And then he said with sudden energy, "Wanda, would you like to see something pretty?"

 

 "What?" sniffled Wanda.

 

 Amaryl knew only one thing in life and the Universe that was pretty. He said, "Did you ever see the Prime Radiant?"

 

 "No. What is it?"

 

 "It's what your grandfather and I use to do our work. See? It's right here."

 

 He pointed to the black cube on his desk and Wanda looked at it woefully. "That's not pretty," she said.

 

 "Not now," agreed Amaryl. "But watch when I turn it on."

 

 He did so. The room darkened and filled with dots of light and flashes of different colors. "See? Now we can magnify it so all the dots become mathematical symbols."

 

 And so they did. There seemed a rush of material toward them and there, in the air, were signs of all sorts, letters, numbers, arrows, and shapes that Wanda had never seen before.

 

 "Isn't it pretty?" asked Amaryl.

 

 "Yes, it is," said Wanda, staring carefully at the equations that (she didn't know) represented possible futures. "I don't like that part, though. I think it's wrong." She pointed at a colorful equation to her left.

 

 "Wrong? Why do you say it's wrong" said Amaryl, frowning.

 

 "Because it's not . . . pretty. I'd do it a different way."

 

 Amaryl cleared his throat. "Well, I'll try to fix it up." And he moved closer to the equation in question, staring at it in his owlish fashion.

 

 Wanda said, "Thank you very much, Uncle Yugo, for showing me your pretty lights. Maybe someday I'll understand what they mean."

 

 "That's all right," said Amaryl. "I hope you feel better."

 

 "A little, thanks," and, after flashing the briefest of smiles, she left the room.

 

 Amaryl stood there, feeling a trifle hurt. He didn't like having the Prime Radiant's product criticized-not even by a twelve-year-old girl who knew no better.

 

 And as he stood there, he had no idea whatsoever that the psychohistorical revolution had begun.

 

 4

 

 That afternoon Amaryl went to Hari Seldon's office at Streeling University. That in itself was unusual, for Amaryl virtually never left his own office, even to speak with a colleague just down the hall.

 

 "Hari," said Amaryl, frowning and looking puzzled. "Something very odd has happened. Very peculiar."

 

 Seldon looked at Amaryl with deepest sorrow. He was only fifty-three, but he looked much older, bent, worn down to almost transparency. When forced, he had undergone doctors' examinations and the doctors had all recommended that he leave his work for a period of time (some said permanently) and rest. Only this, the doctors said, might improve his health. Otherwise- Seldon shook his head. "Take him away from his work and he'll die all the sooner-and unhappier. We have no choice."

 

 And then Seldon realized that, lost in such thoughts, he was not hearing Amaryl speak.

 

 He said, "I'm sorry, Yugo. I'm a little distracted. Begin again."

 

 Amaryl said, "I'm telling you that something very odd has happened. Very peculiar."

 

 "What is it, Yugo?"

 

 "It was Wanda. She came in to see me-very sad, very upset."

 

 "Why?"

 

 "Apparently it's the new baby."

 

 "Oh yes," Hari said with more than a trace of guilt in his voice.

 

 "So she said and cried on my shoulder-I actually cried a bit, too, Hari. And then I thought I'd cheer her up by showing her the Prime Radiant." Here Amaryl hesitated, as if choosing his next words carefully.

 

 "Go on, Yugo. What happened?"

 

 "Well, she stared at all the lights and I magnified a portion, actually Section 428254. You're acquainted with that?"

 

 Seldon smiled. "No, Yugo, I haven't memorized the equations quite as well as you have."

 

 "Well, you should," said Amaryl severely. "How can you do a good job if- But never mind that. What I'm trying to say is that Wanda pointed to a part of it and said it was no good. It wasn't pretty. "

 

 "Why not? We all have our personal likes and dislikes."

 

 "Yes, of course, but I brooded about it and I spent some time going over it and, Hari, there was something wrong with it. The programming was inexact and that area, the precise area to which Wanda pointed, was no good. And, really, it wasn't pretty."

 

 Seldon sat up rather stiffly, frowning. "Let me get this straight, Yugo. She pointed to something at random, said it was no good, and she was right?"

 

 "Yes. She pointed, but it wasn't at random; she was very deliberate."

 

 "But that's impossible."

 

 "But it happened. I was there."

 

 "I'm not saying it didn't happen. I'm saying it was just a wild coincidence."

 

 "Is it? Do you think, with all your knowledge of psychohistory, you could take one glance at a new set of equations and tell me that one portion is no good?"

 

 Seldon said, "Well then, Yugo, how did you come to expand that particular portion of the equations? What made you choose that piece for magnification?"

 

 Amaryl shrugged. "That was coincidence-if you like. I just fiddled with the controls."

 

 "That couldn't be coincidence," muttered Seldon. For a few moments he was lost in thought, then he asked the question that pushed forward the psychohistorical revolution that Wanda had begun.

 

 He said, "Yugo, did you have any suspicions about those equations beforehand? Did you have any reason to believe there was something wrong with them?"

 

 Amaryl fiddled with the sash of his unisuit and seemed embarrassed. "Yes, I think I did. You see-"

 

 "You think you did?"

 

 "I know I did. I seemed to recall when I was setting it up-it's a new section, you know-my fingers seemed to glitch on the programmer. It looked all right then, but I guess I kept worrying about it inside. I remember thinking it looked wrong, but I had other things to do and I just let it go. But then when Wanda happened to point to precisely the area I had been concerned about, I decided to check up on her-otherwise I would just have let it go as a childish statement."

 

 "And you turned on that very fragment of the equations to show Wanda. As though it were haunting your unconscious mind."

 

 Amaryl shrugged. "Who knows?"

 

 "And just before that, you were very close together, hugging, both crying."

 

 Amaryl shrugged again, looking even more embarrassed.

 

 Seldon said, "I think I know what happened, Yugo. Wanda read your mind."

 

 Amaryl jumped, as though he had been bitten. "That's impossible!"

 

 Slowly Seldon said, "I once knew someone who had unusual mental powers of that sort"-and he thought sadly of Eto Demerzel or, as Seldon had secretly known him, Daneel- "only he was somewhat more than human. But his ability to read minds, to sense other people's thoughts, to persuade people to act in a certain way-that was a mental ability. I think, somehow, that perhaps Wanda has that ability as well."

 

 "I can't believe it," said Amaryl stubbornly.

 

 "I can," said Seldon "but I don't know what to do about it." Dimly lie felt the rumblings of a revolution in psychohistorical research-but only dimly.

 

 5

 

 "Dad," said Raych with some concern, "you look tired."

 

 "I dare say," said Hari Seldon, "I feel tired. But how are you?"

 

 Raych was forty-four now and his hair was beginning to show a bit of gray, but his mustache remained thick and dark and very Dahlite in appearance. Seldon wondered if he touched it up with dye, but it would have been the wrong thing to ask.

 

 Seldon said, "Are you through with your lecturing for a while?"

 

 "For a while. Not for long. And I'm glad to be home and see the baby and Manella and Wanda-and you, Dad."

 

 "Thank you. But I have news for you, Raych. No more lecturing. I'm going to need you here."

 

 Raych frowned. "What for?" On two different occasions he had been sent to carry out delicate missions, but those were back during the days of the Joranumite menace. As far as he knew, things were quiet now, especially with the overthrow of the junta and the reestablishment of a pale Emperor.

 

 "It's Wanda," said Seldon.

 

 "Wanda? What's wrong with Wanda?"

 

 "Nothing's wrong with her, but we're going to have to work out a complete genome for her-and for you and Manella as well-and eventually for the new baby."

 

 "For Bellis, too? What's going on?"

 

 Seldon hesitated. "Raych, you know that your mother and I always thought there was something lovable about you, something that inspired affection and trust."

 

 "I know you thought so. You said so often enough when you were trying to get me to do something difficult. But I'll be honest with you. I never felt it."

 

 "No, you won over me and . . . and Dors." (He had such trouble saying the name, even though four years had passed since her destruction.) "You won over Rashelle of Wye. You won over Jo-Jo Joranum. You won over Manella. How do you account for all that?"

 

 "Intelligence and charm," said Raych, grinning.

 

 "Have you thought you might have been in touch with their-our-minds?"

 

 "No, I've never thought that. And now that you mention it, I think it's ridiculous. -With all due respect, Dad, of course."

 

 "What if I told you that Wanda seems to have read Yugo's mind during a moment of crisis?"

 

 "Coincidence or imagination, I should say."

 

 "Raych, I knew someone once who could handle people's minds as easily as you and I handle conversation."

 

 "Who was that?"

 

 "I can't speak of him. Take my word for it, though."

 

 "Well-" said Raych dubiously.

 

 "I've been at the Galactic Library, checking on such matters. There is a curious story, about twenty thousand years old and therefore back to the misty origins of hyperspatial travel. It's about a young woman, not much more than Wanda's age, who could communicate with an entire planet that circled a sun called Nemesis."

 

 "Surely a fairytale."

 

 "Surely. And incomplete, at that. But the similarity with Wanda is astonishing."

 

 Raych said, "Dad, what are you planning?"

 

 "I'm not sure, Raych. I need to know the genome and I have to find others like Wanda. I have a notion that youngsters are born-not often but occasionally-with such mental abilities, but that, in general, it merely gets them in trouble and they learn to mask it. And as they grow tip, their ability, their talent, is buried deep within their minds-sort of an unconscious act of self-preservation. Surely in the Empire or even just among Trantor's forty billion, there must be more of that sort, like Wanda, and if I know the genome I want, I can test those I think may be so.”

 

 "And what would you do with them if you found them, Dad?"

 

 "I have the notion that they are what I need for the further development of psychohistory."

 

 Raych said, "And Wanda is the first of the type you know about and you intend to make a psychohistorian out of her?"

 

 "Perhaps."

 

 "Like Yugo. -Dad, no!"

 

 "Why no?"

 

 "Because I want her to grow up like a normal girl and become a normal woman. I will not have you sitting her before the Prime Radiant and make her into a living monument to psychohistorical mathematics."

 

 Seldon said, "It may not come to that, Raych, but we must have her genome. You know that for thousands of years there have been suggestions that every human being have his genome on file. It's only the expense that's kept it from becoming standard practice; no one doubts the usefulness of it. Surely you see the advantages. If nothing else, we will know Wanda's tendencies toward a variety of physiological disorders. If we had ever had Yugo's genome, I am certain he would not now be dying. Surely we can go that far."

 

 "Well, maybe, Dad, but no further. I'm willing to bet that Manella is going to be a lot firmer on this than I am."

 

 Seldon said, "Very well. But remember, no more lecture tours. I need you at home."

 

 "We'll see," Raych said and left.

 

 Seldon sat there in a quandary. Eto Demerzel, the one person he knew who could handle minds, would have known what to do. Dors, with her nonhuman knowledge, might have known what to do.

 

 For himself, he had a dim vision of a new psychohistory-but nothing more than that.

 

 6

 

 It was not an easy task to obtain a complete genome of Wanda. To begin with, the number of biophysicists equipped to handle the genome was small and those that existed were always busy.

 

 Nor was it possible for Seldon to discuss his needs openly, in order to interest the biophysicists. It was absolutely essential, Seldon felt, that the true reason for his interest in Wanda's mental powers be kept secret from all the Galaxy.

 

 And if another difficulty was needed, it was the fact that the process was infernally expensive.

 

 Seldon shook his head and said to Mian Endelecki, the biophysicist he was now consulting, "Why so expensive, Dr. Endelecki? I am not an expert in the field, but it is my distinct understanding that the process is completely computerized and that, once you have a scraping of skin cells, the genome can be completely built and analyzed in a matter of days."

 

 "That's true. But having a deoxyribonucleic acid molecule stretching out for billions of nucleotides, with every puring and pyrimidine in its place, is the least of it; the very least of it, Professor Seldon. There is then the matter of studying each one and comparing it to some standard.

 

 "Now, consider, in the first place, that although we have records of complete genomes, they represent a vanishingly small fraction of the number of genomes that exist, so that we don't really know how standard they are."

 

 Seldon asked, "Why so few?"

 

 "A number of reasons. The expense, for one thing. Few people are willing to spend the credits on it unless they have strong reason to think there is something wrong with their genome. And if they have no strong reason, they are reluctant to undergo analysis for fear they will find something wrong. Now, then, are you sure you want your granddaughter genomed?"

 

 "Yes, I do. It is terribly important."

 

 "Why? Does she show signs of a metabolic anomaly?"

 

 "No, she doesn't. Rather the reverse-if I knew the antonym of 'anomaly.' I consider her a most unusual person and I want to know just what it is that makes her unusual."

 

 "Unusual in what way?"

 

 "Mentally, but it's impossible for me to go into details, since I don't entirely understand it. Maybe I will, once she is genomed."

 

 "How old is she?"

 

 "Twelve. She'll soon be thirteen."

 

 "In that case, I'll need permission from her parents."

 

 Seldon cleared his throat. "That may be difficult to get. I'm her grandfather. Wouldn't my permission be enough?"

 

 "For me, certainly. But, you know, we're talking about the law. I don’t wish to lose my license to practice."

 

 It was necessary for Seldon to approach Raych again. This, too, was difficult, as he protested once more that he and his wife, Manella, wanted Wanda to live a normal life of a normal girl. What if her genome did turn out to be abnormal? Would she be whisked away to be prodded and probed like a laboratory specimen? Would Hari, in his fanatical devotion to his Psychohistory Project, press Wanda into a life of all work and no play, shutting her off from other young people her age? But Seldon was insistent.

 

 "Trust me, Raych. I would never do anything to harm Wanda. But this must be done. I need to know Wanda's genome. If it is as I suspect it is, we may be on the verge of altering the course of psychohistory, of the future of the Galaxy itself!"

 

 And so Raych was persuaded and somehow he obtained Manella's consent, as well. And together, the three adults took Wanda to Dr. Endelecki's office.

 

 Mian Endelecki greeted them at the door. Her hair was a shining white, but her face showed no sign of age.

 

 She looked at the girl, who walked in with a look of curiosity on her face but with no signs of apprehension or fear. She then turned her gaze to the three adults who had accompanied Wanda.

 

 Dr. Endelecki said with a smile, "Mother, father, and grandfather-am I right?"

 

 Seldon answered, "Absolutely right."

 

 Raych looked hang-dog and Manella, her face a little swollen and her eyes a little red, looked tired.

 

 "Wanda," began the doctor. "That is your name, isn't it?"

 

 "Yes, ma'am," said Wanda in her clear voice.

 

 "I'm going to tell you exactly what I'm going to do with you. You're right-handed, I suppose."

 

 "Yes, ma'am."

 

 "Very well, then, I'll spray a little patch on your left forearm with an anesthetic. It will just feel like a cool wind. Nothing else. I'll then scrape a little skin from you just a tiny bit. There'll be no pain, no blood, no mark afterward. When I'm done, I'll spray a little disinfectant on it. The whole thing will take just a few minutes. Does that sound all right to you?"

 

 "Sure," said Wanda, as she held out her arm.

 

 When it was over, Dr. Endelecki said, "I'll put the scraping under the microscope, choose a decent cell, and put my computerized gene analyzer to work. It will mark off every last nucleotide, but there are billions of them. It will probably take the better part of a day. It's all automatic, of course, so I won't be sitting here watching it and there's no point in your doing so, either.

 

 "Once the genome is prepared, it will take an even longer time to analyze it. If you want a complete job, it may take a couple of weeks. That is why it's so expensive a procedure. The work is hard and long. I'll call you in when I have it." She turned away, as if she had dismissed the family, and busied herself with the gleaming apparatus on the table in front of her.

 

 Seldon said, "If you come across anything unusual, will you get in touch with me instantly? I mean, don't wait for a complete analysis if you find something in the first hour. Don't make me wait."

 

 "The chances of finding anything in the first hour are very slim, but I promise you, Professor Seldon that I will be in touch with you at once if it seems necessary."

 

 Manella snatched Wanda's arm and led her off triumphantly. Raych followed, feet dragging. Seldon lingered and said, "This is more important than you know, Dr. Endelecki."

 

 Dr. Endelecki nodded as she said, "Whatever the reason, Professor, I'll do my best."

 

 Seldon left, his lips pressed tightly together. Why he had thought that somehow the genome would be worked out in five minutes and that a glance at it in another five minutes would give him an answer, he did not know. Now he would have to wait for weeks, without knowing what would be found.

 

 He ground his teeth. Would his newest brainchild, the Second Foundation, ever be established or was it an illusion that would remain always just out of reach?

 

 7

 

 Hari Seldon walked into Dr. Endelecki's office, a nervous smile on his face.

 

 He said, "You said a couple of weeks, Doctor. It's been over a month mow."

 

 Dr. Endelecki nodded. "I'm sorry, Professor Seldon but you wanted everything exact and that is what I have tried to do."

 

 "Well?" The look of anxiety on Seldon's face did not disappear. What did you find?"

 

 "A hundred or so defective genes."

 

 "What! Defective genes. Are you serious, Doctor?"

 

 "Quite serious. Why not? There are no genomes without at least a hundred defective genes; usually there are considerably more. It's not as bad as it sounds, you know."

 

 "No, I don't know. You're the expert, Doctor, not I."

 

 Dr. Endelecki sighed and stirred in her chair. "You don't know anything about genetics, do you, Professor?"

 

 "No, I don't. A man can't know everything."

 

 "You're perfectly right. I know nothing about this-what do you call it?-this psychohistory of yours."

 

 Dr. Endelecki shrugged, then continued. "If you wanted to explain anything about it, you would be forced to start from the beginning and I would probably not understand it even so. "Now, as to genetics-"

 

 "Well?"

 

 "An imperfect gene usually means nothing. There are imperfect genes-so imperfect and so crucial that they produce terrible disorders. These are very rare, though. Most imperfect genes simply don't work with absolute accuracy. They're like wheels that are slightly out of balance. A vehicle will move along, trembling a bit, but it will move along."

 

 "Is that what Wanda has?"

 

 "Yes. More or less. After all, if all genes were perfect, we would all look precisely the same, we would all behave precisely the same. It's the difference in genes that makes for different people."

 

 "But won't it get worse as we grow older?"

 

 "Yes. We all get worse as we grow older. I noticed you limping when you came in. Why is that?"

 

 "A touch of sciatica," muttered Seldon.

 

 "Did you have it all your life?"

 

 "Of course not."

 

 "Well, some of your genes have gotten worse with time and now you limp."

 

 "And what will happen to Wanda with time?"

 

 "I don't know. I can't predict the future, Professor; I believe that is your province. However, if I were to hazard a guess, I would say that nothing unusual will happen to Wanda-at least, genetically-except the gathering of old age."

 

 Seldon said, "Are you sure?"

 

 "You have to take my word for it. You wanted to find out about Wanda's genome and you ran the risk of discovering things perhaps it is better not to know. But I tell you that, in my opinion, I can see nothing terrible happening to her."

 

 "The imperfect genes-should we fix them? Can we fix them?"

 

 "No. In the first place, it would be very expensive. Secondly, the chances are that they would not stay fixed. And finally, people are against it.

 

 "But why?"

 

 "Because they're against science in general. You should know this as well as anyone, Professor. I'm afraid the situation is such, especially since Cleon's death, that mysticism has been gaining ground. People don't believe in fixing genes scientifically. They would rather cure things by the laying on of hands or by mumbo-jumbo of some sort or other. Frankly it is extremely difficult for me to continue with my job. Very little funding is coming in."

 

 Seldon nodded. "Actually I understand this situation all too well. Psychohistory explains it, but I honestly didn't think the situation was growing so bad so rapidly. I've been too involved in my own work to see the difficulties all around me." He sighed. "I've been watching the Galactic Empire slowly fall apart for over thirty years now-and now that it's beginning to collapse much more rapidly, I don't see how we can stop it in time."

 

 "Are you trying to?" Dr. Endelecki seemed amused.

 

 "Yes, I am."

 

 "Lots of luck. -About your sciatica. You know, fifty years ago it could have been cured. Not now, though."

 

 "Why not?"

 

 "Well, the devices used for it are gone; the people who could have handled them are working on other things. Medicine is declining."

 

 "Along with everything else," mused Seldon. "-But let's get back to Wanda. I feel she is a most unusual young woman with a brain that is different from most. What do her genes tell you about her brain?"

 

 Dr. Endelecki leaned back in her chair. "Professor Seldon do you know just how many genes are involved in brain function?"

 

 "No.

 

 "I'll remind you that, of all the aspects of the human body, the brain Junction is the most intricate. In fact, as far as we know, there is nothing m the Universe as intricate as the human brain. So you won't be surprised when I tell you that there are thousands of genes that each play a i0ale in brain function."

 

 "Thousands?"

 

 "Exactly. And it is impossible to go through those genes and see anything specifically unusual. I will take your word for it, as far as Wanda is concerned. She is an unusual girl with an unusual brain, but I see nothing in her genes that can tell me anything about that brain-except, of course, that it is normal."

 

 "Could you find other people whose genes for mental functioning are like Wanda's, that have the same brain pattern?"

 

 "I doubt it very much. Even if another brain were much like hers, there would still be enormous differences in the genes. No use looking for similarities. -Tell me, Professor, just what is it about Wanda that makes you think her brain is so unusual?"

 

 Seldon shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's not something I can discuss."

 

 "In that case, I am certain that I can find out nothing for you. How did you discover that there was something unusual about her brain-this thing you can't discuss?"

 

 "Accident," muttered Seldon. "Sheer accident."

 

 "In that case, you're going to have to find other brains like hers-also by accident. Nothing else can be done."

 

 Silence settled over both of them. Finally Seldon said, "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

 

 "I'm afraid not. Except that I'll send you my bill."

 

 Seldon rose with an effort. His sciatica hurt him badly. "Well then, thank you, Doctor. Send the bill and I'll pay it."

 

 Hari Seldon left the doctor's office, wondering just what he would do next.

 

 8

 

 Like any intellectual, Hari Seldon had made use of the Galactic Library freely. For the most part, it had been done long-distance through computer, but occasionally he had visited it, more to get away from the pressures of the Psychohistory Project than for any other purpose. And, for the past couple of years, since he had first formulated his plan to find others like Wanda, he had kept a private office there, so he could have ready access to any of the Library's vast collection of data. He had even rented a small apartment in an adjacent sector under the dome so that he would be able to walk to the Library when his ever-increasing research there prevented him from returning to the Streeling Sector.

 

 Now, however, his plan had taken on new dimensions and he wanted to meet Las Zenow. It was the first time he had ever met him face-to-face.

 

 It was not easy to arrange a personal interview with the Chief Librarian of the Galactic Library. His own perception of the nature and value of his office was high and it was frequently said that when the Emperor wished to consult the Chief Librarian, even he had to visit the Library himself and wait his turn.

 

 Seldon however, had no trouble. Zenow knew him well, though he had never seen Hari Seldon in person. "An honor, First Minister," he said in greeting.

 

 Seldon smiled. "I trust you know that I have not held that post in sixteen years."

 

 "The honor of the title is still yours. Besides, sir, you were also instrumental in ridding us of the brutal rule of the junta. The junta, on a number of occasions, violated the sacred rule of the neutrality of the Library."

 

 (Ah, thought Seldon that accounts for the readiness with which he saw me.)

 

 "Merely rumor," he said aloud.

 

 "And now, tell me," said Zenow, who could not resist a quick look at the time band on his wrist, "what can I do for you?"

 

 "Chief Librarian," began Seldon "I have not come to ask anything easy of you. What I want is more space at the Library. I want permission to bring in a number of my associates. I want permission to undertake a long and elaborate program of the greatest importance."

 

 Las Zenow's face drew into an expression of distress. "You ask a great deal. Can you explain the importance of all this?"

 

 "Yes. The Empire is in the process of disintegration."

 

 There was a long pause. Then Zenow said, "I have heard of your research into psychohistory. I have been told that your new science bears the promise of predicting the future. Is it psychohistorical predictions of which you are speaking?"

 

 "No. I have not yet reached the point in psychohistory where I can speak of the future with certainty. But you don't need psychohistory to know that the Empire is disintegrating. You can see the evidence yourself."

 

 Zenow sighed. "My work here consumes me utterly, Professor Seldon. I am a child when it comes to political and social matters."

 

 "You may, if you wish, consult the information contained in the Library. Why look around this very office-it is chock-full of every conceivable sort of information from throughout the entire Galactic Empire."

 

 "I'm the last to keep up with it all, I'm afraid," Zenow said, smiling sadly. "You know the old proverb: The shoemaker's child has no shoes. It seems to me, though, that the Empire is restored. We have an Emperor again."

 

 "In name only, Chief Librarian. In most of the outlying provinces, the Emperor's name is mentioned ritualistically now and then, but he plays no role in what they do. The Outer Worlds control their own programs and, more important, they control the local armed forces, which are outside the grip of the Emperor's authority. If the Emperor were to try to exert his authority anywhere outside the Inner Worlds, he would fail. I doubt that it will take more than twenty years, at the outside, before some of the Outer Worlds declare their independence."

 

 Zenow sighed again. "If you are right, we live in worse times than the Empire has ever seen. But what has this to do with your desire for more office space and additional staff here in the Library?"

 

 "If the Empire falls apart, the Galactic Library may not escape the general carnage."

 

 "Oh, but it must," said Zenow earnestly. "There have been bad times before and it has always been understood that the Galactic Library on Trantor, as the repository of all human knowledge, must remain inviolate. And so it will be in the future."

 

 "It may not be. You said yourself that the junta violated its neutrality.”

 

 "Not seriously."

 

 "It might be more serious next time and we can't allow this repository of all human knowledge to be damaged."

 

 "How will your increased presence here prevent that?"

 

 "It won't. But the project I am interested in will. I want to create a great Encyclopedia, containing within it all the knowledge humanity will need to rebuild itself in case the worst happens-an Encyclopedia Galactica, if you will. We don't need everything the Library has. Much of it is trivial. The provincial libraries scattered over the Galaxy may themselves be destroyed and, if not, all but the most local data is obtained by computerized connection with the Galactic Library in any case. What I intend, then, is something that is entirely independent and that contains, in as concise a form as possible, the essential information humanity needs."

 

 "And if it, too, is destroyed?"

 

 "I hope it will not be. It is my intention to find a world far away on the outskirts of the Galaxy, one where I can transfer my Encyclopedists and where they can work in peace. Until such a place is found, however, I want the nucleus of the group to work here and to use the Library facilities to decide what will be needed for the project."

 

 Zenow grimaced. "I see your point, Professor Seldon, but I'm not sure that it can be done."

 

 "Why not, Chief Librarian?"

 

 "Because being Chief Librarian does not make me an absolute monarch. I have a rather large Board-a kind of legislature-and please don't think that I can just push your Encyclopedia Project through."

 

 "I'm astonished."

 

 "Don't be. I am not a popular Chief Librarian. The Board has been fighting, for some years now, for limited access to the Library. I have resisted. It galls them that I have afforded you your small office space."

 

 "Limited access?"

 

 "Exactly. The idea is that if anyone needs information, he or she must communicate with a Librarian and the Librarian will get the information for the person. The Board does not wish people to enter the Library freely and deal with the computers themselves. They say that the expense required to keep the computers and other Library equipment in shape is becoming prohibitive."

 

 "But that's impossible. There's a millennial tradition of an open Galactic Library."

 

 "So there is, but in recent years, appropriations to the Library have been cut several times and we simply don't have the funds we used to have. It is becoming very difficult to keep our equipment up to the mark."

 

 Seldon rubbed his chin. "But if your appropriations are going down, I imagine you have to cut salaries and fire people-or, at least, not hire new ones."

 

 "You are exactly right."

 

 "In which case, how will you manage to place new labors on a shrinking work force by asking your people to obtain all the information that the public will request?"

 

 "The idea is that we won't find all the information that the public will request but only those pieces of information that we consider important."

 

 "So that not only will you abandon the open Library but also the complete Library?"

 

 "I'm afraid so."

 

 "I can't believe that any Librarian would want this."

 

 "You don't know Gennaro Mummery, Professor Seldon." At Seldon's blank look, Zenow continued. " `Who is he?' you wonder. The leader of that portion of the Board that wishes to close off the Library. More and more of the Board are on his side. If I let you and your colleagues into the Library as an independent force, a number of Board members who may not be on Mummery's side but who are dead set against any control of any part of the Library except by Librarians may decide to vote with him. And in that case, I will be forced to resign as Chief Librarian."

 

 "See here," said Seldon with sudden energy. "All this business of possibly closing down the Library, of making it less accessible, of refusing all information-all this business of declining appropriations-all this is itself a sign of Imperial disintegration. Don't you agree?"

 

 "If you put it that way, you may be right."

 

 "Then let me talk to the Board. Let me explain what the future may hold and what I wish to do. Perhaps I can persuade them, as I hope I've persuaded you."

 

 Zenow thought for a moment. "I'm willing to let you try, but you must know in advance that your plan may not work."

 

 "I've got to take that chance. Please do whatever has to be done and let me know when and where I can meet the Board."

 

 Seldon left Zenow in a mood of unease. Everything he had told the Chief Librarian was true-and trivial. The real reason he needed the use of the Library remained hidden.

 

 Partly this was because he didn't yet see that use clearly himself.

 

 9

 

 Hari Seldon sat at Yugo Amaryl's bedside-patiently, sadly. Yugo was utterly spent. He was beyond medical help, even if he would have consented to avail himself of such help, which he refused.

 

 He was only fifty-five. Seldon was himself sixty-six and yet he was in fine shape, except for the twinge of sciatica-or whatever it was-that occasionally lamed him.

 

 Amaryl's eyes opened. "You're still here, Hari?"

 

 Seldon nodded. "I won't leave you."

 

 "Till I die?"

 

 "Yes." Then, in an outburst of grief, he said, "Why have you done this, Yugo? If you had lived sensibly, you could have had twenty to thirty more years of life."

 

 Amaryl smiled faintly. "Live sensibly? You mean, take time off? Go to resorts? Amuse myself with trifles?"

 

 "Yes. Yes."

 

 "And I would either have longed to return to my work or I would have learned to like wasting my time and, in the additional twenty to thirty years you speak of, I would have accomplished no more. Look at you."

 

 "What about me?"

 

 "For ten years you were First Minister under Cleon. How much science did you do then?"

 

 "I spent about a quarter of my time on psychohistory," said Seldon gently.

 

 "You exaggerate. If it hadn't been for me, plugging away, psychohistorical advance would have screeched to a halt."

 

 Seldon nodded. "You are right, Yugo. For that I am grateful."

 

 "And before and since, when you spend at least half your time on administrative duties, who does--did-the real work? Eh?"

 

 "You, Yugo."

 

 "Absolutely." His eyes closed again.

 

 Seldon said, "Yet you always wanted to take over those administrative duties if you survived me."

 

 "No! I wanted to head the Project to keep it moving in the direction it had to move in, but I would have delegated all administration."

 

 Amaryl's breathing was growing stertorous, but then he stirred and his eyes opened, staring directly at Hari. He said, "What will happen to psychohistory when I'm gone? Have you thought of that?"

 

 "Yes, I have. And I want to speak to you about it. It may please you. Yugo, I believe that psychohistory is being revolutionized."

 

 Amaryl frowned slightly. "In what way? I don't like the sound of that."

 

 "Listen. It was your idea. Years ago, you told me that two Foundations should be established. Separate-isolated and safe-and arranged so that they would serve as nuclei for an eventual Second Galactic Empire. Do you remember? That was your idea."

 

 "The psychohistoric equations-"

 

 "I know. They suggested it. I'm busy working on it now, Yugo. I've managed to wangle an office in the Galactic Library-"

 

 "The Galactic Library." Amaryl's frown deepened. "I don't like diem. A bunch of self-satisfied idiots."

 

 "The Chief Librarian, Las Zenow, is not so bad, Yugo."

 

 "Did you ever meet a Librarian named Mummery, Gennaro Mummery?"

 

 "No, but I've heard of him."

 

 "A miserable human being. We had an argument once when he claimed I had misplaced something or other. I had done no such thing and I grew very annoyed, Hari. All of a sudden I was back in Dahl. One thing about the Dahlite culture, Hari, it is a cesspool of invective. I used some of it on him and I told him he was interfering with psychohistory and he would go down in history as a villain. I didn't just say `villain,' either." Amaryl chuckled faintly. "I left him speechless."

 

 Suddenly Seldon could see where Mummery's animosity toward outsiders and, most probably, psychohistory must come from-at least, in part-but he said nothing.

 

 "The point is, Yugo, you wanted two Foundations, so that if one failed, the other would continue. But we've gone beyond that."

 

 "In what way?"

 

 "Do you remember that Wanda was able to read your mind two years ago and see that something was wrong with a portion of the equations in the Prime Radiant?"

 

 "Yes, of course."

 

 "Well, we will find others like Wanda. We will have one Foundation that will consist largely of physical scientists, who will preserve the knowledge of humanity and serve as the nucleus for the Second Empire. And there will be a Second Foundation of psychohistorians only-mentalists, mind-touching psychohistorians-who will be able to work on psychohistory in a multiminded way, advancing it far more quickly than individual thinkers ever could. They will serve as a group who will introduce fine adjustments as time goes on, you see. Ever in the background, watching. They will be the Empire's guardians."

 

 "Wonderful!" said Amaryl weakly. "Wonderful! You see how I've chosen the right time to die? There's nothing left for me to do."

 

 "Don't say that, Yugo."

 

 "Don't make such a fuss over it, Hari. I'm too tired to do anything. Thank you-thank you-for telling me"-his voice was weakening-”about the revolution. It makes me-happy-happy-hap-"

 

 And those were Yugo Amaryl's last words.

 

 Seldon bent over the bed. Tears stung his eyes and rolled down his cheeks.

 

 Another old friend gone. Demerzel, Cleon, Dors, now Yugo . . . leaving him emptier and lonelier as he grew old.

 

 And the revolution that had allowed Amaryl to die happy might never come to pass. Could he manage to make use of the Galactic Library? Could he find more people like Wanda? Most of all, how long would it take?

 

 Seldon was sixty-six. If only he could have started this revolution at thirty-two when he first came to Trantor . . . .

 

 Now it might be too late.

 

 10

 

 Gennaro Mummery was making him wait. It was a studied discourtesy, even insolence, but Hari Seldon remained calm.

 

 After all, Seldon needed Mummery badly and for him to become angry with the Librarian would only hurt himself. Mummery would, in fact, be delighted with an angry Seldon.

 

 So Seldon kept his temper and waited and eventually Mummery did walk in. Seldon had seen him before-but only at a distance. This was the first time they would be together alone.

 

 Mummery was short and plump, with a round face and a dark little beard. He wore a smile on his face, but Seldon suspected that smile of being a meaningless fixture. It revealed yellowish teeth and Mummery's inevitable hat was of a similar shade of yellow with a brown line snaking around it.

 

 Seldon felt a touch of nausea. It seemed to him that he would dislike Mummery, even if he had no reason to do so.

 

 Mummery said, without any preliminaries, "Well, Professor, what can I do for you?" He looked at the time-strip on the wall but made no apology for being late.

 

 Seldon said, "I would like to ask you, sir, to put an end to your opposition to my remaining here at the Library."

 

 Mummery spread his hands. "You've been here for two years. What Opposition are you speaking of?"

 

 "So far, that portion of the Board represented by you and those who believe as you do have been unable to outvote the Chief Librarian, but there will be another meeting next month and Las Zenow tells me he is uncertain of the result."

 

 Mummery shrugged. "So am I uncertain. Your lease-if we can call it that-may well be renewed."

 

 "But I need more than that, Librarian Mummery. I wish to bring in some colleagues. The project in which I am engaged-the establishment of what is needed in the way of the eventual preparation of a very special Encyclopedia-is not one I can do alone."

 

 "Surely your colleagues can work wherever they please. Trantor is a large world."

 

 "We must work in the Library. I am an old man, sir, and I am in a hurry."

 

 "Who can stay the advance of time? I don't think the Board will allow you to bring in colleagues. The thin edge of the wedge, Professor?"

 

 (Yes, indeed, thought Seldon, but he said nothing.)

 

 Mummery said, "I have not been able to keep you out, Professor. Not so far. But I think I can continue to keep out your colleagues."

 

 Seldon realized that he was getting nowhere. He opened the touch of frankness a notch. He said, "Librarian Mummery, surely your animosity toward me is not personal. Surely you understand the importance of the work I am doing."

 

 "You mean, your psychohistory. Come, you have been working on it for over thirty years. What has come of it?"

 

 "That's the point. Something may come of it now."

 

 "Then let something come of it at Streeling University. Why must it be at the Galactic Library?"

 

 "Librarian Mummery. Listen to me. What you want is to close the Library to the public. You wish to smash a long tradition. Have you the heart to do that?"

 

 "It's not heart we need. It's funding. Surely the Chief Librarian has wept on your shoulder in telling you our woes. Appropriations are down, salaries are cut, needed maintenance is absent. What are we to do? We've got to cut services and we certainly can't afford to support you and your colleagues with offices and equipment."

 

 "Has this situation been put to the Emperor?"

 

 "Come, Professor, you're dreaming. Isn't it true that your psychohistory tells you that the Empire is deteriorating? I've heard you referred to as Raven Seldon, something that, I believe, refers to a fabled bird of ill omen."

 

 "It's true that we are entering bad times."

 

 "And do you believe the Library is immune to those bad times? Professor, the Library is my life and I want it to continue, but it won't continue unless we can find ways of making our dwindling appropriations do. -And you come here expecting an open Library, with yourself as beneficiary. It won't do, Professor. It just won't do."

 

 Seldon said desperately, "What if I find the credits for you?"

 

 "Indeed. How?"

 

 "What if I talk to the Emperor? I was once First Minister. He'll see me and he'll listen to me."

 

 "And you'll get funding from him?" Mummery laughed.

 

 "If I do, if I increase your appropriations, may I bring in my colleagues?"

 

 "Bring in the credits first," said Mummery, "and we'll see. But I don't think you will succeed."

 

 He seemed very sure of himself and Seldon wondered how often and how uselessly the Galactic Library had already appealed to the Emperor.

 

 And whether his own appeal would get anywhere at all.

 

 11

 

 The Emperor Agis XIV had no real right to the name. He had adopted it upon succeeding to the throne with the deliberate purpose of connecting himself with the Agises who had ruled two thousand years ago, most of them quite ably-particularly Agis VI, who had ruled for forty-two years and who had kept order in a prosperous Empire with a firm but nontyrannical hand.

 

 Agis XIV did not look like any of the old Agises-if the holographic records had any value. But, then again, truth be told, Agis XIV did not look much like the official holograph that was distributed to the public.

 

 As a matter of fact, Hari Seldon thought, with a twinge of nostalgia, that Emperor Cleon, for all his flaws and weaknesses, had certainly looked Imperial.

 

 Agis XIV did not. Seldon had never seen him at close quarters and the few holographs he had seen were outrageously inaccurate. The Imperial holographer knew his job and did it well, thought Seldon wryly.

 

 Agis XIV was short, with an unattractive face and slightly bulging eyes that did not seem alight with intelligence. His only qualification for the throne was that he was a collateral relative of Cleon.

 

 To do him credit, however, he did not try to play the role of the mighty Emperor. It was understood that he rather liked to be called the "Citizen Emperor" and that only Imperial protocol and the outraged outcry of the Imperial Guard prevented him from exiting the dome and wandering the walkways of Trantor. Apparently, the story went, he wished to shake hands with the citizens and hear their complaints in person.

 

 (Score one for him, thought Seldon, even if it could never come to pass.)

 

 With a murmur and a bow, Seldon said, "I thank you, Sire, for consenting to see me."

 

 Agis XIV had a clear and rather attractive voice, quite out of keeping with his appearance. He said, "An ex-First Minister must surely have his privileges, although I must give myself credit for amazing courage in agreeing to see you."

 

 There was humor in his words and Seldon found himself suddenly realizing that a man might not look intelligent and yet might be intelligent just the same.

 

 "Courage, Sire?"

 

 "Why, of course. Don't they call you Raven Seldon?"

 

 "I heard the expression, Sire, the other day for the first time."

 

 "Apparently the reference is to your psychohistory, which seems to predict the Fall of the Empire."

 

 "It points out the possibility only, Sire-"

 

 "So that you are coupled with a mythic bird of ill omen. Except that I think you yourself are the bird of ill omen."

 

 "I hope not, Sire."

 

 "Come, come. The record is clear. Eto Demerzel, Cleon's old First Minister, was impressed with your work and look what happened-he was forced out of his position and into exile. The Emperor Cleon himself was impressed with your work and look what happened-he was assassinated. The military junta was impressed with your work and look what happened-they were swept away. Even the Joranumites, it is said, were impressed with your work and, behold, they were destroyed. And now, O Raven Seldon, you come to see me. What may I expect?"

 

 "Why, nothing evil, Sire."

 

 "I imagine not, because unlike all these others I have mentioned, I am not impressed with your work. Now tell me why you are here."

 

 He listened carefully and without interruption while Seldon explained the importance of setting up a Project designed to prepare an encyclopedia that would preserve human learning if the worst happened.

 

 "Yes yes," said Agis XIV finally, "so you are, indeed, convinced the Empire will fall."

 

 "It is a strong possibility, Sire, and it would not be prudent to refuse to take that possibility into account. In a way, I wish to prevent it if I can -or ameliorate the effects if I can't."

 

 "Raven Seldon if you continue to poke your nose into matters, I am convinced that the Empire will fall and that nothing can help it."

 

 "Not so, Sire. I ask only permission to work."

 

 "Oh, you have that, but I fail to see what it is you wish of me. Why have you told me all this about an encyclopedia?"

 

 "Because I wish to work in the Galactic Library, Sire, or, more accurately, I wish others to work there with me."

 

 "I assure you that I won't stand in your way."

 

 "That is not enough, Sire. I want you to help."

 

 "In what way, ex-First Minister?"

 

 "With funding. The Library must have appropriations or it will close its doors to the public and evict me."

 

 "Credits!'" A note of astonishment came into the Emperor's voice. "You came to me for credits?"

 

 "Yes, Sire."

 

 Agis XIV stood up in some agitation. Seldon stood up at once also, but Agis waved him down.

 

 "Sit down. Don't treat me as an Emperor. I'm not an Emperor. I didn't want this job, but they made me take it. I was the nearest thing to the Imperial family and they jabbered at me that the Empire needed an Emperor. So they have me and a lot of good I am to them.

 

 "Credits! You expect me to have credits! You talk about the Empire disintegrating. How do you suppose it disintegrates? Are you thinking of rebellion? Of civil war? Of disorders here and there?

 

 "No. Think of credits. Do you realize that I cannot collect any taxes at all from half the provinces in the Empire? They're still part of the Empire-`Hail the Imperium! -`All honor to the Emperor'-but they don't pay anything and I don't have the necessary force to collect it. And if I can't get the credits out of them, they are not really part of the Empire, are they?

 

 "Credits! The Empire runs a chronic deficit of appalling proportions.

 

 There's nothing I can pay for. Do you think there is enough funding to maintain the Imperial Palace grounds? Just barely. I must cut corners. I must let the Palace decay. I must let the number of retainers die down by attrition.

 

 "Professor Seldon. If you want credits, I have nothing. Where will I find appropriations for the Library? They should be grateful I manage to squeeze out something for them each year at all." As he finished, the Emperor held out his hands, palms up, as if to signify the emptiness of the Imperial coffers.

 

 Hari Seldon was stunned. He said, "Nevertheless, Sire, even if you lack the credits, you still have the Imperial prestige. Can you not order the Library to allow me to keep my office and let my colleagues in to help me with our vital work?"

 

 And now Agis XIV sat down again as though, once the subject was not credits, he was no longer in a state of agitation.

 

 He said, "You realize that, by long tradition, the Galactic Library is independent of the Imperium, as far as its self-government is concerned. It sets up its rules and has done so since Agis VI, my namesake"-he smiled-"attempted to control the news functions of the Library. He failed and, if the great Agis VI failed, do you think I can succeed?"

 

 "I'm not asking you to use force, Sire. Merely expressing a polite wish. Surely, when no vital function of the Library is involved, they will be pleased to honor the Emperor and oblige his wishes."

 

 "Professor Seldon, how little you know of the Library. I have but to express a wish, however gently and tentatively, to make it certain that they will proceed, in dudgeon, to do the opposite. They are very sensitive to the slightest sign of Imperial control."

 

 Seldon said, "Then what do I do?"

 

 "Why, I'll tell you what. A thought occurs to me. I am a member of the public and I can visit the Galactic Library if I wish. It is located on the Palace grounds, so I won't be violating protocol if I visit it. Well, you come with me and we shall be ostentatiously friendly. I will not ask them for anything, but if they note us walking arm-in-arm, then perhaps some of the precious Board of theirs may feel more kindly toward you than otherwise. -But that's all I can do."

 

 And the deeply disappointed Seldon wondered if that could possibly be enough.

 

 12

 

 Las Zenow said with a certain trace of awe in his voice, "I didn't know you were so friendly with the Emperor, Professor Seldon."

 

 "Why not? He's a very democratic fellow for an Emperor and he was interested in my experiences as a First Minister in Cleon's time."

 

 "It made a deep impression on us all. We haven't had an Emperor in our halls for many years. Generally, when the Emperor needs something from the Library-"

 

 "I can imagine. He calls for it and it is brought to him as a matter of courtesy."

 

 "There was once a suggestion," said Zenow chattily, "that the Emperor be outfitted with a complete set of computerized equipment in his palace, hooked directly into the Library system, so that he would not need to wait for service. This was in the old days when credits were plentiful, but, you know, it was voted down."

 

 "Was it?"

 

 "Oh yes, almost the entire Board agreed that it would make the Emperor too much a part of the Library and that this would threaten our independence from the government."

 

 "And does this Board, which will not bend to honor an Emperor, consent to let me remain at the Library?"

 

 "At the present moment, yes. There is a feeling-and I've done my best to encourage it-that if we are not polite to a personal friend of the Emperor, the chance of a rise in appropriations will be gone altogether, so-"

 

 "So credits-or even the dim prospect of credits-talk."

 

 "I'm afraid so."

 

 "And can I bring in my colleagues?"

 

 Zenow looked embarrassed. "I'm afraid not. The Emperor was seen walking only with you-not with your colleagues. I'm sorry, Professor."

 

 Seldon shrugged and a mood of deep melancholy swept over him. He had no colleague to bring in, anyhow. For some time he had hoped to locate others like Wanda and he had failed. He, too, would need funding to mount an adequate search. And he, too, had nothing.

 

 13

 

 Trantor, the capital world-city of the Galactic Empire, had changed considerably since the day Hari first stepped off the hypership from his native Helicon thirty-eight years ago. Was it the pearly haze of an old man's memory that made the Trantor of old shine so brightly in his mind's eye, Hari wondered. Or perhaps it had been the exuberance of youth-how could a young man from a provincial Outer World such as Helicon not be impressed by the gleaming towers, sparkling domes, the colorful, rushing masses of people that had seemed to swirl through Trantor, day and night.

 

 Now, Hari thought sadly, the walkways are nearly deserted, even in the full light of day. Roving gangs of thugs controlled various areas of the city, competing among themselves for territory. The security establishment had dwindled; those who were left had their hands full processing complaints at the central office. Of course, security officers were dispatched as emergency calls came through, but they made it to the scene only after a crime was committed-they no longer made even a pretense of protecting the citizens of Trantor. A person went out at his own risk-and a great risk it was. And yet Hari Seldon still took that risk, in the form of a daily walk, as if defying the forces that were destroying his beloved Empire to destroy him as well.

 

 And so Hari Seldon walked along, limping-and thoughtful.

 

 Nothing worked. Nothing. He had been unable to isolate the genetic pattern that set Wanda apart-and without that, he was unable to locate others like her.

 

 Wanda's ability to read minds had sharpened considerably in the six years since she had identified the flaw in Yugo Amaryl's Prime Radiant. Wanda was special in more ways than one. It was as if, once she realized that her mental ability set her apart from other people, she was determined to understand it, to harness its energy, to direct it. As she had progressed through her teen years, she had matured, throwing off the girlish giggles that had so endeared her to Hari, at the same time becoming even dearer to him in her determination to help him in his work with the powers of her "gift." For Hari Seldon had told Wanda about his plan for a Second Foundation and she had committed herself to realizing that goal with him.

 

 Today, though, Seldon was in a dark mood. He was coming to the conclusion that Wanda's mentalic ability would get him nowhere. He had no credits to continue his work-no credits to locate others like Wanda, no credits to pay his workers on the Psychohistory Project at Streeling, no credits to set up his all-important Encyclopedia Project at the Galactic Library.

 

 Now what?

 

 He continued to walk toward the Galactic Library. He would have been better off taking a gravicab, but he wanted to walk-limp or not. He needed time to think.

 

 He heard a cry-"There he is!"-but paid no attention.

 

 It came again. "There he is! Psychohistory!"

 

 The word forced him to look up. -Psychohistory.

 

 A group of young men was closing in around him.

 

 Automatically Seldon placed his back against the wall and raised his cane. "What is it you want?"

 

 They laughed. "Credits, old man. Do you have any credits?"

 

 "Maybe, but why do you want them from me? You said, `Psychohistory!' Do you know who I am?"

 

 "Sure, you're Raven Seldon" said the young man in the lead. He seemed both comfortable and pleased.

 

 "You're a creep," shouted another.

 

 "What are you going to do if I don't give you any credits?"

 

 "We'll beat you up," said the leader, "and we'll take them."

 

 "And if I give you my credits?"

 

 "We'll beat you up anyway!" They all laughed.

 

 Hari Seldon raised his cane higher. "Stay away. All of you."

 

 By now he had managed to count them. There were eight.

 

 He felt himself choking slightly. Once he and Dors and Raych had been attacked by ten and they had had no trouble. He had been only thirty-two at the time and Dors-was Dors.

 

 Now it was different. He waved his cane.

 

 The leader of the hoodlums said, "Hey, the old man is going to attack us. What are we going to do?"

 

 Seldon looked around swiftly. There were no security officers around. Another indication of the deterioration of society. An occasional person or two passed by, but there was no use calling for help. Their footsteps increased in speed and made a wide detour. No one was going to run any risks of getting involved in an imbroglio.

 

 Seldon said, "The first one of you who approaches gets a cracked head."

 

 "Yeah?" And the leader stepped forward rapidly and seized the cane. There was a short sharp struggle and the cane was wrested from Seldon's grip. The leader tossed it to one side.

 

 "Now what, old man?"

 

 Seldon shrunk back. He could only wait for the blows. They crowded around him, each eager to land a blow or two. Seldon lifted his arms to try to ward them off. He could still Twist-after a fashion. If he were facing only one or two, he might be able to Twist his body, avoid their blows, strike back. But not against eight-surely not against eight.

 

 He tried, at any rate, moving quickly to one side to avoid the blows and his right leg, with its sciatica, doubled under him. He fell and knew himself to be utterly helpless.

 

 Then he heard a stentorian voice shouting, "What's going on here? Get back, you thugs! Back or I'll kill you all!"

 

 The leader said, "Well, another old man."

 

 "Not that old," said the newcomer. With the back of one hand, he struck the leader's face, turning it an ugly red.

 

 Seldon said in surprise, "Raych, it's you."

 

 Raych's hand swept back. "Stay out of this, Dad. Just get up and move away."

 

 The leader, rubbing his cheek, said, "We'll get you for that."

 

 "No, you won't," said Raych, drawing out a knife of Dahlite manufacture, long and gleaming. A second knife was withdrawn and he now held one in each hand.

 

 Seldon said weakly, "Still carrying knives, Raych?"

 

 "Always," said Raych. "Nothing will ever make me stop."

 

 "I'll stop you," said the leader, drawing out a blaster.

 

 Faster than the eye could follow, one of Raych's knives went sailing through the air and struck the leader's throat. He made a loud gasp, then a gurgling sound, and fell, while the other seven stared.

 

 Raych approached and said, "I want my knife back." He drew it out of the hoodlum's throat and wiped it on the man's shirtfront. In doing so, he stepped on the man's hand, bent down, and picked up his blaster.

 

 Raych dropped the blaster into one of his capacious pockets. He said, "I don't like to use a blaster, you bunch of good-for-nothings, because sometimes I miss. I never miss with a knife, however. Never! That man is dead. There are seven of you standing. Do you intend to stay standing or will you leave?"

 

 "Get him!" shouted one of the hoodlums and the seven made a concerted rush.

 

 Raych took a backward step. One knife flashed and then the other and two of the hoodlums stopped with, in each case, a knife buried in his abdomen.

 

 "Give me back my knives," said Raych, pulling each out with a cutting motion and wiping them.

 

 "These two are still alive, but not for long. That leaves five of you on your feet. Are you going to attack again or are you going to leave?"

 

 They turned and Raych called out, "Pick up your dead and dying. I don't want them."

 

 Hastily they flung the three bodies over their shoulders, then they turned tail and ran.

 

 Raych bent to pick up Seldon's cane. "Can you walk, Dad?"

 

 "Not very well," said Seldon. "I twisted my leg."

 

 "Well then, get into my car. What were you doing walking, anyway?"

 

 "Why not? Nothing's ever happened to me."

 

 "So you waited till something did. Get into my car and I'll give you a lift back to Streeling."

 

 He programmed the ground-car quietly, then said, "What a shame we didn't have Dors with us. Mom would have attacked them with her bare lands and left all eight dead in five minutes."

 

 Seldon felt tears stinging his eyelids. "I know, Raych, I know. Do you think I don't miss her every day?"

 

 "I'm sorry," said Raych in a low voice.

 

 Seldon asked, "How did you know I was in trouble?"

 

 "Wanda told me. She said there were evil people lying in wait for you ,slid told me where they were and I took right off."

 

 "Didn't you doubt that she knew what she was talking about?"

 

 "Not at all. We know enough about her now to know that she has some sort of contact with your mind and with the things around you."

 

 "Did she tell you how many people were attacking me?"

 

 "No. She just said, `Quite a few.'"

 

 "So you came out all by yourself, did you, Raych?"

 

 "I had no time to put together a posse, Dad. Besides, one of me was enough."

 

 "Yes, it was. Thank you, Raych."

 

 14

 

 They were back at Streeling now and Seldon's leg was stretched out on a hassock.

 

 Raych looked at him somberly. "Dad," he began, "you're not to go walking around Trantor on your own from now on."

 

 Seldon frowned. "Why, because of one incident?"

 

 "It was enough of an incident. You can't take care of yourself any longer. You're seventy years old and your right leg will not support you in an emergency. And you have enemies-"

 

 "Enemies!"

 

 "Yes, indeed. And you know it. Those sewer rats were not after simply anyone. They were not looking for just any unwary person to rip off. They identified you by calling out, `Psychohistory!' And they called you a creep. Why do you suppose that was?"

 

 "I don't know why."

 

 "That's because you live in a world all your own, Dad, and you don't know what's going on on Trantor. Don't you suppose the Trantorians know that their world is going downhill at a rapid rate? Don't you suppose they know that your psychohistory has been predicting this for years? Doesn't it occur to you that they may blame the messenger for the message? If things go bad-and they are going bad-there are many who think that you are responsible for it."

 

 "I can't believe that."

 

 "Why do you suppose there's a faction at the Galactic Library that wants you out of there? They don't want to be in the way when you are mobbed. So-you've got to take care of yourself. You can't go out alone. I'll have to be with you or you will have to have bodyguards. That's the way it's going to be, Dad."

 

 Seldon looked dreadfully unhappy.

 

 Raych softened and said, "But not for long, Dad. I've got a new job.'

 

 Seldon looked up. "A new job. What kind?"

 

 "Teaching. At a University.' "Which University?" "Santanni."

 

 Seldon's lips trembled. "Santanni! That's nine thousand parsecs away from Trantor. It's a provincial world on the other side of the Galaxy."

 

 "Exactly. That's why I want to go there. I've been on Trantor all my life, Dad, and I'm tired of it. There's no world in all the Empire that's deteriorating the way Trantor is. It's become a haunt of crime with no one to protect us. The economy is limping, the technology is failing. Santanni, on the other hand, is a decent world, still humming along, and I want to be there to build a new life, along with Manella and Wanda and Bellis. We're all going there in two months."

 

 "All of you!"

 

 "And you, Dad. And you. We wouldn't leave you behind on Trantor. You're coming with us to Santanni."

 

 Seldon shook his head. "Impossible, Raych. You know that."

 

 "Why impossible?"

 

 "You know why. The Project. My psychohistory. Are you asking me to abandon my life's work?"

 

 "Why not? It's abandoned you."

 

 "You're mad."

 

 "No, I'm not. Where are you going with it? You have no credits. You can't get any. There's no one left on Trantor who's willing to support you."

 

 "For nearly forty years-"

 

 "Yes, I admit that. But after all that time, you've failed Dad. There's no crime in failing. You've tried so hard and you've gone so far, but you've run into a deteriorating economy, a falling Empire. It's the very thing you've been predicting for so long that's stopping you at last. So-"

 

 "No. I will not stop. Somehow or other, I will keep going."

 

 "I tell you what, Dad. If you're really going to be so stubborn, then take psychohistory with you. Start it again on Santanni. There may be enough credits-and enthusiasm-to support it there."

 

 "And the men and women who have been working for me so faithfully?"

 

 "Oh bull, Dad. They've been leaving you because you can't pay them. You hang around here for the rest of your life and you'll be alone. -Oh, come on, Dad. Do you think I like to talk to you this way? It's because no one has wanted to-because no one has had the heart to-that you're in your present predicament. Let's be honest with each other now. When ~. „u walk the streets of Trantor and you're attacked for no reason other than that you're Hari Seldon, don't you think it's time for a little bit of truth?"

 

 "Never mind the truth. I have no intention of leaving Trantor."

 

 Raych shook his head. "I was sure you'd be stubborn, Dad. You've got two months to change your mind. Think about it, will you?"

 

 15

 

 It had been a long time since Hari Seldon had smiled. He had conducted the Project in the same fashion that he always did: pushing always forward in the development of psychohistory, making plans for the Foundation, studying the Prime Radiant.

 

 But he did not smile. All he did was to force himself through his work without any feeling of impending success. Rather, there was a feeling of impending failure about everything.

 

 And now, as he sat in his office at Streeling University, Wanda entered. He looked up at her and his heart lifted. Wanda had always been special. Seldon couldn't put his finger on just when he and the others had started accepting her pronouncements with more than the usual enthusiasm; it just seemed always to have been that way. As a little girl, she had saved his life with her uncanny knowledge of "lemonade death" and all through her childhood she had somehow just known things.

 

 Although Dr. Endelecki had asserted that Wanda's genome was perfectly normal in every way, Seldon was still positive that his granddaughter possessed mental abilities far beyond those of average humans. And he was just as sure that there were others like her in the Galaxy-on Trantor, even. If only he could find them, these mentalics, what a great contribution they could make to the Foundation. The potential for such greatness all centered in his beautiful granddaughter. Seldon gazed at her, framed in his office doorway, and he felt as if his heart would break. In a few days, she would be gone.

 

 How could he bear it? She was such a beautiful girl-eighteen. Long blond hair, face a little broad but with a tendency to smile. She was even smiling now and Seldon thought, Why not? She's heading for Santanni and for a new life.

 

 He said, "Well, Wanda, just a few more days."

 

 "No. I don't think so, Grandpa."

 

 He stared at her. "What?"

 

 Wanda approached him and put her arms around him. "I'm not going to Santanni."

 

 "Have your father and mother changed their minds?"

 

 "No, they're going."

 

 "And you're not? Why? Where are you going?"

 

 "I'm going to stay here, Grandpa. With you." She hugged him. "Poor Grandpa!"

 

 "But I don't understand. Why? Are they allowing this?"

 

 "You mean Mom and Dad. Not really. We've been arguing over this for weeks, but I've won out. Why not, Grandpa? They'll go to Santanni and they'll have each other-and they'll have little Bellis, too. But if I go with them and leave you here, you'll have no one. I don't think I could stand that."

 

 "But how did you get them to agree?"

 

 "Well, you know-I pushed."

 

 "What does that mean?"

 

 "It's my mind. I can see what you have in yours and in theirs and, as time goes on, I can see more clearly. And I can push them to do what I want."

 

 "How do you do that?"

 

 "I don't know. But after a while, they get tired of being pushed and they're willing to let me have my way. So I'm going to stay with you."

 

 Seldon looked up at her with helpless love. "This is wonderful, Wanda. But Bellis-"

 

 "Don't worry about Bellis. She doesn't have a mind like mine."

 

 "Are you certain?" Seldon chewed at his lower lip.

 

 "Quite certain. Besides, Mom and Dad have to have someone, too."

 

 Seldon wanted to rejoice, but he couldn't do so openly. There were Raych and Manella. What of them?

 

 He said, "Wanda, what about your parents? Can you be so cold-blooded about them?"

 

 "I'm not cold-blooded. They understand. They realize I must be with you."

 

 "How did you manage that?"

 

 "I pushed," said Wanda simply, "and eventually they came to see it my way.

 

 "You can do that?"

 

 "It wasn't easy."

 

 "And you did it because-" Seldon paused.

 

 Wanda said, "Because I love you. Of course. And because-"

 

 "Yes?"

 

 "I must learn psychohistory. I know quite a bit of it already."

 

 "How?"

 

 "From your mind. From the minds of others at the Project, especially from Uncle Yugo before he died. But it's in rags and tatters, so far. I want the real thing. Grandpa, I want a Prime Radiant of my own." Her face lit up and her words came quickly, with passion. "I want to study psychohistory in great detail. Grandpa, you're quite old and quite tired. I'm young and eager. I want to learn all I can, so I can carry on when-"

 

 Seldon said, "Well, that would be wonderful-if you could do it-but there is no funding anymore. I'll teach you all I can, but-we can't do anything."

 

 "We'll see, Grandpa. We'll see."

 

 16

 

 Raych, Manella, and little Bellis were waiting at the spaceport.

 

 The hypership was preparing for liftoff and the three had already checked their baggage.

 

 Raych said, "Dad, come along with us."

 

 Seldon shook his head. "I cannot."

 

 "If you change your mind, we will always have a place for you."

 

 "I know it, Raych. We've been together for almost forty years-and they've been good years. Dors and I were lucky to find you."

 

 "I'm the lucky one." His eyes filled with tears. "Don't think I don't think of Mother every day."

 

 "Yes." Seldon looked away miserably. Wanda was playing with Bellis when the call rang out for everyone to board the hypership.

 

 They did, after a tearful last embrace of Wanda by her parents. Raych looked back to wave at Seldon and to try to plant a crooked smile on his face.

 

 Seldon waved and one hand moved out blindly to embrace Wanda's shoulders.

 

 She was the only one left. One by one through his long life, he had lost his friends and those he had loved. Demerzel had left, never to return; Emperor Cleon was gone; his beloved Dors was gone; his faithful friend Yugo Amaryl was gone; and now Raych, his only son, was gone as well.

 

 He was left only with Wanda.

 

 11

 

 Hari Seldon said, "It is beautiful outside-a marvelous evening. Considering that we live under a dome, you would think we would have beautiful weather like this every evening."

 

 Wanda said indifferently, "We would grow tired of it, Grandpa, if it were beautiful all the time. A little change from night to night is good for us."

 

 "For you, because you're young, Wanda. You have many, many evenings ahead of you. I don't. I want more good ones."

 

 "Now, Grandpa, you're not old. Your leg is doing well and your mind m as sharp as ever. I know. "

 

 "Sure. Go ahead. Make me feel better." He then said with an air of discomfort, "I want to walk. I want to get out of this tiny apartment and take a walk to the Library and enjoy this beautiful evening."

 

 "What do you want at the Library?"

 

 "At the moment, nothing. I want the walk. -But . . ."

 

 "Yes. But?"

 

 "I promised Raych I wouldn't go walking around Trantor without a bodyguard."

 

 "Raych isn't here."

 

 "I know," mumbled Seldon "but a promise is a promise."

 

 "He didn't say who the bodyguard should be, did he? Let's go for a walk and I'll be your bodyguard."

 

 "You?" Seldon grinned.

 

 "Yes, me. I hereby volunteer my services. Get yourself ready and we'll go for a walk."

 

 Seldon was amused. He had half a mind to go without his cane, since his leg was scarcely painful of late, but, on the other hand, he had a new cane, one in which the head had been filled with lead. It was both heavier and stronger than his old cane and, if he was going to have none other than Wanda as a bodyguard, he thought he had better bring his new cane.

 

 The walk was delightful and Seldon was terribly glad he had given in to the temptation-until they reached a certain spot.

 

 Seldon lifted his cane in a mixture of anger and resignation and said, "Look at that!"

 

 Wanda lifted her eyes. The dome was glowing, as it always did in the evening, in order to lend an air of first twilight. It grew darker as night went on, of course.

 

 What Seldon was pointing at, however, was a strip of darkness along the dome. A section of lights had gone out.

 

 Seldon said, "When I first came to Trantor, anything like that was unthinkable. There were people tending the lights at all times. The city worked, but now it is falling apart in all these little ways and what bothers me most is that no one cares. Why aren't there petitions to the Imperial Palace? Why aren't there meetings of indignation? It is as though the people of Trantor expect the city to be falling apart and then they find themselves annoyed with me because I am pointing out that this is exactly what is happening."

 

 Wanda said softly, "Grandpa, there are two men behind us."

 

 They had walked into the shadows beneath the broken dome lights and Seldon asked, "Are they just walking?"

 

 "No." Wanda did not look at them. She did not have to. "They're after you."

 

 "Can you stop them-push them?"

 

 "I'm trying, but there are two and they are determined. It's-it's like pushing a wall."

 

 "How far behind me are they?"

 

 "About three meters."

 

 "Closing in?"

 

 "Yes, Grandpa."

 

 "Tell me when they're a meter behind me." He slid his hand down his cane till he was holding the thin end, leaving the leaded head swinging free.

 

 "Now, Grandpa!" hissed Wanda.

 

 And Seldon turned, swinging his cane. It came down hard upon the shoulder of one of the men behind him, who went down with a scream, writhing on the pavement.

 

 Seldon said, "Where's the other guy?"

 

 "He took off."

 

 Seldon looked down on the man on the ground and put his foot on his chest. He said, "Go through his pockets, Wanda. Someone must have paid him and I'd like to find his credit file-perhaps I can identify where they came from." He added thoughtfully, "I meant to hit him on the head."

 

 "You'd have killed him, Grandpa."

 

 Seldon nodded. "It's what I wanted to do. Rather shameful. I'm lucky I missed."

 

 A harsh voice said, "What is all this?" A figure in uniform came running up, perspiring. "Give me that cane, you!"

 

 "Officer," said Seldon mildly.

 

 "You can give me your story later. We've got to call an ambulance for this poor man."

 

 "Poor man, " said Seldon angrily. "He was going to assault me. I acted in self-defense."

 

 "I saw it happen," said the security officer. "This guy never laid a finger on you. You turned on him and struck him without provocation. That's not self-defense. That's assault and battery."

 

 "Officer, I'm telling you that-"

 

 "Don't tell me anything. You can tell it in court."

 

 Wanda said in a sweet small voice, "Officer, if you will just listen to us-"

 

 The officer said, "You go along home, young lady."

 

 Wanda drew herself up. "I most certainly won't, Officer. Where my grandfather goes, there go I." Her eyes flashed and the security officer muttered, "Well, come along, then."

 

 18

 

 Seldon was enraged. "I've never been in custody before in my entire life. A couple of months ago eight men assaulted me. I was able to fight them off with the help of my son, but while that was going on was there a security officer in sight? Did people stop to help me? No. This time, I'm better prepared and I knocked a man flat who had been about to assault me. Was there a security officer in sight? Absolutely. She put the collar on me. There were people watching, too, and they were amused at seeing an old man being taken in for assault and battery. What kind of world do we live on?"

 

 Civ Novker, Seldon's lawyer, sighed and said calmly, "A corrupt world, but don't worry. Nothing will happen to you. I'll get you out on bail and then, eventually, you'll come back for trial before a jury of your peers and the most you'll get-the very most-are some hard words from the bench. Your age and your reputation-"

 

 "Forget my reputation," said Seldon, still angry. "I'm a psychohistorian and, at the present time, that is a dirty word. They'll be glad to see me in jail."

 

 "No, they won't," said Novker. "There may be some screwballs who have it in for you, but I'll see to it that none of them gets on the jury."

 

 Wanda said, "Do we really have to subject my grandfather to all this? He's not a young man anymore. Can't we just appear before the magistrate and not bother with a jury trial?"

 

 The lawyer turned to her. "It can be done. If you're insane, maybe. Magistrates are impatient power-mad people who would just as soon put a person into jail for a year as listen to him. No one goes up before a magistrate."

 

 "I think we should," said Wanda.

 

 Seldon said, "Well now, Wanda, I think we ought to listen to Civ-" But as he said that, he felt a strong churning in his abdomen. It was Wanda's "push." Seldon said, "Well-if you insist."

 

 "She can't insist," said the lawyer. "I won't allow it."

 

 Wanda said, "My grandfather is your client. If he wants something done his way, you've got to do it."

 

 "I can refuse to represent him."

 

 "Well then, leave," said Wanda sharply, "and we'll face the magistrate alone."

 

 Novker thought and said, "Very well, then-if you're going to be so adamant. I've represented Hari for years and I suppose I won't abandon him now. But I warn you, the chances are he'll get a jail sentence and I'll have to work like the devil to get it lifted-if I can do it .at all."

 

 "I'm not afraid," said Wanda.

 

 Seldon bit his lip and the lawyer turned to him. "What about you? Are you willing to let your granddaughter call the shots?"

 

 Seldon thought a bit, then admitted, much to the old lawyer's surprise, "Yes. Yes, I am."

 

 19

 

 The magistrate looked sourly at Seldon as he gave his story.

 

 The magistrate said, "What makes you think it was the intention of this man you struck to attack you? Did he strike you? Did he threaten you? Did he in any way place you under bodily fear?"

 

 "My granddaughter was aware of his approach and was quite certain that he was planning to attack me."

 

 "Surely, sir, that cannot be enough. Is there anything else you can tell me before I pass judgment?"

 

 "Well now, wait a while," said Seldon indignantly. "Don't pass judgment so quickly. I was assaulted a few weeks ago by eight men whom I held off with the help of my son. So, you see, I have reason to think that I might be assaulted again."

 

 The magistrate shuffled his papers. "Assaulted by eight men. Did you report that?"

 

 "There were no security officers around. Not one."

 

 "Aside from the point. Did you report it?"

 

 "No, sir."

 

 "Why not?"

 

 "For one thing, I was afraid of getting into long drawn-out legal proceedings. Since we had driven off eight men and were safe, it seemed useless to ask for more trouble."

 

 "How did you manage to ward off eight men just you and your son?"

 

 Seldon hesitated. "My son is now on Santanni and outside Trantorian control. Thus, I can tell you that he had Dahlite knives and was expert in their use. He killed one man and badly hurt two others. The rest ran, carrying off the dead and wounded."

 

 "But did you not report the death of a man and the wounding of two others?"

 

 "No, sir. Same reason as before. And we fought in self-defense. However, if you can track down the three dead and wounded, you will have evidence that we were attacked."

 

 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 there 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."

 

 "But psychohistory will save the Empire, at least partly."

 

 "I know it will, but I can't force it to."

 

 "Are you just going to let it collapse?"

 

 Seldon shook his head. "I'll try to keep it from doing so, but I must admit that I don't know how I'm going to do it."

 

 Wanda said, "I'm going to practice. There must be some way I can strengthen my push, make it easier for me to force people to do what I want them to do."

 

 "I wish you could manage."

 

 "What are you going to do, Grandpa?"

 

 "Well, nothing much. Two days ago, when I was on my way to see the Chief Librarian, I encountered three men in the Library who were arguing about psychohistory. For some reason, one of them impressed me very much. I urged him to come see me and he agreed. The appointment is for this afternoon at my office."

 

 "Are you going to have him work for you?"

 

 "I would like to-if I have enough credits to pay him with. But it can't hurt to talk with him. After all, what can I lose?"

 

 24

 

 The young man arrived at precisely 4 T.S.T. (Trantorian Standard Time) and Seldon smiled. He loved punctual people. He placed his hands on his desk and made ready to heave to his feet, but the young man said, "Please, Professor, I know you have a bad leg. You needn't stand up."

 

 Seldon said, "Thank you, young man. However, that does not mean that you cannot sit down. Please do."

 

 The young man removed his jacket and sat down.

 

 Seldon said, "You must forgive me . . . when we met and set up this appointment, I neglected to learn your name-which is . . . ?

 

 "Stettin Palver," said the young man.

 

 "Ah. Palver! Palver! The name sounds familiar."

 

 "It should, Professor. My grandfather boasted frequently of having known you."

 

 "Your grandfather. Of course. Joramis Palver. He was two years younger than I was, as I recall. I tried to get him to join me in psychohistory, but he refused. He said there was no chance of his ever learning enough mathematics to make it possible. Too bad! How is Joramis, by the way?"

 

 Palver said solemnly, "I'm afraid that Joramis has gone the way of old men generally. He's dead."

 

 Seldon winced. Two years younger than he himself was-and dead. An old friend and they had lost touch to such a degree that, when death came, it did so unknowingly.

 

 Seldon sat there for a while and finally muttered, "I'm sorry."

 

 The young man shrugged. "He had a good life."

 

 "And you, young man, where did you have your schooling?"

 

 "Langano University."

 

 Seldon frowned. "Langano? Stop me if I'm wrong, but that's not on Trantor, is it?"

 

 "No. I wanted to try a different world. The Universities on Trantor, as you undoubtedly know very well, are all overcrowded. I wanted to find a place where I could study in peace."

 

 "And what did you study?"

 

 "Nothing much. History. Not the sort of thing that would lead one to a good job."

 

 (Another wince, even worse than the first. Dors Venabili had been a historian.)

 

 Seldon said, "But you're back here on Trantor. Why is that?"

 

 "Credits. Jobs."

 

 "As an historian?"

 

 Palver laughed. "Not a chance. I run a device that pulls and hauls. Not exactly a professional occupation."

 

 Seldon looked at Palver with a twinge of envy. The contours of Palver's arms and chest were highlighted by the thin fabric of his shirt. He was well muscled. Seldon had never himself been quite that muscular.

 

 Seldon said, "I presume that when you were at the University, you were on the boxing team."

 

 "Who, me? Never. I'm a Twister."

 

 "A Twister!" Seldon's spirits jumped. "Are you from Helicon?"

 

 Palver said with a certain contempt, "You don't have to come from Helicon to be a good Twister."

 

 No, thought Seldon, but that's where the best ones come from.

 

 However, he said nothing.

 

 He did say, though, "Well, your grandfather would not join me. How about you?"

 

 "Psychohistory?"

 

 "I heard you talking to the others when I first encountered you and it seemed to me that you were talking quite intelligently about psychohistory. Would you like to join me, then?"

 

 "As I said, Professor, I have a job."

 

 "Pushing and hauling. Come, come."

 

 "It pays well."

 

 "Credits aren't everything."

 

 "They're quite a bit. Now you, on the other hand, can't pay me much. I'm quite certain that you're short of credits."

 

 "Why do you say that?"

 

 "I'm guessing, in a way, I suppose. -But am I wrong?"

 

 Seldon's lips pressed together hard, then he said, "No, you're not wrong and I can't pay you much. I'm sorry. I suppose that ends our little interview."

 

 "Wait, wait, wait." Palver held up his hands. "Not quite so fast, please. We're still talking about psychohistory. If I work for you, I will be taught psychohistory, right?"

 

 "Of course."

 

 "In that case, credits aren't everything, after all. I'll make you a deal. You teach me all the psychohistory you can and you pay me whatever you can and I'll get by somehow. How about it?"

 

 "Wonderful," said Seldon joyously. "That sounds great. Now, one more thing."

 

 "Oh?"

 

 "Yes. I've been attacked twice in recent weeks. The first time my son came to my defense, but he has since gone to Santanni. The second time I made use of my lead-filled walking stick. It worked, but I was dragged before a magistrate and accused of assault and battery-"

 

 "Why the attacks?" interjected Palver.

 

 "I am not popular. I have been preaching the Fall of the Empire for so long that, now that it is coming, I am blamed for it."

 

 "I see. Now then, what does all that have to do with the one more thing you mentioned?"

 

 "I want you to be my bodyguard. You're young, you're strong, and, most of all, you're a Twister. You're exactly what I need."

 

 "I suppose it can be managed," Palver said with a smile.

 

 25

 

 "See there, Stettin," Seldon said as the two were taking an early evening stroll in one of Trantor's residential sectors near Streeling. The older man pointed to debris-assorted refuse jettisoned from passing groundcars or dropped by careless pedestrians-strewn along the walkway. "In the old days," Seldon continued, "you would never see litter like this. The security officers were vigilant and municipal maintenance crews provided round-the-clock upkeep of all public areas. But, most important, no one would even think of dumping his trash in such a manner. Trantor was our home; we took pride in it. Now"-Seldon shook his head sadly, resignedly, and sighed-"it's-" He broke off abruptly.

 

 "You there, young man!" Seldon shouted at a ill-kempt fellow who had moments before passed them, going in the opposite direction. He was munching a treat just popped into his mouth; the wrapper had been tossed to the ground without so much as a downward glance. "Pick that up and dispose of it properly," Seldon admonished as the young man eyed him sullenly.

 

 "Pick it up yourself," the boy snarled and then he turned and walked away.

 

 "It's another sign of society's breakdown, as predicted by your psychohistory, Professor Seldon," Palver said.

 

 "Yes, Stettin. All around us the Empire is falling apart, piece by piece. In fact, it's already smashed-there's no turning back now. Apathy, decay, and greed have all played their parts in destroying the once-glorious Empire. And what will take its place? Why-"

 

 Here Seldon broke off at the sight of Palver's face. The younger man seemed to be listening intently-but not to Seldon's voice. His head was cocked to one side and his face had a far-off look. It was as if Palver were straining to hear some sound inaudible to everyone but himself.

 

 Suddenly he snapped back to the here and now. With an urgent glance around them, Palver took hold of Seldon's arm. "Hari, quick, we must get away. They're coming . . ." And then the still evening was broken by the harsh sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Seldon and Palver spun around, but it was too late; a band of attackers was upon them. This time, however, Hari Seldon was prepared. He immediately swung his cane in a wide arc around Palver and himself. At this, the three attackers-two boys and a girl, all teenage ruffians-laughed.

 

 "So, you're not goin' to make it easy, are you, old man?" snorted the boy who appeared to be the group's ringleader. "Why, me and my buddies, we'll take you out in two seconds flat. We'll-" All of a sudden, the ringleader was down, the victim of a perfectly placed Twist-kick to his abdomen. The two ruffians who were still standing quickly dropped to a crouch in preparation for attack. But Palver was quicker. They, too, were felled almost before they knew what hit them.

 

 And then it was over-almost as soon as it started. Seldon stood off to the side, leaning heavily on his cane, shaking at the thought of his narrow escape. Palver, panting slightly from exertion, surveyed the scene. The three attackers were out cold on the deserted walkway under the darkening dome.

 

 "Come on, let's get out of here quickly!" Palver urged again, only this time it was not the attackers they would be fleeing.

 

 "Stettin, we can't leave," protested Seldon. He gestured toward the unconscious would-be muggers. "They're really nothing more than children. They may be dying. How can we just walk away? It's inhumane-that’s what it is-and humanity is exactly what I've been working all these years to protect." Seldon struck the ground with his cane for emphasis and his eyes gleamed with conviction.

 

 "Nonsense," retorted Palver. "What's inhumane is the way muggers like that prey on innocent citizens like you. Do you think they'd have given you a second thought? They'd just as soon stick a knife in your gut to steal your last credit-and then kick you as they ran! They'll come to soon enough and slink away to lick their wounds. Or someone will find them and call the central office.

 

 "But, Hari, you must think. After what happened last time, you stand to lose everything if you're linked to another beating. Please, Hari, we must run!" With this, Palver grabbed Seldon's arm and Seldon after a List backward glance, allowed himself to be led away.

 

 As the footsteps of the rapidly departing Seldon and Palver diminished in the distance, another figure emerged from his hiding place behind some trees. Chuckling to himself, the sullen-eyed youth muttered,

 

 "You're a fine one to tell me what's right and what's wrong, Professor." With that, he spun on his heel and headed off to summon the security officers.

 

 26

 

 "Order! I will have order!" bellowed Judge Tejan Popjens Lih. The public hearing of Professor Raven Seldon and his young associate, Stettin Palver, had generated a hue and cry among the populace of Trantor. Here was the man who had predicted the Fall of the Empire, the decay of civilization, who exhorted others to harken back to the golden age of civility and order-here was he who, according to an eyewitness, had ordered the brutal beating of three young Trantorians for no apparent provocation. Ah yes, it promised to be a spectacular hearing, one which would lead, no doubt, to an even more spectacular trial.

 

 The judge pressed a contact set into a recessed panel on her bench and a sonorous gong resounded through the packed courtroom. "I will have order," she repeated to the now-hushed throng. "If need be, the courtroom will be cleared. That is a warning. It will not be repeated."

 

 The judge cut an imposing figure in her scarlet robe. Originally from the Outer World of Lystena, Lih's complexion had a slight bluish cast, which turned darker when she became exercised, practically purple when she was really angry. It was rumored that, for all her years on the bench, in spite of her reputation as a top judicial mind, notwithstanding her position as one of the most revered interpreters of Imperial law, Lih was ever so slightly vain about the colorful appearance she gave, the way in which the bright red robes set off her soft turquoise skin.

 

 Nevertheless, Lih had a reputation for coming down hard on those who brooked Imperial law; she was one of the few judges left who upheld the civil code without wavering.

 

 "I have heard of you, Professor Seldon, and your theories about our imminent destruction. And I have spoken with the magistrate who recently heard another case in which you were involved, one in which you struck a man with your lead-filled cane. In that instance, too, you claimed to be the victim of assault. Your reasoning stemmed, I believe, from a previous unreported incident in which you and your son allegedly were assaulted by eight hoodlums. You were able to convince my esteemed colleague, Professor Seldon of your plea of self-defense, even though an eyewitness testified otherwise. This time, Professor, you will have to be much more convincing."

 

 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 Dandle 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 make these past nights, racking my brains for a plausible reason. Why should 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 ~ a 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 ,,toady 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 ,,peak.

 

 "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 simply, "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 bolo-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 EncyIopedia; 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-and 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.

 

 "Why, I'm working on an equation in Section 33A2D17. See, I've recalibrated this section"-she gestured to a glowing violet patch suspended in midair in front of her face- `taking into consideration the standard quotient and- There! Just what I thought-I think." She stepped back and rubbed her eyes.

 

 "What is it, Wanda?" Hari moved in closer to study the equation. "Why, this looks like the Terminus equation and yet . . . Wanda, this is an inverse of the Terminus equation, isn't it?"

 

 "Yes, Grandpa. See, the numbers weren't working quite right in the Terminus equation-look." Wanda touched a contact in a recessed wallstrip and another patch sprang to life in vivid red on the other side of the room. Seldon and Wanda walked over to inspect it. "You see how it's all hanging together fine now, Grandpa? It's taken me weeks to get it this way."

 

 "How did you do it?" asked Hari, admiring the equation's lines, its logic, its elegance.

 

 "At first, I concentrated on it from over here only. I blocked out all else. In order to get Terminus to work, work on Terminus--stands to reason, doesn't it? But then I realized that I couldn't just introduce this equation into the Prime Radiant system and expect it to blend right in smoothly, as if nothing happened. A placement means a displacement somewhere else. A weight needs a counterweight."

 

 "I think the concept to which you are referring is what the ancients called din and yang. ' "

 

 "Yes, more or less. Yin and yang. So, you see, I realized that to perfect the yin of Terminus, I had to locate its yang. Which I did, over there." She moved back to the violet patch, tucked away at the other edge of the Prime Radiant sphere. "And once I adjusted the figures here, the Terminus equation fell into place as well. Harmony!" Wanda looked pleased with herself, as if she'd solved all the problems of the Empire.

 

 "Fascinating, Wanda, and later on you must tell me what you think it all means for the Project. -But right now you must come with me to the holoscreen. I received an urgent message from Santanni a few minutes ago. Your father wants us to call him immediately."

 

 Wanda's smile faded. She had been alarmed at the recent reports of fighting on Santanni. As Imperial budget cutbacks went into effect, the citizens of the Outer Worlds suffered most. They had limited access to the richer, more populous Inner Worlds and it became more and more difficult to trade their worlds' products for much needed imports. Imperial hyperships going in and out of Santanni were few and the distant world felt isolated from the rest of the Empire. Pockets of rebellion had erupted throughout the planet.

 

 "Grandfather, I hope everything's all right," said Wanda, her fear revealed by her voice.

 

 "Don't worry, dear. After all, they must be safe if Raych was able to send us a message."

 

 In Seldon's office, he and Wanda stood before the holoscreen as it activated. Seldon punched a code on the keypad alongside the screen and they waited a few seconds for the intragalactic connection to be established. Slowly the screen seemed to stretch back into the wall, as if it were the entrance to a tunnel-and out of the tunnel, dimly at first, came the familiar figure of a stocky powerfully built man. As the connection sharpened, the man's features became clearer. When Seldon and Wanda were able to make out Raych's bushy Dahlite mustache, the figure sprang to life.

 

 "Dad! Wanda!" said Raych's three-dimensional hologram, projected to Trantor from Santanni. "Listen, I don't have much time." He flinched, as if startled by a loud noise. "Things have gotten pretty bad here. The government has fallen and a provisional party has taken over. Things are a mess, as you can imagine. I just put Manella and Bellis on a hypership to Anacreon. I told them to get in touch with you from there. The name of the ship is the Arcadia VII.

 

 "You should have seen Manella, Dad. Mad as anything that she had to go. The only way I was able to convince her to leave was to point out that it was for Bellis's sake.

 

 "I know what you're thinking, Dad and Wanda. Of course I would have gone with them-if I could have. But there wasn't enough room. You should've seen what I had to go through just to get them onto the ship." Raych flashed one of his lopsided grins that Seldon and Wanda loved so much, then continued. "Besides, since I'm here, I have to help guard the University-we may be part of the Imperial University system, but we're a place of learning and building, not of destruction. I tell you, if one of those hot-headed Santanni rebels comes near our stuff-"

 

 "Raych," Hari broke in, "How bad is it? Are you close to the fighting?"

 

 "Dad, are you in danger?" asked Wanda.

 

 They waited a few seconds for their message to travel the nine thousand parsecs across the Galaxy to Raych.

 

 "I-I-1 couldn't quite make out what you said," the hologram replied. "There's a bit of fighting going on. It's sort of exciting, actually," Raych said, breaking into that grin again. "So I'm going to sign off now. Remember, find out what happened to the Arcadia III going to Anacreon. I'll be back in touch as soon as I'm able. Remember, I-" The transmission broke off and the hologram faded. The holoscreen tunnel collapsed in on itself so that Seldon and Wanda were left staring at a blank wall.

 

 "Grandpa," said Wanda, "what do you think he was going to say?"

 

 "I have no idea, dear. But there is one thing I do know and that is that your father can take care of himself. I pity any rebel who gets near enough for a well-placed Twist-kick from your dad! -Come, let's get back to that equation and in a few hours we'll check on the Arcadia HI. "

 

  

 

 "Commander, have you no idea what happened to the ship?" Hari Seldon was again engaged in intragalactic conversation, but this time it was with an Imperial navy commander stationed at Anacreon. For this communication, Seldon was making use of the visiscreen-much less realistic than the holoscreen but also much simpler.

 

 "I'm telling you, Professor, that we have no record of that hypership requesting permission to enter the Anacreonic atmosphere. Of course, communications with Santanni have been broken for several hours and sporadic at best for the last week. It is possible that the ship tried to reach us on a Santanni-based channel and could not get through, but I doubt it.

 

 "No, it's more likely that the Arcadia 1171 changed destination. Voreg, perhaps, or Sarip. Have you tried either of those worlds, Professor?"

 

 "No," said Seldon wearily, "but I see no reason if the ship was bound for Anacreon that it would not go to Anacreon. Commander, it is vital that I locate that ship."

 

 "Of course," the commander ventured, "the Arcadia 1/71 might not have made it. Out safely, I mean. There's a lot of fighting going on. Those rebels don't care who they blow up. They just train their lasers and pretend it's the Emperor Agis they're blasting. I tell you, it's a whole different game out here on the fringe, Professor."

 

 "My daughter-in-law and granddaughter are on that ship, Commander," Seldon said in a tight voice.

 

 "Oh, I'm sorry, Professor," said an abashed commander. "I'll be in touch with you as soon as I hear anything."

 

 Dispiritedly Hari closed the visiscreen contact. How tired I am, he thought. And, he mused, I'm not surprised-I've known that this would come for nearly forty years.

 

 Seldon chuckled bitterly to himself. Perhaps that commander had thought he was shocking Seldon, impressing him with the vivid detail of life "on the fringe." But Seldon knew all about the fringe. And as the fringe came apart, like a piece of knitting with one loose thread, the whole piece would unravel to the core: Trantor.

 

 Seldon became aware of a soft buzzing sound. It was the door signal. "Yes?"

 

 "Grandpa," said Wanda, entering the office, "I'm scared."

 

 "Why, dear?" asked Seldon with concern. He didn't want to tell her yet what he had learned-or hadn't learned-from the commander on Anacreon.

 

 "Usually, although they're so far away, I feel Dad and Mom and Bellis -feel them in here"-she pointed to her head- `and in here"-she placed her hand over her heart. "But now, today, I don't feel them-it feels less, as if they're fading, like one of the dome bulbs. And I want to stop it. I want to pull them back, but I can't."

 

 "Wanda, I really think this is merely a product of your concern for your family in light of the rebellion. You know that uprisings occur all over the Empire all the time-little eruptions to let off steam. Come now, you know that chances of anything happening to Raych, Manella, or Bellis are vanishingly small. Your dad will call any day to say all is well; your mom and Bellis will land on Anacreon at any moment and enjoy a little vacation. We are the ones to be pitied-we're stuck here up to our ears in work! So, sweetheart, go to bed and think only good thoughts. I promise you, tomorrow, under the sunny dome, things will look much better."

 

 "All right, Grandpa," said Wanda, not sounding entirely convinced. "But tomorrow-if we haven't heard by tomorrow-we'll have to-to-"

 

 "Wanda, what can we do, except wait?" asked Hari, his voice gentle.

 

 Wanda turned and left, the weight of her worries showing in the slope of her shoulders. Hari watched her go, finally allowing his own worries to come to the surface.

 

 It had been three days since the hologram transmission from Raych. Since then-nothing. And today the naval commander at Anacreon denied ever having heard of a ship called Arcadia VII

 

 Hari had tried earlier to get through to Raych on Santanni, but all communication beams were down. It was as if Santanni-and the Arcadia VII-had simply broken off from the Empire, like a petal from a flower.

 

 Seldon knew what he had to do now. The Empire might be down, but it was not out. Its power, when properly wielded, was still awesome. Seldon placed an emergency transmission to Emperor Agis XIV.

 

 29

 

 "What a surprise-my friend Hari!" Agis's visage beamed at Seldon through the holoscreen. "I am glad to hear from you, although you usually request the more formal personal audience. Come, you've piqued my interest. Why the urgency?"

 

 "Sire," began Seldon, "my son, Raych, and his wife and daughter live on Santanni."

 

 "Ah, Santanni," the Emperor said as his smile faded. "A bunch of misguided wretches if I ever-"

 

 "Sire, please," broke in Seldon, surprising both the Emperor and himself with this flagrant breach of Imperial protocol. "My son was able to get Manella and Bellis onto a hypership, the Arcadia VII, bound for Anacreon. He, however, had to remain. That was three days ago. The ship has not landed at Anacreon. And my son seems to have disappeared. My calls to Santanni have gone unanswered and now the communication beams are broken.

 

 "Please, Sire, can you help me?"

 

 "Hari, as you know, officially all ties between Santanni and Trantor have been severed. However, I still hold some influence in selected areas of Santanni. That is, there are still a few loyal to me who have not yet been found out. Although I cannot make direct contact with any of my operatives on that world, I can share with you any reports I receive from there. These are, of course, highly confidential, but considering your situation and our relationship, I will allow you access to those pieces that might interest you.

 

 "I am expecting another dispatch within the hour. If you like, I'll recontact you when it arrives. In the meantime, I'll have one of my aides go over all transmissions from Santanni for the past three days to look for anything pertaining to Raych, Manella, or Bellis Seldon."

 

 "Thank you, Sire. I thank you most humbly." And Hari Seldon dipped his head as the Emperor's image faded from the holoscreen.

 

 Sixty minutes later Hari Seldon was still sitting at his desk, waiting to hear from the Emperor. The past hour had been one of the most difficult he had ever spent, second only to the hours after Dors's destruction.

 

 It was the not knowing that did Hari in. He had made a career of knowing-the future as well as the present. And now he had no idea at all about three of the people most precious to him.

 

 The holoscreen buzzed softly and Hari pressed a contact in response. Agis appeared.

 

 "Hari," began the Emperor. From the soft slow sadness in his voice, Hari knew this call brought bad news.

 

 "My son," said Hari.

 

 "Yes," replied the Emperor. "Raych was killed, earlier today, in a bombardment on Santanni University. I've learned from my sources that Raych knew the attack was coming but refused to desert his post. You see, a good number of the rebels are students and Raych felt that if they knew that he was still there, they would never. . . But hate overcame all reason.

 

 "The University is, you see, an Imperial University. The rebels feel they must destroy all things Imperial before rebuilding anew. The fools! Why-" And here Agis stopped, as if suddenly realizing that Seldon did not care about Santanni University or the plans of the rebels-not right now, at least.

 

 "Hari, if it makes you feel any better, remember that your son died in defense of knowledge. It was not the Empire Raych fought and died for but humanity itself."

 

 Seldon looked up out of tear-filled eyes. Weakly he asked, "And Manella and little Bellis? What of them? Have you found the Arcadia Hl?"

 

 "That search has proved fruitless, Hari. The Arcadia VII left Santanni, as you were told. But it seems to have disappeared. It may have been hijacked by rebels or it may have made an emergency detour-at this point, we just don't know."

 

 Seldon nodded. "Thank you, Agis. Although you have brought me tragic news, at least you have brought it. Not knowing was worse. You are a true friend."

 

 "And so, my friend," said the Emperor, "I'll leave you to yourself now-and your memories." The Emperor's image faded from the screen as Hari Seldon folded his arms in front of him on his desk, put his head down, and wept.

 

 30

 

 Wanda Seldon adjusted the waistband of her unisuit, pulling it a little tighter around her middle. Taking up a hand hoe, she attacked some weeds that had sprung up in her small flower garden outside the Psychohistory Building at Streeling. Generally Wanda spent the bulk of her time in her office, working with her Prime Radiant. She found solace in its precise statistical elegance; the unvarying equations were somehow reassuring in this Empire gone so crazy. But when thoughts of her beloved father, mother, and baby sister became too much to bear, when even her research could not keep her mind off the horrible losses she'd so recently undergone, Wanda invariably found herself out here, scratching at the terraformed ground, as if coaxing a few plants to life might somehow, in some tiny measure, ameliorate her pain.

 

 Since her father's death a month ago and the disappearance of Manella and Bellis, Wanda, who had always been slim, had been losing weight. Whereas a few months ago Hari Seldon would have been concerned over his darling granddaughter's loss of appetite, now he, stuck in his own grief, seemed not to notice.

 

 A profound change had come over Hari and Wanda Seldon-and the few remaining members of the Psychohistory Project. Hari seemed to have given up. He now spent most of his days sitting in an armchair in the Streeling solarium, staring out at the University grounds, warmed by the bright bulbs overhead. Occasionally Project members told Wanda that his bodyguard, a man named Stettin Palver, would badger Seldon into a walk out under the dome or try to engage him in a discussion of the future direction of the Project.

 

 Wanda retreated deeper into her study of the Prime Radiant's fascinating equations. She could feel the future her grandfather had worked so hard to achieve finally taking shape, and he was right: The Encyclopedists must be established on Terminus; they would be the Foundation.

 

 And Section 33A2D17-in it Wanda could see what Seldon referred to as the Second, or secret, Foundation. But how? Without Seldon's active interest, Wanda was at a loss as to how to proceed. And her sorrow over the destruction of her family cut so deep that she didn't seem to have the strength to figure it out.

 

 The members of the Project itself, those fifty or so hardy souls who remained, continued their work as well as possible. The majority were Encyclopedists, researching the source materials they would need to copy and catalogue for their eventual move to Terminus-when and if they gained full access to the Galactic Library. At this point, they were working on faith alone. Professor Seldon had lost his private office at the Library, so the prospects of any other Project member gaining special access were slim.

 

 The remaining Project members (other than the Encyclopedists) were historical analysts and mathematicians. The historians interpreted past and current human actions and events, turning their findings over to the mathematicians, who in turn fit those pieces into the great Psychohistorical Equation. It was long painstaking work.

 

 Many Project members had left because the rewards were so few-psychohistorians were the butt of many jokes on Trantor and limited funds had forced Seldon to enact drastic pay cuts. But the constant reassuring presence of Hari Seldon had-till now-overcome the difficult working conditions of the Project. Indeed, the Project members who had stayed on had, to a person, done so out of respect and devotion to Professor Seldon.

 

 Now, thought Wanda Seldon bitterly, what reason is left for them to stay? A light breeze blew a piece of her blond hair across her eyes; she pushed it back absentmindedly and continued her weeding.

 

 "Miss Seldon, may I have a moment of your time?" Wanda turned and looked up. A young man-she judged him to be in his early twenties -stood on the gravel path next to her. She immediately sensed him to be strong and fearsomely intelligent. Her grandfather had chosen wisely. Wanda rose to speak with him.

 

 "I recognize you. You are my grandfather's bodyguard, are you not? Stettin Palver, I believe?"

 

 "Yes, that's correct, Miss Seldon," Palver said and his cheeks reddened slightly, as if he were pleased that so pretty a girl should have given him any notice. "Miss Seldon, it is your grandfather I'd like to talk to you about. I'm very worried about him. We must do something."

 

 "Do what, Mr. Palver? I am at a loss. Since my father"-she swallowed hard, as if she were having difficulty speaking-"died and my mother and sister disappeared, it is all I can do to get him out of bed in the morning. And to tell you the truth, it has affected me very deeply as well. You understand, don't you?" She looked into his eyes and knew that he did.

 

 "Miss Seldon," Palver said softly, "I am terribly sorry about your losses. But you and Professor Seldon are alive and you must keep working at psychohistory. The professor seems to have given up. I was hoping that maybe you-we-could come up with something to give him hope again. You know, a reason to go on."

 

 Ah, Mr. Palver, thought Wanda, maybe Grandpa has it right. 1 wonder if there truly is any reason to go on. But she said, "I'm sorry, Mr. Palver, I can think of nothing." She gestured toward the ground with her hoe. "And now, as you can see, I must get back to these pesky weeds."

 

 "I don't think your grandfather has got it right. I think there truly is a reason to go on. We just have to find it."

 

 The words struck her with full force. How had he known what she had been thinking? Unless- "You can handle minds, can't you?" Wanda asked, holding her breath, as if afraid to hear Palver's response.

 

 "Yes, I can," the young man replied. "I always have, I think. At least, I can't remember not doing it. Half the time I'm not even consciously aware of it-I just know what people are thinking-or have thought.

 

 "Sometimes," he continued, encouraged by the understanding he felt emanating from Wanda, "I get flashes of it coming from someone else. It's always in a crowd, though, and I can't locate whoever it is. But I know there are others like me-us-around."

 

 Wanda grabbed Palver's hand excitedly, her gardening tool tossed to the ground, forgotten. "Have you any idea what this might mean? For Grandpa, for psychohistory? One of us alone can do only so much, but both of us together-" Wanda started walking into the Psychohistory Building, leaving Palver standing on the gravel path. Almost to the entrance she stopped and turned. Come, Mr. Palver, we must tell my grandfather, Wanda said without opening her mouth. Yes, 1 suppose we should, answered Palver as he joined her.

 

 31

 

 "Do you mean to say I have been searching Trantor-wide for someone with your powers, Wanda, and he's been here with us for the past few months and we never knew it?" Hari Seldon was incredulous. He had been dozing in the solarium when Wanda and Palver shook him awake to give him their amazing news.

 

 "Yes, Grandpa. Think about it. I've never had occasion to meet Stettin. Your time with him has primarily been away from the Project and I spend the majority of my time closeted in my office, working with the Prime Radiant. When would we have met? In fact, the one time our paths did cross, the results were most significant."

 

 "When was that?" asked Seldon, searching his memory.

 

 "Your last hearing-before Judge Lih," Wanda replied immediately. "Remember the eyewitness who swore that you and Stettin had attacked those three muggers? Remember how he broke down and told the truth -and even he didn't seem to know why. But Stettin and I have pieced it together. We were both pushing Rial Nevas to come clean. He had been very steadfast in his original claim; I doubt that either one of us would have been able to push him alone. But together"-she stole a shy glance at Palver, who was standing off to the side-"our power is awesome!"

 

 Hari Seldon took all this in and then made as if to speak. But Wanda continued. "In fact, we plan to spend the afternoon testing our mentalic abilities, separately and together. From the little we've discovered so far, it seems as if Stettin's power is slightly lower than mine-perhaps a five on my rating scale. But his five, combined with my seven, gives us a twelve! Think of it, Grandpa. Awesome!"

 

 "Don't you see, Professor?" Palver spoke up. "Wanda and I are that breakthrough you're looking for. We can help you convince the worlds of the validity of psychohistory, we can help find others like us, we can help put psychohistory back on track."

 

 Hari Seldon gazed up at the two young people standing in front of him. Their faces were aglow with youth and vigor and enthusiasm and he realized it did his old heart good. Perhaps all was not lost, after all. He had not thought he would survive this latest tragedy, the death of his son and the disappearance of his son's wife and child, but now he could see that Raych lived on in Wanda. And in Wanda and Stettin, he now knew, lived the future of the Foundation.

 

 "Yes, yes," agreed Seldon nodding forcefully. "Come you two, help me up. I must get back to my office to plan our next step."

 

 32

 

 "Professor Seldon come in," said Chief Librarian Tryma Acarnio in an icy tone of voice. Hari Seldon accompanied by Wanda and Palver, entered the Chief Librarian's imposing office.

 

 "Thank you, Chief Librarian," said Seldon as he settled into a chair and faced Acarnio across the vast desk. "May I introduce my granddaughter Wanda and my friend Stettin Palver. Wanda is a most valuable member of the Psychohistory Project, her specialty being in the field of mathematics. And Stettin, well, Stettin is turning into a first-rate general psychohistorian-when he's not performing his duties as my bodyguard, that is." Seldon chuckled amiably.

 

 "Yes, well, that's all well and good, Professor," said Acarnio, baffled by Seldon's good humor. He had expected the professor to come in groveling, begging for another chance at special Library privileges.

 

 "But I don't understand what it is you wanted to see me about. I assume you realize that our position is firm: We cannot allow a Library association with someone so extremely unpopular with the general population. We are, after all, a public library and we must keep the public's sentiments in mind." Acarnio settled back-perhaps now the groveling would begin.

 

 "I realize that I have not been able to sway you. However, I thought that if you heard from a couple of the Project's younger members-the psychohistorians of tomorrow, as it were-that perhaps you'd get a better feel about what a vital role the Project-and the Encyclopedia, in particular-will play in our future. Please hear Wanda and Stettin out."

 

 Acarnio cast a cold eye toward the two young people flanking Seldon. "Very well, then," he said, pointedly eyeing the timestrip on the wall. "Five minutes and no more. I have a Library to run."

 

 "Chief Librarian," began Wanda, "as my grandfather has undoubtedly explained to you, psychohistory is a most valuable tool to be used for the preservation of our culture. Yes, preservation, " she repeated, upon seeing Acarnio's eyes widen at the word. "Undue emphasis has been placed on the destruction of the Empire. By doing so, the true value of psychohistory has been overlooked. For, with psychohistory, as we are able to predict the inevitable decline of our civilization, so are we able to take steps toward its preservation. That is what the Encyclopedia Galactica is all about. And that is why we need your help, and the help of your great Library."

 

 Acarnio could not resist smiling. The young lady had an undeniable charm. She was so earnest, so well spoken. He gazed at her sitting in front of him, her blond hair pulled back in a rather severe scholarly style, one which could not hide her attractive features but, rather, showed them off. What she was saying was starting to make sense. Maybe Wanda Seldon was right-maybe he had been looking at this problem from the wrong angle. If it were actually a matter of preservation, rather than destruction . . .

 

 "Chief Librarian," began Stettin Palver, "this great Library has stood for millennia. It, perhaps even more than the Imperial Palace, represents the vast power of the Empire. For, the Palace houses only the Empire's leader, while the Library is home to the sum total of Imperial knowledge, culture, and history. Its value is incalculable.

 

 "Does it not make sense to prepare a tribute to this great repository? The Encyclopedia Galactica will be just that-a giant summary of all the knowledge contained within these very walls. Think of it!"

 

 All of a sudden it seemed so very clear to Acarnio. How could he have let the Board (especially that sourpuss Gennaro Mummery) convince him to rescind Seldon's privileges? Las Zenow, a person whose judgment he greatly esteemed, had been a wholehearted supporter of Seldon's Encyclopedia.

 

 He glanced again at the three in front of him, waiting for his decision. The Board would be hard-pressed to find anything to complain about with the Project members-if the young people now in his office were a representative sample of the kind of persons involved with Seldon.

 

 Acarnio rose and walked across his office, his brow furrowed, as if framing his thoughts. He picked up a milky crystal sphere from a table and hefted it in his palm.

 

 "Trantor," Acarnio began thoughtfully, "seat of the Empire, center of all the Galaxy. Quite amazing, when you think of it. -We have, perhaps, been too quick to judge Professor Seldon. Now that your Project, this Encyclopedia Galactica, has been presented to me in such a light"-he gave a brief nod to Wanda and Palver-"I realize how important it would be to allow you to continue your work here. And, of course, to grant access to a number of your colleagues."

 

 Seldon smiled gratefully and squeezed Wanda's hand.

 

 "It is not only for the greater glory of the Empire that I am recommending this," continued Acarnio, apparently warming to the idea (and the sound of his own voice). "You are famous, Professor Seldon. Whether people think of you as a crackpot or a genius, everyone seems to have an opinion. If an academic of your stature is allied with the Galactic Library, it can only increase our prestige as a bastion of intellectual pursuit of the highest order. Why, the luster of your presence can be used to raise much-needed funds to update our collections, increase our staff, keep our doors open to the public longer . . .

 

 "And the prospect of the Encyclopedia Galactica itself-what a monumental project! Imagine the reaction when the public learns that the Galactic Library is involved with such an undertaking designed to highlight the splendor of our civilization-our glorious history, our brilliant achievements, our magnificent cultures. And to think that I, Chief Librarian Tryma Acarnio, is responsible for making sure that this great Project gets its start-" Acarnio gazed intently into the crystal sphere, lost in reverie.

 

 "Yes, Professor Seldon," Acarnio pulled himself back to the here and now. "You and your colleagues will be granted full insiders' privileges-and a suite of offices in which to work." He placed the crystal sphere back on its table and, with a swish of robes, moved back to his desk.

 

 "It might take a little doing, of course, to persuade the Board-but I am confident that I can handle them. Just leave it to me."

 

 Seldon, Wanda, and Palver looked at each other in triumph, with small smiles playing at the corner of their mouths. Tryma Acarnio gestured that they could go and so they did, leaving the Chief Librarian settled in his chair, dreaming of the glory and honor that would come to the Library under his aegis.

 

 "Amazing," said Seldon when the three were safely ensconced in their ground-car. "If you could have seen him at our last meeting. He said I was `threatening the essential fabric of our Empire' or some such rot. And today, after just a few minutes with you two-"

 

 "It wasn't too hard, Grandpa," Wanda said as she pressed a contact, moving the ground-car out into traffic. She sat back as the auto-propel took over; Wanda had punched their destination coordinates into the control panel. "He is a man with a strong sense of self-importance. All we had to do was play up the positive aspects of the Encyclopedia and his ego took over from there."

 

 "He was a goner the minute Wanda and I walked in," Palver said from the back. "With both of us pushing him, it was a piece of cake." Palver reached forward and squeezed Wanda's shoulder affectionately. She smiled, reached up, and patted his hand.

 

 "I must alert the Encyclopedists as soon as possible," Seldon said. "Although there are only thirty-two left, they are good and dedicated workers. I'll get them installed at the Library and then I'll tackle the next hurdle-credits. Perhaps this alliance with the Library is what I need to convince people to give us funding. Let's see- I'll call upon Terep Bindris again and I'll take you two with me. He was kindly disposed toward me, at least at first. But how will he be able to resist us now?"

 

 The ground-car eventually came to a halt outside the Psychohistory Building at Streeling. The side panels slid open, but Seldon did not immediately move to disembark. He turned to face Wanda.

 

 "Wanda, you know what you and Stettin were able to accomplish with Acarnio; I'm sure you both can push some credits out of a few financial benefactors as well.

 

 "I know how you hate to leave your beloved Prime Radiant, but these visits will give you two a chance to practice, to hone your skills, to get an idea of just what you can do."

 

 "All right, Grandpa, although I'm sure that, now that you have the Library's imprimatur, you will find that resistance to your requests has lessened."

 

 "There's another reason I think it's important for the two of you to get out and around together. -Stettin, I believe you said that on certain occasions you've `felt' another mind like yours but haven't been able to identify it."

 

 "Yes," answered Palver, "I've had flashes, but each time I was in a crowd. And, in my twenty-four years, I can remember feeling such a flash just four or five times."

 

 "But, Stettin," said Seldon, his voice low with intensity, "each flash was, potentially, the mind of another person like you and Wanda-another mentalic. Wanda's never felt these flashes because, frankly, she's been sheltered all her life. The few times she's been out in a crowd there must not have been any other mentalics around.

 

 "That's one reason-perhaps the most important reason-for you two to get out-with me or without me. We must find other mentalics. The two of you alone are strong enough to push a single person. A large group of you, all pushing together, will have the power to move an Empire!"

 

 With that. Hari Seldon swung his legs around and hoisted himself out of the ground-car. As Wanda and Palver watched him limp up the pathway to the Psychohistory Building, they were only dimly aware of the enormous responsibility Seldon had just placed on their young shoulders.

 

 33

 

 It was midafternoon and the Trantorian sun glinted on the metal skin covering the great planet. Hari Seldon stood at the edge of the Streeling University observation deck, attempting to shield his eyes from the harsh glare with his hand. It had been years since he'd been out from under the dome, save for his few visits to the Palace, and somehow those didn't count; one was still very much enclosed on the Imperial grounds.

 

 Seldon no longer traveled around only if accompanied. In the first place, Palver spent the majority of his time with Wanda, either working on the Prime Radiant, absorbed in mentalic research, or searching for others like them. But if he had wanted, Seldon could have found another young man-a University student or a Project member-to act as his bodyguard.

 

 However, Seldon knew that a bodyguard was no longer necessary. Since the much publicized hearing and the reestablishment of ties with the Galactic Library, the Commission for Public Safety had taken a keen interest in Seldon. Seldon knew that he was being followed; he had caught sight of his "shadow" on a number of occasions in the past few months. He also had no doubt that his home and office had been infiltrated by listening devices, but he himself activated a static shield whenever he engaged in sensitive communications.

 

 Seldon was not sure what the Commission thought of him-perhaps they were not yet sure themselves. Regardless of whether they believed him to be a prophet or a crackpot, they made it their business to know where he was at all times-and that meant that, until the Commission deemed otherwise, at all times Seldon was safe.

 

 A light breeze billowed the deep blue cloak Seldon had draped over his unisuit and ruffed the few wispy white hairs remaining on his head. He glanced down over the railing, taking in the seamless steel blanket below. Beneath that blanket, Seldon knew, rumbled the machinery of a vastly complicated world. If the dome were transparent, one would see ground-cars racing, gravicabs swooshing through an intricate network of interconnecting tunnels, space hyperships being loaded and unloaded with grain and chemicals and jewels bound for and from practically every world of the Empire.

 

 Below the gleaming metal cover, the lives of forty billion people were being conducted, with all the attendant pain, joy, and drama of human life. It was an image he loved dearly-this panorama of human achievement-and it pierced his heart to know that, in just a few centuries, all that now lay before him would be in ruins. The great dome would be ripped and scarred, torn away to reveal the desolate wasteland of what was once the seat of a thriving civilization. He shook his head in sadness, for he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent that tragedy. But, as Seldon foresaw the ruined dome, he also knew that from the ground laid bare by the last battles of the Empire living shoots would spring and somehow Trantor would reemerge as a vital member of the new Empire. The Plan saw to that.

 

 Seldon lowered himself onto one of the benches ringing the deck's perimeter. His leg was throbbing painfully; the exertion of the trip had been a bit much. But it had been worth it to gaze once again at Trantor, to feel the open air around him and see the vast sky above.

 

 Seldon thought wistfully of Wanda. He rarely saw his granddaughter at all anymore and invariably Stettin Palver was present when he did. In the three months since Wanda and Palver had met, they seemed to be inseparable. Wanda assured Seldon that the constant involvement was necessary for the Project, but Seldon suspected it went deeper than mere devotion to one's job.

 

 He remembered the telltale signs from his early days with Dors. It was there in the way the two young people looked at each other, with an intensity born not only of intellectual stimulation but emotional motivation as well.

 

 Further, by their very natures, Wanda and Palver seemed to be more comfortable with each other than with other people. In fact, Seldon had discovered that when no one else was around, Wanda and Palver didn't even talk to each other; their mentalic abilities were sufficiently advanced that they had no need of words to communicate.

 

 The other Project members were not aware of Wanda's and Palver's unique talents. Seldon had felt it best to keep the mentalics' work quiet, at least until their role in the Plan was firmly defined. Actually the Plan itself was firmly defined-but solely in Seldon's mind. As a few more pieces fell into place, he would reveal his Plan to Wanda and Palver and someday, of necessity, to one or two others.

 

 Seldon stood slowly, stiffly. He was due back at Streeling in an hour to meet Wanda and Palver. They had left word for him that they were bringing a great surprise. Another piece for the puzzle, Seldon hoped. He looked out one last time over Trantor and, before turning to make his way back to the gravitic repulsion elevator, smiled and softly said, "Foundation."

 

 34

 

 Hari Seldon entered his office to find that Wanda and Palver had already arrived and were seated around the conference table at the far end of the room. As was usual with those two, the room was completely silent.

 

 Then Seldon stopped short, noticing that a new fellow was sitting with them. How strange-out of politeness, Wanda and Palver usually reverted to standard speech when in the company of other people, yet none of the three was speaking.

 

 Seldon studied the stranger-an odd-looking man, about thirty-five years old, with the myopic look of one caught up for too long in his studies. If it weren't for a certain determined set to the stranger's jaw, Seldon thought he might be dismissed as ineffectual, but that would obviously be a mistake. There was both strength and kindness in the man's face. A trustworthy face, Seldon decided.

 

 "Grandfather," Wanda said, rising gracefully from her chair. Seldon's heart ached as he looked at his granddaughter. She'd changed so much in the past few months, since the loss of her family. Whereas before she had always called him Grandpa, now it was the more formal Grandfather. In the past it seemed she could barely refrain from grins and giggles; lately her serene gaze was lightened only occasionally by a beatific smile. But-now as always-she was beautiful and that beauty was surpassed only by her stunning intellect.

 

 "Wanda, Palver," Seldon said, kissing the former on the cheek and slapping the latter on the shoulder.

 

 "Hello," Seldon said, turning to the stranger, who had also stood. "I am Hari Seldon."

 

 "I am most honored to meet you, Professor," the man replied. "I am Bor Alurin." Alurin offered a hand to Seldon in the archaic and, hence, most formal mode of greeting.

 

 "Bor is a psychologist, Hari," said Palver, "and a great fan of your work."

 

 "More important, Grandfather," said Wanda, "Bor is one of us."

 

 "One of you?" Seldon looked searchingly from one to the other. "Do you mean . . . ?" Seldon's eyes sparkled.

 

 "Yes, Grandfather. Yesterday Stettin and I were walking through Ery Sector, getting out and around, as you'd suggested, probing for others. All of a sudden-wham!-there it was."

 

 "We recognized the thought patterns immediately and began to look around, trying to establish a link," Palver said, taking up the story. "We were in a commercial area, near the spaceport, so the walkways were clogged with shoppers and tourists and Outworld traders. It seemed hopeless, but then Wanda simply stopped and signaled Come here and out of the crowd Bor appeared. He just walked up to us and signaled Yes?"

 

 "Amazing," Seldon said, beaming at his granddaughter. "And Dr.-it is Doctor, isn't it?-Alurin, what do you make of all this?"

 

 "Well," began the psychologist thoughtfully, "I am pleased. I've always felt different somehow and now I know why. And if I can be of any help to you, why-" The psychologist looked down at his feet, as if all of a sudden he realized he was being presumptuous. "What I mean is, Wanda and Stettin said I may be able to contribute in some way to your Psychohistory Project. Professor, nothing would please me more."

 

 "Yes yes. That's quite true, Dr. Alurin. In fact, I think you may make a great contribution to the Project-if you'll join me. Of course, you'll have to give up whatever it is you do now, whether it is teaching or private practice. Can you manage that?"

 

 "Why, yes, Professor, of course. I may need a little help convincing my wife-" At this he chuckled slightly, glancing shyly at each of his three companions in turn. "But I seem to have a way with that."

 

 "So it's set, then," said Seldon briskly. "You will join the Psychohistory Project. I promise you, Dr. Alurin, this is a decision you will not regret."

 

  

 

 "Wanda, Stettin," Seldon said later, after Bor Alurin had left. "This is a most welcome breakthrough. How quickly do you think you can find more mentalics?"

 

 "Grandfather, it took us over a month to locate Bor-we cannot predict with what frequency others will be found.

 

 "To tell you the truth, all this `out and around' takes us away from our work on the Prime Radiant and it is distracting as well. Now that I have Stettin to `talk' to, verbal communication is somewhat too harsh, too loud. "

 

 Seldon's smile faded. He had been afraid of this. As Wanda and Palver had been honing their mentalic skills, so their tolerance for "ordinary" life had diminished. It only made sense; their mentalic manipulations set them apart.

 

 "Wanda, Stettin, I think it may be time for me to tell you more about the idea Yugo Amaryl had years ago and about the Plan I've devised as a result of that idea. I haven't been ready to elaborate upon it until now, because until this moment, all the pieces have not been in place.

 

 "As you know, Yugo felt we must establish two Foundations-each as a fail-safe measure for the other. It was a brilliant idea, one which I wish Yugo could have lived long enough to see realized." Here Seldon paused, heaving a regretful sigh.

 

 "But I digress. -Six years ago, when I was certain that Wanda had mentalic, or mind-touching, capabilities, it came to me that not only should there be two Foundations but that they should be distinct in nature, as well. One would be made up of physical scientists-the Encyclopedists will be their pioneer group on Terminus. The second would be made up of true psychohistorians; mentalists-you. That is why I've been so eager for you to find others like you.

 

 "Finally, though, is this: The Second Foundation must be secret. Its strength will lie in its seclusion, in its telepathic omnipresence and omnipotence.

 

 "You see, a few years ago, when it became apparent that I would require the services of a bodyguard, I realized that the Second Foundation must be the strong, silent, secret bodyguard of the primary Foundation.

 

 "Psychohistory is not infallible-its predictions are, however, highly probable. The Foundation, especially in its infancy, will have many enemies, as do I today.

 

 "Wanda, you and Palver are the pioneers of the Second Foundation, the guardians of the Terminus Foundation."

 

 "But how, Grandfather?" demanded Wanda. "We are just two-well, three, if you count Bor. To guard the entire Foundation, we would need-"

 

 "Hundreds? Thousands? Find however many it takes, Granddaughter. You can do it. And you know how.

 

 "Earlier, when relating the story of finding Dr. Alurin, Stettin said you simply stopped and communicated out to the mentalic presence you felt and he came to you. Don't you see? All along I've been urging you to go out and find others like you. But this is difficult, almost painful for you. I realize now that you and Stettin must seclude yourselves, in order to form the nucleus of the Second Foundation. From there you will cast your nets into the ocean of humanity."

 

 "Grandfather, what are you saying?" Wanda asked in a whisper. She had left her seat and was kneeling next to Seldon's chair. "Do you want me to leave?"

 

 "No, Wanda," Seldon replied, his voice choked with emotion. "I don't want you to leave, but it is the only way. You and Stettin must isolate yourselves from the crude physicality of Trantor. As your mentalic abilities grow stronger, you will attract others to you-the silent and secret Foundation will grow.

 

 "We will be in touch-occasionally, of course. And each of us has a Prime Radiant. You see, don't you, the truth-and the absolute necessity -of what I am saying, don't you?"

 

 "Yes, I do, Grandfather," said Wanda. "More important, I feel the brilliance of it as well. Rest assured; we won't let you down."

 

 "I know you won't, dear," Seldon said wearily.

 

 How could he do this-how could he send his darling granddaughter away? She was his last link to his happiest days, to Dors, Yugo, and Raych. She was the only other Seldon in the Galaxy.

 

 "I shall miss you terribly, Wanda," Seldon said as a tear worked its way down his finely creased cheek.

 

 "But, Grandfather," Wanda said as she stood with Palver, preparing to leave. "Where shall we go? Where is the Second Foundation?"

 

 Seldon looked up and said, "The Prime Radiant has already told you, Wanda."

 

 Wanda looked at Seldon blankly, searching her memory.

 

 Seldon reached out and clutched at his granddaughter's hand.

 

 "Touch my mind, Wanda. It is there." Wanda's eyes widened as she reached into Seldon's mind.

 

 "I see," Wanda whispered to Seldon.

 

 Section 33A2D17.- Star's End.

 

 

  

 

  

 

 PART V

 

  

 

 EPILOGUE

 

  

 

  

 

  

 

 

  

 

  

 

  

 

 I am Hari Seldon. Former First Minister to Emperor Cleon I. Professor Emeritus of Psychohistory at Streeling University on Trantor. Director of the Psychohistory Research Project. Executive Editor of the Encyclopedia Galactica. Creator of the Foundation.

 

 It all sounds quite impressive, I know. I have done a great deal in my eighty-one years and I am tired. Looking back over my life, I wonder if I could have-should have-done certain things differently. For instance: Was I so concerned with the grand sweep of psychohistory that the people and events that intersected my life sometimes seemed inconsequential by comparison?

 

 Perhaps I neglected to make some small incidental adjustments here or there that would have in no way compromised the future of humanity but might have dramatically improved the life of an individual dear to me. -Yugo, Raych . . . I can't help but wonder . . . Was there something I could have done to save my beloved Dors?

 

 Last month I finished recording the Crisis holograms. My assistant, Gaal Dornick, has taken them to Terminus to oversee their installation in the Seldon Vault. He will make sure that the Vault is sealed and that the proper instructions are left for the eventual openings of the Vault, during the Crises.

 

 I'll be dead by then, of course.

 

 What will they think, those future Foundationers, when they see me (or, more accurately, my hologram) during the First Crisis, almost fifty years from now? Will they comment on how old I look or how weak my voice is or how small I seem, bundled in this wheelchair? Will they understand-appreciate-the message I've left for them? -Ah well, there's really no point in speculating. As the ancients would say: The die is cast.

 

 I heard from Gaal yesterday. All is going well on Terminus. Bor Alurin and the Project members are flourishing in "exile." I shouldn't gloat, but I can't help but chuckle when I recall the self-satisfied look on the face of that pompous idiot Linge Chen when he banished the Project to Terminus two years ago. Although ultimately the exile was couched in terms of an Imperial Charter ("A state-supported scientific institution and part of the personal domain of His August Majesty, the Emperor"-the Chief Commissioner wanted us off Trantor and out of his hair, but he could not bear the thought of giving up complete control), it is still a source of secret delight to know that it was Las Zenow and I who chose Terminus as Foundation's home.

 

 My one regret where Linge Chen is concerned is that we were not able to save Agis. That Emperor was a good man and a noble leader, even if he was Imperial in name only. His mistake was to believe in his title and the Commission of Public Safety would not tolerate the burgeoning Imperial independence.

 

 I often wonder what they did to Agis-was he exiled to some remote Outer World or assassinated like Cleon?

 

 The boy-child who sits on the throne today is the perfect puppet Emperor. He obeys every word Linge Chen whispers in his ear and fancies himself a budding statesman. The Palace and trappings of Imperial life are but toys to him in some vast fantastical game.

 

 What will I do now? With Gaal finally gone to join the Terminus group, I am utterly alone. I hear from Wanda occasionally. The work at Star's End continues on course; in the past decade she and Stettin have added dozens of mentalics to their number. They increasingly grow in power. It was the Star's End contingent-my secret Foundation-who pushed Linge Chen into sending the Encyclopedists to Terminus.

 

 I miss Wanda. It has been many years since I've seen her, sat with her quietly, holding her hand. When Wanda left, even though I had asked her to go, I thought I would die of heartbreak. That was, perhaps, the most difficult decision I ever had to make and, although I never told her, I almost decided against it. But for the Foundation to succeed, it was necessary for Wanda and Stettin to go to Star's End. Psychohistory decreed it, -so perhaps it wasn't really my decision, after all.

 

 I still come here every day, to my office in the Psychohistory Building. I remember when this structure was filled with people, day and night. Sometimes I feel as if it's filled with voices, those of my long-departed family, students, colleagues-but the offices are empty and silent. The hallways echo with the whirr of my wheelchair motor.

 

 I suppose I should vacate the building, return it to the University to allocate to another department. But somehow it's hard to let go of this place. There are so many memories . . .

 

 All I have now is this, my Prime Radiant. This is the means by which psychohistory can be computed, through which every equation in my Plan may be analyzed, all here in this amazing, small black cube. As I sit here, this deceptively simple-looking tool in the palm of my hand, I wish I could show it to R. Daneel Olivaw . . .

 

 But I am alone, and need only to close a contact for the office lights to dim. As I settle back in my wheelchair, the Prime Radiant activates, its equations spreading around me in three-dimensional splendor. To the untrained eye, this multicolored swirl would be merely a jumble of shapes and numbers, but for me-and Yugo, Wanda, Gaal-this is psychohistory, come to life.

 

 What I see before me, around me, is the future of humanity. Thirty thousand years of potential chaos, compressed into a single millennium . . .

 

 That patch, glowing more strongly day by day, is the Terminus equation. And there-skewed beyond repair-are the Trantor figures. But I can see . . . yes, softly beaming, a steady light of hope . . . Star's End!

 

 This-this-was my life's work. My past-humanity's future. Foundation. So beautiful, so alive. And nothing can . . .

 

 Dors!

 

  

 

  

 

 SELDON, HARI- . . . found dead, slumped over his desk in his office at Streeling University in 12,069 G.E. (1 F.E.). Apparently Seldon had been working up to his last moments on psychohistorical equations; his activated Prime Radiant was discovered clutched in his hand . . . .

 

 According to Seldon's instructions, the instrument was shipped to his colleague Gaal Dornick who had recently emigrated to Terminus . . . .

 

 Seldon's body was jettisoned into space, also in accordance with instructions he'd left. The official memorial service on Trantor was simple, though well attended. It is worth noting that Seldon's old friend former First Minister Eto Demerzel attended the event. Demerzel had not been seen since his mysterious disappearance immediately following the Joranumite Conspiracy during the reign of Emperor Cleon I. Attempts by the Commission of Public Safety to locate Demerzel in the days following the Seldon memorial proved to be unsuccessful . . . .

 

 Wanda Seldon, Hari Seldon's granddaughter, did not attend the ceremony. It was rumored that she was grief-stricken and had refused all public appearances. To this day, her whereabouts from then on remain unknown . . . .

 

 It has been said that Hari Seldon left this life as he lived it, for he died with the future he created unfolding all around him . . . .

 

 ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

 

  

 

 

 

 

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