Chapter 11 chapter Ten

Dors pondered the question calmly.It was also the only way she could think - to be calm.Because she doesn't have any mood swings.She closed her eyes and meditated.Eight years ago, she and Seldon had visited McGann, but hadn't been there very long.The place is really lackluster except for the food.Those images came back to her mind.It was a society with strict rules and regulations, where men were superior to women and everyone was obsessed with the past.They remove their body hair, which is a painful process close to self-abuse, in order to make them different from others, so as to "know their roots".Their legends, their memories (or should I say their fantasies) revolve around a bygone era in which they once ruled the galaxy, possessed immortality, and had robots.

Dors opened her eyes and asked, "Why, Harry?" "Why what, dear?" "Why is he pretending he's not from McGann?" She didn't think Seldon's memory of McGann was more detailed than hers. In fact, she knew he certainly didn't remember as much as she did, but his mind was better than hers. Well - of course, there are differences from her.Her mind was adapted only to memory, and to deduce some obvious conclusions from a precise deductive thread.But his mind has a jumping thinking that makes people unable to figure it out.Seldon was always fond of pretending that intuition was the sole prerogative of his assistant Amarel, but Dors was not fooled by him.Seldon also liked to pretend to be an unsophisticated mathematician, viewing the world with endlessly bewildered eyes, and Doss was not fooled by him either. "Why is he pretending he's not from McGann?" she repeated, for she found Seldon sitting there looking straight at him in a posture that always made her think he was wracking his brains out of psychohistory. drip concept.

Seldon finally opened his mouth and said: "Macken District is a society with strict regulations and many restrictions. There will always be some people who will get tired of the life of the dead walking around the rules. There will always be some people who want to break free from the shackles and go to the vast and free outside world Go out and explore. It's not hard to understand." "So they forcibly implanted artificial hair?" "No, usually not. The average escapees--the Mackenzie call those escapees by that is obviously contemptuous--wear wigs. It's simpler, but it's easier to see through. The really important escapees Artificial hair implants, I've heard. The process is quite complicated and expensive, but the benefits are almost real. I've never seen it with my own eyes before, although I've heard of it. I've spent years studying all the Eight hundred areas, trying to establish the basic laws and mathematical foundations of psychohistory. Although unfortunately no achievements in this area, but some things have been learned."

"But why did the escapees conceal the fact that they were from McGann? As far as I know, they have not been persecuted." "Yes, they weren't persecuted. In fact, the public didn't think the Mackens were an inferior race. But it was worse. Nobody took the Mackens seriously. They were smart—everyone admitted— —highly educated, of good character, of good manners, of good cooks, and of an even more astounding ability to govern the region—but no one takes them seriously. Their beliefs are too much for those outside of McGann’s district. Absurd, ludicrous, and foolish. The notion that the Mackenzie, known as escapees, will suffer. A Mackenzie who seeks to seize power in the government will be crushed by jeers. It's okay to be scared. It doesn't matter too much to be despised. But to be laughed at - that would be devastating. Jo Ruonan wants to be Prime Minister so he has to have hair, and in order to be safe he has to dress up as From a faraway world that's no match for McGann in eight lifetimes."

"But there are people who are indeed born bald." "But not as thoroughly as the Macgans remove their hair. In the outer world, it doesn't matter. The Macgans are only a distant rumor to the outer world. The Macgans are too self-contained. If any of them ever left Trantor, That's almost a rarity. But here on Trantor it's different. People can be bald, but there's usually some hair on the edge of the sideburns that tells them they're not Macgans—or at least eyebrows and beards. And those very few Those who don't grow any hair at all—probably a disease—are really unlucky. I'm afraid they'll have to carry a doctor's certificate wherever they go to prove they're not McGan."

Dors frowned, "Does this help us?" "I'm not sure." "Won't you make it known that he's a McGann?" "I'm afraid it won't be so easy. He's sure to keep his track well hidden, and if he can—" "How?" Seldon shrugged. "I don't want to cause a wave of condemnation of racial prejudice. Once that kind of catharsis is triggered, no one can control it anymore. Even if it doesn't happen, the current society of Trantor The situation is bad enough. Even if I were to resort to extreme measures to deal with the McGann matter, it would be only as a last resort."

"So you also have to act with the minimum principle." "certainly." "So what are you going to do?" "I've already made an appointment with Demerzel. He probably knows what to do." Dors stared, "Harry, you're not so foolish as to expect Demerzel to solve all your problems, right?" "I don't expect him to solve everything, but he might be able to solve this one." "What if he can't?" "Then I have to find another way, don't I?" "How to find another solution?" Seldon's face flashed a trace of bitterness: "Dors, I don't know either. You can't expect me to solve all the problems."