Nondurable goods were another matter. Everything from pottery to furniture to clothing was produced by guilds, controlled by master craftsmen whose authority over their journeymen and apprentices went unquestioned. Most of the galaxy’s ten quadrillion people lived in much the same way.
Hari recognized the trademarks and rhythms of a deeply traditional, semi-pastoral society, needing only a few real engineers, and even fewer scientists. No wonder he had been forced to cast a wide net to recruit the hundred thousand first-rate experts who would make their new home on Terminus. Even the energy systems on Pengia were based largely on renewable sources-solar, tide, and wind-with just a single proton-fusion power plant serving as a supplement. And there was talk of giving up that sophisticated “atomic” unit-replacing it with a deuterium-based model, less efficient but far simpler to maintain.
Hari mentally juggled psychohistorical formulae, noting the elegant damping mechanisms that Daneel and his colleagues had included when they designed a Galactic Empire for humanity, fifteen thousand years ago. Having readA Child’s Book of Knowledge, Hari marveled how many of the same techniques existed back in ancient China, long before the first technological renaissance on Earth.
That prehistoric imperium had a system calledbao jin- also calledgonin-gumi in a nearby culture-that seemed quite similar to today’s tradition of communal accountability. An entire village or canton was responsible for training its young people in proper rituals and behavior…and the whole community was shamed if any member committed a crime. Any youth who chafed under this conformist system had but one hope-to win transfer over to the Meritocratic or Eccentric orders, because most common citizens had little use for individualists in their midst.
As an added touch, meritocrats and eccentrics are subtly encouraged not to reproduce. That helps curb genetic drift. Daneel didn’t miss a trick.
In the main civic center, Hari and R. Gornon saw gray pennants hanging from a boxy office building.
“The banners signify it is testing week,” the robot explained. “Civil service exams are being held-”
“I know what the banners mean,” Hari snapped. He had been waiting to ask the Calvinian some questions. This seemed as good a time as any.
“Back aboard the space station, you laid a trap for my servant, Kers Kantun. I assume you arranged for him to be decapitated quickly, in order to prevent him from detecting any danger with his mentalic powers?”
R. Gornon wasn’t nonplussed by the sudden change in subject.
“Correct, Professor. While Kantun’s powers did not match Daneel’s, they were formidable. We couldn’t afford to take chances.”
“And the chimp? The one who ran off with Kers’s head?”
“That creature was a descendant of genetic experiments Daneel abandoned a century ago. My group recruited a few because mentalic robots cannot read or detect chimp minds. The pan could observe Kers and trigger our ambush, so we did not have to use electronic or positronic devices.”
“And what do you plan on doing with the head of my servant?”
Gornon demurred.
“I’m sorry, Professor. I cannot elaborate. Whether you decide to accept our proposition, and proceed on an exciting new adventure, or instead choose to return to Trantor, we have no intention of meddling with your mind. So we are better off simply not telling you certain things.”
Hari contemplated what he’d just learned. At their next stop he would be offered a choice. A fateful one. Yet, Gornon’s words were reassuring. These robo-heretics were more respectful than the group that tried to alter his brain two years ago.
“Won’t you say more about our destination?” he asked.
“Only that we will take you to a place where many dramas began…in order to influence how they end.”
They drove in silence after that, observing the placid pace of life under Daneel’s gentle empire. If Trantor had been designed to consist of steel caves, as one method of resisting chaos, worlds like Pengia also had multi-layered defenses against tumbling into a disastrous renaissance.
Still, Hari felt something was missing. Even when he included brain fever in his calculations, it wasn’t enough to explain how twenty-five million human-settled worlds could remain comfortably static for so many thousands of years, content to stay ignorant of their past, and for children to lead identical lives to their parents’. Since robots had been developed in the very earliest technological age, why weren’t they being reinvented daily by bright tinkerers and students in a billion little basement labs, all over the galaxy? There had to be something more. Some powerful force helping to damp out the oscillations and deviations inherent in basic human nature.
They were on their way back to the rented villa, when Hari thought of another question.
“I recall, back in the nebula, that Kers Kantun had a hard time mentalically subduing Mors Planch. When I asked about it, Kers said something that puzzled me. He said Planch is difficult to control because he’snormal. Do you know what Kers meant by that?”
The robot Gornon shrugged.
“Calvinians tend to be less eager to use mentalic powers. Our particular sect finds it distasteful to interfere with human minds. Still, I might hazard a guess. Perhaps Kers was talking about a fundamental change that occurred in the human condition, way back-”
Gornon stopped, mid-sentence, as the car pulled into the villa’s driveway. Hari abruptly noticed that the gate was flung open…and abody lay sprawled nearby.
Braking hard, Gornon leaped from the driver’s seat with uncanny agility to kneel by the prostrate form. It was one of the other robots who shared guard duty at the villa. Hari saw dark fluid leaking from its cranium in several places.
Gornon ran a hand back and forth above the body without ever touching it. A low moan escaped his lips.
“My compatriot is dead. Some force caused an implosion of his brain.”
Hari felt sure he knew the explanation.
Daneel has arrived!
Gornon looked deeply concerned. He closed his eyes, and Hari knew he must be seeking to commune by radio with his other partners.
“There are further casualties,” Gornon said ominously, and started walking toward the big house. “I must make certain that none of them are human beings!”
Hari followed, a bit numbly. Though he was no longer confined to a wheelchair, his gait was slow and unsteady-that of an old man.
On entering the villa they found Gornon’s other assistant sprawled at the foot of the stairs, propped against the wall by Horis Antic and Biron Maserd. Only the wounded robot’s eyes weren’t paralyzed. The two men glanced at Hari. Horis started blurting at once.
“Mors Planch used some kind ofb-b-bomb to knock out these tiktoks. He made a clean getaway!”
Maserd was calmer. With a nobleman’s aplomb. he explained, “Planch rigged a device from seemingly innocuous parts. How he got them is beyond me. After setting it off, he offered us a chance to leave as well. Sybyl went along, but we decided to stay.”
While Gornon bent over the crippled robot at the foot of the stairs, Horis Antic chewed his nails.
“Is he…it gonna be all right?”
Gornon communed with his colleague. Without breaking eye contact, he explained.
“Planch must have been studying robots for some time. Perhaps using the new laboratories on Ktlina. Somehow, he came up with a weapon that directly affects our positronic brains. It is ingenious. We shall have to dissect my friend here, determine how it was done, and come up with a defense.”