Forward the Foundation f-2

by Isaac Asimov

  The three hoodlums who were bringing charges against Seldon and Palver snickered in their seats at the plaintiff’s table. They presented a much different appearance today than they had the evening of the attack. The young men were sporting clean loose-fitting unisuits; the young lady was wearing a crisply pleated tunic. All in all, if one didn’t look (or listen) too closely, the three presented a reassuring picture of Trantorian youth.

  Seldon’s lawyer, Civ Novker (who was representing Palver as well), approached the bench. “Your Honor, my client is an upstanding member of the Trantorian community. He is a former First Minister of stellar repute. He is a personal acquaintance of our Emperor Agis XIV. What possible benefit could Professor Seldon derive from attacking innocent young people? He is one of the most vocal proponents of stimulating the intellectual creativity of Trantorian youth—his Psychohistory Project employs numerous student volunteers; he is a beloved member of the Streeling University faculty.

  “Further—” Here Novker paused, sweeping his gaze around the packed courtroom, as if to say, Wait till you hear this—you’ll be ashamed that you ever for a second doubted the veracity of my client’s claims, “Professor Seldon is one of the very few private individuals officially allied with the prestigious Galactic Library. He has been granted unlimited use of Library facilities for work on what he calls the Encyclopedia Galactica, a veritable paean to Imperial civilization.

  “I ask you, how can this man even be questioned in such a matter?”

  With a flourish of his arm, Novker gestured toward Seldon, who was sitting at the defendant’s table with Stettin Palver, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Hari’s cheeks were flushed from the unaccustomed praise (after all, lately his name was the subject of derisive snickers rather than flowery plaudits) and his hand shook slightly on the carved handle of his trusty cane.

  Judge Lih gazed down at Seldon, clearly unimpressed. “What benefit, indeed, Counselor. I have been asking myself that very question. I’ve lain awake these past nights, racking my brains for a plausible reason. Why would a man of Professor Seldon’s stature commit unprovoked assault and battery when he himself is one of our most outspoken critics of the so-called ‘breakdown’ of civil order?

  “And then it dawned on me. Perhaps, in his frustration at not being believed, Professor Seldon feels he must prove to the worlds that his predictions of doom and gloom really are coming to pass. After all, here is a man who has spent his entire career foretelling the Fall of the Empire and all he can really point to are a few burned-out bulbs in the dome, an occasional glitch in public transport, a budget cut here or there—nothing very dramatic. But an attack—or two or three—now, that would be something.”

  Lih sat back and folded her hands in front of her, a satisfied expression on her face. Seldon stood, leaning heavily on the table for support. With great effort, he approached the bench, waving off his lawyer, walking headlong into the steely gaze of the judge.

  “Your Honor, please permit me to say a few words in my defense.”

  “Of course, Professor Seldon. After all, this is not a trial, only a hearing to air all allegations, facts, and theories pertinent to the case before deciding whether or not to go ahead with a trial. I have merely expressed a theory; I am most interested to hear what you have to say.”

  Seldon cleared his throat before beginning. “I have devoted my life to the Empire. I have faithfully served the Emperors. My science of psychohistory, rather than being a harbinger of destruction, is intended to be used as an agent for rejuvenation. With it we can be prepared for whatever course civilization takes. If, as I believe, the Empire continues to break down, psychohistory will help us put into place building blocks for a new and better civilization founded on all that is good from the old. I love our worlds, our peoples, our Empire—what would it behoove me to contribute to the lawlessness that saps its strength daily?

  “I can say no more. You must believe me. I, a man of intellect, of equations, of science—I am speaking from my heart.” Seldon turned and made his way slowly back to his chair beside Palver. Before sitting, his eyes sought Wanda, sitting in the spectators’ gallery. She smiled wanly and winked at him.

  “From the heart or not, Professor Seldon, this decision will require much thought on my part. We have heard from your accusers; we have heard from you and Mr. Palver. There is one more party whose testimony I need. I’d like to hear from Rial Nevas, who has come forward as an eyewitness to this incident.”

  As Nevas approached the bench, Seldon and Palver looked at each other in alarm. It was the boy whom Hari had admonished just before the attack.

  Lih was asking the youth a question. “Would you describe, Mr. Nevas, exactly what you witnessed on the night in question?”

  “Well,” started Nevas, fixing Seldon with his sullen stare, “I was walkin’ along, mindin’ my own business, when I saw those two,”—he turned and pointed at Seldon and Palver—“on the other side of the walkway, comin’ toward me. And then I saw those three kids.” (Another point of the finger, this time toward the three sitting at the plaintiff’s table.) “The two older guys were walkin’ behind the kids. They didn’t see me, though, on account of I was on the other side of the walkway and besides, they were concentratin’ on their victims. Then wham! Just like that, that old guy swings at ’em with his stick, then the younger guy jumps ’em and kicks ’em and before you know it, they’re all down on the ground. Then the old guy and his pal, they just took off, just like that. I couldn’t believe it.”

  “That’s a lie!” Seldon exploded. “Young man, you’re playing with our lives here!” Nevas only stared back at Seldon impassively.

  “Judge,” Seldon implored, “can’t you see that he is lying? I remember this fellow. I scolded him for littering just minutes before we were attacked. I pointed it out to Stettin as another instance of the breakdown of our society, the apathy of the citizenry, the—”

  “Enough, Professor Seldon,” commanded the judge. “Another outburst like that and I will have you ejected from this courtroom. Now, Mr. Nevas,” she said, turning back to the witness. “What did you do throughout the sequence of events you just described?”

  “I, uh, I hid. Behind some trees. I hid. I was afraid they’d come after me if they saw me, so I hid. And when they were gone, well, I ran and called the security officers.”

  Nevas had started to sweat and he inserted a finger into the constricting collar of his unisuit. He fidgeted, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he stood on the raised speaker’s platform. He was uncomfortably aware of the crowd’s eyes upon him; he tried to avoid looking into the audience, but each time he did, he found himself drawn to the steady gaze of a pretty blond girl sitting in the first row. It was as if she was asking him a question, pressing him for an answer, willing him to speak.

  “Mr. Nevas, what do you have to say about Professor Seldon’s allegation that he and Mr. Palver did see you prior to the attack, that the professor actually exchanged words with you?”

  “Well, uh, no, you see, it was just like I said . . . I was walkin’ along and—” And now Nevas looked over at Seldon’s table. Seldon looked at the young man sadly, as if he realized all was lost. But Seldon’s companion, Stettin Palver, turned a fierce gaze on Nevas and Nevas jumped, startled, at the words he heard: Tell the truth! It was as if Palver had spoken, but Palver’s lips hadn’t moved. And then, confused, Nevas snapped his head in the direction of the blond girl; he thought he heard her speak—Tell the truth!—but her lips were still as well.

  “Mr. Nevas, Mr. Nevas,” the judge’s voice broke in on the youth’s jumbled thoughts. “Mr. Nevas, if Professor Seldon and Mr. Palver were walking toward you, behind the three plaintiffs, how is it that you noticed Seldon and Palver first? That is how you put it in your statement, is it not?”

  Nevas glanced around the courtroom wildly. He couldn’t seem to escape the eyes, all the eyes screaming at him to Tell the truth! Looking over at Hari Seldon, Rial Nevas said simpl
y, “I’m sorry” and, to the amazement of the entire courtroom assemblage, the fourteen-year-old boy started to cry.

  27

  It was a lovely day, neither too warm nor too cold, not too bright nor too gray. Even though the groundskeeping budget had given out years ago, the few straggly perennials lining the steps leading up to the Galactic Library managed to add a cheerful note to the morning. (The Library, having been built in the classical style of antiquity, was fronted with one of the grandest stairways to be found in the entire Empire, second only to the steps at the Imperial Palace itself. Most Library visitors, however, preferred to enter via the gliderail.) Seldon had high hopes for the day.

  Since he and Stettin Palver had been cleared of all charges in their recent assault and battery case, Hari Seldon felt like a new man. Although the experience had been painful, its very public nature had advanced Seldon’s cause. Judge Tejan Popjens Lih, who was considered one of, if not the most influential judge on Trantor, had been quite vociferous in her opinion, delivered the day following Rial Nevas’s emotional testimony.

  “When we come to such a crossroads in our ‘civilized’ society,” the judge intoned from her bench, “that a man of Professor Hari Seldon’s standing is made to bear the humiliation, abuse, and lies of his peers simply because of who he is and what he stands for, it is truly a dark day for the Empire. I admit that I, too, was taken in—at first. ‘Why wouldn’t Professor Seldon,’ I reasoned, ‘resort to such trickery in an attempt to prove his predictions?’ But, as I came to see, I was most grievously wrong.” Here the judge’s brow furrowed, a dark blue flush began creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. “For I was ascribing to Professor Seldon motives born of our new society, a society in which honesty, decency, and goodwill are likely to get one killed, a society in which it appears one must resort to dishonesty and trickery merely to survive.

  “How far we have strayed from our founding principles. We were lucky this time, fellow citizens of Trantor. We owe a debt of thanks to Professor Hari Seldon for showing us our true selves; let us take his example to heart and resolve to be vigilant against the baser forces of our human nature.”

  Following the hearing, the Emperor had sent Seldon a congratulatory holo-disc. On it he expressed the hope that perhaps now Seldon would find renewed funding for his Project.

  As Seldon slid up the entrance gliderail, he reflected on the current status of his Psychohistory Project. His good friend—the former Chief Librarian Las Zenow—had retired. During his tenure, Zenow had been a strong proponent of Seldon and his work. More often than not, however, Zenow’s hands had been tied by the Library Board. But, he had assured Seldon, the affable new Chief Librarian, Tryma Acarnio, was as progressive as he himself, and was popular with many factions among the Board membership.

  “Hari, my friend,” Zenow had said before leaving Trantor for his home world of Wencory, “Acarnio is a good man, a person of deep intellect and an open mind. I’m sure he’ll do all that he can to help you and the Project. I’ve left him the entire data file on you and your Encyclopedia; I know he’ll be as excited as I about the contribution to humanity it represents. Take care, my friend—I’ll remember you fondly.”

  And so today Hari Seldon was to have his first official meeting with the new Chief Librarian. He was cheered by the reassurances Las Zenow had left with him and he was looking forward to sharing his plans for the future of the Project and the Encyclopedia.

  Tryma Acarnio stood as Hari entered the Chief Librarian’s office. Already he had made his mark on the place; whereas Zenow had stuffed every nook and cranny of the room with holo-discs and tridijournals from the different sectors of Trantor, and a dizzying array of visiglobes representing various worlds of the Empire had spun in midair, Acarnio had swept clear the mounds of data and images that Zenow had liked to keep at his fingertips. A large holoscreen now dominated one wall on which, Seldon presumed, Acarnio could view any publication or broadcast that he desired.

  Acarnio was short and stocky, with a slightly distracted look—from a childhood corneal correction that had gone awry—that belied a fearsome intelligence and constant awareness of everything going on around him at all times.

  “Well, well. Professor Seldon. Come in. Sit down.” Acarnio gestured to a straight-backed chair facing the desk at which he sat. “It was, I felt, quite fortuitous that you requested this meeting. You see, I had intended to get in touch with you as soon as I settled in.”

  Seldon nodded, pleased that the new Chief Librarian had considered him enough of a priority to plan to seek him out in the hectic early days of his tenure.

  “But, first, Professor, please let me know why you wanted to see me before we move on to my, most likely, more prosaic concerns.”

  Seldon cleared his throat and leaned forward. “Chief Librarian, Las Zenow has no doubt told you of my work here and of my idea for an Encyclopedia Galactica. Las was quite enthusiastic, and a great help, providing a private office for me here and unlimited access to the Library’s vast resources. In fact, it was he who located the eventual home of the Encyclopedia Project, a remote Outer World called Terminus.

  “There was one thing, however, that Las could not provide. In order to keep the Project on schedule, I must have office space and unlimited access granted to a number of my colleagues, as well. It is an enormous undertaking, just gathering the information to be copied and transferred to Terminus before we can begin the actual work of compiling the Encyclopedia.

  “Las was not popular with the Library Board, as you undoubtedly are aware. You, however, are. And so I ask you, Chief Librarian: Will you see to it that my colleagues are granted insiders’ privileges so that we may continue our most vital work?”

  Here Hari stopped, almost out of breath. He was sure that his speech, which he had gone over and over in his mind the night before, would have the desired effect. He waited, confident in Acarnio’s response.

  “Professor Seldon,” Acarnio began. Seldon’s expectant smile faded. There was an edge to the Chief Librarian’s voice that Seldon had not expected. “My esteemed predecessor provided me—in exhaustive detail—an explication of your work here at the Library. He was quite enthusiastic about your research and committed to the idea of your colleagues joining you here. As was I, Professor Seldon”—at Acarnio’s pause, Seldon looked up sharply—“at first. I was prepared to call a special meeting of the Board to propose that a larger suite of offices be prepared for you and your Encyclopedists. But, Professor Seldon, all that has now changed.”

  “Changed! But why?”

  “Professor Seldon, you have just finished serving as principal defendant in a most sensational assault and battery case.”

  “But I was acquitted,” Seldon broke in. “The case never even made it to trial.”

  “Nonetheless, Professor, your latest foray into the public eye has given you an undeniable—how shall I say it?—tinge of ill repute. Oh yes, you were acquitted of all charges. But in order to get to that acquittal, your name, your past, your beliefs, and your work were paraded before the eyes of all the worlds. And even if one progressive right-thinking judge has proclaimed you faultless, what of the millions—perhaps billions—of other average citizens who see not a pioneering psychohistorian striving to preserve his civilization’s glory but a raving lunatic shouting doom and gloom for the great and mighty Empire?

  “You, by the very nature of your work, are threatening the essential fabric of the Empire. I don’t mean the huge, nameless, faceless, monolithic Empire. No, I am referring to the heart and soul of the Empire—its people. When you tell them the Empire is failing, you are saying that they are failing. And this, my dear Professor, the average citizen cannot face.

  “Seldon, like it or not, you have become an object of derision, a subject of ridicule, a laughingstock.”

  “Pardon me, Chief Librarian, but for years now I have been, to some circles, a laughingstock.”

  “Yes, but only to some circles. But this latest incident—a
nd the very public forum in which it was played out—has opened you up to ridicule not only here on Trantor but throughout the worlds. And, Professor, if, by providing you an office, we, the Galactic Library, give tacit approval to your work, then, by inference, we, the Library, also become a laughingstock throughout the worlds. And no matter how strongly I may personally believe in your theory and your Encyclopedia, as Chief Librarian of the Galactic Library on Trantor, I must think of the Library first.

  “And so, Professor Seldon, your request to bring in your colleagues is denied.”

  Hari Seldon jerked back in his chair as if struck.

  “Further,” Acarnio continued, “I must advise you of a two-week temporary suspension of all Library privileges—effective immediately. The Board has called that special meeting, Professor Seldon. In two weeks’ time we will notify you whether or not we’ve decided that our association with you must be terminated.”

  Here, Acarnio stopped speaking and, placing his palms on the glossy, spotless surface of his desk, stood up. “That is all, Professor Seldon—for now.”

  Hari Seldon stood as well, although his upward movement was not as smooth, nor as quick, as Tryma Acarnio’s.

  “May I be permitted to address the Board?” asked Seldon. “Perhaps if I were able to explain to them the vital importance of psychohistory and the Encyclopedia—”

  “I’m afraid not, Professor,” said Acarnio softly and Seldon caught a brief glimmer of the man Las Zenow had told him about. But, just as quickly, the icy bureaucrat was back as Acarnio guided Seldon to the door.

  As the portals slid open, Acarnio said, “Two weeks, Professor Seldon. Till then.” Hari stepped through to his waiting skitter and the doors slid shut.

  What am I going to do now? wondered Seldon disconsolately. Is this the end of my work?

  28

  “Wanda dear, what is it that has you so engrossed?” asked Hari Seldon as he entered his granddaughter’s office at Streeling University. The room had been the office of the brilliant mathematician Yugo Amaryl, whose death had impoverished the Psychohistory Project. Fortunately, Wanda had gradually taken over Yugo’s role in recent years, further refining and adjusting the Prime Radiant.