by David Brin
“The Fall of Trantor isn’t really about chaos, is it, Daneel? It is about killing your own fine invention, the Grey Order, the only way it can be killed, by total destruction of the filing cabinets, the computer memories, the men...”
This time, R. Daneel Olivaw didn’t answer. The expression on his face sufficed. If any human ever doubted that an immortal robot could feel pain, all question would be erased by looking at Daneel’s Promethean visage.
“So we’re doomed to keep fighting the darkness...for nothing. To die at our desks, never knowing the futility of it all. “
Hari put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You must forget about this now. Go back to your paper folders and soil reports. The knowledge you fought so hard to acquire, with such ingenuity and courage, will only cause you pain. It’s time to let it go, Horis.”
Antic looked up at Hari bleakly. “You aren’t going to wait until Trantor?”
Hari looked to Daneel, appealing silently for a delay so that Horis might at least converse with them during the voyage back. But his robot friend answered with a terse shake of the head. Antic had proved too resourceful, too ready with fresh tricks up his sleeve.
Sensing this, the Grey Man stood up, straightening his bearing, trying for some dignity. But he could not keep from stuttering.
“W-will it hurt?”
Daneel spoke reassuringly to the human’s eyes.
“Not at all. In fact...it is already done.”
10.
Helped by the two software sims, Joan and Voltaire, they were at last able to find every sabotage bug that Zorma’s group had planted aboard the ship. Lodovic shouted enthusiastically when the engines came back on, proclaiming his sense of triumph with a strut around the control room, exactly like a jubilant human male.
Dors felt emotional patterns surge through her own simulation subroutines. Despite her ongoing sense of urgency, it had been oddly pleasant working side by side with Trema, sharing theories and insights, trying one solution after another. She enjoyed his swaggering victory display--which was not all that different from the way Hari used to act, whenever he made some breakthrough in the models of psychohistory.
“I am so sorry to interrupt this celebration, “ commented Joan of Arc, her slender boyish figure appearing in the central holo screen. In the background, Dors could see a male form wearing archaic doublets and hose--the simulation known as Voltaire--listening intently to a pair of headphones, as if trying to pick up something faint with distance.
“You asked us to monitor any transmissions coming from Earth. Voltaire now reports picking up a message using code patterns characteristic of the Second Foundation. It appears to be from Wanda Seldon, informing her compatriots on Trantor that she has successfully recovered her grandfather. The plot to kidnap him is foiled. They will be departing Earth within a few hours, taking Hari straight home. “
Dors looked at Lodovic, who exhaled a long sigh.
“Well then, I guess that’s it. All this rushing about, and we hardly made a difference. Seldon is safe, and we never even had to confront Daneel along the way.”
Dors felt genuine relief on both counts. And yet, it was only natural to feel a bit let down.
“I guess it’s just as well. We’re just a couple of highly dressed-up tiktoks.”
Lodovic laughed gently. “Oh, I think we’re more than that. You, at least, are something special, Dors. We should discuss this, at length.”
Dors nodded. It sounded like a good idea. They had much to talk about. And yet, despite mixed feelings, it was easy to tell where her top priority lay.
“I must go to Trantor now, you understand.”
“And I agree. You have strong obligations, and I wouldn’t think of interfering. But perhaps we can meet when matters there have been resolved?”
This time it was her turn to offer a soft smile. “It might be arranged. Meanwhile, can I drop you off somewhere along the way?”
“I’ll ride with you as far as Demarchia. There are some things I want to look into there.” Then his voice lowered. “Just be careful on Trantor, will you?”
Dors shook her head. “I doubt anyone would choose to harm me. Besides, I can take care of myself.”
“It’s not harm done by others that I fear. You are vulnerable, Dors. You were designed to be more human than any other robot. Your bond with Hari is intense. Be prepared for a rough time when the end comes. If you need someone to talk to--”
No more had to be said. Silence reigned while she took control of the ship and sent it plunging on the first of many long hyperspace jumps that would bring them to the center of the galaxy. To the place where all roads led, and where she had one great duty left to perform, before her path could truly be called free.
It was promised that I could be with you just before you died, Hari.
That vow she intended, above all else in the universe, to keep.
11.
During his last sunset on Earth, Hari Seldon watched gamma rays excite scintillations above Old Chicago. Ionized curtains glowed and rippled like polar auroras, only here the driving energy came not from a distant sun, but the ground itself. He thought he could almost see patterns in the luminous sheets--like the clever living artwork in the imperial gardens that day when Horis Antic offered him a data wafer filled with tempting clues. Then, as Hari watched, all semblance of organized structure vanished from the eerie horizon. Now the glow reminded him instead of Shoufeen Woods, where order had been banished and chaos was king.
Preparations for departure were complete. In a little while, Hari would board Wanda’s ship for the return to Trantor and his former life--hated by the men and women he was exiling to Terminus, feared by the present set of imperial rulers. and revered by a small cabal of psychics and mathists who felt certain they knew the future course of history.
Daneel would stay behind to settle matters with the Earthling inhabitants. There were arrangements to make. The cracked sarcophagus had to be buried so others could not misuse the fateful rift in the space-time continuum.
From his vantage point atop a pile of rubble, Hari could hear the voice of Horis Antic jabbering with excitement as he packed away his collection of soil types, acquired during this visit to a strange world. There could even be a scientific paper or two, something to brighten up his career profile, though nothing would erase the stigma associated with anyone who worked with dirt.
In any event, the fellow seemed happy. Daneel had done his job well.
Feeling tremors in his legs, Hari sat down again in the suspensor chair that Wanda had provided. He was needing it more, now that the rejuvenation treatments were wearing off. Soon he would be a frail old cripple again.
Soon I will be dead.
Seated, he could lean back, gazing toward the zenith where Earth’s radiation glow surrendered to a glitter of starlight-constellations that his ancestors no doubt knew by heart. Those stellar patterns had certainly changed in twenty thousand years, however, and he pondered how the sky might have looked if R. Gornon Vlimt had his way, sending Hari through time to a galaxy five hundred years older. Five hundred years more experienced with sorrow.
There were footsteps on the rubble path, too surefooted to be human. After a long pause, Daneel Olivaw asked, “What do you see up there, old friend?”
Hari felt a tautness in his throat.
“The future.”
“Indeed. Do you have a good view?”
Hari chuckled.
“A comfortable chair...a high place to look from... and of course, my equations. Oh yes, Daneel. I can see quite a bit from here.”
“And you are not disappointed? About missing a trip into that future?”
“Not very much. It might have been interesting. But you had reasons for preventing it, and I understand them. I probably would have meddled.” Hari laughed again. “Besides, you’ll need a man who never makes mistakes, and I am anything but that.”
“Do you have any special regrets?”
; “Just one. I can see it right now.” Hari gestured skyward, a bit to the left of zenith, but he wasn’t pointing to a constellation, rather, at a cluster of psychohistorical terms that floated in his sky, more real at this moment than the glittering stars.
“Please tell me,” Daneel entreated. “Explain what you see up there.”
Hari realized that his immortal friend, capable of extending his vision from X rays to the radio spectrum, was at the moment, envious. Hari derived a strange pleasure from that.
“I see my Foundation, right now being established on Terminus, beginning its bumpy path toward adventure and glory. The probabilities are strong for two centuries, at least. Psychosocial momentum has built up to a point where I can almost see the actors in this play. The Encyclopedists, politicians, traders, and charlatans will live in a time of great personal danger. And yet they’ll draw satisfaction from a sense of participating in something grand. Building a society that is preordained for success.”
Hari lifted his other hand, pointing toward a flickering in Earth’s ionized atmosphere.
“Ah! Did you see that? A perturbation! They are happening all the time, though most cancel each other out. Besides, we designed the Foundation to be robust, adapting to every flux and disturbance with great resiliency.
“And yet, with so much riding on the Plan, do we dare let human destiny depend on the reactions of a few million of our descendants? Can we trust them to respond with as much courage and determination as the equations predict?”
Hari shook his head. “No, we cannot. You convinced me of that, long ago, Daneel. Perturbations from the Plan must be corrected! The Plan must be kept on course. To do this, we shall need a guiding hand. A Second Foundation, using mathematics to track every swerve and deviation, then applying pressure here and there, at just the right points, so that the First Foundation stays on its assigned trajectory.”
He sighed. “I was easy to persuade. After all, the Second Foundation is an extension of me. A form of immortality. A way I can keep poking and meddling after this physical frame has been eaten by worms and turned into the soil Horis admires so much. The Second Foundation might have been Yugo Amaryl’s idea--did you inspire him though? In any event, vanity alone was enough to make me agree to it.
“But then you started demanding even more, Daneel.
“Will mathematics suffice? You worried that my successors wouldn’t be strong enough. A society of secret guides will need something more potent than equations. A superhuman power, enabling them to sway kings, mayors, and scientists away from perturbing thoughts, diverting them back toward the tracks they had been assigned. And 10, no sooner did you make this suggestion, than such a tool appears!”
Hari gestured toward the horizon, where Old Chicago flickered with a steady glow. “Your gift to the Seldon Plan, Daneel--mentalics! We really had to do a major reformulation of the Plan when that came to light. Fortunately, the mutation only appeared where you wanted it to. Some of the psychics will help seed your great universal mind, while others breed with my Fifty mathists, creating a new race that is capable of both calculation and magic.”
There was silence atop the rubble mound. Finally, Daneel commented, “You see a lot up there, my old friend.”
Hari nodded.
“Oh yes, I see all the adjustments we had to make in the equations, in order to deal with this new aristocracy that will be inbreeding for the next several centuries, developing its power and influence, relying ever more on mentalic dominance, and less on mathematics. If they are left in charge, even with a tradition of duty and noblesse oblige, they will eventually become a ruling class. A ruling race. One that will make every prior priesthood or royal family seem like amateurs.”
Hari glanced up at Daneel.
“But what choice have we? Eventually the Foundation will stop being distracted by momentary crises, by galactic competitors and the challenge of expansion. In time, the civilization we establish on Terminus will reach a new height of confidence...and face its inevitable collision with chaos. At that point, our predictions grow more approximate. The psychohistorical equations show the Foundation’s odds of success will have winnowed down to only seventy percent or so.”
“That is not good enough, Hari. Not nearly good enough.”
“So you insisted, Daneel. The Foundation will be as strong, dynamic, and empathic as any human civilization could possibly be. If any culture could ever be prepared to take on chaos, survive the solipsism plagues, and burst through to the other side, this will be the one. And yet, if it fails...”
“That’s the rub, Hari.”
“Indeed. We’re left with a one-in-four chance that humanity itself might be destroyed. I can see why you wanted something better, Daneel. You were compelled to do anything in your power that might boost the odds.
“First, you demanded a secret mentalic society, to help guide the First Foundation. But that only altered a few percentage points. Worse, it actually introduced new perturbations. Resentment by common folk against a psychic aristocracy, for instance. And danger from rogue mentalics.”
Hari lifted both hands. “Quite a choice isn’t it? Either a hell-bent battle with chaos or a permanent mutant ruling class. No wonder you finally decided there must be a third solution! No wonder you’ve worked so hard to develop Gaia, as a way to replace the Seldon Plan.”
When he responded, there was deep respect and compassion in Daneel’s voice.
“Your work still has great importance, Hari. Humanity must be kept engaged during the next few centuries.”
“Engaged? You mean distracted, don’t you? The people of my Foundation will think they are bold explorers, holding destiny in their hands, winning a better future by their own efforts, though aided by laws of history. Then, abruptly, you’ll bring this new thing upon them. Already approved by some fellow who knows everything.”
“A man who is always right,” Daneel corrected.
Hari waved a hand. “Whatever.”
Daneel sighed.
“I know you have reservations, Hari. But consider the long-range prospect. What if there are entities in other galaxies, similar to the meme-minds we encountered on Trantor? What if they are more powerful? Perhaps they have already assimilated all life-forms in their home galaxies. Their influence may even now be stretching this way, toward us. That outside force could be a terrible threat to humanity. Only if the human species is unified, powerful, and cohesive, a true Galaxia superorganism--can we be assured of your survival.”
Hari blinked for a moment. “Isn’t that a far-fetched scenario? Or at least a long way off?”
“Perhaps. But dare I take that chance? I am compelled by the Zeroth Law--and by my promise to Elijah Baley, to protect you all, no matter what the pains! No matter what the cost.”
R. Daneel Olivaw took a step forward, motioning toward the heavens. “Besides, think of it, Hari! Every human soul in contact with every other one! All knowledge shared instantly. All misunderstandings erased. Every bird, animal, and insect incorporated into the vast, unified web. The ultimate of serenity and understanding that your ancient sages yearned for. And it can be achieved in just over half the time that you project for the Foundation’s final battle with chaos.”
“Yes, it has attractive features,” Hari conceded.
“And yet, my mind and heart keep pondering Terminus, at the opposite side of the galaxy. A small world very much like this one...this poor, wounded Earth. Despite everything, Daneel, the odds were in their favor. All the factors agreed. They would have had a good chance--”
“Seventy percent is not good enough.”
“So you won’t let them try?”
“Hari, even if they do break through to that mythical other side, you don’t know what kind of society they will build afterward! You admit the socio-equations explode into singularities at that point. All right, the Foundationers may defeat chaos. They may achieve some great new wisdom, but then what? How about the next crisis to come along? Psychohistor
y offers no insights. Both you and I are blind. We have no idea what would follow. No ability to plan or protect them.”
Hari nodded. “That uncertainty...that inability to predict...has been my lifelong terror. It’s what I always fought against, and the bond that united me to you, Daneel. Only now, as I approach my end, do I see a strange sort of beauty in it.
“Humanity has been like a child who was horribly traumatized, and thereafter stayed in the nursery, where it could be kept safe and warm. You may differ with the Calvinians over many things, Daneel. But you both prescribed amnesia to help ease our collective trauma--a dull forgetfulness that could have vanished anytime our protectors chose to pull back the blinds and open the door. But you never did.
“Treating us that way would have been a horrible crime, except for the excuse of chaos. And even with that excuse, isn’t there a limit? A point at which the child must be untethered, letting her take on new challenges? Facing the future on its own terms?”
Hari smiled. “We can only ask that our descendants be better than we are. We cannot demand that they be perfect. They’ll have to solve their problems, one at a time.”
Daneel stared for a while, then looked away.
“You may be able to take such an attitude, late in life, but my programming is less flexible. I cannot take risks with humanity’s survival.”
“I see that. But consider, Daneel. If Elijah Baley were here right now, don’t you think he would be willing to take a chance?”
The robot didn’t answer. Silence stretched between them, and that was all right with Hari. He was still looking at equations painted across the stars, waiting for something to reappear.
Something he had glimpsed before.
Abruptly, several of the floating factors entered a new orbit, coalescing in a pattern that existed nowhere except in his own mind. No existing version of the Seldon Plan Prime Radiant contained this insight. Perhaps it was an old man’s hallucination. Or else, an emergent property arising from all the new things he had learned during this final adventure.
