Gregory Benford - 2nd Foundation Trilogy 1- Foundations Fea

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Foundation and Chaos by Greg Bear

Foundation's Triumph by David Brin

By Isaac Asimov

Gold: The Final Science Fiction Collection Magic: The Final Fantasy

Collection

Isaac Asimov's History of l-Botics

Isaac Asimov's I-Bots: Time Was by Steve Perry and Gary A. Braun-

beck

Published by Harper Prism

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This book contains an excerpt of Foundation and Chaos by Greg

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10 9 8 7 6 5

the site was protected by elaborate, overlapping security measures. Robots

were outlaws. They had lived for millennia in the deep shadow of taboo.

Though Olivaw was her guide and mentor, she saw him seldom.

Yet as a humaniform robot she felt a tremor of mingled fear and rever-

ence at this ancient, partly metallic form before her. He was nearly twenty

millennia old. Though he could appear human, he did not truly wish to be

human. He was inexpressibly greater than that now.

She had lived happily as a pseudo-person for so long now. Even a re-

minder of who and what she was came like cold fingers along her spine.

"The recent increasing attention paid to Hari... "

"Indeed. You fear you will be detected. "

"The newest security measures are so invasive!"

He nodded. "You are correct to be concerned. "

"I need more help in protecting Hari."

"Adding another of us to his close associates would double the danger

of detection."

"I know, I know, but..."

Olivaw reached out and touched her hand. She blinked back tears and

studied his face. Small matters, such as consistent movement of his

Adam's apple when he swallowed, had long ago been perfected. To ease

himself in this meeting, he had omitted these minor computations and

"A necessary move."

"It may distract him from his work, from psychohistory."

Olivaw shook his head slowly. "I doubt that. He is a certain special kind

of human—driven. He once remarked to me, 'Genius does what it must and

talent does what it can'—thinking that he merely had talent."

She smiled ruefully. "But he is a genius."

"And like all such, unique. Humans have that— rare, great excursions

from the mean. Evolution has selected them for it, though they do not seem

to realize that."

"And we?"

"Evolution cannot act on one who lives forever. In any case, there has

not been time. We can and do develop ourselves, however."

"Humans are also murderous."

"We are few; they are many. And they have deep animal spirits we can-

not fathom, in the end, no matter how we try."

"I care about Hari, first."

"And the Empire, a distant second?" He gave her a thin smile. "I care for

the Empire only so far as it safeguards humanity."

"From what?"

"From itself. Just remember, Dors: this is the Cusp Era, as anticipated

by ourselves for so long. The most critical period in all of history."

"I do not know of this—"

"No need for you to. We now require a more profound view. That is why

Hari is so important."

Dors frowned, troubled for reasons she could not quite express. "This

earlier, simpler theory of... ours. It tells you that humanity now must have

psychohistory?"

"Exactly. We know this, from our own crude theory. But only this."

"For more, we rely on Hari alone?"

"Alas, yes."

PART 1

MATHIST MINISTER

HARI SELDON — ... though it is the best existing authority on the de-

tails of Seldon's life, the biography by Gaal Dornick cannot be trusted re-

garding the early rise to power. As a young man, Dornick met Seldon only

two years before the great mathist's death. By then, rumor and even legend

had already begun to grow about Seldon, particularly regarding his shad-

owy period of large-scale authority within the fading Imperium.

How Seldon became the only mathist in all Galactic history to ascend to

political power remains one of the most intractable puzzles for Seldon

scholars. He gave no sign of ambitions beyond the building of a science of

"history"—all the while envisioning not the mere fathoming of the past, but

worlds." How Seldon adroitly maneuvered against powerful opponents,

despite no recorded experience in the political arena, remains an active but

vexing area of research ...

—ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA1

'All quotations from the Encyclopedia Galactica here reproduced are

taken from the 116th edition, published 1,020 F.E. by the Encyclopedia

Galactica Publishing Co., Terminus, with permission of the publishers.

He had made enough enemies to acquire a nickname, Hari Seldon

mused, and not enough friends to hear what it was.

He could feel the truth of that in the murmuring energy in the crowds.

Uneasily he walked from his apartment to his office across the broad

squares of Streeling University. "They don't like me," he said.

Dors Vanabili matched his stride easily, studying the massed faces. "I

do not sense any danger."

"Don't worry your pretty head about assassination attempts—at least,

not right away."

"My, you're in a fine mood today."

"I hate this security screen. Who wouldn't?"

The Imperial Specials had fanned out in what their captain termed "an

engaging perimeter" around Hari and Dors. Some carried flash-screen

after all, a quiet place of learning. Or had been.

Dors clasped his hand in reassurance. "A First Minister can't simply

walk around without—"

"I'm not First Minister!"

"The Emperor has designated you, and that's enough for this crowd."

"The High Council hasn't acted. Until they do—"

"Your friends will assume the best," she said mildly.

"These are my friends?" Hari eyed the crowd suspiciously.

"They're smiling."

So they were. One called, "Hail the Prof Minister!" and others laughed.

"Is that my nickname now?"

"Well, it's not a bad one."

"Why do they flock so?"

"People are drawn to power."

"I'm still just a professor!"

To offset his irritation, Dors chuckled at him, a wifely reflex. "There's an

ancient saying, 'These are the times that fry men's souls.'"

"You have a bit of historical wisdom for everything."

"It's one of the few perks that come with being an historian."

Someone called, "Hey, Math Minister!"

Hari said, "I don't like that name any better."

The fountain was glorious, yet even it reminded him of the vastness that

lay beneath such simplicities. Here the tinkling streams broke free, but their

flight was momentary. Trantor's waters ran in mournful dark pipes, down

dim passages scoured by ancient engineers. A maze of fresh water arteries

and sewage veins twined through the eternal bowels. These bodily fluids of

the planet had passed through uncountable trillions of kidneys and throats,

had washed away sins, been toasted with at marriages and births, had

carried off the blood of murders and the vomit of terminal agonies. They

flowed on in their deep night, never knowing the clean vapor joy of unfet-

tered weather, never free of man's hand.

They were trapped. So was he.

Their party reached the Mathist Department and ascended. Dors rose

through the traptube beside him, a breeze fluttering her hair amiably, the

effect quite flattering. The Specials took up watchful, rigid positions outside.

First as he had for the last week, Hari tried again with the captain.

"Look, you don't really need to keep a dozen men sitting out here—"

"I'll be the judge of that, Academician sir, if you please."

Hari felt frustrated at the waste of it. He noticed a young Specialman

eyeing Dors, whose uni-suit revealed while still covering. Something made

him say, "Well then, I will thank you to have your men keep their eyes

where they belong!"

Dors had been assigned years before to watch over him, by Eto Demer-

zel. Hari reflected that he had gotten used to that role of hers, little noticing

that it conflicted in a deep, unspoken way with her also being a woman.

Dors was utterly self-reliant, but she had qualities which sometimes did not

easily jibe with her duty. Being his wife, for example.

"I will have to do it more often," he said lightly.

Still, he felt a pang of guilt about making trouble for the Specialmen.

Their being here was certainly not their idea; Cleon had ordered it. No

doubt they would far rather be off somewhere saving the Empire with sweat

and valor.

They went through the high, arched foyer of the Mathist Department,

Hari nodding to the staff. Dors went into her own office and he hurried into

his suite with an air of an animal retreating into its burrow. He collapsed

into his airchair, ignoring the urgent-message holo that hung a meter from

his face.

A wave erased it as Yugo Amaryl came in through the connecting e-stat

portal. The intrusive, bulky portal was also the fruit of Cleon's security or-

der. The Specials had installed the shimmering weapons-nulling fields eve-

rywhere. They lent an irksome, prickly smell of ozone to the air. One more

intrusion of Reality, wearing the mask of Politics.

Yugo's grin split his broad face. "Got some new results."

"Maybe you'd rather be sweating it out as a heat-sinker?"

Hari had found Yugo by chance eight years ago, just after arriving on

Trantor, when he and Dors were on the run from Imperial agents. An hour's

talk had shown Hari that Yugo was an untutored genius at trans-

representational analysis. Yugo had a gift, an unconscious lightness of

touch. They had collaborated ever since. Hari honestly thought he had

learned more from Yugo than the other way around.

"Ha!" Yugo clapped his big hands together three times, in the Dahlite

manner of showing agreeable humor. "You can grouse about doing filthy,

real-world work, but as long as it's in a nice, comfortable office, I'm in para-

dise."

"I shall have to turn most of the heavy lifting over to you, I fear." Hari de-

liberately put his feet up on his desk. Might as well look casual, even if he

didn't feel that way. He envied Yugo's heavy-bodied ease.

"This First Minister stuff?"

"It is getting worse. I have to go see the Emperor again."

"The man wants you. Must be your craggy profile."

"That's what Dors thinks, too. I figure it's my disarming smile. Anyway,

he can't have me."

"He will."

"If he forces the ministership on me, I shall do such a lousy job, Cleon

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FoundationandChaosbyGregBearFoundation'sTriumphbyDavidBrinByIsaacAsimovGold:TheFinalScienceFictionCollectionMagic:TheFinalFantasyCollectionIsaacAsimov'sHistoryofl-BoticsIsaacAsimov'sI-Bots:TimeWasbyStevePerryandGaryA.Braun-beckPublishedbyHarperPrismHarperPrismADivisionofHarperCollinsPublishersATTENT...

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Gregory Benford - 2nd Foundation Trilogy 1- Foundations Fea

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