Asimov’s Future History Volume 19

by Isaac Asimov

  “Of course I agree with him. I am no less Gaia than he is.”

  “And do you withhold knowledge from me? Consciously, I mean?”

  “Of course not. Even if it were possible for Gaia to lie, it would not lie to you. Above all, we depend upon your conclusions, and we need them to be accurate, and that requires that they be based on reality.”

  “In that case,” said Trevize, “let’s make use of your world-memory. Probe backward and tell me how far you can remember.”

  There was a small hesitation. Bliss looked blankly at Trevize, as though, for a moment, she was in a trance. Then she said, “Fifteen thousand years.”

  “Why did you hesitate?”

  “It took time. Old memories-really old-are almost all in the mountain roots where it takes time to dig them out.”

  “Fifteen thousand years ago, then? Is that when Gaia was settled?”

  “No, to the best of our knowledge that took place some three thousand years before that.”

  “Why are you uncertain? Don’t you-or Gaia-remember?”

  Bliss said, “That was before Gaia had developed to the point where memory became a global phenomenon.”

  “Yet before you could rely on your collective memory, Gaia must have kept records, Bliss. Records in the usual sense recorded, written, filmed, and so on.”

  “I imagine so, but they could scarcely endure all this time.”

  “They could have been copied or, better yet, transferred into the global memory, once that was developed.”

  Bliss frowned. There was another hesitation, longer this time. “I find no sign of these earlier records you speak of.”

  “Why is that?”

  “I don’t know, Trevize. I presume that they proved of no great importance. I imagine that by the time it was understood that the early nonmemory records were decaying, it was decided that they had grown archaic and wore not needed.”

  “You don’t know that. You presume and you imagine, but you don’t know that. Gaia doesn’t know that.”

  Bliss’s eyes fell. “It must be so.”

  “Must be? I am not a part of Gaia and therefore I need not presume what Gaia presumes-which gives you an example of the importance of isolation. I, as an Isolate, presume something else.”

  “What do you presume?”

  “First, there is something I am sure of. A civilization in being is not likely to destroy its early records. Far from judging them to be archaic and unnecessary, they are likely to treat them with exaggerated reverence and would labor to preserve them. If Gaia’s preglobal records were destroyed, Bliss, that destruction is not likely to have been voluntary.”

  “How would you explain it, then?”

  “In the Library at Trantor, all references to Earth were removed by someone or some force other than that of the Trantorian Second Foundationers themselves. Isn’t it possible, then, that on Gaia, too, all references to Earth were removed by something other than Gaia itself?”

  “How do you know the early records involved Earth?”

  “According to you, Gaia was founded at least eighteen thousand years ago. That brings us back to the period before the establishment of the Galactic Empire, to the period when the Galaxy was being settled and the prime source of Settlers was Earth. Pelorat will confirm that.”

  Pelorat, caught a little by surprise by suddenly being called on, cleared his throat. “So go the legends, my dear. I take those legends seriously and I think, as Golan Trevize does, that the human species was originally confined to a single planet and that planet was Earth. The earliest Settlers came from Earth.”

  “If, then,” said Trevize, “Gaia was founded in the early days of hyperspatial travel, then it is very likely to have been colonized by Earthmen, or possibly by natives of a not very old world that had not long before been colonized by Earthmen. For that reason, the records of Gaia’s settlement and of the first few millennia thereafter must clearly have involved Earth and Earthmen and those records are gone. Something seems to be seeing to it that Earth is not mentioned anywhere in the records of the Galaxy. And if so, there must be some reason for it.”

  Bliss said indignantly, “This is conjecture, Trevize. You have no evidence for this.”

  “But it is Gaia that insists that my special talent is that of coming to correct conclusions on the basis of insufficient evidence. If, then, I come to a firm conclusion, don’t tell me I lack evidence.”

  Bliss was silent.

  Trevize went on, “All the more reason then for finding Earth. I intend to leave as soon as the Far Star is ready. Do you two still want to come?”

  “Yes,” said Bliss at once, and “Yes,” said Pelorat.

  2. Toward Comporellon

  5.

  IT WAS RAINING lightly. Trevize looked up at the sky, which was a solid grayish white.

  He was wearing a rain hat that repelled the drops and sent them flying well away from his body in all directions. Pelorat, standing out of range of the flying drops, had no such protection.

  Trevize said, “I don’t see the point of your letting yourself get wet, Janov.”

  “The wet doesn’t bother me, my dear chap,” said Pelorat, looking as solemn as he always did. “It’s a light and warm rain. There’s no wind to speak of. And besides, to quote the old saying: ‘In Anacreon, do as the Anacreonians do.” ‘He indicated the few Gaians standing near the Far Star, watching quietly. They were well scattered, as though they were trees in a Gaian grove, and none wore rain hats.

  “I suppose,” said Trevize, “they don’t mind being wet, because all the rest of Gaia is getting wet. The trees-the grass-the soil-all wet, and all equally part of Gaia, along with the Gaians.”

  “I think it makes sense,” said Pelorat. “The sun will come out soon enough and everything will dry quickly. The clothing won’t wrinkle or shrink, there’s no chilling effect, and, since there aren’t any unnecessary pathogenic microorganisms, no one will get colds, or flu, or pneumonia. Why worry about a bit of damp then?”

  Trevize had no trouble in seeing the logic of that, but he hated to let go of his grievance. He said, “Still, there is no need for it to rain as we are leaving. After all, the rain is voluntary. Gaia wouldn’t rain if it didn’t want to. It’s almost as though it were showing its contempt for us.”

  “Perhaps”-and Pelorat’s lip twitched a bit “Gaia is weeping with sorrow at our leaving.”

  Trevize said, “That may be, but I’m not.”

  “Actually,” Pelorat went on, “I presume that the soil in this region needs a wetting down, and that need is more important than your desire to have the sun shine.”

  Trevize smiled. “I suspect you really like this world, don’t you? Even aside from Bliss, I mean.”

  “Yes, I do,” said Pelorat, a trace defensively. “I’ve always led a quiet, orderly life, and think how I could manage here, with a whole world laboring to keep it quiet and orderly.-After all, Golan, when we build a house-or that ship-we try to create a perfect shelter. We equip it with everything we need; we arrange to have its temperature, air quality, illumination, and everything else of importance, controlled by us and manipulated in a way to make it perfectly accommodating to us. Gaia is just an extension of the desire for comfort and security extended to an entire planet. What’s wrong with that?”

  “What’s wrong with that,” said Trevize, “is that my house or my ship is engineered to suit me. I am not engineered to suit it. If I were part of Gaia, then no matter how ideally the planet was devised to suit me, I would be greatly disturbed over the fact that I was also being devised to suit it.”

  Pelorat pursed his lips. “One could argue that every society molds its population to fit itself. Customs develop that make sense within the society, and that chain every individual firmly to its needs.”

  “In the societies I know, one can revolt. There are eccentrics, even criminals.”

  “Do you want eccentrics and criminals?”

  “Why not? You and I are eccentrics
. We’re certainly not typical of the people living on Terminus. As for criminals, that’s a matter of definition. And if criminals are the price we must pay for rebels, heretics, and geniuses, I’m willing to pay it. I demand the price be paid.”

  “Are criminals the only possible payment? Can’t you have genius without criminals?”

  “You can’t have geniuses and saints without having people far outside the norm, and I don’t see how you can have such things on only one side of the norm. There is bound to be a certain symmetry.-In any case, I want a better reason for my decision to make Gaia the model for the future of humanity than that it is a planetary version of a comfortable house.”

  “Oh, my dear fellow. I wasn’t trying to argue you into being satisfied with your decision. I was just making an observa-”

  He broke off. Bliss was striding toward them, her dark hair wet and her robe clinging to her body and emphasizing the rather generous width of her hips. She was nodding to them as she came.

  “I’m sorry I delayed you,” she said, panting a little. “It took longer to check with Dom than I had anticipated.”

  “Surely,” said Trevize, “you know everything he knows.”

  “Sometimes it’s a matter of a difference in interpretation. We are not identical, after all, so we discuss. Look here,” she said, with a touch of asperity, “you have two hands. They are each part of you, and they seem identical except for one being the mirror-image of the other. Yet you do not use them entirely alike, do you? There are some things you do with your right hand most of the time, and some with your left. Differences in interpretation, so to speak.”

  “She’s got you,” said Pelorat, with obvious satisfaction.

  Trevize nodded. “It’s an effective analogy, if it were relevant, and I’m not at all sure it is. In any case, does this mean we can board the ship now? It is raining.”

  “Yes, yes. Our people are all off it, and it’s in perfect shape.” Then, with a sudden curious look at Trevize, “You’re keeping dry. The raindrops are missing you.”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Trevize. “I am avoiding wetness.”

  “But doesn’t it feel good to be wet now and then?”

  “Absolutely. But at my choice, not the rain’s.”

  Bliss shrugged. “Well, as you please. All our baggage is loaded so let’s board.”

  The three walked toward the Far Star. The rain was growing still lighter, but the grass was quite wet. Trevize found himself walking gingerly, but Bliss had kicked off her slippers, which she was now carrying in one hand, and was slogging through the grass barefoot.

  “It feels delightful,” she said, in response to Trevize’s downward glance.

  “Good,” he said absently. Then, with a touch of irritation, “Why are those other Gaians standing about, anyway?”

  Bliss said, “They’re recording this event, which Gaia finds momentous. You are important to us, Trevize. Consider that if you should change your mind as a result of this trip and decide against us, we would never grow into Galaxia, or even remain as Gaia.”

  “Then I represent life and death for Gaia; for the whole world.”

  “We believe so.”

  Trevize stopped suddenly, and took off his rain hat. Blue patches were appearing in the sky. He said, “But you have my vote in your favor now. If you kill me, I’ll never be able to change it.”

  “Golan,” murmured Pelorat, shocked. “That is a terrible thing to say.”

  “Typical of an Isolate,” said Bliss calmly. “You must understand, Trevize, that we are not interested in you as a person, or even in your vote, but in the truth, in the facts of the matter. You are only important as a conduit to the truth, and your vote as an indication of the truth. That is what we want from you, and if we kill you to avoid a change in your vote, we would merely be hiding the truth from ourselves.”

  “If I tell you the truth is non-Gaia, will you all then cheerfully agree to die?”

  “Not entirely cheerfully, perhaps, but it’s what it would amount to in the end.”

  Trevize shook his head. “If anything ought to convince me that Gaia is a horror and should die, it might be that very statement you’ve just made.” Then he said, his eyes returning to the patiently watching (and, presumably, listening) Gaians, “Why are they spread out like that? And why do you need so many? If one of them observes this event and stores it in his or her memory, isn’t it available to all the rest of the planet? Can’t it be stored in a million different places if you want it to be?”

  Bliss said, “They are observing this each from a different angle, and each is storing it in a slightly different brain. When all the observations are studied, it will be seen that what is taking place will be far better understood from all the observations together than from any one of them, taken singly.”

  “The whole is greater than the sum of the parts, in other words.”

  “Exactly. You have grasped the basic justification of Gaia’s existence. You, as a human individual, are composed of perhaps fifty trillion cells, but you, as a multicellular individual, are far more important than those fifty trillion as the sum of their individual importance. Surely you would agree with that.”

  “Yes,” said Trevize. “I agree with that.”

  He stepped into the ship, and turned briefly for one more look at Gaia. The brief rain had lent a new freshness to the atmosphere. He saw a green, lush, quiet, peaceful world; a garden of serenity set amid the turbulence of the weary Galaxy.

  -And Trevize earnestly hoped he would never see it again.

  6.

  WHEN THE AIRLOCK closed behind them, Trevize felt as though he had shut out not exactly a nightmare, but something so seriously abnormal that it had prevented him from breathing freely.

  He was fully aware that an element of that abnormality was still with him in the person of Bliss. While she was there, Gaia was there and yet he was also convinced that her presence was essential. It was the black box working again, and earnestly he hoped he would never begin believing in that black box too much.

  He looked about the vessel and found it beautiful. It had been his only since Mayor Harla Branno of the Foundation had forced him into it and sent him out among the stars, a living lightning rod designed to draw the fire of those she considered enemies of the Foundation. That task was done but the ship was still his, and he had no plans to return it.

  It had been his for merely a matter of a few months, but it seemed like home to him and he could only dimly remember what had once been his home in Terminus.

  Terminus! The off-center hub of the Foundation, destined, by Seldon’s Plan, to form a second and greater Empire in the course of the next five centuries, except that he, Trevize, had now derailed it. By his own decision he was converting the Foundation to nothing, and was making possible instead, a new society, a new scheme of life, a frightening revolution that would be greater than any since the development of multicellular life.

  Now he was engaged in a journey designed to prove to himself (or to disprove) that what he had done was right.

  He found himself lost in thought and motionless, so that he shook himself in self-irritation. He hastened to the pilot room and found his computer still there.

  It glistened; everything glistened. There had been a most careful cleaning. The contacts he closed, nearly at random, worked perfectly, and, it surely seemed, with greater ease than ever. The ventilating system was so noiseless that he had to put his hand over the vents to make sure he felt air currents.

  The circle of light on the computer glowed invitingly. Trevize touched it and the light spread out to cover the desk top and the outline of a right and left hand appeared on it. He drew a deep breath and realized that he had stopped breathing for a while. The Gaians knew nothing about Foundation technology and they might easily have damaged the computer without meaning any malice. Thus far they had not, the hands were still there.

  The crucial test came with the laying on of his own hands, however, and, for a moment
, he hesitated. He would know, almost at once, if anything were wrong, but if something was, what could he do? For repairs, he would have to go back to Terminus, and if he did, he felt quite confident that Mayor Branno would not let him leave again. And if he did not-

  He could feel his heart pounding, and there was clearly no point in deliberately lengthening the suspense.

  He thrust his hands out, right, left, and placed them on the outlines upon the desk. At once, he had the illusion of another pair of hands holding his. His senses extended, and he could see Gaia in all directions, green and moist, the Gaians still watching. When he willed himself to look upward, he saw a largely cloudy sky. Again, at his will, the clouds vanished and he looked at an unbroken blue sky with the orb of Gaia’s sun filtered out.

  Again he willed and the blue parted and he saw the stars.

  He wiped them out, and willed and saw the Galaxy, like a foreshortened pinwheel. He tested the computerized image, adjusting its orientation, altering the apparent progress of time, making it spin first in one direction, then the other. He located the sun of Sayshell, the nearest important star to Gaia; then the sun of Terminus; then of Trantor; one after the other. He traveled from star to star in the Galactic map that dwelt in the bowels of the computer.

  Then he withdrew his hands and let the world of reality surround him again and realized he had been standing all this time, half-bowing over the computer to make the hand contact. He felt stiff and had to stretch his back muscles before sitting down.

  He stared at the computer with warm relief. It had worked perfectly. It had been, if anything, more responsive, and what he felt for it he could only describe as love. After all, while he held its hands (he resolutely refused to admit to himself that he thought of it as her hands) they were part of each other, and his will directed, controlled, experienced, and was part of a greater self. He and it must feel, in a small way (he suddenly, and disturbingly, thought), what Gaia did in a much larger way.