"You have?"
"Pelorat and I are on the track of Earth, the planet that some think was the original home of the human race. Aren't we, Janov?"
Pelorat nodded his head. "Yes, it's a purely scientific matter and a long-standing interest of mine."
Compor looked blank for a moment. Then, "Looking for Earth? But why?"
"To study it," said Pelorat. "As the one world on which human beings developed - presumably from lower forms of life, instead of, as on all others, merely arriving ready-made - it should be a fascinating study in uniqueness."
"And," said Trevize, "as a world where, just possibly, I may learn more of the Second Foundation. - Just possibly."
Compor said, "But there isn't any Earth. Didn't you know that?"
"No Earth?" Pelorat looked utterly blank, as he always did when he was preparing to be stubborn. "Are you saying there was no planet on which the human species originated?"
"Oh no. Of course, there was an Earth. There's no question of that! But there isn't any Earth now. No inhabited Earth. It's gone!"
Pelorat said, unmoved, "There are tales..."
"Hold on, Janov," said Trevize. "Tell me, Compor, how do you know this?"
"What do you mean, how? It's my heritage. I trace my ancestry from the Sirius Sector, if I may repeat that fact without boring you. We know all about Earth out there. It exists in that sector, which means it's not part of the Foundation Federation, so apparently no one on Terminus bothers with it. But that's where Earth is, just the same."
"That is one suggestion, yes," said Pelorat. "There was considerable enthusiasm for that 'Sirius Alternative,' as they called it, in the days of the Empire."
Compor said vehemently. "It's not an alternative. It's a fact."
Pelorat said, "What would you say if I told you I know of many different places in the Galaxy that are called Earth - or were called Earth - by the people who lived in its stellar neighborhood?"
"But this is the real thing," said Compor. "The Sirius Sector is the longest-inhabited portion of the Galaxy. Everyone knows that."
"The Sirians claim it, certainly," said Pelorat, unmoved.
Compor looked frustrated. "I tell you..."
But Trevize said, "Tell us what happened to Earth. You say it's not inhabited any longer. Why not?"
"Radioactivity. The whole planetary surface is radioactive because of nuclear reactions that went out of control, or nuclear explosions - I'm not sure - and now no life is possible there."
The three stared at each other for a while and then Compor felt it necessary to repeat. He said, "I tell you, there's no Earth. There's no use looking for it."
Janov Pelorat's face was, for once, not expressionless. It was not that there was passion in it - or any of the more unstable emotions. It was that his eyes had narrowed - and that a kind of fierce intensity had filled every plane of his face.
He said, and his voice lacked any trace of its usual tentative quality, "How did you say you know all this?"
"I told you," said Compor. "It's my heritage."
"Don't be silly, young man. You are a Councilman. That means you must be born on one of the Federation worlds - Smyrno, I think you said earlier."
"That's right."
"Well then, what heritage are you talking about? Are you telling me that you possess Sirian genes that fill you with inborn knowledge of the Sirian myths concerning Earth."
Compor looked taken aback. "No, of course not."
"Then what are you talking about?"
Compor paused and seemed to gather his thoughts. He said quietly, "My family has old books of Sirian history. An external heritage, not an internal one. It's not something we talk about outside, especially if one is intent on political advancement. Trevize seems to think I am, but, believe me, I mention it only to good friends."
There was a trace of bitterness in his voice. "Theoretically all Foundation citizens are alike, but those from the old worlds of the Federation are more alike than those from the newer ones - and those that trace from worlds outside the Federation are least alike of all. But, never mind that. Aside from the books, I once visited the old worlds. Trevize - hey, there..."
Trevize had wandered off toward one end of the room, looking out a triangular window. It served to let in a view of the sky and to diminish the view of the city - more light and more privacy. Trevize stretched upward to look down.
He returned through the empty room. "Interesting window design," he said. "You called me, Councilman?"
"Yes. Remember the postcollegiate tour I took?"
"After graduation? I remember very well. We were pals. Pals forever. Foundation of trust. Two against the world. You went off on your tour. I joined the Navy, full of patriotism. Somehow I didn't think I wanted to tour with you - some instinct told me not to. I wish the instinct had stayed with me."
Compor did not rise to the bait. He said, "I visited Comporellon. Family tradition said that my ancestors had come from there - at least on my father's side. We were of the ruling family in ancient times before the Empire absorbed us, and my name is derived from the world - or so the family tradition has it. We had an old, poetic name for the star Comporellon circled - Epsilon Eridani."
"What does that mean?" asked Pelorat.
Compor shook his head. "I don't know that it has any meaning. Just tradition. They live with a great deal of tradition. It's an old world. They have long, detailed records of Earth's history, but no one talks about it much. They're superstitious about it. Every time they mention the word, they lift up both hands with first and second fingers crossed to ward off misfortune."