56.
For the first two days of the trial, Linge Chen had said nothing, leaving the presentation of the Empire’s case to his advocate, a dignified man of middle years with a blandly serious face, who had spoken for him.
These thuddingly dull days had been taken up with discussions and procedural matters. Sedjar Boon seemed in his element, however, and relished this technical sparring.
Hari spent much of his time half dozing, lost in exquisite, endless, hazy boredom.
On the third day, the trial moved into the main chamber of Courtroom Seven, and Hari finally got a chance to speak in his defense. Chen’s advocate called him from the Crib of the Accused to the witness stand and smiled at him.
“I am honored to speak with the great Hari Seldon,” he began.
“The honor is all mine, I’m sure,” Hari replied. He tapped his finger on the banister around the docket. The advocate glanced at the finger, then at Hari. Hari stopped tapping and cleared his throat softly.
“Let us begin, Dr. Seldon. How many men are now engaged in the Project of which you are head?”
“Fifty,” Hari said. “Fifty mathematicians.” He used the old form, rather than mathist, to show he regarded the trial as an antiquated procedure.
The advocate smiled. “Including Dr. Gaal Dornick?”
“Dr. Dornick is the fifty-first.”
“Oh, we have fifty-one then? Search your memory, Dr. Seldon. Perhaps there are fifty-two or fifty-three? Or perhaps even more?”
Hari lifted his brows and leaned his head to one side. “Dr. Dornick has not yet formally joined my organization. When he does, the membership will be fifty-one. It is now fifty, as I have said.”
“Not perhaps nearly a hundred thousand?”
Hari blinked, a little taken aback. If the man had wanted to know how many people of all kinds were on the extended Project…He could have asked! “Mathematicians? No.”
“I did not say mathematicians. Are there a hundred thousand in all capacities?”
“In all capacities, your figure may be correct.”
“May be? I say it is. I say that the men in your Project number ninety-eight thousand, five hundred and seventy-two.”
Hari swallowed, his irritation increasing. “I believe you are counting spouses and children.”
The advocate leaned forward and raised his voice, having caught this huge discrepancy, to his professional glee. “Ninety-eight thousand five hundred and seventy-two individuals is the intent of my statement. There is no need to quibble.”
Boon gave a small nod. Hari clenched his teeth, then said. “I accept the figures.”
The advocate referred to his notes on a legal slate before proceeding. “Let us drop that for the moment, then, and take up another matter which we have already discussed at some length. Would you repeat, Dr. Seldon, your thoughts concerning the future of Trantor?”
“I have said, and I say again, that Trantor will lie in ruins within the next five centuries.”
“You do not consider your statement a disloyal one?”
“No, sir. Scientific truth is beyond loyalty and disloyalty.”
“You are sure that your statement represents scientific truth?”
“I am.”
“On what basis?”
“On the basis of the mathematics of psychohistory.”
“Can you prove that this mathematics is valid?”
“Only to another mathematician.”
The advocate smiled endearingly. “Your claim then, is that your truth is of so esoteric a nature that it is beyond the understanding of a plain man. It seems to me that truth should be clearer than that, less mysterious, more open to the mind.”
“It presents no difficulties to some minds. The physics of energy transfer, which we know as thermodynamics, has been clear and true through all the history of man since the mythical ages, yet there may be people present who would find it impossible to design a power engine. People of high intelligence. too. I doubt if the learned Commissioners-”
The Commissioner to the immediate right of Chen called the advocate to the bench. His whisper pierced the chamber, though Hari could not hear what was said.
When the advocate returned, he seemed a little chastened.
“We are not here to listen to speeches, Dr. Seldon. Let us assume that you have made your point. Let’s focus this inquiry a little more, Professor Seldon.”
“Fine.”
“Let me suggest to you that your predictions of disaster might be intended to destroy public confidence in the Imperial Government for purposes of your own.”
“That is not so.”
“Let me suggest that you intend to claim that a period of time preceding the so-called ruin of Trantor will be filled with unrest of various types.”
“That is correct.”
“And that by the mere prediction thereof, you hope to bring it about, and to have then an army of a hundred thousand available.”
Hari stifled his impulse to smile, even to chuckle. “In the first place, that is not so. And if it were, investigation will show you that barely ten thousand are men of military age, and none of these has training in arms.”
Boon stood and was recognized by the presiding Commissioner, sitting on the left of Chen.
“Honored Commissioners, there are no accusations of armed sedition or attempting to overthrow by main force.”
The presiding Commissioner nodded with bored disinterest, and said, “Not in question.”
The advocate tried another tack. “Are you acting as an agent for another?”
“It is well-known I am not in the pay of any man, Mr. Advocate.” Hari smiled pleasantly. “I am not a rich man.”
A little melodramatically, the advocate tried to drive his point home. Who is he trying to impress-the gallery? Hari stared out at the baronial gentry audience of fifty or so, all with looks of varying levels of boredom. They’re just here to witness. The Commissioners? They’ve already made up their minds.
“You are entirely disinterested? You are serving science?”
“I am.”
“Then let us see how. Can the future be changed, Dr. Seldon?”
“Obviously.” He waved his hand over the audience. “This courtroom may explode in the next few hours, or it may not.” Boon made a mildly disapproving face. “If it did, the future would undoubtedly be changed in some minor respects.” Hari smiled at the advocate, then at Linge Chen, who was not watching him. Boon’s frown deepened.
“You quibble, Dr. Seldon. Can the overall history of the human race be changed?”
“Yes.”
“Easily?”
“No. With great difficulty.”
“Why?”
“The psychohistoric trend of a planet-full of people contains a huge inertia. To be changed it must be met with something possessing a similar inertia. Either as many people must be concerned, or, if the number of people be relatively small, enormous time for change must be allowed.” Hari put on his professorial tone, treating the advocate-and anyone else who was paying attention-as students. “Do you understand?”
The advocate looked up briefly. “I think I do. Trantor need not be ruined, if a great many people decide to act so that it will not.”
Hari nodded professorial approval. “That is right.”
“As many as a hundred thousand people?”
“No, sir,” Hari replied mildly. “That is far too few.”
“You are sure?”
“Consider that Trantor has a population of over forty billions. Consider further that the trend leading to ruin does not belong to Trantor alone but to the Empire as a whole, and the Empire contains nearly a quintillion human beings.”
The advocate appeared thoughtful. “I see. Then perhaps a hundred thousand people can change the trend, if they and their descendants labor for five hundred years.” He gave a curious undershot look at Hari.
“I’m afraid not. Five hundred years is too short a time.”
The advocate seemed to find this a revelation. “Ah! In that case, Dr. Seldon, we are left with this deduction to be made from your statements. You have gathered one hundred thousand people within the confines of your Project. These are insufficient to change the history of Trantor within five hundred years. In other words, they cannot prevent the destruction of Trantor no matter what they do.”