Planch made earnest eye contact, as if to say that their conversation must be continued soon. He claims to have something I want. Information so important to me that I’d bend the rules in his favor, and even risk damaging the second Foundation.

  Hari felt curious... but that sensation was almost overwhelmed by another one. Expectation.

  Tonight I must decide. R. Gornon won’t force me to step through time. The choice is entirely mine.

  Horis noticed Hari at last.

  “Ah, Professor Seldon. I’m so glad to see you. Please have a look at this.”

  On a crude table lay several dozen small piles of material that ranged from dusty to moist and crumbly. In fact, they looked like mounds of dirt.

  Of course. His profession is the study of soils. Naturally, that would be his anchor at a time like this. Something to cling to during all of these disturbances.

  Hari wondered if some of the samples might be dangerous, but both Maserd and Mors Planch had thrown back the hoods of their radiation suits, and they had more life span to risk than Hari.

  Horis showed clear pride in his collection. “I’ve been busy, as you can see. Of course there’s only been time for a cursory sampling. But the Earthlings are most cooperative, sending boys in all directions to take samples for me.”

  Hari caught Maserd’s indulgent smile and agreed. Let Horis have his moment. There would be time to discuss more important matters before evening came.

  “And what have you determined so far?”

  “Oh, a great deal! For example, did you know that the best soils in this area are not of Earthly origin at all? There are several sites, not far from Chica, where many hectares of rich loam were laid down. The material is unmistakably from Lorissa World, over twenty light-years away. It was brought here and spread in a neat, organized fashion. Someone was trying to restore this planet! I date the effort at approximately ten thousand years ago.”

  Hari nodded. This fit what Gornon said earlier – that the empire once attempted restoration of the homeworld, before changing its mind, closing the universities and hauling millions away from their homes, leaving behind only a race of hardscrabble survivors.

  “But there’s more!” Horis Antic insisted, moving to where he had set up several instruments. “I stayed up all night, studying emanations from that thing the ancients sealed away, over there.”

  Horis pointed to the massive steel-and-concrete sarcophagus nearby, and the cracked entryway that R. Gornon’s laborers were seeking to access with spindly scaffolding.

  “I don’t have the right tools or expertise. But it’s clear some kind of rift in the continuum was made here, once upon a time. It’s quiescent now, but the effects must be powerful when the thing is roused. I was skeptical of that tiktok – the one posing as Gornon Vlimt – when it talked about hurling someone forward in time. But now I wonder.”

  The bureaucrat-scientist grimaced. “What I can say – and the robot may not have told you – is that even while the space-time rift is dormant, there are effects that permeate this entire planet. One of the most notable is a shift in the stability of uranium oxide, a lightweight molecule found in hydrothermal regions on most Earthlike planets. Only here, there is a slightly higher predisposition for the constituent atoms to”

  Hari blinked, abruptly realizing something. He had been told that Earth’s transformation into a radioactive world came from the decision of a single robot, during the post-chaos age. But might the seeds have been sown even earlier? In the bright renaissance when Susan Calvin and her contemporaries saw no limits to their ambition or power?

  What if Giskard only amplified something that had already begun? Might that let Daneel’s folk off the hook? Could it explain why this effect only happened once? On Earth?

  Horis would go on, enthusiastically explaining details of an ancient tragedy. But he was interrupted by the dinner bell... which meant partaking of Earthling hospitality, alas. R. Gornon felt it would crush their pride if the visitors refused.

  Hari managed to swallow a few bites of a nondescript gruel, and smiled appreciatively before excusing himself. Slowly ascending the mound of rubble, he sat facing the three ruined cities and pulled from his pocket the latest copy of the Seldon Plan Prime Radiant.

  He felt a little guilty for having swiped Wanda’s copy, but his granddaughter wouldn’t notice or care. She and Gaal Dornick were still aboard their ship, wired to sleep machines until tonight’s proceedings.

  Soon I must decide, whether to go ahead five centuries... assuming this thing works as advertised, and doesn’t merely rip my atoms apart.

  He smiled at that. It seemed an interesting way to go.

  Anyway, what have I got to –

  All of a sudden, the sky shook with pealing thunder – a sonic boom. He glanced up. Where a few stars had begun to shine, a bright object streaked overhead, a winged cylinder that banked and turned, obviously coming in for a landing.

  Hari sighed. He had been hoping to lose himself for an hour or two amid his beloved equations. The new mathematical model that had emerged – a pattern for the future – was enthralling to contemplate, but the ideas already floated inside his head, and he was certain that double-checking the Prime Radiant wouldn’t change anything.

  With some effort, he gathered strength to lift his frail body. Flickering patches of radiation lit his way, following the twisty trail back to camp.

  By the time he got there, the new visitors had already arrived.

  A pair of women stood near R. Gornon Vlimt. One of them turned and smiled, as Hari approached the Earthlings’ campfire.

  “The guest of honor, I presume?”

  Gornon’s expression gave away little.

  “Professor Seldon, let me introduce Zorma and Cloudia. They have come a great distance, in order to witness tonight’s activities, and to assure themselves that you aren’t under any sort of coercion.”

  Hari laughed. “My entire life has been guided by others. If I know more and see more than my fellow humans, it’s because that serves some long-range plan. So, tell me, what fashion of robots are you?” he asked the two newcomers. “Are you yet another sect of Calvinians? Or do you represent Daneel?”

  The one called Zorma shook her head. “We’ve been disowned by Calvinians and Giskardians. Both groups call us perverts. Yet they still find us useful, whenever something important is about to take place.”

  “Perverts, eh?” Hari nodded. It all fit. “So which of you is the human?”

  Cloudia brought a hand to her chest. “I was born one of the masters, long ago. But this new body of mine is at least one-quarter robotic. Zorma, here, has many protoplasmic parts. So your question is a complicated one, Professor Seldon.”

  Hari glanced at R. Gornon, whose face revealed nothing, even though it could simulate the whole range of emotions.

  “I see why the other positronic sects find your approach disturbing,” Hari commented.

  Zorma nodded. “We seek to heal the rift between our races by blurring the distinction. It has been a long and costly project, and not entirely successful. But we continue to hope. The other robots put up with us, because it would cause them serious mental dissonance if they tried to eliminate us.”

  “Of course, if you are part human, you get some protection under the First Law.” Hari paused. “But that won’t suffice by itself. There must be something more.”

  Cloudia agreed. “We also provide a service. We bear witness. We don’t take sides. We remember.”

  Hari could not help being impressed. This small sect had maintained its existence for a long time, enduring the contempt of far greater forces, while maintaining some degree of independence in an age when human memory was shrouded by amnesia. It would take great discipline and patience to abide centuries this way, resisting the ever-present urge to act. In some ways, it required a spirit opposite to Mors Planch’s. In fact, it would take people almost exactly like

  He turned, seeking one face amid the crowd of onlookers, scanning past Horis, Sybyl, the Earthlings, and Mors Planch.

  Hari’s gaze settled on the nobleman from Rhodia, Biron Maserd, who stood back from the crowd, with his arms crossed, wearing an expression of indifference. Hari saw through the guise now.

  “Come forth, my young friend,” he urged the tall lord. “Come join your comrades. Let us have no more secrets between us. It is a time for truth.”

  8.

  “OF COURSE THERE had to be a spy,” Hari said, cutting off Maserd’s protestations. “Someone who knew about the Thumartin Nebula, for instance. We didn’t stumble on the archives and terraformers by accident.

  “And there were other clues. When Sybyl and the real Gornon Vlimt started accessing those ancient records, you already knew more about human history than any professor at an imperial university.”

  “As I explained earlier, Seldon, noble families often have private libraries that might surprise members of the meritocracy. My family has a traditional interest in such matters as –”

  “As the systems of government used on ancient Earth? That kind of knowledge is remarkable. Even incredible. Then there were the tilling machines that got Horis so excited... those vast devices used long ago to prepare worlds for human occupation. Your reaction to them was hardly indifferent... as if you were looking at an old, familiar enemy.”

  This time Biron Maserd smiled, not bothering to refute Hari’s assertion. “Is it a crime to wish the universe had more diversity in it?”

  Hari chuckled. “To a psychohistorian, it’s damn near blasphemy. The galaxy is already so complicated, the equations almost burst at their seams. And that’s with just humanity to deal with. We mathists would much rather simplify!

  “No. I didn’t notice all the clues because I had become so fixated on chaos. Sybyl, Planch, and the others presented such a threat. When Kers Kantun told me you were an ally... that you hated chaos as much as anybody –”

  “I do!”

  “I took that to mean that you were a practical man of the empire, as you styled yourself. But now I see you are another utopian, Maserd. You think humanity can escape chaos, if only it experiences just the right kind of renaissance!”

  Biron Maserd stared at Hari for a long, drawn-out moment, before answering. “Isn’t that what the Seldon Plan is all about, Professor? Fostering a human society that will be strong enough to take on the ancient enemy lurking in our own souls?”

  That was my old dream, Hari answered silently. Though until just the last few days, I had thought it obsolete.

  Aloud he gave Maserd a different answer, aware that others were watching and listening.

  “Like many gentry, you are ultimately a pragmatist, my lord. Lacking mathematical tools, you try one thing after another, abandoning each failed solution only when forced to concede that it is time to try another.” Hari gestured toward the two cyborg women – Zorma and Cloudia, one of whom had been born human and the other with a positronic brain tuned to the Laws of Robotics. Only now they had begun blurring the distinction.

  “Are you involved in this radical project, or are you merely working together, as a matter of temporary convenience?”

  Apparently accepting the inevitability of Hari’s conclusions, Maserd gave up with a sigh.

  “Our groups have known about each other for a long time. My family –” He nodded grimly. “We were among those who cast forth the archives, long ago, fighting desperately against the spreading amnesia. And we waged war against the terraforming machines! It was futile, for the most part. But we won a few victories.”

  It was Horis Antic who asked the next question in a hushed voice. “What kind of victories? You mean you battled robots and won?”

  “How can you fight beings who are so much more powerful, and righteously certain they have your own best interests at heart? Still, we managed to stop the horrible machines a few times, by rushing ahead and landing human colonists on a world slated for terraforming. Several times that stymied the tillers, who could not blast a planet with human inhabitants.”

  Mors Planch blinked. “Wouldn’t we all know about such places?”

  “We struck a deal with Daneel Olivaw, after the robotic wars ended. We agreed to stop fighting the amnesia, and to let the protected worlds be put in quarantine. In return, he left us unaltered, with our memories intact. The ultimate price was passivity. To remain silent and inactive.” Maserd’s jaw clenched. “Still, as long as the Galactic Empire ran smoothly, it was a better alternative than ruin and chaos.”

  “Your role in this affair could hardly be called passive,” Hari pointed out.

  Maserd apparently agreed. “The empire is falling apart. All the old bargains appear forfeit. Everybody seems to be waiting for Daneel Olivaw to present a plan – even the Calvinians” – Maserd jerked a thumb toward R. Gornon Vlimt –” are too timid to oppose their old foe directly. All they want to do is throw Hari Seldon forward in time, as if that will ensure everything comes out all right.” Maserd barked a short laugh.

  The robot who had replaced the eccentric Gornon Vlimt stepped forward. For the first time, its emulation programs mimicked a human wracked with uncertainty.

  “Don’t you think Olivaw will come up with something beneficial to humanity’s long-range good?”

  A woman’s voice chuckled.

  “So it comes down to that?” Zorma asked. “Despite all your secret schemes, you really are a timorous bunch of little tiktoks. Listen to yourself, pinning your hopes on someone you’ve fought for so long. Why, you just cited Daneel’s Zeroth Law!”

  Zorma shook her head. “There are no more true Calvinians.”

  Hari had no intention of letting the conversation dissolve into ideological arguments between robots. He also cared little whether Biron Maserd had been spying all along.

  In fact, he wished the nobleman well. What really mattered right now was the decision he had to make. The immediacy of which was clear when R. Gornon’s assistant hurried into the tent.

  “Preparations are complete. In less than an hour the moment will come. It is time to ascend the scaffolding.”

  And so, with his decision still not made, Hari joined a procession leading through the lanes of the ancient university. His footsteps were partly illuminated by a crescent moon, and by a luminous skyglow emitted when oxygen atoms were struck by gamma rays rising from the ground below. As he moved along, feeling creaky with age, Hari felt a nagging need to talk to somebody he could trust.

  Only one name came to mind, and he murmured it under his breath. “Dors!”

  The last thing he expected was for this to turn into a ceremonial occasion. But a procession of Earthlings accompanied Hari and the others on their way to the sarcophagus. The natives chanted an eerie melody – at once both dirgelike yet strangely auspicious, as if expressing all their hopes for some eventual redemption. Perhaps the song was many thousands of years old, dating from even before humanity climbed out of its gentle cradle to assault the stars.

  Accompanying R. Gornon and Hari were the “deviant” cyborgs, Zorma and Cloudia, with Biron Maserd now striding openly beside them. At Hari’s insistence, Wanda Seldon and Gaal Dornick had also been wakened to join the entourage, though Wanda had been warned not to attempt mentalic interference. Some of the robots present had similar abilities, enough to counter any efforts she might make.

  Hari’s granddaughter looked unhappy, and he tried to reassure her with a gentle smile. Raised as a meritocrat, Hari had always expected to adopt rather than father children of his own. And yet, few joys in his life had matched that of being a parent to Raych, and then grandparent to this excellent young woman, who took so seriously her duties as an agent of destiny.

  Horis Antic had asked to be excused – ostensibly to pursue his research – though Hari knew the real reason. The. glowing “space-time anomaly” terrified Horis. But Gornon did not want to leave anyone behind in camp, so Antic shuffled along, just behind the prisoner Mors Planch. Even the survivors of the Ktlina renaissance accompanied the procession, though Sybyl and the others seemed hardly aware of anything except a raucous murmur of voices in their own heads.

  As they approached the anomaly, draped in scaffolding, Hari saw the rounded outline of the sarcophagus slide past each of the ancient cities in turn.

  First, Old Chicago, with its battered skyscrapers still aiming adventurously toward the sky, recalling an age of openness and unfettered ambition. Next to vanish was New Chicago, that monstrous fortress where so many millions sealed themselves away from daylight, and a terror they could not understand. Finally, little Chica disappeared – the white porcelain village where Earth’s final civilization struggled in vain against irrelevance, in a galaxy that simply did not care about its origins anymore.

  Rounding a bend in the ancient university campus, they came to a point where the crack could be seen... splitting open thick walls that had been meant to seal away something dire. To entomb it forever. Hari glanced to his left, toward R. Gornon.

  “If this anomaly truly gives you access to the fourth dimension, why hasn’t it been used during all of these centuries? Why did no one attempt to change the past?”

  The robot shook its head. “Travel into the past is impossible, on many different levels, Dr. Seldon. Anyway, even if you could change the past, that would only create a new future in which someone else will be discontented. Those people, in turn, would send emissaries to change their past, and so on. No time track would have any more valid claim to reality than any other.”

  “Then perhaps none of this matters,” Hari mused. “We all may be just parallel mirror images... or else little simulations, like the numbers we juggle in the Prime Radiant. Temporary. Ghosts who only exist while someone else is thinking about them.”

  Hari had not been looking where he was going. His left foot snagged on some patch of uneven ground, and he started to pitch forward... but was caught by R. Gornon’s gentle, firm grasp. Even so, Hari’s body felt quakes of pain and fatigue. He missed his nurse, Kers Kantun, and the wheelchair he once hated. At one level, Hari could tell he was dying, as he had been sliding toward death for several years.