"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 his or her post."
"What are they drinking?" asked Dors.
"Special fluids for replacing electrolyte loss. Fruit juice."
"You can't blame them, can you?" said Dors indignantly. "In this dry heat, you would have to drink."
"Do you know how long a skilled C-3 can spin out a drink? And there's nothing to be done about it either. If we give them five-minute breaks for drinks and stagger them so they don't all congregate in a group, you simply stir up a rebellion."
They were approaching the group now. There were men and women (Dahl seemed to be a more or less amphisexual society) and both sexes were shirtless. The women wore devices that might be called brassieres, but they were strictly functional. They served to lift the breasts in order to improve ventilation and limit perspiration, but covered nothing.
Dors said in an aside to Seldon, "That makes sense, Hari. I'm soaking wet there."
"Take off your brassiere, then," said Seldon. "I won't lift a finger to stop you."
"Somehow," said Dors, "I guessed you wouldn't." She left her brassiere where it was.
They were approaching the congregation of people-about a dozen of them.
Dors said, "If any of them make rude remarks, I shall survive."
"Thank you," said Lindor. "I cannot promise they won't.-But I'll have to introduce you. If they get the idea that you two are inspectors and in my company, they'll become unruly. Inspectors are supposed to poke around on their own without anyone from management overseeing them." He held up his arms.
"Heatsinkers, I have two introductions to make. We have visitors from outside-two Outworlders, two scholars. They've got worlds running short on energy and they've come here to see how we do it here in Dahl. They think they may learn something."
"They'll learn how to sweat!" shouted a heatsinker and there was raucous laughter.
"She's got a sweaty chest right now," shouted a woman, "covering up like that." Dors shouted back, "I'd take it off, but mine can't compete with yours."
The laughter turned good-natured.
But one young man stepped forward, staring at Seldon with intense deep-set eyes, his face set into a humorless mask. He said, "I know you. You're the mathematician."
He ran forward, inspecting Seldon's face with eager solemnity. Automatically, Dors stepped in front of Seldon and Lindor stepped in front of her, shouting, "Back, heatsinker. Mind your manners."
Seldon said, "Wait! Let him talk to me. Why is everyone piling in front of me?"
Lindor said in a low voice, "If any of them get close, you'll find they don't smell like hothouse flowers."
"I'll endure it," said Seldon brusquely. "Young man, what is it you want?"
"My name is Amaryl. Yugo Amaryl. I've seen you on holovision."
"You might have, but what about it?"
"I don't remember your name."
"You don't have to."
"You talked about something called psychohistory."
"You don't know how I wish I hadn't."
"What?"
"Nothing. What is it you want?"
"I want to talk to you. Just for a little while. Now."
Seldon looked at Lindor, who shook his head firmly. "Not while he's on his shift."
"When does your shift begin, Mr. Amaryl?" asked Seldon.
"Sixteen hundred."
"Can you see me tomorrow at fourteen hundred?"
"Sure. Where?"
Seldon turned to Tisalver. Would you permit me to see him in your place?"
Tisalver looked very unhappy. "Its not necessary. He's just a heatsinker."
Seldon said, "He recognized my face. He knows something about me. He can't be just an anything. I'll see him in my room." And then, as Tisalver's face didn't soften, he added, "My room, for which rent is being paid. And you'll be at work, out of the apartment."
Tisalver said in a low voice, "It's not me, Master Seldon. It's my wife, Casilia. She won't stand for it."
"I'll talk to her," said Seldon grimly. "She'll have to."
64.
Casilia Tisalver opened her eyes wide. "A heatsinker? Not in my apartment."
"Why not? Besides, he'll be coming to my room," said Seldon. "At fourteen hundred."
"I won't have it," said Mistress Tisalver. "This is what comes of going down to the heatsinks. Jirad was a fool."
"Not at all, Mistress Tisalver. We went at my request and I was fascinated. I must see this young man, since that is necessary to my scholarly work."
"I'm sorry if it is, but I won't have it."