Prelude to Foundation (35 page)

It was Dors who answered this time, her voice firm, her eyes hard. “We will tell you yet once again, Mycogenian. We are scholars, who consider knowledge sacred and it is only knowledge that we seek. You did not lure us here, but you did not stop us either, as you might have done before ever we approached this building. You smoothed our way and made it easy for us and even that might be considered a lure. And what harm have we done? We have in no way disturbed the building, or this room, or you, or
that
.”

She pointed to the robot. “It is a dead lump of metal that you hide here and we now know that it is dead and that is all the knowledge we sought. We thought it would be more significant and we are disappointed, but now that we know it is merely what it is, we will leave—and, if you wish, we will leave Mycogen as well.”

Sunmaster Fourteen listened with no trace of expression on his face, but when she was done, he addressed Seldon, saying, “This robot, as you see it, is a symbol, a symbol of all we have lost and of all we no longer have, of all that, through thousands of years, we have not forgotten and what we intend someday to
return to. Because it is all that remains to us that is both material and authentic, it is dear to us—yet to your woman it is only ‘a dead lump of metal.’ Do you associate yourself with that judgment, Tribesman Seldon?”

Seldon said, “We are members of societies that do not tie ourselves to a past that is thousands of years old, making no contact at all with what has existed between that past and ourselves. We live in the present, which we recognize as the product of
all
the past and not of one long-gone moment of time that we hug to our chests. We realize, intellectually, what the robot may mean to you and we are willing to let it continue to mean that to you. But
we
can only see it with our own eyes, as you can only see it with yours. To
us
, it is a dead lump of metal.”

“And now,” said Dors, “we will leave.”

“You will
not
,” said Sunmaster Fourteen. “By coming here, you have committed a crime. It is a crime only in
our
eyes, as you will hasten to point out”his lips curved in a wintry smile—“but this is our territory and, within it, we make the definitions. And this crime, as we define it, is punishable by death.”

“And you are going to shoot us down?” said Dors haughtily.

Sunmaster Fourteen’s expression was one of contempt and he continued to speak only to Seldon. “What do you think we are, Tribesman Seldon? Our culture is as old as yours, as complex, as civilized, as humane. I am not armed. You will be tried and, since you are manifestly guilty, executed according to law, quickly and painlessly.

“If you were to try to leave now, I would not stop you, but there are many Brothers below, many more than there appeared to be when you entered the Sacratorium and, in their rage at your action, they may lay rough and forceful hands on you. It has happened in our history that tribespeople have even died so and it is not a pleasant death—certainly not a painless one.”

“We were warned of this,” said Dors, “by Skystrip Two. So much for your complex, civilized, and humane culture.”

“People can be moved to violence at moments of emotion, Tribesman Seldon,” said Sunmaster Fourteen calmly, “whatever their humanity in moments of calm. This is true in every culture, as your woman, who is said to be a historian, must surely know.”

Seldon said, “Let us remain reasonable, Sunmaster Fourteen. You may be the law in Mycogen over local affairs, but you are not the law over us and you know it. We are both non-Mycogenian citizens of the Empire and it is the Emperor and his designated legal officers who must remain in charge of any capital offense.”

Sunmaster Fourteen said, “That may be so in statutes and on papers and on holovision screens, but we are not talking theory now. The High Elder has long had the power to punish crimes of sacrilege without interference from the Imperial throne.”

“
If
the criminals are your own people,” said Seldon. “It would be quite different if they were outsiders.”

“I doubt it in this case. Tribesman Hummin brought you here as fugitives and we are not so yeast-headed in Mycogen that we don’t strongly suspect that you are fugitives from the Emperor’s laws. Why should he object if we do his work for him?”

“Because,” said Seldon, “he would. Even if we were fugitives from the Imperial authorities and even if he wanted us only to punish us, he would still want us. To allow you to kill, by whatever means and for whatever reason, non-Mycogenians without due
Imperial
process would be to defy his authority and no Emperor could allow such a precedent. No matter how eager he might be to see that the microfood trade not be interrupted, he would still feel it necessary to re-establish the Imperial prerogative. Do you wish, in your eagerness to kill us, to have a division of Imperial soldiery loot your farms and your dwellings, desecrate your Sacratorium, and take liberties with the Sisters? Consider.”

Sunmaster Fourteen smiled once again, but displayed no softness. “Actually, I have considered and there
is
an alternative. After we condemn you, we could delay your execution to allow you to appeal to the Emperor for a review of your case. The Emperor might be grateful at this evidence of our ready submission to his authority and grateful too to lay his hands on you two—for some reason of his own—and Mycogen might profit. Is that what you want, then? To appeal to the Emperor in due course and to be delivered to him?”

Seldon and Dors looked at each other briefly and were silent.

Sunmaster Fourteen said, “I feel you would rather be delivered to the Emperor than die, but why do I get the impression that the preference is only by a slight margin?”

“Actually,” said a new voice, “I think neither alternative is acceptable and that we must search for a third.”

It was Dors who identified the newcomer first, perhaps because it was she who expected him.

“Hummin,” she said, “thank goodness you found us. I got in touch with you the moment I realized I was not going to deflect Hari from”—she held up her hands in a wide gesture—“this.”

Hummin’s smile was a small one that did not alter the natural gravity of his face. There was a subtle weariness about him.

“My dear,” he said, “I was engaged in other things. I cannot always pull away at a moment’s notice. And when I got here, I had, like you two, to supply myself
with a kirtle and sash, to say nothing of a skincap, and make my way out here. Had I been here earlier, I might have stopped this, but I believe I’m not too late.”

Sunmaster Fourteen had recovered from what had seemed to be a painful shock. He said in a voice that lacked its customary severe depth, “How did you get in here, Tribesman Hummin?”

“It was not easy, High Elder, but as Tribeswoman Venabili likes to say, I am a very persuasive person. Some of the citizens here remembered who I was and what I have done for Mycogen in the past, that I am even an honorary Brother. Have you forgotten, Sunmaster Fourteen?”

The Elder replied, “I have not forgotten, but even the most favorable memory cannot survive certain actions. A tribesman here and a
tribeswoman
. There is no greater crime. All you have done is not great enough to balance that. My people are not unmindful. We will make it up to you some other way. But these two must die or be handed over to the Emperor.”

“I am also here,” said Hummin calmly. “Is that not a crime as well?”

“For you,” said Sunmaster Fourteen, “for you
personally
, as a kind of honorary Brother, I can … overlook it … once. Not these two.”

“Because you expect a reward from the Emperor? Some favor? Some concession? Have you already been in touch with him or with his Chief of Staff, Eto Demerzel, more likely?”

“That is not a subject for discussion.”

“Which is itself an admission. Come on, I don’t ask what the Emperor promised, but it cannot be much. He does not have much to give in these degenerate days. Let
me
make you an offer. Have these two told you they are scholars?”

“They have.”

“And they are. They are not lying. The tribeswoman is a historian and the tribesman is a mathematician. The
two together are trying to combine their talents to make a mathematics of history and they call the combined subject ‘psychohistory.’ ”

Sunmaster Fourteen said, “I know nothing about this psychohistory, nor do I care to know. Neither it nor any other facet of your tribal learning interests me.”

“Nevertheless,” said Hummin, “I suggest that you listen to me.”

It took Hummin some fifteen minutes, speaking concisely, to describe the possibility of organizing the natural laws of society (something he always mentioned with audible quotation marks in the tone of his voice) in such a way as to make it possible to anticipate the future with a substantial degree of probability.

And when he was done, Sunmaster Fourteen, who had listened expressionlessly, said, “A highly unlikely piece of speculation, I should say.”

Seldon, with a rueful expression, seemed about to speak, undoubtedly to agree, but Hummin’s hand, resting lightly on the other’s knee, tightened unmistakably.

Hummin said, “Possibly, High Elder, but the Emperor doesn’t think so. And by the Emperor, who is himself an amiable enough personage, I really mean Demerzel, concerning whose ambitions you need no instruction. They would like very much to have these two scholars, which is why I’ve brought them here for safekeeping. I had little expectation that you would do Demerzel’s work for him by delivering the scholars to him.”

“They have committed a crime that—”

“Yes, we know, High Elder, but it is only a crime because you choose to call it so. No real harm has been done.”

“It has been done to our belief, to our deepest felt—”

“But imagine what harm will be done if psychohistory falls into the hands of Demerzel. Yes, I grant that nothing may come of it, but suppose for a moment that something does and that the Imperial government has
the use of it—can foretell what is to come—can take measures with that foreknowledge which no one else would have—can take measures, in fact, designed to bring about an alternate future more to the Imperial liking.”

“Well?”

“Is there any doubt, High Elder, that the alternate future more to the Imperial liking would be one of tightened centralization? For centuries now, as you very well know, the Empire has been undergoing a steady decentralization. Many worlds now acknowledge only lip service to the Emperor and virtually rule themselves. Even here on Trantor, there is decentralization. Mycogen, as only one example, is free of Imperial interference for the most part. You rule as High Elder and there is no Imperial officer at your side overseeing your actions and decisions. How long do you think that will last with men like Demerzel adjusting the future to their liking?”

“Still the flimsiest of speculation,” said Sunmaster Fourteen, “but a disturbing one, I admit.”

“On the other hand, if these scholars can complete their task, an unlikely if, you might say, but an if—then they are sure to remember that you spared them when you might have chosen not to. And it would then be conceivable that they would learn to arrange a future, for instance, that would allow Mycogen to be given a world of its own, a world that could be terraformed into a close replica of the Lost World. And even if these two forget your kindness, I will be here to remind them.”

“Well—” said Sunmaster Fourteen.

“Come on,” said Hummin, “it is not hard to decide what must be going through your mind. Of all tribespeople, you must trust Demerzel the least. And though the chance of psychohistory might be small (if I was not being honest with you, I would not admit that) it is not zero; and if it will bring about a restoration of the Lost World, what can you want more than that? What
would you not risk for even a tiny chance of that? Come now—I promise you and my promises are not lightly given. Release these two and choose a tiny chance of your heart’s desire over no chance at all.”

There was silence and then Sunmaster Fourteen sighed. “I don’t know how it is, Tribesman Hummin, but on every occasion that we meet, you persuade me into something I do not really want to do.”

“Have I ever misled you, High Elder?”

“You have never offered me so small a chance.”

“And so high a possible reward. The one balances the other.”

And Sunmaster Fourteen nodded his head. “You are right. Take these two and take them out of Mycogen and never let me see them again unless there comes a time when—But surely it will not be in my lifetime.”

“Perhaps not, High Elder. But your people have been waiting patiently for nearly twenty thousand years. Would you then object to waiting another—perhaps—two hundred?”

“I would not willingly wait one moment, but my people will wait as long as they must.”

And standing up, he said, “I will clear the path. Take them and go!”

They were finally back in a tunnel. Hummin and Seldon had traveled through one when they went from the Imperial Sector to Streeling University in the air-taxi. Now they were in another tunnel, going from Mycogen to … Seldon did not know where. He hesitated to ask. Hummin’s face seemed as if it was carved out of granite and it didn’t welcome conversation.

Hummin sat in the front of the four-seater, with no one to his right. Seldon and Dors shared the backseat.

Seldon chanced a smile at Dors, who looked glum. “It’s nice to be in real clothes again, isn’t it?”

“I will never,” said Dors with enormous sincerity, “wear or look at anything that resembles a kirtle. And I will never, under any circumstances, wear a skincap. In fact, I’m going to feel odd if I ever see a normally bald man.”

And it was Dors who finally asked the question that Seldon had been reluctant to advance. “Chetter,” she said rather petulantly, “why won’t you tell us where we’re going?”

Hummin hitched himself into a sideways position and he looked back at Dors and Seldon gravely. “Somewhere,” he said, “where it may be difficult for you to get into trouble—although I’m not sure such a place exists.”