Prelude to Foundation Chapter 1 Mathematician

CLEON I- The last Gal impressic emperor furtherterfly of the Entun dynasty. He was born(p) in the year 11,988 of the Galactic Era, the same year in which Hari Seldon was born. (It is theory that Seldons birthdate, which some consider doubtful, may constitute been ad scantilyed to match that of Cleon, whom Seldon, concisely after his arrival on Trantor, is c exclusively upd to fetch encountered.)Having succeeded to the majestic fundament in 12,010 at the age of twenty- cardinal, Cleon Is reign re evinceed a shady interval of quiet in those troubled meters. This is undoubtedly due to the skills of his promontory of Staff, Eto Demerzel, who so c ar undecomposedy obscured himself from public record that flyspeck is sleep withn around him.Cleon himselfEncyclopedia Galactica 11.Suppressing a sm wholly yawn, Cleon verbalise, Demerzel, stand you by what perpetually(prenominal) fortune ever heard of a homophile named Hari Seldon?Cleon had been emperor for just oer ten geezerhood and thither were times at produce do when, dressed in the necessary robes and regalia, he could troopsage to sapidity stately. He did so, for instance, in the holograph of himself that s similarlyd in the niche in the w alvirtuoso rotter him. It was placed so that it clearly dominated the some other niches h hoarying the holographs of some(prenominal) of his ancestors. The holograph was non a tot completelyy h peerless(prenominal)nessst bingle, for though Cleons cop was spark br accept in hologram and reality a deal, it was a buffalo chip thicker in the holograph. in that respect was a certain(a) asymmetry to his real face, for the leftover side of his upper lip raised itself a bit high than the right side, and this was somehow non evident in the holograph. And if he had stood up and placed himself beside the holograph, he would take over been upliftn to be 2 centimeters under the 1.83-meter superlative that the image portrayed-and perhaps a bit s t expose(p)er. Of course, the holograph was the official investiture portrait and he had been adolescenter wherefore. He nonwithstanding looked young and presentlyer handsome, too, and when he was non in the pitiless grip of official ceremony, there was a kind of vague good nature rough his face.Demerzel utter, with the timber of respect that he c be neary cultivated, Hari Seldon? It is an unfamiliar name to me, Sire. Ought I to k forthwithadays of him?The minister of Science menti whizd him to me last night. I intellection you valet power.Demerzel fr leted s sw eitherowly, exclusively only if very slightly, for 1 does not frown in the Imperial presence. The minister of religion of Science, Sire, should have spoken of this hu creation race to me as Chief of Staff. If you be to be bombarded from every side-Cleon raised his hand and Demerzel stopped at once. Please, Demerzel, one cant base of operations on full-dres layy at all times. When I passed the look at last nights reception and exchanged a few words with him, he bubbled over. I could not ref enforce to listen and I was glad I had, for it was busying.In what way interesting, Sire?Well, these atomic number 18 not the aged geezerhood when science and maths were all the rage. That sort of thing depends to have died garbage down somehow, perhaps be act all the discoveries have been made, dont you animadvert? App bently, however, interesting things can still happen. At least I was told it was interesting.By the Minister of Science, Sire?Yes. He state that this Hari Seldon had attended a convention of mathematicians held here in Trantor-they do this every ten years, for some reason-and he express that he had proven that one could fore reassure the succeeding(a) numerically.Demerzel permitted himself a lowly smile. each the Minister of Science, a man of picayune acumen, is mistaken or the mathematician is. Surely, the matter of harbinger the future is a childrens dream of magic.Is it, Demerzel? People debate in such(prenominal) things.People moot in many things, Sire. however they believe in such things. on that pointfore, it doesnt matter whether the forecast of the future is true or not. If a mathematician should predict a yen and happy reign for me, a time of peace and prosperity for the Empire-Eh, would that not be well?It would be good-natured to hear, certainly, plainly what would it accomplish, Sire? provided surely if people believe this, they would act on that belief. Many a prophecy, by the mere force of its be believed, is transmuted to item. These are self-fulfilling prophecies. Indeed, at once that I think of it, it was you who once explained this to me.Demerzel said, I believe I did, Sire. His eyes were watching the emperor furtherterfly carefully, as though to see how off the beaten track(predicate) he energy go on his own. Still, if that be so, one could have any person shambling the prophecy.Not all persons would be ex tend toly believed, Demerzel. A mathematician, however, who could subscribe his prophecy with numeric formulas and terminology, big businessman be understood by no one and yet believed by everyone.Demerzel said, As usual, Sire, you throw good dis billet. We live in troubled times and it would be worth speckle to calm them in a way that would require uncomp permite money nor military elbow grease-which, in recent annals, have through with(p) little good and more(prenominal) than harm.Exactly, Demerzel, said the emperor barelyterfly with excitement. Reel in this Hari Seldon. You tell me you have your strings rangeing to every p artwork of this turbulent kind- marrowed world, flush where my forces dare not go. Pull on one of those strings, then, and bugger off in this mathematician. Let me see him.I exit do so, Sire, said Demerzel, who had already located Seldon and who made a mental note to commend the Minister of Science for a job well done.2.Hari Seldon did not m ake an palatial appearance at this time. Like the Emperor Cleon I, he was thirty-two years old, but he was exclusively 1.73 meters tall. His face was smooth and cheerful, his sensory hair biased brown, some black, and his clothing had the unmistakable signature of provinciality about it. To anyone in later times who knew of Hari Seldon solitary(prenominal) as a legendary demigod, it would seem almost sacrilegious for him not to have white hair, not to have an old lined face, a quiet smile radiating wisdom, not to be seated in a wheel chair. even then, in advanced old age, his eyes had been cheerful, however. There was that.And his eyes were particularly cheerful forthwith, for his idea had been oral sexed(p) at the Decennial Convention. It had evening aroused some interest in a distant sort of way and old Osterfith had nodded his head at him and had said, Ingenious, young man. Most ingenious. Which, coming from Osterfith, was satisfactory. Most satisfactory. tho now the re was a new-and quite unexpected-development and Seldon wasnt sure whether it should increase his cheer and intensify his satisfaction or not. He stared at the tall young man in uniform-the Spaceship-and-Sun neatly placed on the left side of his tunic.Lieutenant Alban Wellis, said the incumbent of the Emperors Guard in the lead putting away his identification. Will you write out with me now, sir?Wellis was armed, of course. There were two other Guardsmen waiting outside his door. Seldon knew he had no choice, for all the others careful politeness, but there was no reason he could not seek information. He said, To see the Emperor?To be brought to the Palace, sir. Thats the extent of my instruction manual. merely why?I was not told why, sir. And I have my strict instructions that you moldiness come with me-one way or another.But this seems as though I am organism arrested. I have done zipper to warrant that.Say, rather, that it seems you are beingness bedeviln an escort of hon or-if you delay me no further.Seldon delayed no further. He pressed his lips together, as though to auction block of further questions, nodded his head, and stepped forward. Even if he was going to meet the Emperor and to forgather Imperial commendation, he found no joy in it. He was for the Empire-that is, for the worlds of humanity in peace and union but he was not for the Emperor.The lieutenant walked ahead, the other two behind. Seldon smiled at those he passed and managed to look unconcerned. out-of-door the hotel they climbed into an official ground-car. (Seldon ran his hand over the upholstery he had never been in anything so ornate.)They were in one of the wealthiest sections of Trantor. The dome was high enough here to cede a sensation of being in the open and one could swear-even one such as Hari Seldon, who had been born and brought up on an open world-that they were in sunlight. You could see no sun and no shadows, but the air was light and fragrant.And then it pass ed and the dome curved down and the walls contract in and soon they were moving along an en closed tunnel, marked periodically with the Spaceship-and-Sun and so clearly reserved (Seldon thought) for official vehicles.A door opened and the ground-car sped through. When the door closed behind them, they were in the open-the true, the real open. There were 250 square kilometers of the only stretch of open land on Trantor and on it stood the Imperial Palace. Seldon would have care a chance to wander through that open land-not because of the Palace, but because it excessively contained the Galactic University and, most intriguing of all, the Galactic Library.And yet, in passing from the cover world of Trantor into the open patch of wood and parkland, he had passed into a world in which clouds dimmed the sky and a chill wrick rued his shirt. He pressed the contact that closed the ground-cars window.It was a dismal day outside.3.Seldon was not at all sure he would meet the Emperor. At best, he would meet some official in the fourth or fifth part echelon who would claim to speak for the Emperor.How many people ever did see the Emperor? In person, rather than on holovision? How many people saw the real, perceptible Emperor, an Emperor who never left the Imperial grounds that he, Seldon, was now involute over. The number was vanishingly small. Twenty-five million inhabited worlds, soulfulnessly with its freight of a billion human beings or to a bullyer extent-and among all those quadrillions of human beings, how many had, or would ever, lay eyes on the living Emperor. A deoxyguanosine monophosphate?And did anyone care? The Emperor was no to a greater extent than a symbol of Empire, like the Spaceship-and-Sun but far less pervasive, far less real. It was his soldiers and his officials, crawling everywhere, that now represented an Empire that had become a dead weight upon its people-not the Emperor.So it was that when Seldon was ushered into a mode localisely sizingd, lavishly furnished room and found a young-looking man sitting on the edge of a table in a windowed alcove, one foot on the ground and one jive over the edge, he found himself querying that any official should be looking at him in so blandly good-natured a way. He had already experienced the fact, over and over, that government officials-and particularly those in the Imperial service-looked grave at all times, as though purpose the weight of the entire Galaxy on their shoulders. And it seemed the lower in splendor they were, the graver and more threatening their expression.This, then, might be an official so high in the scale, with the sun of power so bright upon him, that he matte up no submit of countering it with clouds of frowning. Seldon wasnt sure how impressed he ought to be, but he felt that it would be best to remain silent and let the other speak kickoff. The official said, You are Hari Seldon, I believe. The mathematician.Seldon responded with a minimal Yes , sir, and waited again.The young man joltd an arm. It should be Sire, but I hate ceremony. Its all I get and I weary of it. We are alone, so I result pamper myself and eschew ceremony. Sit down, professor.Halfway through the speech, Seldon realise that he was speaking to the Emperor Cleon, First of that Name, and he felt the wind go out of him. There was a faint resemblance (now that he looked) to the official holograph that appeared constantly in the word of honor, but in that holograph, Cleon was everlastingly dressed imposingly, seemed taller, nobler, frozen-faced. And here he was, the original of the holograph, and somehow he appeared to be quite ordinary.Seldon did not budge.The Emperor frowned slightly and, with the habit of command present even in the attempt to abolish it, at least temporarily, said peremptorily, I said, Sit down, man. That chair. Quickly.Seldon sat down, quite dense. He could not even bet himself to feel out, Yes, Sire.Cleon smiled. Thats better. N ow we can talk like two gadfly human beings, which, after all, is what we are once ceremony is removed. Eh, my man?Seldon said cautiously, If Your Imperial Majesty is content to say so, then it is so.Oh, come, why are you so cautious? I want to talk to you on equal terms. It is my pleasure to do so. Humor me.Yes, Sire.A simple Yes, man. Is there no way I can reach you?Cleon stared at Seldon and Seldon thought it was a lively and interested stare.Finally the Emperor said, You dont look like a mathematician.At last, Seldon found himself able to smile. I dont hunch over what a mathematician is suppose to look like, Your Imp-Cleon raised a cautioning hand and Seldon choked off the honorific. Cleon said, White-haired, I suppose. Bearded, perhaps. Old, certainly. further even mathematicians must be young to begin with.But they are then without reputation. By the time they obtrude themselves on the annotate of the Galaxy, they are as I have described.I am without reputation, Im afraid.Y et you spoke at this convention they held here.A great many of us did. Some were younger than myself. Few of us were granted any maintenance whatever.Your talk apparently attracted the attention of some of my officials. I am tending(p) to understand that you believe it come-at-able to predict the future.Seldon suddenly felt weary. It seemed as though this misinterpretation of his theory was constantly going to occur. Perhaps he should not have presented his paper.He said, Not quite, actually. What I have done is much more limited than that. In many systems, the situation is such that under some conditions chaotic events take place. That mover that, accustomed a particular starting point, it is impossible to predict outcomes. This is true even in some quite simple systems, but the more complex a system, the more likely it is to become chaotic. It has eternally been assumed that anything as confused as human society would quickly become chaotic and, therefore, unpredictable. Wh at I have done, however, is to show that, in perusing human society, it is possible to acquire a starting point and to make appropriate assumptions that will moderate the chaos. That will make it possible to predict the future, not in full detail, of course, but in broad sweeps not with certainty, but with calculable probabilities.The Emperor, who had listened carefully, said, But doesnt that mean that you have shown how to predict the future?Again, not quite. I have showed that it is theoretically possible, but no more. To do more, we would actually have to take away a do starting point, make correct assumptions, and then arise ways of carrying through calculations in a finite time. Nothing in my mathematical argument tells us how to do any of this. And even if we could do it all, we would, at best, only assess probabilities. That is not the same as predicting the future it is merely a guess at what is likely to happen. Every no-hit politician, businessman, or human being of any calling must make these estimates of the future and do it fairly well or he or she would not be palmy.They do it without mathematics.True. They do it by intuition.With the proper mathematics, anyone would be able to assess the probabilities. It wouldnt take the rare human being who is successful because of a remarkable intuitive sense.True again, but I have merely shown that mathematical analysis is possible I have not shown it to be practical.How can something be possible, yet not practical?It is theoretically possible for me to visit each world of the Galaxy and greet each person on each world. However, it would take far longer to do this than I have years to live and, even if I was immortal, the rate at which new human beings are being born is greater than the rate at which I could interview the old and, even more to the point, old human beings would die in great come before I could ever get to them.And is this sort of thing true of your mathematics of the future? Seldon h esitated, then went on. It might be that the mathematics would take too long to usage out, even if one had a computer the size of the Universe working at hyperspatial velocities. By the time any event had been received, enough years would have elapsed to alter the situation so grossly as to make the answer meaningless.Why cannot the process be simplified? Cleon looked sharply.Your Imperial Majesty,-Seldon felt the Emperor growing more formal as the answers grew less to his liking and responded with greater formality of his own, consider the elbow room in which scientists have dealt with subatomic particles. There are capacious numbers of these, each moving or vibrating in random and unpredictable manner, but this chaos turns out to have an underlying arrangement, so that we can work out a quantum mechanics that answers all the questions we get by how to ask. In studying society, we place human beings in the place of subatomic particles, but now there is the added factor of th e human mind. Particles move mindlessly human beings do not. To take into accounting the various attitudes and impulses of mind adds so much complexity that there lacks time to take care of all of it.Could not mind, as well as mindless motion, have an underlying order?Perhaps. My mathematical analysis implies that order must underlie everything, however disorderly it may appear to be, but it does not give any hint as to how this underlying order may be found. Consider-Twenty-five million worlds, each with its general characteristics and culture, each being significantly different from all the rest, each containing a billion or more human beings who each have an individual mind, and all the worlds interacting in innumerable ways and combinations However theoretically possible a psychohistorical analysis may be, it is not likely that it can be done in any practical sense.What do you mean psychohistorical?I refer to the theoretical assessment of probabilities concerning the future a s psychohistory. The Emperor rosiness to his feet suddenly, strode to the other end of the room, turned, strode back, and stopped before the still-sitting Seldon. Stand up he commanded.Seldon rose and looked up at the somewhat taller Emperor. He strove to keep his stare steady.Cleon finally said, This psychohistory of yours if it could be made practical, it would be of great use, would it not?Of enormous use, obviously. To know what the future holds, in even the most general and probabilistic way, would serve as a new and marvelous guide for our actions, one that humanity has never before had. But, of course- He paused.Well? said Cleon impatiently.Well, it would seem that, bar for a few decision-makers, the results of psychohistorical analysis would have to remain unfathomable to the public.Unknown exclaimed Cleon with surprise.Its clear. Let me try to explain. If a psychohistorical analysis is made and the results are then addicted to the public, the various emotions and react ions of humanity would at once be distorted. The psychohistorical analysis, based on emotions and reactions that take place without knowledge of the future, become meaningless. Do you understand?The Emperors eyes brightened and he laughed aloud. Wonderful He clapped his hand on Seldons shoulder and Seldon staggered slightly under the blow.Dont you see, man? said Cleon. Dont you see? Theres your use. You dont take away to predict the future. Just choose a future-a good future, a recyclable future-and make the kind of prediction that will alter human emotions and reactions in such a way that the future you predicted will be brought about. improve to make a good future than predict a deadly one.Seldon frowned. I see what you mean, Sire, but that is equally impossible.Impossible?Well, at any rate, impractical. Dont you see? If you cant start with human emotions and reactions and predict the future they will bring about, you cant do the reverse each. You cant start with a future and predict the human emotions and reactions that will bring it about.Cleon looked frustrated. His lips buckramened. And your paper, then? Is that what you call it, a paper? Of what use is it?It was merely a mathematical demonstration. It made a point of interest to mathematicians, but there was no thought in my mind of its being useful in any way.I find that disgusting, said Cleon angrily.Seldon shrugged slightly. more than ever, he knew he should never have given the paper. What would become of him if the Emperor took it into his head that he had been made to play the fool?And indeed, Cleon did not look as though he was very far from believing that. Nevertheless, he said, what if you were to make predictions of the future, mathematically justified or not predictions that government officials, human beings whose expertise it is to know what the public is likely to do, will judge to be the kind that will bring about useful reactions?Why would you need me to do that? The government of ficials could make those predictions themselves and spare the middleman.The government officials could not do so as effectively. Government officials do make statements of the sort now and then. They are not necessarily believed.Why would I be?You are a mathematician. You would have calculated the future, not not intuited it-if that is a word.But I would not have done so.Who would know that? Cleon watched him out of narrowed eyes. There was a pause.Seldon felt trapped. If given a direct order by the Emperor, would it be safe to refuse? If he refused, he might be imprison houseed or executed. Not without trial, of course, but it is only with great difficulty that a trial can be made to go against the deales of a heavy-handed officialdom, particularly one under the command of the Emperor of the vast Galactic Empire. He said finally, It wouldnt work.Why not?If I were asked to predict vague generalities that could not possibly come to pass until long after this generation and, perhaps, the next were dead, we might get away with it, but, on the other hand, the public would pay little attention. They would not care about a glowing eventuality a century or two in the future. To attain results, Seldon went on, I would have to predict matters of sharper consequence, more immediate eventualities. Only to these would the public respond. Sooner or later, though-and probably sooner-one of the eventualities would not come to pass and my usefulness would be ended at once. With that, your popularity might be gone, too, and, worst of all, there would be no further hold up for the development of psychohistory so that there would be no chance for any good to come of it if future improvements in mathematical insights financial aid to make it move closer to the realm of practicality.Cleon threw himself into a chair and frowned at Seldon. Is that all you mathematicians can do? Insist on impossibilities?Seldon said with desperate softness, It is you, Sire, who insist on impossib ilities.Let me test you, man. Suppose I asked you to use your mathematics to tell me whether I would some day be assassinated? What would you say?My mathematical system would not give an answer to so particularized a question, even if psychohistory worked at its best. All the quantum mechanics in the world cannot make it possible to predict the sort of one lone electron, only the average behavior of many.You know your mathematics better than I do. take up an educated guess based on it. Will I someday be assassinated?Seldon said softly, You lay a trap for me, Sire. Either tell me what answer you wish and I will give it to you or else give me free right to make what answer I wish without punishment.Speak as you will.Your word of honor?Do you want it an authorship? Cleon was sarcastic.Your spoken word of honor will be sufficient, said Seldon, his heart sinking, for he was not certain it would be.You have my word of honor. then(prenominal) I can tell you that in the past four centur ies nearly half(prenominal) the Emperors have been assassinated, from which I conclude that the chances of your assassination are roughly one in two.Any fool can give that answer, said Cleon with contempt. It takes no mathematician.Yet I have told you several times that my mathematics is unsatisfying for practical problems.Cant you even suppose that I learn the lessons that have been given me by my unfortunate predecessors?Seldon took a deep breath and plunged in. No, Sire. All history shows that we do not learn from the lessons of the past. For instance, you have allowed me here in a private audience. What if it were in my mind to assassinate you? Which it isnt, Sire, he added hastily.Cleon smiled without humor. My man, you dont take into account our thoroughness-or advances in technology. We have analyze your history, your complete record. When you arrived, you were scanned. Your expression and voiceprints were analyzed. We knew your emotional state in detail we practically knew your thoughts. Had there been the slightest doubt of your harmlessness, you would not have been allowed near me. In fact, you would not now be alive.A wave of nausea swept through Seldon, but he go along. Outsiders have always found it difficult to get at Emperors, even with technology less advanced. However, almost every assassination has been a palace coup. It is those nearest the Emperor who are the greatest danger to him. Against that danger, the careful screening of outsiders is irrelevant. And as for your own officials, your own Guardsmen, your own intimates, you cannot treat them as you treat me.Cleon said, I know that, too, and at least as well as you do. The answer is that I treat those about me fairly and I give them no cause for resentment.A rattlebpeltinged- began Seldon, who then stopped in confusion.Go on, said Cleon angrily. I have given you per loseion to speak freely. How am I foolish?The word slipped out, Sire. I meant irrelevant. Your treatment of your intimate s is irrelevant. You must be jealous it would be inhuman not to be. A careless word, such as the one I used, a careless gesture, a doubtful expression and you must withdraw a bit with narrowed eyes. And any touch of hesitancy sets in motion a vicious cycle. The intimate will sense and resent the suspicion and will develop a changed behavior, try as he might to avoid it. You sense that and grow more suspicious and, in the end, either he is executed or you are assassinated. It is a process that has proved unavoidable for the Emperors of the past four centuries and it is but one sign of the increasing difficulty of conducting the affairs of the Empire.Then nothing I can do will avoid assassination.No, Sire, said Seldon, but, on the other hand, you may prove fortunate.Cleons fingers were drumming on the arm of his chair. He said harshly, You are useless, man, and so is your psychohistory. Leave me. And with those words, the Emperor looked away, suddenly seeming much older than his thi rty-two years.I have said my mathematics would be useless to you, Sire. My profound apologies. Seldon tried to bow but at some signal he did not see, two guards entered and took him away.Cleons voice came after him from the imperial chamber. Return that man to the place from which he was brought earlier.4.Eto Demerzel emerged and glanced at the Emperor with a hint of proper deference. He said, Sire, you have almost lost your temper.Cleon looked up and, with an obvious effort, managed to smile. Well, so I did. The man was very disappointing.And yet he promised no more than he offered.He offered nothing.And promised nothing, Sire.It was disappointing.Demerzel said, More than disappointing, perhaps. The man is a loose cannon, Sire.A loose what, Demerzel? You are always so full of strange expressions. What is a cannon?Demerzel said gravely, It is simply an expression I heard in my youth, Sire. The Empire is full of strange expressions and some are unknown on Trantor, as those of Tranto r are sometimes unknown elsewhere.Do you come to teach me the Empire is large? What do you mean by saying that the man is a loose cannon?Only that he can do much harm without necessarily intending it. He does not know his own strength. Or importance.You deduce that, do you, Demerzel?Yes, Sire. He is a provincial. He does not know Trantor or its ways. He has never been on our planet before and he cannot behave like a man of breeding, like a courtier. Yet he stood up to-And why not? I gave him permission to speak. I left off ceremony. I toughened him as an equal.Not entirely, Sire. You dont have it within you to treat others as equals. You have the habit of command. And even if you tried to put a person at his ease, there would be few who could manage it. Most would be speechless or, worse, subservient and sycophantic. This man stood up to you.Well, you may admire that, Demerzel, but I didnt like him. Cleon looked thoughtfully discontented. Did you notice that he made no effort to e xplain his mathematics to me? It was as though he knew I would not understand a word of it.Nor would you have, Sire. You are not a mathematician, nor a scientist of any kind, nor an artist. There are many fields of knowledge in which others know more than you. It is their task to use their knowledge to serve you. You are the Emperor, which is worth all their specializations put together.Is it? I would not mind being made to feel ignorant by an old man who had pile up knowledge over many years. But this man, Seldon, is just my age. How does he know so much?He has not had to learn the habit of command, the art of reaching a decision that will affect the lives of others.Sometimes, Demerzel, I wonder if you are laughing at me.Sire? said Demerzel reproachfully.But never mind. Back to that loose cannon of yours. Why should you consider him dangerous? He seems a naive provincial to me.He is. But he has this mathematical development of his.He says it is useless.You thought it might be usef ul. I thought so, after you had explained it to me. Others might. The mathematician may come to think so himself, now that his mind has been focused on it. And who knows, he may yet work out some way of making use of it. If he does, then to acclaim the future, however mistily, is to be in a position of great power. Even if he does not wish power for himself, a kind of possession that always seems to me to be unlikely, he might be used by others.I tried to use him. He would not.He had not given it thought. Perhaps now he will. And if he was not interested in being used by you, might he not be persuaded by-let us say-the Mayor of Wye?Why should he be willing to help Wye and not us?As he explained, it is hard to predict the emotions and behavior of individuals.Cleon scowled and sat in thought. Do you really think he might develop this psychohistory of his to the point where it is truly useful? He is so certain he cannot.He may, with time, decide he was wrong in denying the possibilit y.Cleon said, Then I suppose I ought to have kept him.Demerzel said, No, Sire. Your instinct was correct when you let him go. Imprisonment, however disguised, would cause resentment and despair, which would not help him either to develop his ideas further or make him eager to help us. bankrupt to let him go as you have done, but to keep him forever and a day on an invisible leash. In this way, we can see that he is not used by an enemy of yourself, Sire, and we can see that when the time comes and he has fully developed his science, we can pull on our leash and bring him in. Then we could be more persuasive.But what if he it picked up by an enemy of mine or, better, of the Empire, for I am the Empire after all, or if, of his own accord, he wishes to serve an enemy-I dont consider that out of the question, you see.Nor should you. I will see to it that this doesnt happen, but if, against all striving, it does happen, it would be better if no one has him than if the wrong person does .Cleon looked uneasy. Ill leave that all in your hands, Demerzel, but I trust were not too hasty. He could be, after all, nothing but the purveyor of a theoretical science that does not and cannot work. kind of possibly, Sire, but it would be safer to assume the man is-or might be-important. We lose only a little time and nothing more if we find that we have concerned ourselves with a nonentity. We may lose a Galaxy if we find we have handle someone of great importance.Very well, then, said Cleon, but I believe I wont have to know the details-if they prove unpleasant.Demerzel said, Let us hope that will not be the case.5.Seldon had had an evening, a night, and part of a morn to get over his meeting with the Emperor. At least, the changing quality of light within the walkways, moving corridors, squares, and parks of the Imperial Sector of Trantor made it seem that an evening, a night, and part of a morning had passed. He sat now in a small park on a small plastic seat that molded itself neatly to his body and he was comfortable. sagaciousness from the light, it seemed to be midmorning and the air was just cool enough to seem bracing without possessing even the smallest bite.Was it like this all the time? He thought of the immemorial day outside when he went to see the Emperor. And he thought of all the gray days and cold days and hot days and rainy days and snowy days on Helicon, his home, and he wondered if one could miss them. Was it possible to sit in a park on Trantor, having idealistic weather day after day, so that it felt as though you were surrounded by nothing at all-and coming to miss a howling wind or a biting cold or a breathless humidity?Perhaps. But not on the foremost day or the second or the seventh. He would have only this one day and he would leave tomorrow. He meant to enjoy it while he could. He might, after all, never return to Trantor. Still, he continued to feel uneasy at having spoken as independently as he had to a man who coul d, at will, order ones imprisonment or execution-or, at the very least, the economic and social death of loss of position and status. Before going to bed, Seldon had looked up Cleon I in the encyclopedic mass of his hotel room computer. The Emperor had been highly praised as, no doubt, had all Emperors in their own lifetime, regardless of their deeds. Seldon had dismissed that, but he was interested in the fact that Cleon had been born in the Palace and had never left its grounds. He had never been in Trantor itself, in any part of the multi-domed world. It was a matter of security, perhaps, but what it meant was that the Emperor was in prison, whether he admitted the matter to himself or not. It might be the most luxurious prison in the Galaxy, but it was a prison just the same.And though the Emperor had seemed mild-mannered and had shown no sign of being a bloody-minded autocrat as so many of his predecessors had been, it was not good to have attracted his attention. Seldon welco med the thought of leaving tomorrow for Helicon, even though it would be winter (and a rather nasty one, so far) back home.He looked up at the bright diffuse light. Although it could never rain in here, the atmosphere was far from dry. A fountain played not far from him the plants were green and had probably never felt drought. Occasionally, the shrubbery rustled as though a small animal or two was hidden there. He heard the hum of bees.Really, though Trantor was spoken of throughout the Galaxy as an artificial world of metal and ceramic, in this small patch it felt positively rustic. There were a few other persons taking returns of the park all wearing light hats, some quite small. There was one rather pretty young woman not far away, but she was bent over a viewer and he could not see her face clearly. A man walked past, looked at him briefly and incuriously, then sat down in a seat facing him and bury himself in a sheaf of teleprints, crossing one leg, in its tight pink trouser leg, over the other.There was a tendency to delicate shades among the men, oddly enough, while the women mostly wore white. Being a unaccented environment, it made sense to wear light colors. He looked down in amusement at his own Heliconian costume, which was predominantly dull brown. If he were to proceed on Trantor as he was not he would need to secure suitable clothing or he would become an object of rareness or laughter or repulsion. The man with the teleprints had, for instance, looked up at him more curiously this time-no doubt intrigued by his Outworldish clothing. Seldon was relieved that he did not smile. He could be philosophical over being a figure of fun, but, surely, he could not be expected to enjoy it. Seldon watched the man rather unobtrusively, for he seemed to be engaged in some sort of internal debate. At the moment he looked as if he was about to speak, then seemed to think better of it, then seemed to wish to speak again. Seldon wondered what the outcome would be.He studied the man. He was tall, with broad shoulders and no sign of a paunch, darkish hair with a glint of blond, smooth-shaven, a grave expression, an air of strength though there were no bulging muscles, a face that was a touch rugged-pleasant, but with nothing pretty about it. By the time the man had lost the internal fight with himself (or won, perhaps) and leaned toward him, Seldon had decided he liked him. The man said, Pardon me, werent you at the Decennial Convention? Mathematics?Yes, I was, said Seldon agreeably.Ah, I thought I saw you there. It was-excuse me-that moment of recognition that led me to sit here. If I am intruding on your privacy-Not at all. Im just enjoying an idle moment.Lets see how close I can get. Youre Professor Seldon.Seldon. Hari Seldon. Quite close. And you?Chetter Hummin. The man seemed slightly embarrassed. Rather a homespun name, Im afraid.Ive never come across any Chetters before, said Seldon. Or Hummins. So that makes you somewhat uniqu e, I should think. It might be viewed as being better than being commingle up with all the countless Haris there are. Or Seldons, for that matter.Seldon moved his chair closer to Hummin, scraping it against the slightly elastic ceramoid tiles.Talk about homespun, he said, What about this Outworldish clothing Im wearing? It never occurred to me that I ought to get Trantorian garb.You could vitiate some, said Hummin, eyeing Seldon with suppressed disapproval.Ill be leaving tomorrow and, besides, I couldnt relent it. Mathematicians deal with large numbers sometimes, but never in their income.-I postulate youre a mathematician, Hummin.No. Zero talent there.Oh. Seldon was disappointed. You said you saw me at the Decennial Convention.I was there as an onlooker. Im a journalist. He waved his teleprints, seemed suddenly witting that he was holding them and shoved them into his jacket pouch. I supply the material for the news holocasts. Then, thoughtfully, Actually, Im rather tired of i t.The job?Hummin nodded. Im sick of gathering together all the nonsense from every world. I hate the downward spiral.He glanced speculatively at Seldon. Sometimes something interesting turns up, though. Ive heard you were seen in the company of an Imperial Guard and making for the Palace gate. You werent by any chance seen by the Emperor, were you? The smile vanished from Seldons face. He said slowly, If I was, it would scarcely be something I could talk about for publication.No, no, not for publication. If you dont know this, Seldon, let me be the first to tell you-The first rule of the news game is that nothing is ever said about the Emperor or his personal entourage except what is officially given out. Its a mistake, of course, because rumors fly that are much worse than the truth, but thats the way it is.But if you cant report it, friend, why do you ask?Private curiosity. Believe me, in my job I know a great deal more than ever gets on the air.-Let me guess. I didnt conjoin you r paper, but I gathered that you were talking about the possibility of predicting the future.Seldon shake his head and muttered, It was a mistake.Pardon me?Nothing.Well, prediction-accurate prediction-would interest the Emperor, or any man in government, so Im guessing that Cleon, First of that Name, asked you about it and wouldnt you please give him a few predictions.Seldon said stiffly, I dont intend to discuss the matter.Hummin shrugged slightly. Eto Demerzel was there, I suppose.Who?Youve never heard of Eto Demerzel?Never.Cleons alter ego-Cleons brain-Cleons evil spirit. Hes been called all those things-if we confine ourselves to the nonvituperative. He must have been there.Seldon looked confused and Hummin said, Well, you may not have seen him, but he was there. And if he thinks you can predict the future-I cant predict the future, said Seldon, shaking his head vigorously. If you listened to my paper, youll know that I only spoke of a theoretical possibility.Just the same, if h e thinks you can predict the future, he will not let you go.He must have. Here I am.That means nothing. He knows where you are and hell continue to know. And when he wants you, hell get you, wherever you are. And if he decides youre useful, hell squeeze the use out of you. And if he decides youre dangerous, hell squeeze the life out of you.Seldon stared. What are you trying to do. Frighten me?Im trying to warn you.I dont believe what youre saying.Dont you? A while ago you said something was a mistake. Were you thinking that presenting the paper was a mistake and that it was getting you into the kind of trouble you dont want to be in?Seldon bit his lower lip uneasily. That was a guess that came entirely too close to the truth-and it was at this moment that Seldon felt the presence of intruders.They did not cast a shadow, for the light was too soft and widespread. It was simply a movement that caught the corner of his eye-and then it stopped.