I"m too busy."
His sparse hair spread out on the pillow like a silver fringe about his head. His voice was a confidential whisper. "You want that Second Foundation, don"t you?"
Toran turned quickly and squatted down on the cot beside him. "What about the Second Foundation, Ebling?"
The psychologist freed an arm from beneath the sheet and his tired fingers clutched at Toran"s sleeve. "The Foundations were established at a great Psychological Convention presided over by Hari Seldon. Toran, I have located the published minutes of that Convention. Twenty-five fat films. I have already looked through various summaries."
"Well?"
"Well, do you know that it is very easy to find from them the exact location of the First Foundation, if you know anything at all about psychohistory. It is frequently referred to, when you understand the equations. But Toran, nobody mentions the Second Foundation, There has been no reference to it anywhere."
Toran"s eyebrows pulled into a frown. "It doesn"t exist?"
"Of course it exists," cried Mis, angrily, "who said it didn"t? But there"s less talk of it. Its significance ?and all about it ?are better hidden, better obscured. Don"t you see? It"s the more important of the two. It"s the critical one; the one that counts! And I"ve got the minutes of the Seldon Convention. The Mule hasn"t won yet?
Quietly, Bayta turned the lights down. "Go to sleep!"
Without speaking, Toran and Bayta made their way up to their own quarters.
The next day, Ebling Mis bathed and dressed himself, saw the sun of Trantor and felt the wind of Trantor for the last time. At the end of the day he was once again submerged in the gigantic recesses of the library, and never emerged thereafter.
In the week that followed, life settled again into its groove. The sun of Neotrantor was a calm, bright star in Trantor"s night sky. The farm was busy with its spring planting. The University grounds were silent in their desertion. The Galaxy seemed empty. The Mule might never have existed.
Bayta was thinking that as she watched Toran light his cigar carefully and look up at the sections of blue sky visible between the swarming metal spires that encircled the horizon.
"It"s a nice day," he said.
"Yes, it is. Have you everything mentioned on the list, Torie?"
"Sure. Half pound butter, dozen eggs, string beans ?Got it all down here, Bay. I"ll have it right."
"Good. And make sure the vegetables are of the last harvest and not museum relics. Did you see Magnifico anywhere, by the way?"
"Not since breakfast. Guess he"s down with Ebling, watching a book-film."
"All right. Don"t waste any time, because I"ll need the eggs for dinner."
Toran left with a backward smile and a wave of the hand.
Bayta turned away as Toran slid out of sight among the maze of metal. She hesitated before the kitchen door, about-faced slowly, and entered the colonnade leading to the elevator that burrowed down into the recesses.
Ebling Mis was there, head bent down over the eyepieces of the projector, motionless, a frozen, questing body. Near him sat Magnifico, screwed up into a chair, eyes sharp and watching ?a bundle of slatty limbs with a nose emphasizing his scrawny face.
Bayta said softly, "Magnifico?
Magnifico scrambled to his feet. His voice was an eager whisper. "My lady!"
"Magnifico," said Bayta, "Toran has left for the farm and won"t be back for a while. Would you be a good boy and go out after him with a message that I"ll write for you?"
"Gladly, my lady. My small services are but too eagerly yours, for the tiny uses you can put them to."
She was alone with Ebling Mis, who had not moved. Firmly, she placed her hand upon his shoulder. "Ebling?
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