Brin, David - 2nd Foundation Trilogy 3 - Foundations Triumph
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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
Published by HarperPrism
THE SECOND FOUNDATION TRILOGY
Foundation's Triumph
DAVID BRIN
Copyright (c) 1999 by The Estate of Isaac Asimov and David Brin. All
rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any
manner whatsoever without written permission of the publisher, except in
the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For
information address HarperCollins Publishers Inc., 10 East 53rd Street,
New York, NY 10022-5299.
HarperCollins books may be purchased for educational, business, or
sales promotional use. For information please write: Special Markets De-
partment, HarperCollins Publishers Inc., 10 East 53ra Street, New York, NY
10022-5299,
FIRST EDITION
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Brin, David.
Visit Harper Prism on the World Wide Web at
http://www.harperprism.com
99 00 01 02 10 98765432
To Isaac Asimov,
who added an entire course to our endless dinner-table conversation
about destiny
CONTENT!
Part 1. A Foretold Destiny
Part 2. An Ancient Plague
Part 3. Secret Crimes
Part 4. A Magnificent Design
Part 5. A Recurring Rendezvous
PART 1
A FORETOLD DESTINY
Little is known about the final days of Hari Seldon, though many roman-
ticized accounts exist, some of them purportedly by his own hand. None
has any proved validity.
What appears evident, however, is that Seldon spent his last months
uneventfully, no doubt enjoying satisfaction in his life's work. For with his
gift of mathematical insight, and the powers of psychohistory at his com-
mand, he must surely have seen the panorama of history stretching before
him, confirming the great path of destiny that he had already mapped out.
-1-
"As for me... I am finished."
Those words resonated in his mind. They clung, like the relentless blan-
ket that Hari's nurse kept straightening across his legs, though it was a
warm day in the imperial gardens.
I am finished.
The relentless phrase was his constant companion.
... finished.
Trantor.
Squinting through failing eyes, one could almost pretend to be sitting on
a different planet-one that had not been flattened and subdued in service to
the Galactic Empire of Humanity.
The forest teased Hari. Its total absence of straight lines seemed per-
verse, a riot of greenery that defied any effort to decipher or decode. The
geometries seemed unpredictable, even chaotic.
Mentally, he reached out to the chaos, so vibrant and undisciplined. He
spoke to it as an equal. His great enemy.
All my life I fought against you, using mathematics to overcome nature's
vast complexity. With tools of psychohistory, I probed the matrices of hu-
man society, wresting order from that murky tangle. And when my victories
still felt incomplete, I used politics and guile to combat uncertainty, driving
you like an enemy before me.
Because I am finished.
Finished as a mathematician.
It was more than a year since Stettin Palver or Gaal Dornick or any
other member of the Fifty had consulted Hari with a serious permutation or
revision to the "Seldon Plan. " Their awe and reverence for him was un-
changed. But urgent tasks kept them busy. Besides, anyone could tell that
his mind no longer had the suppleness to juggle a myriad abstractions at
the same time. It took a youngster's mental agility, concentration, and arro-
gance to challenge the hyperdimensional algorithms of psychohistory. His
successors, culled from among the best minds on twenty-five million
worlds, had all these traits in superabundance.
But Hari could no longer afford conceit. There remained too little time.
Finished as a politician.
Some might look back on that youthful record with ironic pride. But not
Hari Seldon.
Finished as a conspirator.
He had won each battle, prevailed in every contest. A year ago, Hari
subtly maneuvered today's imperial rulers into creating ideal circumstances
for his secret psychohistorical design to flourish. Soon a hundred thousand
exiles would be stranded on a stark planet, faraway Terminus, charged with
producing a great Encyclopedia Galactica. But that superficial goal would
peel away in half a century, revealing the true aim of that Foundation at the
galaxy's rim-to be the embryo of a more vigorous empire as the old one fell.
For years that had been the focus of his daily ambitions, and his nightly
dreams. Dreams that reached ahead, across a thousand years of social
collapse- past an age of suffering and violence-to a new human fruition. A
better destiny for humankind.
Only now his role in that great enterprise was ended. Hari had just fin-
ished taping messages for the Time Vault on Terminus-a series of subtle
maniform robots that Daneel Olivaw had assigned to protect Hari, until the
transcriptions were finished. It happened right there, at the recording stu-
dio. One robot-artfully disguised as a burly young medical technician-had
bowed low to speak in Hari's ear.
"We must go now. Daneel has urgent assignments for us. But he bade
me to give you his promise. Daneel will visit soon. The two of you will meet
again, before the end."
Perhaps that wasn't the most tactful way to put it. But Hari always pre-
ferred blunt openness from friends and family.
Unbidden, a clear image from the past swept into mind-of his wife, Dors
Venabili, playing with Raych, their son. He sighed. Both Dors and Raych
were long gone-along with nearly every link that ever bound him closely to
another private soul.
This brought a final coda to the phrase that kept spinning through his
mind-
Is that why I drift here, to this grove? He pondered the wild, unpredict-
able forest-a mere pocket in the Imperial Park, which measured a hundred
miles on a side-the only expanse of greenery on Trantor's metal-encased
crust. Most visitors preferred the hectares of prim gardens open to the pub-
lic, filled with extravagant and well-ordered blooms.
But Shoufeen Woods seemed to beckon him.
Here, unmasked by Trantor's opaque walls, I can see chaos in the foli-
age by day, and in brittle stars by night. I can hear chaos taunting me. . .
telling me I haven't won.
That wry thought provoked a smile, cracking the pursed lines of his face.
Who would have imagined, at this late phase of life, that I'd acquire a
taste for justice?
摘要：
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FoundationandChaosbyGregBearFoundation'sTriumphbyDavidBrinByIsaacAsimovGold:TheFinalScienceFictionCollectionMagic:TheFinalFantasyCollectionPublishedbyHarperPrismTHESECONDFOUNDATIONTRILOGYFoundation'sTriumphDAVIDBRINCopyright(c)1999byTheEstateofIsaacAsimovandDavidBrin.Allrightsreserved.Nopartofthisbo...
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分类：外语学习
价格：5.9玖币
属性：532 页
大小：850.04KB
格式：PDF
时间：2024-12-07
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