by Isaac Asimov
The magistrate said, “Track down one dead and two wounded nameless faceless Trantorians? Are you aware that on Trantor over two thousand people are found dead every day–by knife wounds alone. Unless these things are reported to us at once, we are helpless. Your story of being assaulted once before will not hold water. What we must do is deal with the events of today, which were reported and which had a security officer as a witness.
“So, let’s consider the situation as of now. Why do you think the fellow was going to attack? Simply because you happened to be passing by? Because you seemed old and defenseless? Because you looked like you might be carrying a great deal of credits? What do you think?”
“I think, Magistrate, it was because of who I am.”
The magistrate looked at his papers. “You are Hari Seldon, a professor and a scholar. Why should that make you subject to assault, particularly?”
“Because of my views.”
“Your views. Well–” The magistrate shuffled some papers perfunctorily. Suddenly he stopped and looked up, peering at Seldon. “Wait–Hari Seldon.” A look of recognition spread across his face. “You’re the psychohistory buff, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Magistrate.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t know anything about it except the name and the fact that you go around predicting the end of the Empire or something like that.”
“Not quite, Magistrate. But my views have become unpopular because they are proving to be true. I believe it is for that reason that there are those who want to assault me or, even more likely, are being paid to assault me.”
The magistrate stared at Seldon and then called over the arresting security officer. “Did you check up on the man who was hurt? Does he have a record?”
The security officer cleared her throat. “Yes, sir. He’s been arrested several times. Assault, mugging.”
“Oh, he’s a repeat offender, is he? And does the professor have a record?”
“No, sir.”
“So we have an old and innocent man fighting off a known mugger–and you arrest the old and innocent man. Is that it?”
The security officer was silent.
The magistrate said, “You may go, Professor.”
“Thank you, sir. May I have my cane?”
The magistrate snapped his fingers at the officer, who handed over the cane.
“But one thing, Professor,” said the magistrate. “If you use that cane again, you had better be absolutely certain you can prove it was in self-defense. Otherwise–”
“Yes, sir.” And Hari Seldon left the magistrate’s chambers, leaning heavily on his cane but with his head held high.
20.
WANDA WAS CRYING bitterly, her face wet with tears, her eyes red, her cheeks swollen.
Hari Seldon hovered over her, patting her on the back, not knowing quite how to comfort her.
“Grandpa, I’m a miserable failure. I thought I could push people and I could when they didn’t mind being pushed too much, like Mom and Dad–and even then it took a long time. I even worked out a rating system of sorts, based on a ten-point scale–sort of a mental pushing power gauge. Only I assumed too much. I assumed that I was a ten, or at least a nine. But now I realize that, at most, I rate a seven.”
Wanda’s crying had stopped and she sniffed occasionally as Hari stroked her hand. “Usually–usually–I have no trouble. If I concentrate, I can hear people’s thoughts and when I want, I push them. But those muggers! I could hear them all right, but there was nothing I could do to push them away.”
“I thought you did very well, Wanda.”
“I didn’t. I had a fan–fantasy. I thought people would come up behind you and in one mighty push I’d send them flying. That way I was going to be your bodyguard. That’s why I offered to be your bod–bodyguard. Only I wasn’t. Those two guys came up and I couldn’t do a thing.”
“But you could. You made the first man hesitate. That gave me a chance to turn and clobber him.”
“No no. I had nothing to do with it. All I could do was warn you he was there and you did the rest.”
“The second man ran away.”
“Because you clobbered the first guy. I had nothing to do with it.” She broke out again in tears of frustration. “And then the magistrate. I insisted on the magistrate. I thought I would push and he would let you go at once.”
“He did let me go and it was practically at once.”
“No. He put you through a miserable routine and saw the light only when he realized who you were. I had nothing to do with it. I flopped everywhere. I could have gotten you into so much trouble.”
“No, I refuse to accept that, Wanda. If your pushing didn’t work quite as well as you had hoped it would, it was only because you were working under emergency conditions. You couldn’t have helped it. But, Wanda, look–I have an idea.”
Catching the excitement in his voice, she looked up. “What kind of idea, Grandpa?”
“Well, it’s like this, Wanda. You probably realize that I’ve got to have credits. Psychohistory simply can’t continue without it and I cannot bear the thought of having it all come to nothing after so many years of hard work.”
“I can’t bear it, either. But how can we get the credits?”
“Well, I’m going to request an audience with the Emperor again. I’ve seen him once already and he’s a good man and I like him. But he’s not exactly drowning in wealth. However, if I take you with me and if you push him–gently–it may be that he will find a source of credits, some source somewhere, and keep me going for a while, till I can think of something else.”
“Do you really think it will work, Grandpa?”
“Not without you. But with you–maybe. Come, isn’t it worth trying?”
Wanda smiled. “You know I’ll do anything you ask, Grandpa. Besides, it’s our only hope.”
21.
IT WAS NOT difficult to see the Emperor. Agis’s eyes sparkled as he greeted Hari Seldon. “Hello, old friend,” he said. “Have you come to bring me bad luck?”
“I hope not,” said Seldon.
Agis unhooked the elaborate cloak he was wearing and, with a weary grunt, threw it into the corner of the room, saying, “And you lie there.”
He looked at Seldon and shook his head. “I hate that thing. It’s as heavy as sin and as hot as blazes. I always have to wear it when I’m being smothered under meaningless words, standing there upright like a carved image. It’s just plain horrible. Cleon was born to it and he had the appearance for it. I was not and I don’t. It’s just my misery that I’m a third cousin of his on my mother’s side so that I qualified as Emperor. I’d be glad to sell it for a very small sum. Would you like to be Emperor, Hari?”
“No no, I wouldn’t dream of it, so don’t get your hopes up,” said Seldon, laughing.
“But tell me, who is this extraordinarily beautiful young woman you have brought with you today?”
Wanda flushed and the Emperor said genially, “You mustn’t let me embarrass you, my dear. One of the few perquisites an Emperor possesses is the right to say anything he chooses. No one can object or argue: bout it. They can only say, ‘Sire.’ However, I don’t want any ‘Sires’ from you. I hate that word. Call me Agis. That is not my birth name, either. It’s my Imperial name and I’ve got to get used to it. So... tell me what’s doing, Hari. What’s been happening to you since the last time we met?”
Seldon said briefly, “I’ve been attacked twice.”
The Emperor didn’t seem to be sure whether this was a joke or not. He said, “Twice? Really?”
The Emperor’s face darkened as Seldon told the story of the assaults. “I suppose there wasn’t a security officer around when those eight men threatened you.”
“Not one.”
The Emperor rose from his chair and gestured at the other two to keep theirs. He walked back and forth, as though he were trying to work off some anger. Then he turned and faced Seldon.
“For thousands of years,”
he began, “whenever something like this happened, people would say, ‘Why don’t we appeal to the Emperor?’ or ‘Why doesn’t the Emperor do something?’ And, in the end, the Emperor can do something and does do something, even if it isn’t always the intelligent thing to do. But I... Hari, I’m powerless. Absolutely powerless.
“Oh yes, there is the so-called Commission of Public Safety, but they seem more concerned with my safety than that of the public. It’s a wonder we’re having this audience at all, for you are not at all popular with the Commission.
“There’s nothing I can do about anything. Do you know what’s happened to the status of the Emperor since the fall of the junta and the restoration of–hah!–Imperial power?”
“I think I do.”
“I’ll bet you don’t–fully. We’ve got democracy now. Do you know what democracy is?”
“Certainly.”
Agis frowned. He said, “I’ll bet you think it’s a good thing.”
“I think it can be a good thing.”
“Well, there you are. It isn’t. It’s completely upset the Empire.
“Suppose I want to order more officers onto the streets of Trantor. In the old days, I would pull over a piece of paper prepared for me by the Imperial Secretary and would sign it with a flourish–and there would be more security officers.
“Now I can’t do anything of the sort. I have to put it before the Legislature. There are seventy-five hundred men and women who instantly turn into uncounted gaggles of geese the instant a suggestion is made. In the first place, where is the funding to come from? You can’t have, say, ten thousand more officers without having to pay ten thousand more salaries. Then, even if you agreed to something of the sort, who selects the new security officers? Who controls them?
“The Legislature shouts at each other, argues, thunders, and lightens, and in the end–nothing is done. Hari, I couldn’t even do as small a thing as fix the broken dome lights you noticed. How much will it cost? Who’s in charge? Oh, the lights will be fixed, but it can easily take a few months to do it. That’s democracy.”
Hari Seldon said, “As I recall, the Emperor Cleon was forever complaining that he could not do what he wished to do.”
“The Emperor Cleon,” said Agis impatiently, “had two first-class First Ministers–Demerzel and yourself–and you each labored to keep Cleon from doing anything foolish. I have seventy-five hundred First Ministers, all of whom are foolish from start to finish. But surely, Hari, you haven’t come to complain to me about the attacks.”
“No, I haven’t. Something much worse. Sire–Agis–I need credits.”
The Emperor stared at him. “After what I’ve been telling you, Hari? I have no credits.–Oh yes, there’re credits to run this establishment, of course, but in order to get them I have to face my seventy-five hundred legislators. If you think I can go to them and say, ‘I want credits for my friend, Hari Seldon’ and if you think I’ll get one quarter of what I ask for in anything less than two years, you’re crazy. It won’t happen.”
He shrugged and said, more gently, “Don’t get me wrong, Hari. I would like to help you if I could. I would particularly like to help you for the sake of your granddaughter. Looking at her makes me feel as though I should give you all the credits you would like–but it can’t be done.”
Seldon said, “Agis, if I don’t get funding, psychohistory will go down the drain–after nearly forty years.”
“It’s come to nothing in nearly forty years, so why worry?”
“Agis,” said Seldon “there’s nothing more I can do now. The assaults on me were precisely because I’m a psychohistorian. People consider me a predictor of destruction.”
The Emperor nodded. “You’re bad luck, Raven Seldon. I told you this earlier.”
Seldon stood up wretchedly. “I’m through, then.”
Wanda stood, too, next to Seldon the top of her head reaching her grandfather’s shoulder. She gazed fixedly at the Emperor.
As Hari turned to go, the Emperor said, “Wait. Wait. There’s a little verse I once memorized:
‘Ill fares the land
To hastening ills a prey
Where wealth accumulates
And men decay.’”
“What does it mean?” asked a dispirited Seldon.
“It means that the Empire is steadily deteriorating and falling apart, but that doesn’t keep some individuals from growing rich. Why not turn to some of our wealthy entrepreneurs? They don’t have legislators and can, if they wish, simply sign a credit voucher.”
Seldon stared. “I’ll try that.”
22.
“MR. BINDRIS,” SAID Hari Seldon, reaching out his hand to shake the other’s. “I am so glad to be able to see you. It was good of you to agree to see me.”
“Why not?” said Terep Bindris jovially. “I know you well. Or, rather, I know of you well.”
“That’s pleasant. I take it you’ve heard of psychohistory, then.”
“Oh yes, what intelligent person hasn’t? Not that I understand anything about it, of course. And who is this young lady you have with you?”
“My granddaughter, Wanda.”
“A very pretty young woman.” He beamed. “Somehow I feel I’d be putty in her hands.”
Wanda said, “I think you exaggerate, sir.”
“No, really. Now, please, sit down and tell me what it is I can do for you.” He gestured expansively with his arm, indicating that they be seated on two overstuffed, richly brocaded chairs in front of the desk at which he sat. The chairs, like the ornate desk, the imposing carved doors which had slid back noiselessly at their arrival signal, and the gleaming obsidian floor of Bindris’s vast office, were of the finest quality. And, although his surroundings were impressive–and imposing–Bindris himself was not. The slight cordial man would not be taken, at first glance, for one of Trantor’s leading financial powerbrokers.
“We’re here, sir, at the Emperor’s suggestion.”
“The Emperor?”
“Yes, he could not help us, but he thought a man like you might be able to do so. The question, of course, is credits.”
Bindris’s face fell. “Credits?” he said. “I don’t understand.”
“Well,” said Seldon, “for nearly forty years, psychohistory has been supported by the government. However, times change and the Empire is no longer what it was.”
“Yes, I know that.” ‘
“The Emperor lacks the credits to support us or, even if he did have the credits, he couldn’t get the request for funding past the Legislature. He recommends, therefore, that I see businesspeople who, in the first place, still have credits and, in the second place, can simply write out a credit voucher.”
There was a longish pause and Bindris finally said, “The Emperor, I’m afraid, knows nothing about business.–How many credits do you want?”
“Mr. Bindris, we’re talking about an enormous task. I’m going to need several million.”
“Several million!”
“Yes, sir.”
Bindris frowned. “Are we talking about a loan here? When do you expect to be able to pay it back?”
“Well, Mr. Bindris, I can’t honestly say I ever expect to be able to pay it back. I’m looking for a gift.”
“Even if I wanted to give you the credits–and let me tell you, for some strange reason I very much want to do so–I couldn’t. The Emperor may have his Legislature, but I have my Board members. I can’t make a gift of that sort without the Board’s permission and they’ll never grant it.”
“Why not? Your firm is enormously wealthy. A few million would mean nothing to you.”
“That sounds good,” said Bindris, “but I’m afraid that the firm is in a state of decline right now. Not sufficiently to bring us into serious trouble, but enough to make us unhappy. If the Empire is in a state of decay, different individual parts of it are decaying, too. We are in no position to Land out a few million.–I’m truly sorry.”
Seldon sat t
here silently and Bindris seemed unhappy. He shook his Head at last and said, “Look, Professor Seldon, I would really like to help you out, particularly for the sake of the young lady you have with you. It just can’t be done.–However, we’re not the only firm in Trantor. Try others, Professor. You may have better luck elsewhere.”
“Well,” said Seldon, raising himself to his feet with an effort, “we shall try.”
23.
WANDA’S EYES WERE filled with tears, but the emotion they represented was not sorrow but fury.
“Grandpa,” she said, “I don’t understand it. I simply don’t understand it. We’ve been to four different firms. Each one was ruder and nastier to us than the one before. The fourth one just kicked us out. And since then, no one will let us in.”
“It’s no mystery, Wanda,” said Seldon gently. “When we saw Bindris, he didn’t know what we were there for and he was perfectly friendly until I asked for a gift of a few million credits. Then he was a great deal less friendly. I imagine the word went out as to what we wanted and each additional time there was less friendliness until now, when people won’t receive us at all. Why should they? They’re not going to give us the credits we need, so why waste time with us?”
Wanda’s anger turned on herself. “And what did I do? I just sat there. Nothing.”
“I wouldn’t say that,” said Seldon. “Bindris was affected by you. It seems to me that he really wanted to give me the credits, largely because of you. You were pushing him and accomplishing something.”
“Not nearly enough. Besides, all he cared about was that I was pretty.”
“Not pretty,” muttered Seldon. “Beautiful. Very beautiful.”
“So what do we do now, Grandpa?” asked Wanda. “After all these years, psychohistory will collapse.”
“I suppose that,” said Seldon “in a way, it’s something that can’t be helped. I’ve been predicting the breakdown of the Empire for nearly forty years and now that it’s come, psychohistory breaks down with it.”
