4
There was a short silence again, but only because thoughts are silent. Seldon's were tumultuous enough.
Yes, it was true. His wife did seem to have an uncanny knowledge of robots. Hari had wondered about this so often over the years that he had finally given up, tucked it away in the back of his mind. If it hadn't been for Eto Demerzel-a robot-Hari would never have met Dors. For Dors worked for Demerzel; it was Demerzel who "assigned" Dors to Hari's case eight years ago to protect him during his flight throughout the various sectors of Trantor. Even though now she was his wife, his help-meet**, his "better half," Hari still occasionally wondered about Dors's strange connection with the robot Demerzel. It was the only area of Dors's life where Hari truly felt he did not belong-nor welcome. And that brought to mind the most painful question of all: Was it out of obedience to Demerzel that Dors stayed with Hari or was it out of love for him? He wanted to believe the latter-and yet...
His life with Dors Venabili was a happy one, but it was so at a cost, at a condition. The condition was all the more stringent, in that it had been settled not through discussion or agreement but by a mutual unspoken understanding.
Seldon understood that he found in Dors everything he would have wanted in a wife. True, he had no children, but he had neither expected any, nor, to tell the truth, had greatly wanted any. He had Raych, who was as much a son of his emotionally as if he had inherited the entire Seldonian genome-perhaps more so.
The mere fact that Dors was causing him to think about the matter was breaking the agreement that had kept them in peace and comfort all these years and he felt a faint but growing resentment at that.
But he pushed those thoughts, the questions, away again. He had learned to accept her role as his protector and would continue to do so. After all, it was he with whom she shared a home, a table, and a bed-not Eto Demerzel.
Dors's voice brought him out of his reverie.
"I said-Are you sulking, Hari?"
He started slightly, for there was the sound of repetition in her voice, and he realized he had been shrinking steadily deeper into his mind and away from her.
"I'm sorry, dear. I'm not sulking. Not deliberately sulking. I'm just wondering how I ought to respond to your statement."
"About robots?" She seemed quite calm as she said the word.
"You said I don't know as much about them as you do. How do I respond to that?" He paused, then added quietly (knowing he was taking a chance), "That is, without offense."
"I didn't say you didn't know about robots. If you're going to quote me, do so with precision. I said you didn't understand about robots. I'm sure that you know a great deal, perhaps more than I do, but to know is not necessarily to understand."
"Now, Dors, you're deliberately speaking in paradoxes to be annoying. A paradox arises only out of an ambiguity that deceives either unwittingly or by design. I don't like that in science and I don't like it in casual conversation, either, unless it is meant humorously, which I think is not the case now."
Dors laughed in her particular way, softly, almost as though amusement were too precious to be shared in an overliberal manner. "Apparently the paradox has annoyed you into pomposity and you are always humorous when you are pompous. However, I'll explain. It's not my intention to annoy you." She reached over to pat his hand and it was to Seldon's surprise (and slight embarrassment) that he found that he had clenched his hand into a fist.
Dors said, "You talk about psychohistory a great deal. To me, at any rate. You know that?"
Seldon cleared his throat. "I throw myself on your mercy as far as that's concerned. The project is secret-by its very nature. Psychohistory won't work unless the people it affects know nothing about it, so I can talk about it only to Yugo and to you. To Yugo, it is all intuition. He's brilliant, but he is so apt to leap wildly into darkness that I must play the role of caution, of forever pulling him back. But I have my wild thoughts, too, and it helps me to be able to hear them aloud, even"-and he smiled-"when I have a pretty good notion that you don't understand a word I'm saying."
"I know I'm your sounding board and I don't mind. I really don't mind, Hari, so don't begin making inner resolutions to change your behavior. Naturally I don't understand your mathematics. I'm just a historian-and not even a historian of science. The influence of economic change on political development is what is taking up my time now-"
"Yes, and I'm your sounding board on that or hadn't you noticed? I'll need it for psychohistory when the time comes, so I suspect you'll be an indispensable help to me."
"Good! Now that we've settled why you stay with me-I knew it couldn't be for my ethereal beauty-let me go on to explain that occasionally, when your discussion veers away from the strictly mathematical aspects, it seems to me that I get your drift. You have, on a number of occasions, explained what you call the necessity of minimalism. I think I understand that. By it, you mean-"
"I know what I mean."
Dors looked hurt. "Less lofty, please, Hari. I'm not trying to explain to you. I want to explain it to myself. You say you're my sounding board, so act like one. Turnabout is fair play, isn't it?"
"Turnabout is fine, but if you're going to accuse me of loftiness when I say one little-"
``Enough! Shut up! You have told me that minimalism is of the highest importance in applied psychohistory; in the art of attempting to change an undesired development into a desired one or, at any rate, a toss undesired one. You have said that a change must be applied that is as minute, as minimal, as possible-"