by Isaac Asimov
Bliss was returning, walking happily, with a bounce to her steps.
Pelorat rose convulsively to his feet. “Bliss! Oh no!”
“Do not be alarmed, Dr. Pelorat,” said Daneel. “I cannot use Bliss. That would merge me with Gaia, and I must remain independent of Gaia, as I have already explained.”
“But in that case,” said Pelorat, “who-”
And Trevize, looking at the slim figure running after Bliss, said, “The robot has wanted Fallom all along, Janov.”
103.
BLISS RETURNED, SMILING, clearly in a state of great pleasure.
“We couldn’t pass beyond the bounds of the estate,” she said, “but it all reminded me very much of Solaria. Fallom, of course, is convinced it is Solaria. I asked her if she didn’t think that Daneel had an appearance different from that of Jemby-after all, Jemby was metallic-and Fallom said, ‘No, not really.’ I don’t know what she meant by ‘not really.” ‘
She looked across to the middle distance where Fallom was now playing her flute for a grave Daneel, whose head nodded in time. The sound reached them, thin, clear, and lovely.
“Did you know she took the flute with her when we left the ship?” asked Bliss. “I suspect we won’t be able to get her away from Daneel for quite a while.”
The remark was met with a heavy silence, and Bliss looked at the two men in quick alarm. “What’s the matter?”
Trevize gestured gently in Pelorat’s direction. It was up to him, the gesture seemed to say.
Pelorat cleared his throat and said, “Actually, Bliss, I think that Fallom will be staying with Daneel permanently.”
“Indeed?” Bliss, frowning, made as though to walk in Daneel’s direction, but Pelorat caught her arm. “Bliss dear, you can’t. He’s more powerful than Gaia even now, and Fallom must stay with him if Galaxia is to come into existence. Let me explain-and, Golan, please correct me if I get anything wrong.”
Bliss listened to the account, her expression sinking into something close to despair.
Trevize said, in an attempt at cool reason, “You see how it is, Bliss. The child is a Spacer and Daneel was designed and put together by Spacers. The child was brought up by a robot and knew nothing else on an estate as empty as this one. The child has transductive powers which Daneel will need, and she will live for three or four centuries, which may be what is required for the construction of Galaxia.”
Bliss said, her cheeks flushed and her eyes moist, “I suppose that the robot maneuvered our trip to Earth in such a way as to make us pass through Solaria in order to pick up a child for his use.”
Trevize shrugged. “He may simply have taken advantage of the opportunity. I don’t think his powers are strong enough at the moment to make complete puppets of us at hyperspatial distances.”
“No. It was purposeful. He made certain that I would feel strongly attracted to the child so that I would take her with me, rather than leave her to be killed; that I would protect her even against you when you showed nothing but resentment and annoyance at her being with us.”
Trevize said, “That might just as easily have been your Gaian ethics, which Daneel could have strengthened a bit, I suppose. Come, Bliss, there’s nothing to be gained. Suppose you could take Fallom away. Where could you then take her that would make her as happy as she is here? Would you take her back to Solaria where she would be killed quite pitilessly; to some crowded world where she would sicken and die; to Gaia, where she would wear her heart out longing for Jemby; on an endless voyage through the Galaxy, where she would think that every world we came across was her Solaria? And would you find a substitute for Daneel’s use so that Galaxia could be constructed?”
Bliss was sadly silent.
Pelorat held out his hand to her, a bit timidly. “Bliss,” he said, “I volunteered to have my brain fused with Daneel’s. He wouldn’t take it because he said I was too old. I wish he had, if that would have saved Fallom for you.”
Bliss took his hand and kissed it. “Thank you, Pel, but the price would be too high, even for Fallom.” She took a deep breath, and tried to smile. “Perhaps, when we get back to Gaia, room will be found in the global organism for a child for me-and I will place Fallom in the syllables of its name.”
And now Daneel, as though aware that the matter was settled, was walking toward them, with Fallom skipping along at his side.
The youngster broke into a run and reached them first. She said to Bliss, “Thank you, Bliss, for taking me home to Jemby again and for taking care of me while we were on the ship. I shall always remember you.” Then she flung herself at Bliss and the two held each other tightly.
“I hope you will always be happy,” said Bliss. “I will remember you, too, Fallom dear,” and released her with reluctance.
Fallom turned to Pelorat, and said, “Thank you, too, Pel, for letting me read your book-films.” Then, without an additional word, and after a trace of hesitation, the thin, girlish hand was extended to Trevize. He took it for a moment, then let it go.
“Good luck, Fallom,” he muttered.
Daneel said, “I thank you all, sirs and madam, for what you have done, each in your own way. You are free to go now, for your search is ended. As for my own work, it will be ended, too, soon enough, and successfully now.”
But Bliss said, “Wait, we are not quite through. We don’t know yet whether Trevize is still of the mind that the proper future for humanity is Galaxia, as opposed to a vast conglomeration of Isolates.”
Daneel said, “He has already made that clear a while ago, madam. He has decided in favor of Galaxia.”
Bliss’s lips tightened. “I’d rather hear that from him.-Which is it to be, Trevize?”
Trevize said calmly, “Which do you want it to be, Bliss? If I decide against Galaxia, you may get Fallom back.”
Bliss said, “I am Gaia. I must know your decision, and its reason, for the sake of the truth and nothing else.”
Daneel said, “Tell her, sir. Your mind, as Gaia is aware, is untouched.”
And Trevize said, “The decision is for Galaxia. There is no further doubt in my mind on that point.”
104.
BLISS REMAINED MOTIONLESS for the time one might take to count to fifty at a moderate rate, as though she were allowing the information to reach all parts of Gaia, and then she said, “Why?”
Trevize said, “Listen to me. I knew from the start that there were two possible futures for humanity-Galaxia, or else the Second Empire of Seldon’s Plan. And it seemed to me that those two possible futures were mutually exclusive. We couldn’t have Galaxia unless, for some reason, Seldon’s Plan had some fundamental flaw in it.
“Unfortunately, I knew nothing about Seldon’s Plan except for the two axioms on which it is based: one, that there be involved a large enough number of human beings to allow humanity to be treated statistically as a group of individuals interacting randomly; and second, that humanity not know the results of psychohistorical conclusions before the results are achieved.
“Since I had already decided in favor of Galaxia, I felt I must be subliminally aware of flaws in Seldon’s Plan, and those flaws could only be in the axioms, which were all I knew of the plan. Yet I could see nothing wrong with the axioms. I strove, then, to find Earth, feeling that Earth could not be so thoroughly hidden for no purpose. I had to find out what that purpose was.
“I had no real reason to expect to find a solution once I found Earth, but I was desperate and could think of nothing else to do.-And perhaps Daneel’s desire for a Solarian child helped drive me.
“In any case, we finally reached Earth, and then the moon, and Bliss detected Daneel’s mind, which he, of course, was deliberately reaching out to her. She described that mind as neither quite human nor quite robotic. In hindsight, that proved to make sense, for Daneel’s brain is far advanced beyond any robot that ever existed, and would not be sensed as simply robotic. Neither would it be sensed as human, however. Pelorat referred to it as ‘something new�
�� and that served as a trigger for ‘something new’ of my own; a new thought.
“Just as, long ago, Daneel and his colleague worked out a fourth law of robotics that was more fundamental than the other three, so I could suddenly see a third basic axiom of psychohistory that was more fundamental than the other two; a third axiom so fundamental that no one ever bothered to mention it.
“Here it is. The two known axioms deal with human beings, and they are based on the unspoken axiom that human beings are the only intelligent species in the Galaxy, and therefore the only organisms whose actions are significant in the development of society and history. That is the unstated axiom: that there is only one species of intelligence in the Galaxy and that it is Homo Sapiens. If there were ‘something, new:’ if there were other species of intelligence widely different in nature, then their behavior would not be described accurately by the mathematics of psychohistory and Seldon’s Plan would have no meaning. Do you see?”
Trevize was almost shaking with the earnest desire to make himself understood. “Do you see?” he repeated.
Pelorat said, “Yes, I see, but as devil’s advocate, old chap-”
“Yes? Go on.”
“Human beings are the only intelligences in the Galaxy.”
“Robots?” said Bliss. “Gain?”
Pelorat thought awhile, then said hesitantly-, “Robots have played no significant role in human history since the disappearance of the Spacers. Gaia has played no significant role until very recently. Robots are the creation of human beings, and Gaia is the creation of robots-and both robots and Gala, insofar as they must be bound by the Three Laws, have no choice but to yield to human will. Despite the twenty thousand years Daneel has labored, and the long development of Gaia, a single word from Golan Trevize, a human being, would put an end to both those labors and that development. It follows, then, that humanity is the only significant species of intelligence in the Galaxy, and psychohistory-remains valid.”
“The only form of intelligence in the Galaxy,” repeated Trevize slowly. “I agree. Yet we speak so much and so often of the Galaxy that it is all but impossible for us to see that this is not enough. The Galaxy is not the universe. There are other galaxies.”
Pelorat and Bliss stirred uneasily. Daneel listened with benign gravity, his hand slowly stroking Fallom’s hair.
Trevize said, “Listen to me again. Just outside the Galaxy are the Magellanic Clouds, where no human ship has ever penetrated. Beyond that are other small galaxies, and not very far away is the giant Andromeda Galaxy, larger than our own. Beyond that are galaxies by the billions.
“Our own Galaxy has developed only one species of an intelligence great enough to develop a technological society, but what do we know of the other galaxies? Ours may be atypical. In some of the others-perhaps even in all-there may be many competing intelligent species, struggling with each other, and each incomprehensible to us. Perhaps it is their mutual struggle that preoccupies them, but what if, in some galaxy, one species gains domination over the rest and then has time to consider the possibility of penetrating other galaxies.
“Hyperspatially, the Galaxy is a point-and so is all the Universe. We have not visited any other galaxy, and, as far as we know, no intelligent species from another galaxy has ever visited us-but that state of affairs may end someday. And if the invaders come, they are bound to find ways of turning some human beings against other human beings. We have so long had only ourselves to fight that we are used to such internecine quarrels. An invader that finds us divided against ourselves will dominate us all, or destroy us all. The only true defense is to produce Galaxia, which cannot be turned against itself and which can meet invaders with maximum power.”
Bliss said, “The picture you paint is a frightening one. Will we have time to form Galaxia?”
Trevize looked up, as though to penetrate the thick layer of moonrock that separated him from the surface and from space; as though to force himself to see those far distant galaxies, moving slowly through unimaginable vistas of space.
He said, “In all human history, no other intelligence has impinged on us, to our knowledge. This need only continue a few more centuries, perhaps little more than one ten thousandth of the time civilization has already existed, and we will be safe. After all,” and here Trevize felt a sudden twinge of trouble, which he forced himself to disregard, “it is not as though we had the enemy already here and among us.”
And he did not look down to meet the brooding eyes of Fallom-hermaphroditic, transductive, different-as they rested, unfathomably, on him.
Foundations’ Resolve
498 F.E. (12566 G. E.)
Prologue
THE BUILDING THAT housed the office of the Mayor of Terminus was modest by galactic standards. Terminus had only been settled 500 years ago, and despite being the capital of the Foundation itself, its remoteness and geography put limits on expansion. The vast oceans meant it would never have the continent-spanning cities hundreds of stories deep found on older settled worlds. Still, the vista offered by the shatterproof window that served as one wall of Mayor Branno’s office was impressive, showing the whole of the city laid out before her.
Sometimes, in a rare moment of peace, she would take a moment and pick out some detail of the city below that she hadn’t noticed before. Terminus City, and indeed all of Terminus, was a minuscule fraction of the seven million worlds that made up the Foundation Federation. But in the minds of many, Terminus was the Foundation. That city, that world represented the light of civilization in what would otherwise be a dark age for all humanity.
Mayor Branno sat in the chair behind her desk, turned so that she faced the window. But she didn’t see the city. Half an hour ago, she had felt vibrant, more alive than she had in years. The Council had overwhelmingly approved her trade agreement with the Sayshell Union. The influence of the Foundation Federation had expanded in an unexpected direction, thanks entirely to her diplomatic efforts. That, on top of her other recent political victories, now guaranteed her a place in history. Branno the Bronze, they called her, the greatest Mayor the Foundation had had in over a century.
That had been half an hour ago. Less, she realized. Now, she felt every moment of her 63 years. All because of what the man across the desk had told her. She knew it could not be true, knew it could not, could barely even tolerate the thought. And yet the evidence was beyond doubt. Even those feelings on the subject, flying in the face of all the evidence, were in themselves proof that what he said was true. Branno felt as if she was having to fight for control of her mind, fight against herself. She was forcing herself to hold two contradictory thoughts at once, and the effort was exhausting.
The gray, mustached man across the desk from her looked no better. If anything, he looked worse. Branno wondered if that was because he had dealt with it longer, and if so, what that meant for her in the future. One side of her silently cursed him for having brought this upon her, but even that part knew that it was her own doing. She once more tried to summon up her resolve, once more failed.
She had looked over his report twice after he had explained it, looking for some inconsistency, sure there must be one. She had difficulty believing that her old friend had become so suddenly senile, but she could think of no other explanation. Only on starting her second review had doubt begin to creep in. After that, there was no cause for a third. Through it all, he sat, waiting.
“How long have you known?” she finally asked as she turned from the window, her voice cracking slightly.
Liono Kodell may have looked weary, but his answer came quick and crisp. Maybe it did get better with time, despite how he looked. “Since shortly after our return from Sayshell,” he answered. “I received a communique from our mentalics research and development division, asking whether they could retrieve the mentalic shielding device from the ship we took to Sayshell. I approved the removal and thought further of it. It was a simple systems integration test, of no significance to our mission.” Her
e he grimaced. “At least, our mission as we remember it.”
Branno grimaced as well. That secret R&D branch had been in existence for over a century, building and refining weapons to be used against an enemy that might never come. The Mule was dead, and the Second Foundation had been defeated centuries ago. Or so Branno had believed. Thought she had believed. This is madness, she thought.
Kodell continued. “The next day, I received another communique from the same division. They said that the shield had recorded levels of activity vastly above normal during our mission. Our mission on which, by all our other records, nothing remotely unusual happened.”
Here Branno broke in. “I’d never heard that the shield kept such a record. I’d wager you hadn’t either?” It was still hard, but the more evidence presented itself, the easier it was becoming to think clearly.
Kodell nodded. “Otherwise, Madam Mayor, we would almost certainly not be having this conversation.” Branno suppressed a shudder. What had been done to them? Kodell continued. “I told them that there had been some sort of mistake, and again thought nothing else of it. But that night, the division head came to visit me at my home. I was still skeptical, but she convinced me to submit to a brainwave analysis.”
Kodell paused for a moment. Branno glanced down at the report lying on her desk. It was relatively short, and the ultimate results were simple. Three different tests performed since their return, compared against results from the last five years’ physicals. A person’s EEG patterns were as unique as their retinas, if one knew what elements to look for in the neural noise, and just as persistent. And looking at those results from before and after their mission to Sayshell, there were differences. The Liono Kodell in front of her was a subtly different man than he had been two months ago.
