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.Meat tended tobe served in bite-sized portions--in a variety of pungent sauces--which werepicked up by fingers that were protected from grease and heat by smooth, greenleaves that were cold, damp, and had a vaguely minty taste.It was one leaf to each meat-bit and the whole was taken intothe mouth.The waiter had carefully explained how it had to be done.Apparently accustomed to off-planet guests, he had smiled paternally asTrevize and Pelorat gingerly scooped at the steaming bits of meat, and wasclearly delighted at the foreigners relief at finding that the leaves keptthe fingers cool and cooled the meat, too, as one chewed.Trevize said, Delicious! and eventually ordered a secondhelping.So did Pelorat.They sat over a spongy, vaguely sweet dessert and a cup ofcoffee that had a caramelized flavor at which they shook dubious heads.Theyadded syrup, at which the waiter shookhis head.Pelorat said, Well, what happened back there at the touristcenter? You mean with Compor? Was there anything else there we might discuss? Trevize looked about.They were in a deep alcove and had acertain limited privacy, but the restaurant was crowded and the natural hum ofnoise was a perfect cover.He said in a low voice, Isn t it strange that he followed usto Sayshell? He said he had this intuitive ability. Yes, he was all-collegiate champion at hypertracking.I neverquestioned that till today.I quite see that you might be able to judge wherePage 156 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlsomeone was going to Jump by how he prepared for it if you had a certaindeveloped skill at it, certain reflexes--but Idon t see how a tracker canjudge a Jumpseries.You prepare only for the first one; the computer does allthe others.The tracker can judge that first one, but by what magic can heguess what s in the computer s vitals? But he did it, Golan. He certainly did, said Trevize, and the only possible way Ican imagine him doing so is by knowing in advance where we were going to go.Byknowing , not judging. Pelorat considered that. Quite impossible, my boy.How couldhe know? We didn t decide on our destination till after we were on boardtheFar Star. I know that.--And what about this day of meditation? Compor didn t lie to us.The waiter said it was a day ofmeditation when we came in here and asked him. Yes, he did, but he said the restaurant wasn t closed.Infact, what he said was: Sayshell City isn t the backwoods.It doesn t closedown. People meditate, in other words, but not in thebig town, where everyoneis sophisticated and there s no place for small-town piety.So there s trafficand it s busy--perhaps not quite as busy as on ordinary days--but busy. But, Golan, no one came into the tourist center while we werethere.I was aware of that.Not one person entered. I noticed that, too.I even went to the window at one pointand looked out and saw clearly that the streets around the center had a goodscattering of people on foot and in vehicles--and yet not one person entered.The day of meditation made a good cover.We would not have questioned thefortunate privacy we had if I simply hadn t made up my mind not to trust thatson of two strangers. Pelorat said, What is the significance of all this, then? I think it s simple, Janov.We have here someone who knowswhere we re going as soon as we do, even though he and we are in separatespaceships, and we also have here someone who can keep a public building emptywhen it is surrounded by people in order that we might talk in convenientprivacy. Would you have me believe he can perform miracles? Certainly.If it so happens that Compor is an agent of theSecond Foundation and can control minds; if he can read yours and mine in adistant spaceship; if he can influence his way through a customs station atonce; if he can land gravitically, with no border patrol outraged at hisdefiance of the radio beams; and if he can influence minds in such a way as tokeep people from entering a building he doesn t want entered. By all the stars, Trevize went on with a marked air ofgrievance, I can even follow this back to graduation.Ididn t go on the tourwith him.I remember not wanting to.Wasn t that a matter of his influence? Hehad to be alone.Where was he really going? Pelorat pushed away the dishes before him, as though he wantedPage 157 ABC Amber Palm Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abcpalm.htmlto clear a space about himself in order to have room to think.It seemed to bea gesture that signaled the busboy-robot, a self-moving table that stoppednear them and waited while they placed their dishes and cutlery upon it.When they were alone, Pelorat said, But that s mad.Nothinghas happened that could not have happened naturally.Once you get it into yourhead that somebody is controlling events, you can interpret everything in thatlight and find no reasonable certainty anywhere.Come on, old fellow, it s allcircumstantial and a matter of interpretation.Don t yield to paranoia
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