Foundation's Edge (3 page)

“Quite noticeably.”

“And you are anxious to demonstrate that you have made use of no illegal methods in questioning a Councilman? I don’t blame you ..

“I’m glad you do not blame me, Councilman. Then let us continue. You have stated openly, and on a number of occasions, that you do not believe in the existence of the Seldon Plan. Do you admit that?”

Trevize said slowly, choosing his words, “I do not believe that what we call Seldon’s Plan has the significance we usually apply to it.

“A vague statement. Would you care to elaborate?”

“My view is that the usual concept that Hari Seldon, five hundred years ago, making use of the mathematical science of psychohistory, worked out the course of human events to the last detail and that we are following a course designed to take us from the First Galactic Empire to the Second Galactic Empire along the line of maximum probability, is naive. It cannot be so:’

“Do you mean that, in your opinion, Hari Seldon never existed?”

“Not at all. Of course he existed.”

“That he never evolved the science of psychohistory?”

“No, of course I don’t mean any such thing. See here, Director, I would have explained this to the Council if I had been allowed to, and I will explain it to you. The truth of what I am going to say is so plain-“

The Director of Security had quietly, and quite obviously, turned off the recording device.

Trevize paused and frowned. “Why did you do that?”

“You are wasting my time, Councilman. I am not asking you for speeches.”

“You are asking me to explain my views, aren’t you?”

“Not at all. I am asking you to answer questions-simply, directly, and straightforwardly. Answer only the questions and offer nothing that I do not ask for. Do that and this won’t take long.”

Trevize said, “You mean you will elicit statements from me that will reinforce the official version of what I am supposed to have done.”

“We ask you only to make truthful statements, and I assure you we will not distort them. Please, let me try again. We were talking about Hari Seldon.” The recording device was in action once more and Kodell repeated calmly, “That he never evolved the science o€ psychohistory?”

“Of course he evolved the science that we call psychohistory,” said Trevize, failing to mask his impatience, and gesturing with exasperated passion.

“Which you would define-how?”

“Galaxy! It is usually defined as that branch of mathematics that deals with the overall reactions of large groups of human beings to given stimuli under given conditions. In other words, it is supposed to predict social and historical changes:”

“You say `supposed to: Do you question that from the standpoint of mathematical expertise?”

“No,” said Trevize. “I am not a psychohistorian. Nor is any member of the Foundation government, nor any citizen of Terminus, nor any-’

Kodell’s hand raised. He said softly, “Councilman, please!” and Trevize was silent.

Kodell said, “Have you any reason to suppose that Hari Seldon did not make the necessary analysis that would combine, as efficiently as possible, the factors of maximum probability and shortest duration in the path leading from the First to the Second Empire by way of the Foundation?”

“I wasn’t there,” said Trevize sardonically. “How can I know?”

“Can you know he didn’t?” No.

“Do you deny, perhaps, that the holographic image of Hari Seldon that has appeared during each of a number of historical crises over the past five hundred years is, in actual fact, a reproduction of Hari Seldon himself, made in the last year of his life, shortly before the establishment of the Foundation?”

“I suppose I can’t deny that.”

“You `suppose.’ Would you care to say that it is a fraud, a hoax devised by someone in past history for some purpose?”

Trevize sighed. “No. I am not maintaining that.”

“Are you prepared to maintain that the messages that Hari Seldon delivers are in any way manipulated by anyone at all?”

“No. I have no reason to think that such manipulation is either possible or useful.”

“I see. You witnessed this most recent appearance of Seldon’s image. Did you find that his analysis-prepared five hundred years ago-did not match the actual conditions of today quite closely?”

“On the contrary,” said Trevize with sudden glee. “It matched very closely.”

Kodell seemed indifferent to the other’s emotion. “And yet, Councilman, after the appearance of Seldon, you still maintain that the Seldon Plan does not exist.”

“Of course I do. I maintain it does not exist precisely because the analysis matched so perfectly-“

Kodell had turned off the recorder. “Councilman,” he said, shaking his head, “you put me to the trouble of erasing. I ask if you still maintain this odd belief of yours and you start giving me reasons. Let me repeat my question.”

He said, “And yet, Councilman, after the appearance of Seldon, you still maintain that the Seldon Plan does not exist.”

“How do you know that? No one had a chance to speak to my informer friend, Compor, after the appearance.”

“Let us say we guessed, Councilman. And let us say you have already answered, `Of course I do: If you will say that once more without volunteering added information, we can get on with it.”

“Of course I do,” said Trevize ironically.

“Well,” said Kodell, “I will choose whichever of the `Of course I do’s’ sounds more natural. Thank you, Councilman,” and the recording device was turned off again.

Trevize said, “Is that it?”

“For what I need, yes.”

“What you need, quite clearly, is a set of questions and answers that you can present to Terminus and to all the Foundation Federation which it rules, in order to show that I accept the legend of the Seldon Plan totally. That will make any denial of it that I later make seem quixotic or outright insane.”

“Or even treasonable in the eyes of an excited multitude which sees the Plan as essential to the Foundation’s safety. It will perhaps not be necessary to publicize this, Councilman Trevize, if we can come to some understanding, but if it should prove necessary we will see to it that the Federation hears.”

“Are you fool enough, sir,” said Trevize, frowning, “to be entirely uninterested in what I really have to say?”

“As a human being I am very interested, and if an appropriate time comes I will listen to you with interest and a certain amount of skepticism. As Director of Security, however, I have, at the present moment, exactly what I want”

“I hope you know that this will do you, and the Mayor, no good.”

“Oddly enough, I am not at all of that opinion. You will now leave. Under guard, of course.”

“Where am I to be taken?”

Kodell merely smiled. “Good-bye, Councilman. You were not perfectly co-operative, but it would have been unrealistic to have expected you to be.”

He held out his hand.

Trevize, standing up, ignored it. He smoothed the creases out of his sash and said, “You only delay the inevitable. Others must think as I do now, or will come to think that way later. To imprison me or to kill me will serve to inspire wonder and, eventually, accelerate such thinking. In the end the truth and I shall win.”

Kodell took back his hand and shook his head slowly. “Really, Trevize,” he said. “You are a fool.”

It was not till midnight that two guards came to remove Trevize from what was, he had to admit, a luxurious room at Security Headquarters. Luxurious but locked. A prison cell by any name.

Trevize had over four hours to second-guess himself bitterly, striding restlessly across the floor for much of the period.

Why did he trust Compor?

Why not? He had seemed so clearly in agreement. -No, not that. He had seemed so ready to be argued into agreement. -No, not that, either. He had seemed so stupid, so easily dominated, so surely lacking a mind and opinions of his own that Trevize enjoyed the chance of using him as a comfortable sounding board. Compor had helped Trevize improve and hone his opinions. He had been useful and Trevize had trusted him for no other reason than that it had been convenient to do so.

But it was useless now to try to decide whether he ought to have seen through Compor. He should have followed the simple generalization: Trust nobody.

Yet can one go through life trusting nobody?

Clearly one had to.

And who would have thought that Branno would have had the audacity to pluck a Councilman out of the Council-and that not one of the other Councilmen would move to protect one of their own? Though they had disagreed with Trevize to their very hearts; though they would have been ready to bet their blood, drop by drop, on Branno’s rightness; they should still, on principle, have interposed themselves against this violation of their prerogatives. Branno the Bronze she was sometimes called, and she certainly acted with metallic rigor–

Unless she herself was already in the grip-

No! That way led to paranoia!

And yet-

His mind tiptoed in circles, and had not broken out of uselessly repetitive thought when the guards came.

“You will have to come with us, Councilman,” the senior of the two said with unemotional gravity. His insignia showed him to be a lieutenant. He had a small scar on his right cheek, and he looked tired, as though he had been at his Job too long and had done too little-as might be expected of a soldier whose people had been at peace for over a century.

Trevize did not budge. “Your name, Lieutenant.”

“I am Lieutenant Evander Sopellor, Councilman.”

“You realize you are breaking the law, Lieutenant Sopellor. You cannot arrest a Councilman.”

The lieutenant said, “We have our direct orders, sir.”

“That does not matter. You cannot be ordered to arrest a Councilman. You must understand that you will be liable for court-martial as a result.”

The lieutenant said, “You are not being arrested, Councilman.”

“Then I don’t have to go with you, do I?”

“We have been instructed to escort you to your home.”

“I know the way.”

“And to protect you en route.”

“From what? -Or from whom?”

“From any mob that may gather.”

“At midnight?”

“It is why we have waited for midnight, sir. -And now, sir, for your protection we must ask you to come with us. May I say-not as a threat but as a matter of information-that we are authorized to use force if necessary.”

Trevize was aware of the neuronic whips with which they were armed. He rose with what he hoped was dignity. “To my home, then. -Or will I find out that you are going to take me to prison?”

“We have not been instructed to lie to you, sir,” said the lieutenant with a pride of his own. Trevize became aware that he was in the presence of a professional man who would require a direct order before he would lie-and that even then his expression and his tone of voice would give him away.

Trevize said, “I ask your pardon, Lieutenant. I did not mean to imply that I doubted your word.”

A ground-car was waiting for them outside. The street was empty and there was no sign of any human being, let alone a mob-but the lieutenant had been truthful. He had not said there was a mob outside or that one would form. He had referred to “any mob that may gather.” He had only said “may.”

The lieutenant had carefully kept Trevize between himself and the car. Trevize could not have twisted away and made a run for it. The lieutenant entered immediately after him and sat beside him in the back.

The car moved off.

Trevize said, “Once I am home, I presume I may then go about my business freely-that I may leave, for instance, if I choose.”

“We have no order to interfere with you, Councilman, in any way, except insofar as we are ordered to protect you.”

“Insofar? What does that mean in this case?”

“I am instructed to tell you that once you are home, you may not leave it. The streets are not safe for you and I am responsible for your safety.”

“You mean I am under house arrest.”

“I am not a lawyer, Councilman. I do not know what that means.”

He gazed straight ahead, but his elbow made contact with Trevize’s side. Trevize could not have moved, however slightly, without the lieutenant becoming aware of it.

The car stopped before Trevize’s small house in the suburb of Flexner. At the moment, he lacked a housemate-Flavella having wearied of the erratic life that Council membership had forced upon him-so he expected no one to be waiting for him.

“Do I get out now?” Trevize asked.

“I will get out first, Councilman. We will escort you in.”

“For my safety?”

“Yes, sir.”

There were two guards waiting inside his front door. A night-light was gleaming, but the windows had been opacified and it was not visible from outside.

For a moment, he was indignant at the invasion and then he dismissed it with an inward shrug. If the Council could not protect him in the Council Chamber itself, then surely his house could not serve as his castle.

Trevize said, “How many of you do I have in here altogether? A regiment?”

“No, Councilman,” came a voice, hard and steady. “Just one person aside from those you see, and I have been waiting for you long enough.”

Harla Branno, Mayor of Terminus, stood in the door that led into the living room. “Time enough, don’t you think, for us to talk?”

Trevize stared. “All this rigmarole to-“

But Branno said in a low, forceful voice. “Quiet, Councilman. -And you four, outside. Outside! -All will be well in here.”

The four guards saluted and turned on their heels. Trevize and Branno were alone.

MAYOR

BRANNO HAD BEEN WAITING FOR AN HOUR, THINKING WEARILY.  Technically speaking, she was guilty of breaking and entering. What’s more, she had violated, quite unconstitutionally, the rights of a Councilman. By the strict laws that held Mayors to account since the days of Indbur III and the Mute, nearly two centuries before-she was impeachable.

On this one day, however, for twenty-four hours she could do no wrong.