardon, respected sir. I take not thy meaning.”
Trevize said, “Before there was a New Earth, your people must have lived elsewhere. Where was this elsewhere from which they came?”
“I know naught of that, respected sir,” she said, with troubled gravity. “This land has been mine all my life, and my mother’s and grandmother’s before me; and, I doubt not, their grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s before them. Of any other land, I know naught.”
“But,” said Trevize, descending to gentle argumentation, “you speak of this land as New Earth. Why do you call it that?”
“Because, respected sir,” she replied, equally gentle, “that is what it is called by all since the mind of woman goeth not to the contrary.”
“But it is New Earth, and therefore, a later Earth. There must be an Old Earth, a former one, for which it was named. Each morning there is a new day, and that implies that earlier there had existed an old day. Don’t you see that this must be so?”
“Nay, respected sir. I know only what this land is called. I know of naught else, nor do I follow this reasoning of thine which sounds very much like what we call here chop-logic. I mean no offense.”
And Trevize shook his head and felt defeated.
77.
Trevize leaned toward Pelorat, and whispered, “Wherever we go, whatever we do, we get no information.”
“We know where Earth is, so what does it matter?” said Pelorat, doing little more than move his lips.
“I want to know something about it.”
“She’s very young. Scarcely a repository of information.”
Trevize thought about that, then nodded. “Right, Janov.”
He turned to Hiroko and said, “Miss Hiroko, you haven’t asked us why we are here in your land?”
Hiroko’s eyes fell, and she said, “That would be but scant courtesy until you have all eaten and rested, respected sir.”
“But we have eaten, or almost so, and we have recently rested, so I shall tell you why we are here. My friend, Dr. Pelorat, is a scholar on our world, a learned man. He is a mythologist. Do you know what that means?”
“Nay, respected sir, I do not.”
“He studies old tales as they are told on different worlds. Old tales are known as myths or legends and they interest Dr. Pelorat. Are there learned ones on New Earth who know the old tales of this world?”
Hiroko’s forehead creased slightly into a frown of thought. She said, “This is not a matter in which I am myself skilled. We have an old man in these parts who loves to talk of ancient days. Where he may have learned these things, I know not, and methinks he may have spun his notions out of air, or heard them from others who did so spin. This is perhaps the material which thy learned companion would hear, yet I would not mislead thee. It is in my mind,” she looked to right and left as though unwilling to be overheard, “that the old man is but a prater, though many listen willingly to him.”
Trevize nodded. “Such prating is what we wish. Would it be possible for you to take my friend to this old man—”
“Monolee he calls himself.”
“—to Monolee, then. And do you think Monolee would be willing to speak to my friend?”
“He? Willing to speak?” said Hiroko scornfully. “Thou must ask, rather, if he be ever ready to cease from speaking. He is but a man, and will therefore speak, if allowed, till a fortnight hence, with no pause. I mean no offense, respected sir.”
“No offense taken. Would you lead my friend to Monolee now?”
“That may anyone do at any time. The ancient is ever home and ever ready to greet an ear.”
Trevize said, “And perhaps an older woman would be willing to come and sit with Madam Bliss. She has the child to care for and cannot move abou
t too much. It would please her to have company, for women, as you know, are fond of—”
“Prating?” said Hiroko, clearly amused. “Why, so men say, although I have observed that men are always the greater babblers. Let the men return from their fishing, and one will vie with another in telling greater flights of fancy concerning their catches. None will mark them nor believe, but this will not stop them, either. But enough of my prating, too. —I will have a friend of my mother’s, one whom I can see through the window, stay with Madam Bliss and the child, and before that she will guide your friend, the respected doctor, to the aged Monolee. If your friend will hear as avidly as Monolee will prate, thou wilt scarcely part them in this life. Wilt thou pardon my absence a moment?”
When she had left, Trevize turned to Pelorat and said, “Listen, get what you can out of the old man, and Bliss, you find out what you can from whoever stays with you. What you want is anything about Earth.”
“And you?” said Bliss. “What will you do?”
“I will remain with Hiroko, and try to find a third source.”
Bliss smiled. “Ah yes. Pel will be with this old man; I with an old woman. You will force yourself to remain with this fetchingly unclad young woman. It seems a reasonable division of labor.”
“As it happens, Bliss, it is reasonable.”
“But you don’t find it depressing that the reasonable division of labor should work out so, I suppose.”
“No, I don’t. Why should I?”
“Why should you, indeed?”
Hiroko was back, and sat down again. “It is all arranged. The respected Dr. Pelorat will be taken to Monolee; and the respected Madam Bliss, together with her child, will have company. May I be granted, then, respected Sir Trevize, the boon of further conversation with thee, mayhap of this Old Earth of which thou—”
“Pratest?” asked Trevize.
“Nay,” said Hiroko, laughing. “But thou dost well to mock me. I showed thee but discourtesy ere now in answering thy question on this matter. I would fain make amends.”
