"Surely there are some people who are naturally bald."

"Never as completely depilated as Mycogenians force themselves to be. On the Outer Worlds, it wouldn't matter much. But Mycogen is a distant whisper to the Outer Worlds. The Mycogenians keep themselves so much to themselves that it is a rare one, indeed, who has ever left Trantor. Here on Trantor, though, it's different. People might be bald, but they usually have a fringe of hair that advertises them as nonMycogenian-or they grow facial hair. Those very few who are completely hairless-usually a pathological condition-are out of luck. I imagine they have to go around with a doctor's certificate to prove they are not Mycogenians."

Dors, frowning slightly, said, "Does this help us any?"

"I'm not sure."

"Couldn't you let it be known that he is a Mycegonian?"

"I'm not sure that could be done easily. He must have covered his tracks well and even if it could be done-"

"Yes?"

Seldon shrugged. "I don't want to invite an appeal to bigotry. The social situation on Trantor is bad enough without running the risk of loosing passions that neither I nor anyone else could then control. If I do have to resort to the matter of Mycogen, it will only be as a last resort."

"Then you want minimalism, too."

"Of course."

"Then what will you do?"

"I made an appointment with Demerzel. He may know what to do."

Dors looked at him sharply. "Hari, are you falling into the trap of expecting Demerzel to solve every problem for you?"

"No, but perhaps he'll solve this one."

"And if he doesn't?"

"Then I'll have to think of something else, won't I?"

"Like what?"

A look of pain crossed Seldon's face. "Dors, I don't know. Don't expect me to solve every problem, either."

Eto Demerzel was not frequently seen, except by the Emperor Cleon. It was his policy to remain in the background for a variety of reasons, one of which was that his appearance changed so little with time.