Hari Seldon was perfectly willing to let Dors take the lead. She had been out in the main roadways of Mycogen and was more at home with them than he was.

Dors Venabili, brows knitted, was less delighted with the prospect. She said, “We can easily get lost, you know.”

“Not with that booklet,” said Seldon.

She looked up at him impatiently. “Fix your mind on Mycogen, Hari. What I should have is a computomap, something I can ask questions of. This Mycogenian version is just a piece of folded plastic. I can’t tell this thing where I am. I can’t tell it by word of mouth and I can’t even tell it by pushing the necessary contacts. It can’t tell me anything either way. It’s a print thing.”

“Then read what it says.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, but it’s written for people who are familiar with the system to begin with. We’ll have to ask.”

“No, Dors. That would be a last resort. I don’t want to attract attention. I would rather we take our chances and try to find our own way, even if it means making one or two wrong turns.”

Dors leafed through the booklet with great attention and then said grudgingly, “Well, it gives the Sacratorium important mention. I suppose that’s only natural. I presume everyone in Mycogen would want to get there at one time or another.” Then, after additional concentration, she said, “I’ll tell you what. There’s no way of taking a conveyance from here to there.”

“What?”

“Don’t get excited. Apparently, there’s a way of getting from here to another conveyance that will take us there. We’ll have to change from one to another.”

Seldon relaxed. “Well, of course. You can’t take an Expressway to half the places on Trantor without changing.”

Dors cast an impatient glance at Seldon. “I know that too. It’s just that I’m used to having these things tell me so. When they expect you to find out for yourself, the simplest things can escape you for a while.”

“All right, dear. Don’t snap. If you know the way now, lead. I will follow humbly.”

And follow her he did, until they came to an intersection, where they stopped.

Three white-kirtled males and a pair of gray-kirtled females were at the same intersection. Seldon tried a universal and general smile in their direction, but they responded with a blank stare and looked away.

And then the conveyance came. It was an outmoded version of what Seldon, back on Helicon, would have called a gravi-bus. There were some twenty upholstered benches inside, each capable of holding four people. Each bench had its own doors on both sides of the bus. When it stopped, passengers emerged on either side. (For a moment, Seldon was concerned for those who got out on the traffic side of the gravi-bus, but then he noticed that every vehicle approaching from either direction stopped as it neared the bus. None passed it while