“We are here to guide humanity, not to let it merely meander.”
“But the danger-”
“The Empire needs him. What’s more, he needs the Ministership-though he does not see that as yet, granted. He will have access to all Imperial data for use in psychohistory.”
“He has so much data already-”
“Much more will be needed to make a full running model. He must also, in the future, have power to act on a grand scale.”
“But ‘grand’ can be fatal. People like this Lamurk, I am certain he is dangerous.”
“Quite so. But I depend upon you to keep Hari from harm.”
“I find myself getting short of temper, my judgment-”
“You are more nearly human in your emulation circuits than I. Expect to bear the burden that fact implies.”
She nodded. “I wish I could see you more often, ask-”
“I move quickly through the Empire, doing what tasks I can. I have not been in Trantor since I left the First Ministership myself.”
“Are you sure it is safe for you to travel so?”
“I have many defenses against detection of my true nature. You have even more, for you are nearly natural.”
“I cannot penetrate a full weapons screen around the palace, though?”
Olivaw shook his head. “Their technology exceeded our capacity to disguise quite some while ago. I evaded it while First Minister because no one dared test me.”
“Then I cannot protect Hari in the palace.”
“You should not have to. Once he becomes First Minister, you will be able to pass with him through their detectors. Those are only used for major occasions.”
“Until he is First Minister, then-”
“His danger is maximum.”
“Very well, I will focus on Hari. I would prefer to leave those simulations to you.”
“I fear they, and Sark, will be quite enough for me to handle. I went to the coliseum in Junin Sector, saw them run wild. The tiktok issue inflames humans, still-just as we want.”
“These tiktoks, surely they will not approach our levels of cognition?”
His mouth twitched just once. “And why not?”
“Under human guidance?”
“They could quickly rival us.”
“Then our grand designs-”
“On the trash heap.”
“I do not like such a prospect,” she said, face flushed.
“The ancient taboos our kind so labored to put in place are breaking down, perhaps forever.”
“What does your-our-theory of history say?”
“It is not nearly good enough to say anything. Against a background of social stability, such as this Empire enjoyed for so long, simulations were destabilizing. Now? No one, human or robot, knows. All parameters are accelerating.” His face slackened, losing all color and muscle tone, as if from an immense fatigue. “We must turn matters, as much as we can, over to them-to the humans.”
“To Hari.”
“Him, most especially. “
Part 3. Body Politics
Foundation, early history-…first public intimations of psychohistory as a possible scientific discipline surfaced during the poorly documented early period of Seldon‘s political life. While the Emperor Cleon set great store in its possibilities, psychohistory was viewed by the political class as a mere abstraction, if not a joke. This may have resulted from maneuverings by Seldon himself, who never referred to the subject by the name he had given it. Even at this early stage, he seems to have realized that widespread knowledge of psychohistory and any movement founded upon it would enjoy little predictive success, since many would then be able to act to offset its predictions, or take advantage of them. Some have “condemned” Seldon as “selfish” for “hoarding” the psychohistorical method, but one must remember the extreme rapacity of political life in these waning years… …
1.
Hari Seldon’s desksec chimed and announced, “Margetta Moonrose desires a conversation.”
Hari looked up at the 3D image of a striking woman hovering before him. “Urn? Oh. Who’s she?” His sec would not interrupt him amid his calculations unless this were somebody important.
“Cross-check reveals that she is the leading interviewer and political maven in the multimedia complex-”
“Sure, sure, but why is she consequential?”
“She is considered by all cross-cultural monitors to be among the fifty most influential figures on Trantor. I suggest-”
“Never heard of her.” Hari sat up, brushed at his hair. “I suppose I should. Full filter, though.”
“I fear my filters are down for recalibration. If-”
“Damn it, they’ve been out for a week.”
“I fear the mechanical in charge of the new calibrations has been defective.”
Mechs, which were advanced tiktoks, were failing often these days. Since the Junin riots, some had even been attacked. Hari swallowed and said, “Put her through anyway.”
He had used filters on holophones for so long, he could not now disguise his feelings. Cleon’s staff had installed software to render the fitting, preselected body language for him. With some sprucing up by the Imperial Advisors, it now modulated his acoustic signature for a full, confident, resonant tone. And if he wanted, it edited his vocabulary; he was always lapsing into technospeak when he should be explaining simply.
“Academician!” Moonrose said brightly. “I would so much like to have a little talk with you.”
“About mathematics?” he said blandly.
She laughed merrily. “No no!-that would be far over my head. I represent billions of inquiring minds who would like to know your thoughts on the Empire, the Quathanan questions, the-”
“The what?”
“Quathanan-the dispute over Zonal alignment.”
“Never heard of it.”
“But-you’re to be First Minister.” She seemed genuinely surprised, though Hari reminded himself that this was probably a superbly adept filter-face.
“So I am-perhaps. Until then, I will not bother.”
“When the High Council selects, they must know the views of the candidates,” she said rather primly.
“Tell your viewers that I do my homework only just before it’s due.”
She looked charmed, which made him certain that she was filtered. He had learned from many collisions with them that media mavens were easily irked when brushed aside. They seemed to feel it quite natural that, since an immense audience saw through their eyes, they carried all the moral heft of that audience.
“What about a subject you certainly must know-the Junin disaster? And the loss-some say escape- of the Voltaire and Joan of Arc sims?”
“Not my department,” Hari said. Cleon had advised him to keep his distance from the entire sim issue.
“Rumors suggest that they came from your department.”
“Certainly, one of our research mathists found them. We leased rights to those people-what was their name…?”
“Artifice Associates, as I am sure you know.”
“Um, yes.”
“This distracted professor role is not convincing, sir.”
“You’d rather I spent my time running for office-and then, presumably, running for cover?”
“The world, the whole Empire, has a right to know-”
“So I should stand only for what the people will fall for?”
Her mouth twisted, coming through her filters, so apparently she had decided to play this interview as a contest of wills. “You’re hiding the peoples’ business from-”
“My research is my own business.”
She waved this aside. “What do you say, as a mathematician, to those who feel that deep sims of real people are immoral?”
Hari wished fervently for his own face filters. He was sure he was giving away something, so he forced his face to stay blank. Best to deflect the argument. “How real were those sims? Can anybody know?”