tisalver said, "youll need proper clothing." mistress tisalver sniffed markedly in the background.

cautiously, seldon, thinking of kirtles with vague distress, said, "what do you mean by proper clothing?"

"something light, such as i wear. a t-shirt, very short sleeves, loose slacks, loose underpants, foot socks, open sandals. i have it all for you."

"good. it doesnt sound bad."

"as for mistress venabili, i have the same. i hope it fits."

the clothes tisalver supplied each of them (which were his own) fit fine--if a bit snugly. when they were ready, they bade mistress tisalver good-bye and she, with a resigned if still disapproving air, watched them from the doorway as they set off.

it was early evening and there was an attractive twilight glow above. it was clear that dahls lights would soon be winking on. the temperature was mild and there were virtually no vehicles to be seen; everyone was walking. in the distance was the ever-present hum of an expressway and the occasional glitter of its lights could be easily seen.

the dahlites, seldon noted, did not seem to be walking toward any particular destination. rather, there seemed to be a promenade going on, a walking for pleasure. perhaps, if dahl was an impoverished sector, as tisalver had implied, inexpensive entertainment was at a premium and what was as pleasant--and as inexpensive--as an evening stroll?

seldon felt himself easing automatically into the gait of an aimless stroll himself and felt the warmth of friendliness all around him. people greeted each other as they passed and exchanged a few words. black mustaches of different shape and thickness flashed everywhere and seemed a requisite for the dahlite male, as ubiquitous as the bald heads of the mycogenian brothers. it was an evening rite, a way of making sure that another day had passed safely and that ones friends were still well and happy. and, it soon became apparent, dors caught every eye. in the twilight glow, the ruddiness of her hair had deepened, but it stood out against the sea of black-haired heads (except for the occasional gray) like a gold coin winking its way across a pile of coal.

"this is very pleasant," said seldon.

"it is," said tisalver. "ordinarily, id be walking with my wife and shed be in her element. there is no one for a kilometer around whom she doesnt know by name, occupation, and interrelationships. i cant do that. right now, half the people who greet me ... i couldnt tell you their names. but, in any case, we mustnt creep along too slowly. we must get to the elevator. its a busy world on the lower levels."

they were on the elevator going down when dors said, "i presume, master tisalver, that the heatsinks are places where the internal heat of trantor is being used to produce steam that will turn turbines and produce electricity."

"oh, no. highly efficient large-scale thermopiles produce electricity directly. dont ask me the details, please. im just a holovision programmer. in fact, dont ask anyone the details down there. the whole thing is one big black box. it works, but no one knows how."

"what if something goes wrong?"

"it doesnt usually, but if it does, some expert comes over from somewhere. someone who understands computers. the whole thing is highly computerized, of course."

the elevator came to a halt and they stepped out. a blast of heat struck them.

"its hot," said seldon quite unnecessarily.

"yes, it is," said tisalver. "thats what makes dahl so valuable as an energy source. the magma layer is nearer the surface here than it is anywhere else in the world. so you have to work in the heat."

"how about air-conditioning?" said dors.

"there is air-conditioning, but its a matter of expense. we ventilate and dehumidify and cool, but if we go too far, then were using up too much energy and the whole process becomes too expensive."

tisalver stopped at a door at which he signaled. it opened to a blast of cooler air and he muttered, "we ought to be able to get someone to help show us around and hell control the remarks that mistress venabili will otherwise be the victim of ... at least from the men."

"remarks wont embarrass me," said dors.

"they will embarrass me," said tisalver.

a young man walked out of the office and introduced himself as hano linder. he resembled tisalver quite closely, but seldon decided that until he got used to the almost universal shortness, swarthiness, black hair, and luxuriant mustaches, he would not be able to see individual differences easily.

lindor said, "ill be glad to show you around for what there is to see. its not one of your spectaculars, you know." he addressed them all, but his eyes were fixed on dors. he said, "its not going to be comfortable. i suggest we remove our shirts."

"its nice and cool in here," said seldon.

"of course, but thats because were executives. rank has its privileges. out there we cant maintain air-conditioning at this level. thats why they get paid more than i do. in fact, those are the best-paying jobs in dahl, which is the only reason we get people to work down here. even so, its getting harder to get heatsinkers all the time." he took a deep breath. "okay, out into the soup." he removed his own shirt and tucked it into his waistband. tisalver did the same and seldon followed suit.

linder glanced at dors and said, "for your own comfort, mistress, but its not compulsory."

"thats all right," said dors and removed her shirt.

her brassiere was white, unpadded, and showed considerable cleavage. "mistress," said lindor, "thats not--" he thought a moment, then shrugged and said, "all right. well get by."

at first, seldon was aware only of computers and machinery, huge pipes, flickering lights, and flashing screens.

the overall light was comparatively dim, though individual sections of machinery were illuminated. seldon looked up into the almost-darkness. he said, "why isnt it better lit?"

"its lit well enough ... where it should be," said lindor. his voice was well modulated and he spoke quickly, but a little harshly. "overall illumination is kept low for psychological reasons. too bright is translated, in the mind, into heat. complaints go up when we turn up the lights, even when the temperature is made to go down."

dors said, "it seems to be well computerized. i should think the operations could be turned over to computers altogether. this sort of environment is made for artificial intelligence."

"perfectly right," said lindor, "but neither can we take a chance on any failures. we need people on the spot if anything goes wrong. a malfunctioning computer can raise problems up to two thousand kilometers away."

"so can human error. isnt 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 arent what they used to be and neither are people."

"thats the way it always seems," said seldon, laughing slightly.

"no, no. im not talking memory. im not talking good old days. im talking statistics."

at this, seldon recalled hummin talking of the degeneration of the times.

"see what i mean?" said lindor, his voice dropping. "theres 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 cant 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 theres nothing to be done about it either. if we give them five-minute breaks for drinks and stagger them so they dont 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. im soaking wet there."

"take off your brassiere, then," said seldon. "i wont lift a finger to stop you."

"somehow," said dors, "i guessed you wouldnt." 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 wont.--but ill have to introduce you. if they get the idea that you two are inspectors and in my company, theyll 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. theyve got worlds running short on energy and theyve come here to see how we do it here in dahl. they think they may learn something."

"theyll learn how to sweat!" shouted a heatsinker and there was raucous laughter.

"shes got a sweaty chest right now," shouted a woman, "covering up like that." dors shouted back, "id take it off, but mine cant 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. youre the mathematician."

he ran forward, inspecting seldons 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, youll find they dont smell like hothouse flowers."

"ill endure it," said seldon brusquely. "young man, what is it you want?"

"my name is amaryl. yugo amaryl. ive seen you on holovision."

"you might have, but what about it?"

"i dont remember your name."

"you dont have to."

"you talked about something called psychohistory."

"you dont know how i wish i hadnt."

"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 hes 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. hes just a heatsinker."

seldon said, "he recognized my face. he knows something about me. he cant be just an anything. ill see him in my room." and then, as tisalvers face didnt soften, he added, "my room, for which rent is being paid. and youll be at work, out of the apartment."

tisalver said in a low voice, "its not me, master seldon. its my wife, casilia. she wont stand for it."

"ill talk to her," said seldon grimly. "shell have to."