Foundation and Chaos, стр. 74

“How so?” he asked, his voice dangerously mild.

“The fall of Trantor,” Hari said, “cannot be stopped by any conceivable effort. It can be hastened easily, however. The tale of my interrupted trial will spread through the Galaxy. Frustration of my plans to lighten the disaster will convince people that the future holds no promise to them. Already they recall the lives of their grandfathers with envy. They will see that political revolutions and trade stagnations will increase. The feeling will pervade the Galaxy that only what a man can grasp for himself at that moment will be of any account. Ambitious men will not wait, and unscrupulous men will not hang back. By their every action they will hasten the decay of the worlds. Have me killed, and Trantor will fall not within five centuries but within fifty years and you, yourself, within a single year.”

Chen smiled as if in faint amusement. “These are words to frighten children, and yet your death is not the only answer which will satisfy us. Tell me, will your only activity be that of preparing this encyclopedia you speak of?” Chen seemed to extend a shield of magnanimity over Hari, with a sweep of his hand, and a tap of two fingers beside the bronze bell and gavel.

“It will.”

“And need that be done on Trantor?”

“Trantor, my lord, possesses the Imperial Library, as well as the scholarly resources of-”

“Yes. Of course. And yet if you were located elsewhere, let us say upon a planet where the hurry and distractions of a metropolis will not interfere with scholastic musings; where your men may devote themselves entirely and single-mindedly to their work;-might not that have advantages?”

“Minor ones, perhaps.”

“Such a world has been chosen, then. You may work, doctor, at your leisure, with your hundred thousand about you. The Galaxy will know that you are working and fighting the Fall. They will even be told that you will prevent the Fall. If the Galaxy that cares about such things, believes you to be correct, they will be happier.” He smiled, “Since I do not believe in so many things, it is not difficult for me to disbelieve in the Fall as well, so that I am entirely convinced I will be telling the truth to the people. And meanwhile, doctor, you will not trouble Trantor and there will be no disturbance of the Emperor’s peace.

“The alternative is death for yourself and for as many of your followers as will seem necessary. Your earlier threats I disregard. The opportunity for choosing between death and exile is given you over a time period stretching from this moment to one five minutes hence.”

“Which is the world chosen, my lord?” Hari asked, concealing the tension of his anticipation.

Chen called Hari forward to the docket with a waggle of his thin finger, and pointed to an informer tablet, on which an image of the world and its location were displayed. “It is called, I believe, Terminus,” said Chen.

Hari glanced at it, breathless, and looked up at Chen. They were closer than they had ever been before, barely an arm’s length between them. Hari could see the fine lines of strain on the calm features, like wrinkles on a world of ice. “It is uninhabited, but quite habitable, and can be molded to suit the necessities of scholars. It is somewhat secluded-”

Hari tried to show some dismay. “It is at the edge of the Galaxy, sir.”

Chen dismissed this as unworthy with a roll of his eyes. He regarded Hari wearily, as if asking, We do not need these theatrics, do we, really? “As I have said, somewhat secluded. It will suit your needs for concentration. Come, you have two minutes left.”

Hari could hardly conceal his elation. He felt, for the merest instant, a burst of gratitude to this gentry monster. “We will need time to arrange such a trip,” he said, voice softened. “There are twenty thousand families involved.”

Gaal Dornick, still in the crib, cleared his throat.

Chen lowered his gaze to the informer, tapped the display off. “You will be given time.”

Hari could not help himself. The last minute was passing quickly, and yet he could not stop from giving his triumph the last few seconds to grow all the larger, all the more shocking to those without his knowledge. Finally, as the minute crept into the last five seconds, he murmured, voice rough and subdued in defeat, “I accept exile.”

Gaal Dornick gasped and sat down abruptly.

The proctor entered once more and observed the acceptance, noted that all was proper, and recorded the results and declarations, then deferred to the Chief Commissioner.

Chen held up his hand and officially pronounced, “This matter is at an end. The Commission is no longer concerned. Now all go.”

Hari stepped back from the bench to join Gaal.

“Not you,” Chen said softly.

69.

The Commission court bailiff followed Hari and Linge Chen into the consultation chamber behind the judge’s bench. Hari sat in a narrow chair before the Chief Commissioner’s small desk and watched Chen warily. Chen did not sit, but waited for his Laventian servant to help him out of his ceremonial robes. In a simple gray cassock, Chen reached up to the ceiling with hands clenched, cracked his knuckles, and turned to Seldon.

“You have enemies,” Chen said. “That is no surprise. What is surprising is that your enemies have been my enemies, much of the time. Does that interest you?”

Hari pursed his lips but said nothing.

Chen looked away as if supremely bored. “This exile will not, of course, extend to you,” he continued. “You will not leave Trantor. I will forbid it if you try.”

“I am too old and do not wish to leave, my lord,” Hari said. “There is still work to do here.”

“So much dedication,” Chen mused softly, rubbing one elbow with the palm of his opposite hand. “Should you survive, and finish your work, I will be interested to learn of the results.”

“We’ll all be dead,” Hari said, “before the results are proved or disproved.”

“Come, Dr. Seldon,” Chen said. “Speak with me frankly, as one old manipulator to another. I am told you have planned the results of this trial years in advance, through careful political arrangement-and with considerable political skill.”

“Not planned; foretold through mathematics,” Hari said.

“Whatever. Now, we are at last done with each other, to our mutual relief.”

“My lord, what about the Commission of General security?” Hari asked. “They might object to these results.”

“There is no longer such an agency,” Chen said. “The Emperor has withdrawn their charter. Perhaps that was foretold as well, by your mathematics.”

Hari folded his hands before him. “They don’t even show in the lattice of results, my lord,” he said, and realized his tone might be considered arrogant. Too late.