a large room, all the larger because it was empty of anything resembling furniture. no chairs, no benches, no seats of any kind. no stage, no drapery, no decorations.

no lights, merely a uniform illumination of mild, unfocused light. the walls were not entirely blank. periodically, arranged in spaced fashion at various heights and in no easy repetitive order, there were small, primitive, two-dimensional television screens, all of which were operating. from where dors and seldon stood, there was not even the illusion of a third dimension, not a breath of true holovision.

there were people present. not many and nowhere together. they stood singly and, like the television monitors, in no easy repetitive order. all were white-kirtled, all sashed.

for the most part, there was silence. no one talked in the usual sense. some moved their lips, murmuring softly. those who walked did so stealthily, eyes downcast.

the atmosphere was absolutely funereal.

seldon leaned toward dors, who instantly put a finger to her lips, then pointed to one of the television monitors. the screen showed an idyllic garden bursting with blooms, the camera panning over it slowly. they walked toward the monitor in a fashion that imitated the others--slow steps, putting each foot down softly.

when they were within half a meter of the screen, a soft insinuating voice made itself heard: "the garden of antennin, as reproduced from ancient guidebooks and photographs, located in the outskirts of eos. note the--"

dors said in a whisper seldon had trouble catching over the sound of the set, "it turns on when someone is close and it will turn off if we step away. if were close enough, we can talk under cover, but dont look at me and stop speaking if anyone approaches."

seldon, his head bent, his hands clasped before him (he had noted that this was a preferred posture), said, "any moment i expect someone to start wailing."

"someone might. theyre mourning their lost world," said dors.

"i hope they change the films every once in a while. it would be deadly to always see the same ones."

"theyre all different," said dors, her eyes sliding this way and that. "they may change periodically. i dont know."

"wait!" said seldon just a hairs breadth too loud. he lowered his voice and said, "come this way."

dors frowned, failing to make out the words, but seldon gestured slightly with his head. again the stealthy walk, but seldons footsteps increased in length as he felt the need for greater speed and dors, catching up, pulled sharply--if very briefly--at his kirtle. he slowed.

"robots here," he said under the cover of the sound as it came on. the picture showed the corner of a dwelling place with a rolling lawn and a line of hedges in the foreground and three of what could only be described as robots. they were metallic, apparently, and vaguely human in shape.

the recording said, "this is a view, recently constructed, of the establishment of the famous wendome estate of the third century. the robot you see near the center was, according to tradition, named bendar and served twenty-two years, according to the ancient records, before being replaced."

dors said, " recently constructed, so they must change views."

"unless theyve been saying recently constructed for the last thousand years."

another mycogenian stepped into the sound pattern of the scene and said in a low voice, though not as low as the whisperings of seldon and dors, "greetings, brothers."

he did not look at seldon and dors as he spoke and after one involuntary and startled glance, seldon kept his head averted. dors had ignored it all. seldon hesitated. mycelium seventy-two had said that there was no talking in the sacratorium. perhaps he had exaggerated. then too he had not been in the sacratorium since he was a child.

desperately, seldon decided he must speak. he said in a whisper, "and to you, brother, greetings."

he had no idea whether that was the correct formula of reply or if there was a formula, but the mycogenian seemed to find nothing amiss in it. "to you in aurora," he said.

"and to you," said seldon and because it seemed to him that the other expected more, he added, "in aurora," and there was an impalpable release of tension. seldon felt his forehead growing moist.

the mycogenian said, "beautiful! i havent seen this before."

"skillfully done," said seldon. then, in a burst of daring, he added, "a loss never to be forgotten."

the other seemed startled, then said, "indeed, indeed," and moved away.

dors hissed, "take no chances. dont say what you dont have to."

"it seemed natural. anyway, this it recent. but those are disappointing robots. they are what i would expect automata to be. i want to see the organic ones--the humanoids."

"if they existed," said dors with some hesitation, "it seems to me they wouldnt be used for gardening jobs."

"true," said seldon. "we must find the elders aerie."

"if that exists. it seems to me there is nothing in this hollow cave but a hollow cave."

"lets look."

they paced along the wall, passing from screen to screen, trying to wait at each for irregular intervals until dors clutched seldons arms. between two screens were lines marking out a faint rectangle.

"a door," dors said. then she weakened the assertion by adding, "do you think?"

seldon looked about surreptitiously. it was in the highest degree convenient that, in keeping with the mourning atmosphere, every face, when not fixed on a television monitor, was bent in sad concentration on the floor.

seldon said, "how do you suppose it would open?"

"an entrance patch."

"i cant make out any."

"its just not marked out, but theres a slight discoloration there. do you see it? how many palms? how many times?"

"ill try. keep an eye out and kick me if anyone looks in this direction."

he held his breath casually, touched the discolored spot to no avail, and then placed his palm full upon it and pressed.

the door opened silently--not a creak, not a scrape.

seldon stepped through as rapidly as he could and dors followed him. the door closed behind them.

"the question is," said dors, "did anyone see us?"

seldon said, "elders must go through this door frequently."

"yes, but will anyone think we are elders?"

seldon waited, then said, "if we were observed and if anyone thought something was wrong, this door would have been flung open again within fifteen seconds of our entering."

"possibly," said dors dryly, "or possibly there is nothing to be seen or done on this side of the door and no one cares if we enter."

"that remains to be seen," muttered seldon.

the rather narrow room they had entered was somewhat dark, but as they stepped farther into it, the light brightened.

there were chairs, wide and comfortable, small tables, several davenports, a deep and tall refrigerator, cupboards.

"if this is the elders aerie," said seldon, "the elders seem to do themselves comfortably, despite the austerity of the sacratorium itself."

"as would be expected," said dors. "asceticism among a ruling class--except for public show--is very rare. put that down in your notebook for psychohistorical aphorisms." she looked about. "and there is no robot."

seldon said, "an aerie is a high position, remember, and this ceiling is not. there must be upper storeys and that must be the way." he pointed to a well-carpeted stairway.

he did not advance toward it, however, but looked about vaguely.

dors guessed what he was seeking. she said, "forget about elevators. theres a cult of primitivism in mycogen. surely, you havent forgotten that, have you? there would be no elevators and, whats more, if we place our weight at the foot of the stairs, i am quite certain it will not begin moving upward. were going to have to climb it. several flights, perhaps."

"climb it?"

"it must, in the nature of things, lead to the aerie--if it leads anywhere. do you want to see the aerie or dont you?"

together they stepped toward the staircase and began the climb. they went up three flights and, as they did, the light level decreased perceptibly and in steady increments. seldon took a deep breath and whispered, "i consider myself to be in pretty good shape, but i hate this."

"youre not used to this precise type of physical exertion." she showed no signs of physical distress whatever.

at the top of the third flight the stairs ended and before them was another door.

"and if its locked?" said seldon, more to himself than to dors. "do we try to break it down?"

but dors said, "why should it be locked when the lower door was not? if this is the elders aerie, i imagine theres a taboo on anyone but elders coming here and a taboo is much stronger than any lock."

"as far as those who accept the taboo are concerned," said seldon, but he made no move toward the door.

"theres still time to turn back, since you hesitate," said dors. "in fact, i would advise you to rum back."

"i only hesitate because i dont know what well find inside. if its empty--" and then he added in a rather louder voice, "then its empty," and he strode forward and pushed against the entry panel.

the door retracted with silent speed and seldon took a step back at the surprising flood of light from within.

and there, facing him, eyes alive with light, arms half-upraised, one foot slightly advanced before the other, gleaming with a faintly yellow metallic shine, was a human figure. for a few moments, it seemed to be wearing a tight-fitting tunic, but on closer inspection it became apparent that the tunic was part of the structure of the object.

"its the robot," said seldon in awe, "but its metallic."

"worse than that," said dors, who had stepped quickly to one side and then to the other. "its eyes dont follow me. its arms dont as much as tremble. its not alive--if one can speak of robots as being alive." and a man--unmistakably a man--stepped out from behind the robot and said, "perhaps not. but i am alive."

and almost automatically, dors stepped forward and took her place between seldon and the man who had suddenly appeared.