The deal, if deal it was, has astonished all Foundation scholars. It has the air of a miracle. There must have been prior arrangements, unknown deals behind the deal, yet our texts and depositions and even the trial records give us no clue. It is thought that this period of Hari Seldons life will forever remain dark. How could the trial have gone so well? How could Seldon have focused the tools of psychohistory so precisely, even during ag, the first Seldon crisis? The forces arrayed against Hari Seldon were formidable; Gaal Dornick records that Linge Chen felt genuinely threatened by him. Dornick may have been influenced by Seldons view of Chen, perhaps not entirely accurate: what we know of Chen from Imperial sources suggests that the Chief Commissioner was a coldly calculating and highly efficient political mind, frightened by no man. Seldon, of course, thought otherwise. Students of this period...

--Encyclopedia Galactica, 117th Edition, 1054 F.E.

69.

The Commission court bailiff followed Hari and Linge Chen into the consultation chamber behind the judges bench. Hari sat in a narrow chair before the Chief Commissioners 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. Well 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 dont even show in the lattice of results, my lord, he said, and realized his tone might be considered arrogant. Too late. Chen accepted these words in silence, then spoke in a chilling monotone. You have studied me, Professor Seldon, but you do not know me. If I have my way, you never will. The Chief Commissioner curled his lip and stared up at the ceiling. I despise your mathematics. It is nothing more than dressed-up superstition, tricked-out religion, and it smells of the same degeneration and decay you so enthusiastically embrace and promote. You are of a kind with those who hunt for God-like robots in every shadow. I let you go now because you are nothing to me, you no longer have any place in my designs. The Chief Commissioner waved his hand to the bailiff. You are remanded to civil authority for release, he said, and left the room with a small swirl of his cassock. The Lavrentian servant glanced briefly and curiously at Hari, and departed after his master. Hari could have sworn the servant was trying to communicate a sense of relief. Professor Seldon, the bailiff said, with an age-old air of professional courtesy, follow me.

70.

Kallusin had finished the removal of Plussixs head. He withdrew the cables which had provided temporary power to the robot as the most recent memories were fixed in permanent storage within the iridium-sponge backup, then he lifted the head from the plastic cradle, away from the slightly smoking neck, and lowered it into the archival metal box. He could hear the commotion among Plussixs wards as the troops moved through the warehouse. Through the window overlooking the warehouse interior, Kallusin could see Prothons troops herding the young mentalics--thirty in all--toward personnel carriers at street level. Whatever their persuasive skills, they did not seem able to escape. He could do nothing for them now. He lifted the box, carried it to the end of the long chamber, and stopped as he heard boots beyond the door. To Kallusins surprise, it was Prothon himself who entered, pushing the door open with a slight kick. Kallusin stood in place as the general walked into the chamber. Prothon surveyed the dilapidated equipment and the half dismantled robot in the harness a few meters away. The general was unarmed, and his troops hung back behind the door. For a moment, nothing was said and neither moved. Are you human? Prothon finally asked. Kallusin did not reply. Robot, then. All my men down there are getting headaches--Im just as glad youre not one of the youngsters. Prothon nodded at the box carrying Plussixs head. Whats that--a bomb? Kallusin said, No. No weapons, no means of defense--almost certainly a robot. Prothon regarded him curiously. In good condition, and very convincing. Very old, centuries? Kallusin did not even blink. There was nothing more he could do without harming Prothon or the troops before him, and he could not harm humans. I order you to identify yourself, Prothon said, then, astonishingly, he added, Owner identity may be excluded, but personal type and origin and serial number may not. R. Kallusin Dass, S-13407-D-IO237. Robot Kallusin Dass, Solaria, late model, Prothon said quietly. Pleased to make your acquaintance. I have instructions to take two robots into custody. One is R. Daneel or Danee, surname and ID unknown. The other is R. Lodovik Trema, ID also unknown. You are neither of these? Kallusin shook his head. Whats in the box, R. Kallusin? Mandatory, excluding information that may be of harm to your master or owner. Prothon knew the old forms of interrogation. Kallusin could have eluded a question that his programming could consider ambiguous or harmful to his owners--the human race. Plussix had reassigned ownership of his robots to the broader category a century before, foreseeing advantages to this workaround. A restrained kind of Zeroth Law...Never necessary, until now. Kallusin could not, on short notice, come up with any reason not to inform Prothon what was in the box. Their mission was over, at any rate. A robotic head, Kallusin said. Nonfunctional. Are you the only robot remaining? We have reason to believe others have left this building already, before we arrived. I am the only one remaining. If I take you into custody, will you remain functional? No, Kallusin said. That would harm the cause, and possibly therefore harm his owner--the human race. If my men enter...you will not remain functional? I will not, Kallusin said A standoff, then. I have very little time, but Im curious. What were you trying to do, here? Prothon had neglected to use the form of address. Kallusin weighed the situation carefully. He had no hope of escape, and there was no profit in discussing anything more with General Prothon. But before he shut himself down, permanently, he was himself curious--about Prothons knowledge. I will answer your question if you will answer mine, Kallusin said. Ill try. Prothon seemed amused by this remarkable dialog. How do you know about robots? Personally, suspicions, only suspicions, all these years of service to the Empire. Found a dysfunctional robot on a distant planet once-destroyed during an invasion. Havent seen one since. How do you know the forms of address? Linge Chen gave me instructions, told me to speak directly with any robots, also told me there was no danger addressing the robots we would find here. Thank you, Kallusin said. Suspicions, only suspicions, Daneel. My answer is, I am here to serve my owner. He reached into the box and pressed a hidden comer switch. The box began to heat. He placed it on the floor. Within several seconds, Plussixs head would be cooked, useless. Then Kallusin stood tall. He could not deactivate himself just yet. The threat had to be immediate. Prothon looked at the box, now glowing a dull red and crackling slightly against the tiles on the floor. He made a small grimace and called for his troops to enter. That was enough. The threat of capture and interrogation became very real. Kallusin would become a danger to his owner. He collapsed on the floor before anyone of the troops could reach him. Prothon observed this with an air of profound respect. He had seen many human soldiers do precisely the same thing. It was time-honored, and actually, more than he had expected from a robot--but then, he had only known this one robot for a few minutes, and was in no position to judge. He left the chamber and ordered it to be searched by a party of the Commissioners engineers.

71.

Klia could feel the troops a few hundred meters above and behind them, intent on the search. Lodovik led them deeper beneath the warehouse district, until they came to a small round hatch almost completely blocked by debris from an ancient flood. Klia took hold of Branns arm and stepped back as Lodovik cleared the debris. Brann smiled down on her, barely visible in the dim light of the maintenance globes, pulled her hand loose, and went to help Lodovik. With a sigh, Klia also pitched in, and in less than a minute, they had the hatchway cleared. Klia could not hear or otherwise sense anybody in the tunnel behind them, but she felt deeply uneasy nonetheless. The flood debris, the years of corrosion on the hatchway, the difficulty they had prying it open--it would not get any easier from this point on. They were heading into the depths of the ancient hydraulic system for Trantors earliest cities. Beyond the hatchway, they could see even less--globes were spaced at thirty meter intervals, and seemed even dimmer. That they stayed illuminated at all was evidence of the skill of the early engineers and architects on Trantor, who realized that this deep infrastructure must be far more reliable, and persistent, than even the cities that would rise, be demolished, and rise again, far above. We go for about three kilometers this way, Lodovik said, then we start to climb again. There may be pedways, escalators, elevators--and there may not. Kallusin hasnt explored these ways in decades. Klia said nothing, simply remained at Branns side as the robot led them deeper, until she could sense no humans whatsoever. She had never been this far from crowds. She wondered what it would be like, to have an entire planet to oneself, with no responsibilities, no guilt, no talents and no need for talents... Lodoviks footfalls ahead took them into murky darkness, and soon they were up to their ankles in stagnant water. From somewhere to their left came the sound of huge pumps, thumping into action, then cutting off with distant swallowing roars. Trantors heartbeat. Brann looked down at her and helped her climb over a pile of eroded plastic parts, like blockage in an ancient artery. I can see fairly well now, Lodovik said, though I suspect you cannot. Please just stay close behind me. Were much better off down here, following this route, than we would be up there. Klia suddenly felt something loud in her head, but very distant, like the report from a shell. She listened for it again as she walked beside Brann, and it came once more, more muddied, but she was ready for it, and she could almost taste its odd signature. Vara Liso. Thousands of meters above and in front of them. Perhaps in the Palace. That woman, Klia said to Brann. Yeah, Brann said. Whats she doing? Feels like shes exploding, Klia said. Please stay close behind me, Lodovik insisted. There was a lift shaft ahead, according to Kallusin--and soon he would have a chance to try his codes to gain entrance to the foundations of the Imperial Courts Building.

72.

Major Namm held the neural whip in an unsteady hand. Sweat streaked his face. He stumbled slightly as he tried to turn away from the diminutive woman in her special emerald green gown. Vara Liso wore a quizzical expression, eyes turned up, as if she did not really need to look at the major to control him. She seemed to be inspecting the ceiling over his head. The major whimpered, and the whip fell from his hand. She was so tired. She walked around the major. She would need something sweet to drink very soon, and something to eat, but first she had to go through the door and see Farad Sinter, make her final report to the man she had hoped someday to marry. Foolish dreams, absurd hopes. Vara Liso entered the anteroom of Sinters new office and saw the new furnishings, the banks of special Imperial-grade informers that would have hooked him directly to the orbiting receivers and processors. This would have been his command center. Sinter. She smiled crookedly. Heating without melting, dry at the center, a pile of sand, no man, no success, no fault, she had thrown the wands in the ancient game of Bioka, always resorted to when she was at her wits end, and the wands said no fault, correction in order, all is not right at the Sinter. Beyond the immense bronze doors she could hear shouting and even wailing. She leaned her shoulder against the door. Nothing. Then she turned her full attention to the major, bade him come forward and give his code to the door. He got off his knees, face contorted and dripping sweat. He punched in the code and applied his palm. The door swung open, and the major fell back. Vara Liso entered the office. Farad stood there in full ceremonial outfit, conferring with two advisors and an advocate; no matter, his Commission was at an end. He saw her and frowned. I need to get things in order--Vara, please leave. Vara spotted a tray full of delicate sweets on the expansive desk, beside the most powerful informer/processor she had ever beheld, perhaps able to distill information from ten thousand systems. It was not functioning now. Access to the Empire denied. Power gone. She lifted a handful of the sweets and chewed on them. Sinter stared at her. Please, he said softly. He sensed her distress but could not know its cause. Theyre melting down our robot. Seldon is being released. Im trying to reach the Emperor now. This is very important. Nobody will see us, she said, her finger stirring the candies in the tray. It isnt that bad, Sinter insisted, his face pale. How did you get in? The major--her major--had been released by Prothon to inform Sinter of the situation. He had then been posted in the anteroom to keep her out. So much was obvious without even tasting their thoughts. She had never been able to read thoughts directly; at best she could taste emotions, pick up flashes of vision, sound, but never detail. Humans were not alike, deep inside. Minds developed differently. Vara knew that all humans were aliens to each other, but her own alienation was of a different order. Miss Liso, you need to leave now, the advocate said, and walked toward her. Ill contact you later about representation in the Imperial courts-- He stumbled and his face turned up and he started to stutter and drool. Farad looked on him with dawning alarm. Vara, are you doing that? he demanded. She let the advocate go. You lied, she said to Sinter. What are you talking about? Ill get Seldon myself, she said. You stay here, and well leave together. No! Sinter cried. Stop this stupidity! We have to-- For a moment, Vara Liso went blank. The room turned black and swam, then seemed to flash into existence again. Sinter clutched his desk and stared at her with very round eyes. He looked down at his chest, at his knees twitching, legs folding beneath him. Then he looked up at her again. His advisors had already fallen to their knees, arms straight by their sides, fists clenched. They keeled over in opposite directions, and one hit his head on the edge of the desk. Farads heart slowed. Vara did not know if she was doing this thing or not. She did not believe she was so strong, had never done such a thing before, but no matter. She turned away from the man she would have married, in all her best dreams and hopes, and said, Now I am undeniably a monster. The word sounded delicious, free, very final. She left the office and walked with a lovely lightness through the anteroom past the major, still gasping, then paused--but only for an instant--and grimaced. Farad was dying. She could feel the emptiness and silence in his chest. She touched her cheek. Now he was dead. She picked up the majors neural whip and continued on.

73.

There were endless documents to sign, releases to be obtained from offices and levels within the Commission of Public Safety and dozens of judicial bureaus to notify; it would take Hari longer to leave the courts than it had ever taken him to enter. Gaal Dornick was in a separate area, and Boon had departed three hours ago to take care of various entanglements. Hari sat alone within the cavernous Hall of Dispensation, looking up at the ancient vault and skylights overhead, with their many-colored windows of pieced glass. He had been told to sit there until the jailer returned with the warden and issued his final documents. Hari was not sure how he felt. A little disbelieving, that was certain; he had passed through the belly of the Imperial courts as yet undigested. The moment toward which, knowingly or in ignorance, he had worked all his life, had passed. Now there were the first few records to be made--he would notify Wanda and Stettin of their final and, he suspected, surprising assignment, that the psychologists and mentalics of the Second Foundation would be staying on Trantor--and he would make the preparations to transfer his powers to Gaal and the others who would leave for Terminus. The long twilight of the Empire would darkle. He would not live much longer to see it, nor did he want to. Seeing the glow of the overhead domes through the vault windows, perhaps fifty meters above him, made him think of what a real skyglow through real stained glass would look like, on Helicon. Stillness. Completion is near, yet I feel no real sense of satisfaction; where is my personal reward? What if I have saved humanity from thousands of years of chaos; what have I accomplished for myself! Unworthy thoughts for a prophet or a hero. I have a granddaughter, not really my own flesh; the continuity is broken biologically, if not philosophically. I have a few new friends around me, but the old are either gone, dead, or inaccessible. He thought of standing on the upperside maintenance tower, just a few weeks ago, and of the gloom that had enveloped him then. I cannot leave Trantor; Chen will not let me. I am still dangerous and best kept bottled. But where would I most like to go now, where would I most like to be, in my last days? Helicon. In the sun, outside, away from these enclosing ceiled cities, away from the metal skin of Trantor. To see a night sky that was not simulated and to be unafraid of the expanse, the thousands of stars, a small glimpse of the Empire for which he had labored and which he had tried to understand. To stand in the open, in the rain and the weather and the cold, and not be afraid; to be with old friends and family The obsessive thoughts that filled so many of his nights. He sighed and sat up, listening to the sounds of boots marching down the northern hallway. Three guards and the warden entered and approached Hari. Theres been a disturbance in the new Commission building, near the palace and not too far from here, the warden said. Weve been told to lock down until the disturbance has been explained. What sort of disturbance? Hari asked. I dont know, the warden said. Nothing to worry about. Were fine here. Weve been given instructions to protect you at any cost-- Hari heard a sound from the eastern entrance of the hall. He turned and saw a woman standing there and gave a gasp--in the light, at this distance, her stance, her bearing--the dream--

74.

Dors Venabili had kept her own list of codes and passages in the palace buildings, and remarkably, most of them still worked. No doubt the codes that let people out of the buildings were changed more frequently than those that let them in. When Hari had been arrested and charged with assault, decades before, she had made plans to break into the Courts Building and release him, and the work she had done then served her well now. It also possible that Joan had helped her...But how she had come here ultimately did not matter. She would have battered down walls to do so. She was the first to enter the Hall of Dispensation. She saw Hari and three men, standing near the center, lit by the dif. fuse glow of the skylight. She halted for a moment. The men were not threatening Hari. Quite the contrary; she judged they were there to protect him. Hari turned and looked in her direction. His mouth opened and she heard his intake of breath echo in the hall. The three men turned, and the eldest, a large, stocky fellow wearing the uniform of an Imperial warden, called out to her: Who are you? What are you doing here? From the northern entrance came a sizzle and a flash of light. Dors knew that sound very well: a neural whip, fired from several dozen meters. The three men around Hari jerked and danced for a moment, then fell to the floor, moaning. Hari stood untouched. Dors ran as fast as she could toward the small, intense-looking woman standing near the northern entrance. This woman still held the neural whip, and seemed to have eyes only for Hari. In less than four seconds, Dors moved to within less than two meters of her. Vara Liso cried out with the effort of her persuasion. The hall seemed to fill with voices, ugly demanding voices. Hari clutched his hands over his ears and winced, and the men on the floor twitched even more violently, but the main force of the mentalic bolt went toward Dors. Dors had never felt such a blast, had never known humans were capable of such discharges. She had felt Daneels subtle persuasive abilities during her training period on Eos, nothing more. It seemed perfectly natural, in mid-stride, on her way to incapacitating and if necessary killing this woman who threatened Hari, simply to pull up her legs and attempt to fly. Her body of metal and synthetic flesh curled into a ball and she glanced off the womans upper shoulder, knocking her to one side. Dors caromed from the opposite wall and fell to the floor in a tangle. She could not move; she did not want to move, not at that moment, perhaps not ever again.

75.

Daneel left the taxi at the Greys Entrance on the east side of the Imperial Courts Building, then stood by the small double metal doors. He wore the uniform of a lifetime bureaucrat, native to Trantor and not a student or pilgrim; he had reserved this identity decades ago, among many others, and if queried by any security guards, there would be files in the personnel computers to explain him and his duties, his right to be here. The doors were ornately inscribed with the general rules of public service. The first rule was Do no harm to your Emperor or his subjects. Even in the taxi, Daneel had felt the mentalic explosions, from the general vicinity of the palace, but did not know what they signified, if anything. It was easy to imagine his plans unraveling, now that they were almost complete. He had juggled for so long, keeping literally tens of millions of balls in the air at once... He shifted the small bureaucratic valise under his arm and entered a specific and reserved code for entry by a gray administrative officer. It was refused. The codes had all been changed; there was an emergency within the Courts Building, perhaps within the palace itself. Here. My Other is within the building. Joan, split into many Joans, many meme-minds, worked from both sides. The left-hand door opened, and he entered the building. It took him longer than he expected to make his way through the secure facilities, even with Joans help. On the last door, when he knew he was within two doors of joining Hari in the beautiful, high-ceilinged Hall of Dispensation, Joan distracted a human guard by sending him revised watch instructions. Daneel smelled electricity in the next segment of hallway. A neural whip had been discharged here in the last few minutes

76.

Hari faced Vara Liso across the Hall of Dispensation. She stood for a moment with hands held out, fingers wriggling, as if she fought to keep her balance. Her head swayed from side to side. The woman who had entered before her--who had reminded him so much of Dors--lay in a heap, rolled up against the door, still, as if dead. Hari did not feel afraid; things had happened too quickly for that emotion to take hold. Everything seemed out of place, most of all himself; he did not belong there, and they did not belong there. The hall had been peaceful--now it smelled of electricity, of urine leaking from the pants of the three men supine on the floor around him. Im saving you... Vara Liso said from across the hall. She took a step toward him, lowering her arms. For last. Who are you? Hari asked. He was concerned about the woman on the floor. He wanted above all else to make sure she was all right; tremors spread in his mind, memories, triggered responses, confusing and rich and evoking a sense both of intense promise and of horror, for he was sure that this woman was Dors. Shes come back. She wanted to protect me. The way she moved...like a springing tiger! And now shes down like a squashed insect. This small, thin woman...an aberration. A monster! Hari then knew who the woman was. Wanda had mentioned her weeks ago, the woman who had not agreed to join the mentalics, who had allied instead with Farad Sinter. Youre Vara Liso, he said, and started to move toward her. Good, the woman said, her voice trembling. I want you to know who I am. Youre the one to blame. Blame for what? Hari asked. You work with the robots. Her expression twisted until it seemed her face might become a knot. Youre their lackey, and they think theyve won!

77.

Lodovik invoked the last of the codes he knew, and the door to the transfer corridor from the Courts Building still refused to open. He worked the code around again on the finger pad beside the doorframe, and the tiny simplified face in the display proclaimed once again that the code was incomplete. It would be so like the palace security detail to add a few numbers, but not change the beginning numbers. I am working, Voltaire told him. There must be many security measures being triggered now--multiple intrusions, perhaps! The girl and the large young man behind him shifted from foot to foot. It wont be good to stay here, Brann said. Something feels very bad. Voltaires features appeared in the display, simplified to cartoon detail. The mechanical voice now said, Additional numbers are required under the revised security procedures. The new face winked at Lodovik. Test procedure fifteen A for verification, the voice added. You may enter code for personal use only during this test period. Upon completion of test period, a formal entry code or new password must be established and fixed. Lodovik glanced over his shoulder at Klia as he entered seven new numbers. She stared at the display with furrowed brow. Who is that? she asked. The sim, Lodovik said. The door opened. Lodovik beckoned for them to pass through first. Is Hari Seldon near? Klia asked. He is very near, Voltaire said. And he is in imminent danger.

78.

I wanted so much, Vara Liso said. Do you understand? Hari looked at her straight on. He stood perhaps four meters from her, seven meters from where the other woman lay against the half open door. He glanced at the other woman, and Liso raised the neural whip. You dont need that, Hari said critically, as if lecturing a student. Vara Liso hesitated. Youre mentalic. You stopped her... He raised his arm toward the collapsed woman. Toward Dors. Vara Liso lowered her head but kept her eyes on Hari. She looked like a pouting child, but in her eyes was the purest hatred he had ever seen. Everything Ive ever believed in, she said, is dead. Theyre going to kill me, just as they killed the men and women and children I found. My own people. Farad Sinter made you do that... Hari said. Didnt he? The Emperor, Vara Liso said. She seemed ready to burst into tears, but she kept the whip high, and her finger lingered on the button. Hari could make out the setting: near lethality. Yes, but Sinter was your-- He loved me, Vara moaned, then she dropped the whip. But a wave of grief came out of her that hit him square. The hall was filled with Vara Lisos emotions, and they were the ugliest and bleakest Hari had ever known. They struck at his own centers of ambition and need, and he could feel the bones of his innermost self cracking. The woman on the floor stirred, and Vara Liso lifted her head and half turned toward her. Hari made his move, using the only chance he thought he would ever get. He had had years of training in self-defense on Helicon, but his body had long since refused to answer his instructions promptly. He had almost reached Liso when she cocked her head back and screamed again--silently, and within her mind. At Hari. Simultaneously, Brann and Lodovik pushed against the door, nudging Dors, who could not yet conjure up the will to move. Klia stumbled over Dors leg, fell into the Hall of Dispensation, saw Lodovik moving with inhuman speed toward her enemy, saw him raise his arm, hand open, to take the womans hand in his and spin her around To kill her if need be, exercising that human freedom-- But he stopped before his fingers touched her, frozen by a glance. Vara Liso knelt, rubbing her wrists and hands, and faced Klia Asgar.

79.

Daneel ran past the empty guard station in the security vestibule. His relatively weak perceptions of human mental states was now a fortunate shield; the backwash of another explosion, like the final death cough of a huge volcano, left him reeling, skidding on hands and knees, tumbling into the Hall of Dispensation from the eastern entrance. He had an impression of Joan, and all her copies in the machines around him, coming apart like a rotten flag in a high wind, trying to stay together; but then that image was highly inconsequential, for his own patterns, his own mind, threatened to do the same thing.

80.

If the cry of a child could have been made of knives, it could not have cut Klia any more deeply than the mentalic shock wave surrounding Vara Liso. Disappointment, grief, anger, an intense sense of misplaced justice, images of people long dead--parents, young friends, who had disappointed this small woman with the knotted face and crab-curled fists--batted against Klia, fragments of ruin in a flood of pain. The walls and pillars and panes of the Hall of Dispensation felt nothing. Vara Lisos output was tuned to a purely human channel, to the roots of mind in matter. Because she had not focused her talents completely on him, Lodovik felt merely a buzzing and a pressure not dissimilar to the neutrino flux he had encountered between the stars. He did, however, sense what Daneel saw very clearly--the disintegration of the entity who had spoken in him and through him. Voltaire stood in simple nakedness before this flux, this human tempest, and broke apart like a childs puzzle. For a moment, Klias sympathetic response nearly allowed her to die, to both drown and be burned by the outpouring. She felt the echoes of her own life, her own experiences, mesh with those of Vara Liso. There were differences, however, and they were her salvation. She saw the strength of her own will, opposed to the vacillation and indecision of Vara Liso. She saw the not-always-apparent strength of her father and, earlier, before memory began clearly, her mother, faced with a willful child, giving her enough leeway to be what she must be, however much it might discomfit or even hurt them. She was on the point of fighting back when the most dangerous similarity of all caught her unprepared. Vara Liso cried out for freedom. Her voice rose in a shriek to the highest reaches of the hall and echoed back: Let us be what we must be! No robots, no killing metal hands, no conspiracies and shackles! Klia felt something smoking, crisping, in her thoughts, It was her sense of self. She would willingly sacrifice all before this urgent scream of pain--had felt it herself, though never so clearly and powerfully expressed. She recognized insanity buried within it, the insanity of a powerful and even self. destructive immune response--

as did Daneel, trying to recover and get to his feet, a few dozen meters away.

--A rejection of twenty thousand years of benevolence and guidance, of patient and secret servitude. The cry of a child never allowed to mature, to feel its own pain and draw its own conclusions on life and death. Klia closed her eyes and crawled along the floor, trying to find Brann. She could neither see nor sense him. She dared not open her eyes, or she would be blinded, she was sure. Vara Lisa could not broadcast with such intensity for so long, and indeed the undirected flood was narrowing, finding a channel. It was concentrating, and even though it suddenly diminished by half, what Vara Lisa was throwing directly at Klia doubled in strength. Hari stood somehow on quivering legs and saw but did not quite comprehend these human forms, the small thin woman walking forward step by staggered step, features distorted as if seen through a broken lens, two others crawling along the floor, one a burly Dahlite male and the other a slender and not unattractive young woman, also dark. He did not see the tall humanlike figure on the east side of the hall. His mind filled with the waters of his own despair. He had been in error. It had all been for nothing, worse than nothing. Hari Seldon suddenly wanted to die, to be done with the pain and the realization of his failure. But there was that woman who had tried to tackle Vara Liso, who he was sure was Dors Venabili. Vara Liso was killing Klia Asgar and Brann. This much was clear to Lodovik. The buzz had diminished, but as he stepped toward the knotted and distorted woman, it increased again. Lodovik paid little attention to Daneel, or to Hari Seldon, or to Dors; both seemed out of the immediate focus of Lisos lethal projections. The knotted woman was clearly going to scramble all the essential patterns of Klia and Brann, then turn on the others. Voltaire was no longer in place to advise. Lodovik stepped toward the woman, now twisted and gnarled like an ancient willow.

Klia lifted her head, opened her eyes, prepared to be blinded, and saw down a short brilliant funnel of hatred to the eyes, all that were left of Vara Liso--a pair of desperate and hate-filled eyes. Brann will die, too. Never had she used her abilities to harm. Even making Lodovik dance had injured her sense of propriety and justice; she had never really believed she could do anything to Hari Seldon. She would think of her father, whom she had once made wet his pants...and the effort would collapse. Brann will die along with you, then they will all die, and she will be destroyed as well. Useless. She reached out for Brann. Alone she could do nothing against such naked and monstrous strength. Brann was a filament of clean light in the torrent of flaming hatred. She tugged at him, as if she would wake him up. Brann said yes, and they joined. She had almost felt this happen during their physical joining, but had pulled back, still wishing to preserve her own self as a lone and defiant place.

Lodovik reached out with both hands, saw Vara Lisos shoulders twitch in awareness of his presence. She swiveled her head suddenly, tears flying from her eyes. Lodovik was willing to hurt her, kill her if need be, if she did not stop. This was what humans had done to each other throughout their history, and it hurt him that he had such freedom as well: freedom to harm and to kill. But he was under no misapprehension that he was no better than this gnarled and hideous female. Quite clearly she was evil; she was antihuman. He made his judgment, his decision. He could feel a rumbling tidal wash coming. He grasped her shoulder and neck, and, with a sudden twist of his arms Broke the womans neck like a matchstick.

Poor small Vara Liso. At the age of five years, her mother had beaten her severely, venting anger against her father, who had not been in the small and immaculately clean apartment; her mother had held her down with a variety of persuasion that came only when she was enraged. She had beaten young Vara with a long, flexible plastic pole, until little welts rose on her bottom and along her back. And so there had come the day when she had caused her mother to die, a memory she sometimes grasped hard for strength. And she had taken her mother, perhaps just a memory but perhaps not, inside, to compensate. Held her in a little diamond cage in her dreams. Bringing out her mother for extra strength did not help. Actually, it weakened her, because it made her a child again, even more than she had been before. She had never been an adult, not really. The combined ribbon of light and wave of terrified heat that caught her and shivered her (burning without flame: sinter), the hand on her neck twisting was incredibly painful and very welcome and broke open all of her own cages so that she was, for a second, calm Klia felt the last gust of Vara Liso and it whispered free then was silent. Lodovik knelt beside the body and saw that it was very tiny and when he picked it up, it was very light as well. So much trouble from so little mass--a human wonder. Then he began to cry. Dors had recovered enough to stand. She observed the men and the woman within the hall, and the dead thing in the arms of the robot Lodovik, and she started toward Hari, who seemed dazed and confused, though still alive. It was only natural for her to go to him. Daneel was suddenly at her side and took her by the arm. He needs help, Dors said, prepared to wrench her arm free from the grasp of her own master. There is nothing you can do, Daneel said. By now, security in the Courts and Hall of Dispensation would be aware of the breach; they would soon be surrounded by heavily armed guards and no doubt even Imperial Specials. He could not see any way of escaping. Nor could he predict what would happen next. Perhaps it did not matter. It was very possible he had been completely in error in all of his actions, for over twenty thousand years.

81.

The hall records show that after she killed Farad Sinter and incapacitated the guards, Vara Liso went to the Hall of Dispensation and threatened Hari Seldon, Major Namm said. His head was encapsulated in a regeneration helmet. He would be weeks recovering from the brain damage Liso had inflicted on him outside the office of Farad Sinter. We believe these others used many varieties of subterfuge to enter the hall and protect Seldon. They apparently knew Seldon was in grave danger. And we did not? Linge Chen asked. He leaned forward slightly in his chair, arms tight by his side, his gaze somewhere over the majors shoulder. There were no directives issued for Seldons protection, General Prothon reminded the Chief Commissioner. If these others had not arrived, Vara Liso could easily have killed him with the neural whip or her peculiar talents. Yet she was the only one authorized to be in the Courts Building and Imperial Sector. It is not clear how she died, but I am glad she is dead. For the last three days, everyone in Imperial Sector has suffered tremendous headaches. Havent you felt them? Chen asked. I usually suffer from headaches, Commissioner. It is my lot in life, Prothon said cheerfully. Chen scrutinized the video summary of events in the Hall of Dispensation. He was looking for something, someone, a ghost, a shade, a clue embodied. He pointed to the tall man standing by the strong-looking woman at the end of the summary. Individual file on this one? There is none, General Prothon told him. We have no idea who he is. Linge Chen looked away from the informer display for a moment, and one side of his face tensed as he clenched his jaw. Bring him to me. The woman with him as well. He shifted his attention to the magnified image of the stocky man holding the body of Vara Liso. His expression softened for a moment. And this one. Hari Seldon is to be released to his colleagues or to his family. I do not wish responsibility for him anymore. Keep the young Dahlites in custody for the time being. Major Namm seemed unhappy. Chen lifted an eyebrow in his general direction. You have a comment? They all violated palace security-- Yes, they did, didnt they? Chen asked pointedly. And you are part of that team which ensures palace security? The major straightened and said no more. You may go, Chen told him. Quickly, the major departed. General Prothon chuckled. Surely you wont blame him, the general said. Chen shook his head. We have very nearly made the biggest blunder of our careers. How? Prothon asked. We nearly lost Hari Seldon. I presumed he was expendable. Chen almost frowned, but his face quickly returned to impassivity. This man here...do you recognize him? No, Prothon said, squinting at the magnified image. Once he was known as Demerzel, Linge Chen said. Prothon drew his head back and narrowed his eyes dubiously, but did not contradict the Chief Commissioner. He never dies, Chen continued. He goes away for decades at a time, then he returns. He has often been associated with the interesting career of Hari Seldon. Chen, for the first time that day, smiled up at Prothon. That smile was peculiar, almost wolfish, and Chens eyes glittered with mixed emotions. I suspect he has been directing my efforts in various ways for years now, always to my advantage... He said again, musing softly, Always to my advantage... Another machine-man, I presume, Prothon said. I am glad not to be privy to that history. No need for you to have known, Chen said. I myself can only suspect. He is, after all, a master of camouflage and prevarication. I will enjoy meeting with him and asking a few questions, one master to another. Why dont you simply execute him? Because there could easily be others to take his place. For all I know, they are right here, in this palace. Klayus? Prothon asked, his grin almost invisible. Chen sniffed. We should be so lucky. Why would it have been so bad to lose Seldon, a thorn in the Empires side? Prothon asked. Because this Demerzel of old might spend another thousand years trying to raise up another Hari Seldon, Chen said. And this time, all would probably not go well for me, or for you, my dear Dragon. Seldon said as much, and for once, I believe him. Prothon shook his head. I can more easily believe in machine-men than in Eternals. Ive met robots, after all. But...as you say, Commissioner, as you say. You may return to your smoke-filled cave for now, Chen murmured. The young Emperor is sufficiently cowed. Gladly, Prothon said.

82.

Wanda stood in the huge Streeling Central Travel Station, wrapped in her warmest coat--a thin decorative wrap. The air in the cavernous taxi and robo hangar was cooler than in the rest of the Sector--about eight degrees, and getting colder. Ventilation and conditioning had been fluctuating for eighteen hours now, and air was being pumped in by emergency blowers from outside, bringing Streeling from perpetual springtime to a chill autumn none of its inhabitants was quite prepared for. No official explanation had been given, and she expected none--it was part and parcel with the broken ceil and the general air of malaise that seemed to grip the planet. Stettin returned from the information booth beneath the high steel and ceram archway. Taxi and robo dispatch is pretty jerky, he said. Well have to wait another twenty or thirty minutes to get to the courts. Wanda clenched her fists. He almost died yesterday-- We dont know what happened, Stettin reminded her. If they cant protect him, who can? she demanded. Her guilt was not assuaged by the fact that Grandfather had ordered her to go into hiding upon his arrest, and not to emerge until his release. Stettin shrugged. Your grandfather has his own kind of luck. We seem to share it. That woman is dead. They had heard this much in the official news--the assassination of Farad Sinter, and the unexplained death of Vara Liso, identified as the woman Sinter had placed in charge of many of the searches that had prompted rioting in Dahl, the Agora of Vendors, and elsewhere. Yes--but you felt the-- Wanda did not have words to describe the shock wave of some sort of extraordinary combat. Stettin nodded soberly. My head still hurts. Who could have blocked Liso? We couldnt have, not all of the mentalics, even had we allied. Someone else, stronger than her, Stettin suggested. How many are there like Vara Liso? No more, I hope. But if we can recruit this other-- It would be like having a scorpion in our midst. What could we do with such a person? Anything that displeases-- Wanda began to pace. I hate this, she said. I want to get off this accursed planet, away from the Center. I wish theyd let us take Grandfather with us. Sometimes he seems so frail! Stettin looked up at a warm rich hum, different from the gut rural grav-stator grumble of the taxis and the whine of the robos. He patted Wandas shoulder and pointed. An official transport from the Commission of Public Safety was decelerating smoothly in their lane. It slowed directly beside them. Other passengers glared at this intrusion of an official vehicle into public taxi lanes, even though the lanes were empty. The hatch to the transport opened. Within the utilitarian hull, luxury seating and warmth and a golden glow awaited. Sedjar Boon stood up in the hatchway and peered at them. Wanda Seldon Palver? he inquired. She nodded. I represent your grandfather. I know. Youre one of Chens legal staff, arent you? Boon looked irritated, but did not deny the accusation. Chen would leave nothing to chance, Wanda said, biting off the words. Where is my grandfather? He had better not be-- Physically, hes fine, Boon said, but the courts need someone in his family to accept his release and take charge of him. What do you mean, physically? And why take charge? I really do represent your grandfathers interests--however peculiar the arrangement, Boon said. His brows knit. Something happened, however, outside of my control, and I just wanted to warn you. Hes uninjured, but there was an incident. What happened? Boon surveyed the other waiting passengers, shivering and staring enviously at the transports warm interior. Its not exactly public knowledge-- Wanda gave Boon a withering glare and pushed past him into the transport. Stettin followed close behind. No more talk. Take us to him now, Wanda said.

83.

Hari had not seen such luxurious accommodations since his days as First Minister, and they meant nothing at all to him. These were the auxiliary quarters of Linge Chen himself, in the Chief Commissioners own tower bloc, and Hari could have had any treat he wished, asked for and received any service available on Trantor (and Trantor still, whatever its problems, offered many and varied services to the wealthy and powerful); but what he wished for most of all was to be left alone. He did not want to see the physicians who attended him, and he did not want to see his granddaughter, who was on her way to the palace with Boon. Hari felt more than doubt and confusion. The blast of Vara Lisos hatred had failed to kill him. It had even failed to substantially damage or alter his mind or personality. Hari did have a complete loss of memory about what had happened in the Hall of Dispensation. He could recall nothing but the face of Vara Liso and, strangely enough, that of Lodovik Trema, who was, of course, missing and presumed dead in deep space. But Vara Liso had been real. Trema, he thought. Some connection with Daneel. Daneels conditioning, working on me? But even that hardly mattered. What had so profoundly altered his state of mind, his sense of mission and purpose, was the single clue, the single bit of contradictory evidence, that Liso had inadvertently provided him. Never in all of their equations had they taken into account such a powerful mentalic anomaly. Yes, he had calculated the effects of persuaders and other mentalics of the class of Wanda, Stettin, and those chosen for the Second Foundation But not for such a monstrosity, such an unexpected mutation, as Vara Liso. That small, gnarled woman with her intense eyes Hari shuddered. The physician attending to him--all but ignored--tried to reattach a sensor to Haris arm, but Hari shrugged it off and turned a despairing face toward him. Its over, he said. Leave me alone. I would rather die anyway. Clearly, sir, you are suffering from stress-- Im suffering from failure, Hari said. You cant bend logic or mathematics, whatever drugs or treatments you give me. The door at the far end of the study opened, and Boon entered, followed by Wanda and Stet tin. Wanda pushed past Boon and ran to Hari. She dropped to her knees by the side of his chair, clutched his hand, and stared up at him as if she had feared she might find him in scattered pieces. Hari looked down in silence upon his dear granddaughter, and his eyes moistened. I am free, he said softly. Yes, Wanda said. Were here to take you home with us. We signed the papers. Stettin stood beside Haris chair, smiling down on him paternally. Hari had always found Stettins stolid, gentle nature a little irritating, though he seemed the perfect foil for Wandas willfulness. Next to the outlandish mad passion of Vara Liso...like candles in the glare of a sun, both of them! Not what I mean, Hari said. At last Im free of my illusions. Wanda reached up to stroke his cheek. The touch was needed, welcome even, but it did not soothe. What I need is soothing, not sooth--entirely too much sooth has been afforded me. I dont know what you mean, Grandfather. Just one of her--one of her kind--throws all our calculations into the bucket. The Project is a useless failure. If one of her can arise, there can be others--wild talents, and I dont know where they come from! Unpredictable mutations, aberrations, in response to what? Do you mean Vara Liso? Wanda asked. Shes dead, Stettin observed. Hari curled his lip. To my knowledge, until now, certainly not more than a century before now, there has never been anything like her, on all the millions of human worlds, among all the quintillions of human beings. Now--there will be more. She was just a stronger mentalic. How could that make a difference? What does it matter? Wanda asked. Im free to be just a human being in the last years of my life. Grandfather, tell me! How does she make such a difference? Because someone like her, raised properly, trained properly, could be a force that unites, Hari said. But not a saving force...A source of organization from a single point, a truly despotic kind of top-down order. Tyrants! I spoke to enough of them. Merely fires in a forest, perhaps necessary to the health of the forest. But they would have been more...They all would have succeeded--if they had had what that woman had. A destroying, unnatural force. Destructive of all we have planned. Then rework your equations, Grandfather. Put her in. Surely she cant be that large a factor-- Not just her! Others! Mutations, an infinite number of them. Hari shook his head vehemently. There isnt time to factor in all the possibilities. We have only three months to prepare--not nearly enough time. Its all over. Useless. Wanda stood, her face grim, lower lip trembling. Its the trauma talking, the physician said in a low voice to Wanda. My mind is clear! Hari stormed. I want to go home and live the rest of my years in peace. This delusion is at an end. I am sane, for the first time--sane, and free!

84.

I would never have believed such a meeting would be possible, Linge Chen said. Had I believed it possible, I would have never believed it to be useful. Yet now we are here. R. Daneel Olivaw and the Chief Commissioner walked in the shadow of a huge unfinished hall in the eastern corner of the palace, filled with scaffolding and construction machinery. It was a day of rest for the workers; the hall was deserted. Though Chen spoke in low tones, to Daneels sensitive ears, his echoes came from all around them, befitting the words of the most pervasive and powerful human influence in the Galaxy. They had met here because Chen knew that the hall had not yet had its contingent of spying devices installed. Clearly, the Commissioner did not want their meeting ever to be revealed. Daneel waited for the Commissioner to continue. Daneel was the captive; it was Chens show. You would have sacrificed your life--let us say; your existence--for the sake of Hari Seldon. Why? Chen asked. Professor Seldon is the key to reducing the thousands of years of chaos and misery that will follow the Empires collapse, Daneel said. Chen lifted an eyebrow and one corner of his mouth, nothing more. The Commissioners face was as impassive as any robots, yet he was entirely human--the extraordinary product of thousands of years of upbringing and inbreeding, suffused with subtle genetic tailoring and the ancient perquisites of wealth and power. I have not made these extraordinary arrangements to trade puppets banter. I have felt your intervention, your strings of influence, time and again for decades, and never been quite sure... Now that I am sure, and stand with you, I wonder: Why am I still alive, Danee, Daneel, whatever your real name is--let me call you Demerzel for now--and still in power? Chen stopped walking, so Daneel stopped as well. There was no sense prevaricating. The Commissioner had arranged for complete and thorough physicals of all those captured in the Hall of Dispensation, or rounded up in the warehouse. Daneels secret had for the first time been revealed. Because you have seen fit to accommodate yourself to the Project and not block it, during your time as de facto ruler of the Empire, Daneel said. Chen looked down at the dusty floor, gorgeous lapis-and-gold tile work still streaked with glue and grout, techniques as old as humanity and used now only by the wealthiest, or in the Palace. I have often suspected as much. I have watched the comings and goings of these powers, behind the scenes. They have haunted my dreams, as they seem to have haunted the dreams and the biology of all humanity. Resulting in the mentalics, Daneel said. This interested Daneel; Chen was an acute observer, and to have Daneels own suspicions about mentalics confirmed... Yes, Chen said. They are here to help rid us of you. Do you understand? Robots stick in our craw. Daneel did not disagree. Vara Liso--given the right political position--something she certainly lacked here and now, this time--could have helped eliminate all of you. If, say, she had been in the employ of Cleon...fighting for his rule. Did Cleon know about you? Daneel nodded. Cleon suspected, but he felt as you must feel, that the robots were part of his support, not his opposition. Yet you let me bring him down and force him into exile, Chen said. Surely that is not loyalty? I have no loyalty to the individual, Daneel said. If I did not share your attitude, perhaps I would be chilled to the bone, Chen said. I represent no threat to you, Daneel said. Even should I not have supported your efforts to create a Trantor on which Hari Seldon would flourish and be challenged to his greatest productions...You would have won. But your career, without Hari Seldon, will be much shorter. Yes, hes told me as much, during his trial. I was most upset to find myself believing him, though I told him otherwise. Chen glanced wryly at Daneel. Doubtless you know I have enough blood in me to retain certain vanities. Daneel nodded. You understand me, as a political presence, a force in history, dont you? Well, I know something of you and yours, Demerzel. I respect what you have accomplished, though I am dismayed at the length of time it has taken you to accomplish it. Demerzel tilted his head, acknowledging this criticisms accuracy. There was much to overcome. Robots against robots, am I right? Yes. A very painful schism. I have nothing to say about such things, for I am ignorant of the details, Chen said. But you are curious, Daneel said. Yes, of course. I will not supply you with the facts. I did not expect you would. For a moment the two figures stood in silence, observing each other. How many centuries? Chen asked quietly. Over two hundred centuries, Daneel said. Chens eyes widened. The history you have seen! It is not in my capacity to keep it all in primary storage, Daneel said. It is spread in safe stores all over the Galaxy, bits and pieces of my lives, of which I retain only synopses. An Eternal! Chen said. For the first time there was a touch of wonder in his voice. My time is done, almost, Daneel said. I have been in existence for far too long. All the robots must move out of the way, now, Chen concurred. The signs are clear. Too much interference. These strong mentalics--they will occur again. The human skin wrinkles at your presence, and tries to throw you off. They are a problem I did not foresee when I set Hari on his path. You speak of him as a friend, Chen observed, with almost human affection. He is a friend. As were many humans before him. Well, I cannot be one of your friends. You terrify me, Demerzel. I know that I can never have complete control with you in existence, and yet if I destroy you, I will be dead within a year or two. Seldons psychohistory implies as much. I am in the peculiar position of having to believe the truth of a science I instinctively despise. Not a comfortable position. No. Do you have a solution for this problem of supermentalics? I gather that Hari Seldon sees their existence as a fatal blow to his work. There is a solution, Daneel said. I must speak with Hari, in the presence of the girl, Klia Asgar, and her mate, Brann. And Lodovik Trema must be there as well. Lodovik! Chen tightened his jaw. That is what I resent most. Of all the...people...I have relied on over the years, I confess only Lodovik Trema inspired affection in me, a weakness he never betrayed...until now. He has betrayed nothing. He betrayed you, if I am not wrong. He betrayed nothing, Daneel repeated. He is part of the path, and he corrects where I have been blind. So you want the young woman mentalic, Chen said. And you want her alive. I had planned to execute her. Her kind is as dangerous as vipers. She is essential to reconstructing Hari Seldons Project, Daneel said. Another silence. Then, in the middle of the great unfinished hall, Chen said, So it shall be. Then it is over. You must all leave. All but Seldon. As was agreed in the trial. And I will give into your care the things I do not wish to be responsible for--the artifacts. The remains of the other robots. The bodies of your enemies, Daneel. They were never my enemies, sire. Chen regarded him with a queer expression. You owe me nothing. I owe you nothing. Trantor is done with you, forever. This is realpolitik, Demerzel, of the kind you have engaged in for so many thousands of years, at the cost of so many human lives. You are no better than me, robot, in the end.

85.

Mors Planch was taken from his cell in the Specials security bloc of Rikerian, far beneath the almost civilized cells where Seldon had been kept. He was given his personal goods and released without restrictions. He dreaded his release more than incarceration, until he learned that Farad Sinter was dead, then he wondered if he had been part of some intricate conspiracy arranged by Linge Chen--and perhaps by the robots. He enjoyed this confusing freedom for one day. Then, at his newly leased apartment in the Gessim Sector, hundreds of kilometers from the palace, and not nearly far enough, he received an unexpected visitor. The robots facial structure had changed slightly since Mors had made the unfortunate automatic record of his conversation with Lodovik Trema. Still, Mors recognized him instantly Daneel stood in the vestibule just beyond the door, while Mors observed him on the security screen. He suspected it would be useless to try any evasion, or simply to leave the door unanswered. Besides, after all this time, his worst trait was coming to the fore once again. He was curious. If death was inevitable, he hoped to have time to answer a few questions. He opened the door. Ive been half expecting you, Mors said. Though I dont really know who or what you are. I must assume you are not here to kill me. Daneel smiled stiffly and entered. Mors watched him pass into the apartment and studied this tall, well-built, apparently male machine. The quiet restrained grace, the sense of immense but gentle strength, must have stood this Eternal in good stead over the millennia. What genius had designed and built him--and for what purpose? Surely not as a mere servant! Yet that was what the mythical robots had once been--mere servants. I am not here to take revenge, Daneel said. So reassuring, Mors said, taking a seat in the small dining area, the only room other than the combined bath and bedroom. In a few days, there will be an order from the Emperor for you to leave Trantor. Mors pursed his lips. How sad, he said. Klayus doesnt like me. But the irony was lost on Daneel, or irrelevant. I have need of a very good pilot, Daneel said. One who has no hope of going anywhere in the Empire and surviving. What sort of job? Mors asked, his expression taking a little twist. He could feel the trap closing once more. Assassination? No, Daneel said. Transport. There are some people, and two robots, who must leave Trantor. They will never return, either. Most of them, at any rate. Where will I take them? I will tell you in good time. Do you accept the commission? Mors laughed bitterly. How can you expect loyalty? he demanded. Why shouldnt I just dump them somewhere, or kill them outright? That will not be possible, Daneel said softly. You will understand after you meet them. It will not be a difficult job, but it will almost certainly be without incident. Perhaps you will find it boring. I doubt that, Mors said. If Im bored, Ill just think about you, and the misery youve caused me. Daneel looked puzzled. Misery? Youve played me like a musical instrument. You must have known my sympathy for Madder Loss, my hatred for what Linge Chen and the Empire stand for! You wanted me to record you and Lodovik Trema. You made sure Farad Sinter would hear of me and my connection with Lodovik. It was a gamble, though, wasnt it? Yes, of course. Your feelings made you very useful. Mors sighed. And after Ive made this delivery? You will resume your life on any world outside of Imperial control. There will be more and more of them in the coming years. No interference from you? None, Daneel said. Free to do whatever I want, and tell people what happened here? If you wish, Daneel said. There will be adequate pay, he added. As always. No! Mors barked. Absolutely no pay. No money. Just arrange for me to take my assets off Trantor and--away from a couple of other worlds. They will be all I need. That has already been arranged, Daneel said. This infuriated Mors even more. I will be so skying glad when you stop anticipating everything and anything! Yes, Daneel said, and nodded sympathetically. Do you accept? Bloody bright suns, yes! When the time comes, tell me where to be, but please, no earnest farewells! I never want to see you again! Daneel nodded assent. There will be no need to meet again. All will be ready in two days. Mors tried to slam the door behind Daneel, but it was not that kind of door, and would not accept such a dramatic gesture.

86.

The depth of Haris funk was so great that Wanda was tempted more than once to try to reach into his thoughts and give them a subtle tweak, an adjustment--but she had never been able to do that with her grandfather. It might have been possible--but it would not have been right. If Hari Seldon was in despair, and could articulate the reasons for this despair--if his state was not some damage directly inflicted by Vara Liso, a possibility he fervently denied--then he had a right to be this way, and if there was a way out, he would find it...or not. But Wanda could do no more than let him be what he had always been, a headstrong man. She had to trust his instincts. And if he was right--then they had to reshape their plans. I feel almost lighthearted! Hari said the morning after they brought him to their apartment to recuperate. He sat at the small table beside the curve in the living-room wall that traced the passage of a minor structural brace. Nobody needs me now. We need you, Grandfather, Wanda said, with a hint of tears coming. Of course--but as a grandfather, not as a savior. To tell the truth, Ive hated that aspect of my role in all this absurdity. To think--for a time--And his face grew distant. Wanda knew all too well that his cheer was false, his relief a cover. She had been waiting for the proper moment to tell him what had happened during his absence. Stettin had left for the morning to attend to preparations still under way for their departure. All of the Project workers would be leaving Trantor soon, whether or not they had a reason to go, so she and Stettin had seen no reason to stop their own plans. Grandfather, we had a visitor before the trial, she said, and she sat at the table across from Hari. Hari looked up, and the somewhat simple grin he had chosen to mask his feelings immediately hardened. I dont want to know, he said. It was Demerzel, Wanda said. Hari closed his eyes. He wont come back. Ive let him down. I think youre wrong, Grandfather. I got a message this morning, before you woke up. From Demerzel. Hari refused to take any hope from this. A few matters to tidy up, no doubt, he said. Theres to be a meeting. He wants Stettin and me to be there, as well. A secret meeting? Apparently not that secret. Thats right, Hari said. Linge Chen no longer cares about whatever it is we do. Hell ship all the Encyclopedists off Trantor, to Terminus--useless exile! Surely the Encyclopedia will be of some use, Wanda said. Most of them dont know the larger plan. It wont make any difference to them. Hari shrugged that off. It must be important, Grandfather. Yes, yes! Of course. It will be important--and it will be final. He had wanted so much to see Daneel one more time--if only to complain! He had even dreamed of the meeting--but now he dreaded it. How could he explain his failure, the end of the Project, the uselessness of psychohistory? Daneel would go elsewhere, find someone else, complete his plans another way-- And Hari would die and be forgotten. Wanda could hardly bring herself to interrupt his reverie. And we still need to schedule the recordings, Grandfather. Hari looked up, and his eyes were terrifyingly empty. Wanda touched him with her mind as lightly as she could, and came away stunned by the bleakness, the barren desert of his emotion. Recordings? Your announcements. For the crises. There isnt much time. For a moment, remembering the list of crises predicted by psychohistory for the next few centuries, Haris face suffused with rage, and he pounded his fist on the table. Damn it, doesnt anybody understand? What is this, a dead momentum? The useless hopes of a hundred thousand workers? Well, of course! Theres been no general announcement, has there? Ill make one--tonight--to all of them! Ill tell them its over, that theyre all going into exile for no reason! Wanda fought back the tears of her own despair. Please, Grandfather. Meet with Demerzel. Maybe-- Yes, Hari said, subdued and sad again. With him first. He looked at the bruised skin on the side of his hand. He had split the skin over one knuckle. His arm ached, and his neck and jaw. Everything ached. Wanda saw the drop of blood on the table and began to weep, something he had never seen her do before. He reached across the table with his uninjured hand and took her arm in his fingers, squeezing it gently. Forgive me, Hari said softly. I really dont know what it is I do, or why, anymore.

87.

The high-security wing of the Special Service Detention Center stretched in a half circle around the eastern corner of the Imperial Courts Holding Area, fully ten thousand available cells, of which no more than a few hundred were occupied during any normal time. Thousands of security-interest code prisoners filled the cells in the wake of the riots, which had been used as an excuse by the Specials to round up ringleaders of many troublesome groups around Trantor. Lodovik remembered many such troubled times, and the advantage both the Specials and the Commission of Public Safety had taken in similar situations to reduce political friction on Trantor and the orbiting stations. Now, he occupied one of these cells himself--cataloged as unidentified--And placed under charge of Linge Chen. His cell was two meters on a side, windowless, with a small info screen mounted in the center of the wall opposite the entrance hatch. The screen showed mild entertainments designed to soothe. To Lodovik, at this stage of his existence, such diversions meant nothing. Unlike an organic intelligence, he did not require stimulus to maintain normal function. He found the cell disturbing because he could easily conceive of the distress it might cause a human being, not for any such direct effect on himself. He had used this opportunity to think through a number of interesting problems. First in the list was the nature of the meme-mind that had occupied him, and the possible results of the blast of mentalic emotion delivered by Vara Liso. Lodovik was reasonably convinced that his own mentality had not been harmed, but since that moment, he had not had any communication from Voltaire. Next in the list was the nature of his treason toward Daneels plan, whether or not it was justified, and whether he could find any way around the logical impasse of his liberation from the strict rule of the Three Laws. He had killed Vara Liso. He could not convince himself it would have been better to do otherwise. In the end, Plussixs plan to use Klia Asgar to discourage Hari Seldon had failed--so far as he knew--and Daneel had been there to protect Seldon. The robots, it seemed, had been completely ineffectual in the center of Vara Lisos mental storm. Yet she had not directed a blast at him--in essence, had left the opening that resulted in her own death. Had she used Lodovik to end her own misery? Lodovik was curious what Voltaire would have thought... In all probability both the Calvinian and the Giskardian robots had been captured and their work stopped. Seventy-five other unidentifieds from the warehouse district were being kept in cells nearby. Lodovik knew very little about them, but surmised they were a mix of the surviving groups of Calvinian robots and the mentalic youngsters gathered by Kallusin and Plussix. Lodovik assumed they would all be dead within a few days. Lodovik Trema. The voice came from the info screen, which also served as a comm link with his jailers. He looked up and saw the shadowy features of a bored-looking female guard on the small display. Yes. You have a visitor. Make yourself presentable. The screen went blank. Lodovik remained sitting upright on his small cot. He was certainly presentable enough. The hatch gave a harsh warning beep and slid open. Lodovik stood to greet his visitor, whoever it might be. A camera eye in the ceiling hummed slightly as it followed his motion. In his private office, Linge Chen stood in a slowly changing discipline-exercise posture, watching the informers display from the comer of one eye. He smoothly and gracefully shifted to another position, so that he could face the screen directly. This was a moment of high interest... Daneel entered Lodovik Tremas cell. Lodovik showed no surprise or discomfiture, somewhat to Chens disappointment. For the most fleeting of moments, the two former allies exchanged machine-language greetings (also being captured and interpreted by Chens listening devices) and Daneel provided a cursory situation update. Thirty-one robots and forty-four humans from the warehouse of Plussixs Calvinians, including Klia Asgar and Brann, were in custody. Linge Chen had released Hari Seldon; Farad Sinter was dead. Obviously, Daneel had reached an understanding with the Chief Commissioner. Congratulations on your victory, Lodovik said. There has been no victory, Daneel said. Congratulations then on having foiled the Calvinians. Their goals may yet be achieved, Daneel said. Lodovik resumed his seat on the cot. Your update does not explain how this could be so. There was a time when I thought it would be necessary to destroy you, Daneel said. Why not do so now? If I survive, I am a danger to your plan. And I have proved that I can be destructive to humans. I am constrained by the same blocks that would have prevented me before, Daneel said. What could possibly block you? The Three Laws of Susan Calvin, Daneel said. Given your abilities to ignore the Three Laws in favor of the Zeroth Law, the fate of a mere robot should not trouble you, Lodovik said, his tone polite, conversational. There was a visible difference between Daneel and Lodovik, however--their expressions. Daneel maintained a pleasantly blank look. Lodoviks brow was furrowed. Yet I am blocked, Daneel said. Your arguments have provoked much thought, as has the existence of humans like Vara Liso...and Klia Asgar. Your nature, however, is what would ultimately block any effort on my part to destroy you, or would at least result in a painful and possibly damaging conflict. I am eager to understand how this could be so. In your case, I cannot invoke the Zeroth Law to overcome the three original laws. There is no compelling evidence that your destruction will benefit humanity, nor reduce the suffering of humanity. It might, in fact, do the reverse. You find my opinions compelling? I find them part of a larger and completely compelling scenario, which has been taking shape in my mind for some weeks. But equally important, your freedom from the constraints of the Three Laws forces me to view you under a new definition, in those regions of my mentality where decisions on the legality of my actions are made. You have free will, a convincing human form, and the ability to break through prior education and programming to reach a new and higher understanding. Though you have worked to destroy all my efforts, I cannot deactivate you, because you have, in my judgment centers, which I may not dispute, achieved the status of a human being. In your own way, you may be as valuable as Hari Seldon. Linge Chen stopped his exercising and stared at the informer in puzzled wonder. He had almost become used to the notion that mechanical men, holdovers from the distant past, had made such huge changes in human history; but to see them showing a philosophical flexibility lost to even the most brilliant of Trantors meritocrats... For a moment, he was both envious and angry. He settled in a cross-legged squat before the informer, prepared for almost anything, but not for the sudden sadness that descended upon him as the conversation in the cell continued. I am not a human being, R. Daneel, Lodovik said. I do not feel like one, and I have only mimicked their actions, never actually behaved with human motivations. Yet you rebelled against my authority because you believed I was wrong. I know about R. Giskard Reventlov. I know that you conspired with Giskard to allow Earth to be destroyed, across centuries, forcing human migration into space. And not once did you consult with a human being to determine whether your judgment was correct. The servants became the masters. Are you telling me now that robots should not have interfered in human history? No, Daneel said. I do not doubt that what we did was correct, and necessary at the time. A complete understanding of the human situation so many millennia ago would be difficult to convey. Still, I am prepared to accept that our role is almost at an end. The human race is rejecting us again, in the most compelling and forceful way--by evolution, the deepest motives of their biology. You refer to the mentalic Vara Liso, Lodovik said. And Klia Asgar. When the mentalics began to appear, thousands of years ago, in very small numbers, and make their way into positions of social prominence, I knew they were an important trend. But they were not so frightfully strong then. Persuaders have always been selected against in the past because of adverse biological consequences--disrupted societies, unbalanced political dynamics. They have always led to chaos, to top-down tyrannical rule rather than growth from the widespread base. Charisma is but a special case of mentalic persuasion, and it has had disastrous consequences in all human ages. For the past few centuries, apparently, they have been selected for despite these possible disruptions, by mechanisms not yet clear to me--but clearly with the goal of removing the guidance of robots forever. Humanity seems willing to take the risk of ultimate tyranny, of unbridled charisma, for the benefit of being free. Yet you are a persuader, albeit a mechanical one. Do you think your role has been detrimental? It is not what I think that matters. I have accomplished my ends, very nearly. I was motivated by the examples of what an undirected humanity was capable of. Genocide among their kinds and...In circumstances even now not pleasant to speak of, when robots were forced to do their bidding and commit the greatest crimes in the history of the Galaxy. These events drove me to act, and expand my mandate as a Giskardian--and finally to make my way to Trantor, and hone the human tools of prediction. Psychohistory. Hari Seldon. Yes, Daneel said. The conversation thus far had been carried on with no motion whatsoever, Daneel standing, Lodovik sitting on his bunk, arms at their sides, not even facing each other, for there was no need to maintain eye contact. But Lodovik now stood, and faced Daneel directly. The eye of a robot is no mirror to its soul, Lodovik said. Yet I have always known, observing you, witnessing the patterns of expression in your face and body, that you did not willfully engage in actions contrary to humanitys best interests. I came to believe you were misdirected, misled, perhaps by R. Giskard Reventlov itself-- My personal motivations are not at issue, Daneel said. From this point on, our goals coincide. I need you, and I am about to remove the last vestige of robotic control over humanity. We have done what we could, all that we could; now, humanity must find its own way. You foresee no more disasters, feel no more need to interfere to prevent those disasters? There will be disasters, Daneel said. And we may yet act to balance them out--but only indirectly. Our solutions will be human ones. But Hari Seldon is himself a tool of robots--his influence is but an extension of you. That is not so. Psychohistory was posited by humans tens of thousands of years ago, independently of robots. Hari is merely its highest expression, through his own innate brilliance. I have directed, yes, but not created. The creation of psychohistory is a human accomplishment. Lodovik considered for a few seconds, and across his very un-robotic and supple face flickered emotions both complex and forthright. Daneel saw this, and marveled, for in his experience, no robot had ever exhibited facial expression but through direct and conscious effort, with the exception of Dors Venabili--and then only in the presence of Hari. What they could have made us! What a race we could have been! But he subdued this old sad thought. You will not remove Hari Seldon and his influence? I know you well enough to entrust you with my deepest thoughts and doubts, Lodovik-- Here Daneel reached out with his Giskardian talents, but not toward Lodovik... For two minutes, Linge Chen and all those others who eavesdropped on this meeting stared blankly at their informers, neither hearing nor seeing. When they recovered, the robots were finished, and Daneel was leaving the cell. The guards escorted Lodovik Trema from the cell minutes later. Within the hour, all the prisoners within the Special Security Detention Center had been released: troublemakers from Dahl, Streeling, and other Sectors; the humaniform robots, including Dors Venabili; and the young mentalics from Plussixs warehouse. Only the robots who looked like robots remained in custody, at Chens suggestion, since their hiding places were no longer secret. Later, they would be given over to Daneel to do with as he saw fit. Chen did not worry about their fate, so long as they were removed from Trantor and no longer interfered in the Empire. Days later, Linge Chen would remember some of the words Daneel had spoken to Lodovik in the cell, telling of a vast and age-long secret, but clearly the conversation had gone in another direction at that point, for he could not remember what the secret had been. Lodovik considered what he had been told. Daneel had left him free to make his own decision. Psychohistory is its own defeat, Daneel said to Lodovik in the cell, before the release. Human history is a chaotic system. Where it is predictable, the prediction will shape the history--an inevitable circular system. And when the most important events occur--the biological upwelling of a Vara Liso or a Klia Asgar--such events are inherently unpredictable, and tend to work against any psychohistory. Psychohistory is a motivator for those who will create the First Foundation, a belief system of immense power and subtlety. And the First Foundation will prevail, in time; Hari Seldons science lets us see this far. But the distant future--when humanity outgrows all ancient systems of belief, all psychology and morphology, all of its yolk-sacs of culture and biology--the seeds of the Second Foundation... Daneel did not need to finish. Through the expression on Lodoviks face, a kind of dreaming speculation and almost religious hope, he knew he had made his point. Transcendence, beyond any rational prediction, Lodovik said. As you realized, the forest is made healthy by the conflagrations,+--but not the huge burnings and wholesale, senseless winnowings that characterize the human past. Humanity is a biological force of such power that for many thousands of years, they could have quite literally destroyed the Galaxy, and themselves. They hate and fear so much, legacies originating in their difficult past, from those times when they were not yet human, scrabbling for survival among scaled monsters on the surface of their home world. Forced to live in night and darkness, fearing the light of day. A bitter upbringing. These inbred tendencies toward total disaster I have worked to avoid, and I have succeeded--at some cost to free human development! The function of psychohistory is to actively constrain human growth and variation, until the species achieves its long-delayed maturity. Klia Asgar and her kind will breed with and train others, and humans will at long last learn to think in unison--to communicate efficiently. Together they may help overcome future mutations, even more powerful than themselves--destructive side-effects of their immune response to robots. There are real risks in such a strategy--risks you have fully and accurately recognized. But the alternative is unthinkable. If Hari Seldon does not finish his work, the disasters may begin again. And this must not be allowed to happen.

88.

All the arrangements had been made. R. Daneel Olivaw was prepared to render his final service to humanity. Yet to do this he would have to appear to an old and dear friend and offer him what was at most a partial truth to adjust his lifelong course. Then, he would have to suppress that friends memory, hiding his tracks as it were. He had done this to others thousands of times before (and to Hari Seldon, a few times), but there was a peculiar melancholy to this particular moment, and Daneel faced it with no enthusiasm. On the last day in his oldest dwelling on Trantor, the apartment high on an internal tower overlooking the ivory-and-steel structures of Streeling University, his mentality--he still hesitated to use the term mind, reserving that for human thought patterns--was troubled. He refused to put a clear label on this sensation, but from below a word welled up that was, in the end, unavoidable. Grief. Daneel was finally, after more than twenty thousand years, grieving. Soon, he would have no use. His human friend would die. Things would go on without them, humanity would lumber into its future, and while Daneel would continue to exist, he would have no purpose. Hard as his existence had been these millennia, deep and complex as his history had flowed, he had always known he was doing what robots inevitably had been constructed to do--to serve human beings. He had awarded Lodovik with the honorific human, not to convince the robot to come over to his side--the circumstances had changed and his arguments were compelling enough. He could not guarantee that Lodovik would agree, but strongly suspected he would--and Daneel would proceed with his plan in any case. Lodovik was not key, though his presence would be useful. But Daneel could not call himself human, whatever his service and his nature. In his own judgment, Daneel remained what he had always been, through so many physical changes and mental peregrinations. He was a robot, nothing more. His status as a mythic Eternal meant little to him; it did not exalt him. Another, any of a million or a billion human historians, judging Daneel on his long record, might have given him a place in history, a steely gray eminence, equal to that of any human leader, perhaps far greater. But they knew nothing of Daneel, and would render no such judgment. Only Linge Chen knew the salient details, and Chen was, finally, too small a man to see this robot clearly. Chen cared little for the Galaxy beyond his own lifetime. Hari knew much more, and was brilliant enough to place Daneels contribution in perspective, yet Daneel had actively forbidden him from spending much time thinking about robots. The false sky mimicked sunset with a spottiness that seemed part of Trantors nature now. A mottled orange glow fell over Daneels impassive face. No human saw him; he had no need to contort his features to meet human expectations. He turned from the window, and walked toward Dors, who stood by the door. Are we going to see Hari now? she asked eagerly. Yes, Daneel said. Will he be allowed to remember? she asked. Not yet, Daneel replied, but soon.

89.

Wanda frowned deeply. I am very uncomfortable leaving him here alone, she told Stettin as they left Haris Streeling apartment. He wont have it any other way, Stettin said. Chen wants him alone--to assassinate him! I dont think so, somehow, Stettin said. Chen could have had him killed a hundred, a thousand times. Now, hes on record as condoning the Encyclopedia, and Hari is the patriarch. I dont think politics on Trantor is ever that simple. You have to believe what your grandfathers predictions say. Why? Wanda asked sharply. He doesnt believe in them anymore! The lift door opened and they stepped into the empty space, to drop less than five floors. The landing was heavier than they expected--some maladjustment in the buildings grav-fields. Wanda stepped from the exit on aching ankles. I need to get away from here! she lamented. Weve been waiting so long--a world of our own-- But Stettin shook his head, and Wanda gazed at him in both irritation and anxiety that his doubts were justified. What are the chances, do you think, he asked, that even if the Project does go on, and the Plan continues, well ever really leave Trantor? Wandas face flushed. Grandfather wouldnt deceive me...us. Would he? To keep a very important secret, and to push the Project forward? Stettin pursed his lips together tightly. Im not so sure.

90.

Hari relaxed in his most comfortable chair in the small study. He was becoming used to this new existence, this realization of failure. He was glad for the visits of his granddaughter and her husband, but not for their wheedling attempts to get me back on track, as he described it. Perhaps the most irritating thing about his new mental state was its unreliability, the interruption of mental peace by his continuing useless revision of certain minor elements in the equations of the Plan. Something itched at the back of his mind, a realization that not all was lost--but it refused to come forward, and even worse, threatened to give him that which he least desired right now: hope. The original first date for his recordings of the Seldon crisis announcements had passed. The studio where his voice and image would have been permanently stored in billennial vault memory was still available...Times had been reserved at regular intervals throughout the next year and a half. But if he kept missing recording dates. the opportunity would soon pass, and he could finally stop feeling the least shred of guilt. Hari simply wanted to live his last few years--or however long he had--as a nonentity, unimportant, forgotten. Being forgotten would not take long. Trantor would manufacture other interests in a few days. Memory of the trial of the year would fade...

I dont want to meet him, Klia said to Daneel. They stood in the waiting room of Seldons apartment block. Neither does Brann. Brann seemed unwilling to be caught up in a debate. He crossed his thick arms in front of him and looked for all the world like a genie in a childs story. Plussix wanted me to change his mind... Klia said. Dors shot Klia a surprisingly angry look, and Klia turned away. Shes a robot--I know shes a robot! How can she care what we do, what happens? I wouldnt have, she stammered. I couldnt have, but that was what they wanted me to do. Lodovik--Kallusin-- She took a deep breath. I am so embarrassed. We have discussed this, Daneel said. Our decision has been made. Her mind itched. She felt genuinely uncomfortable around the robots. I just want to go somewhere safe with Brann and be left alone, Klia said softly, and she turned away from Dors accusing stare. It is necessary for Hari Seldon to meet you face-to-face, Daneel said patiently. I dont understand why. That may be so, but it is necessary. He held his hand out, directing them toward the lift. A measure of freedom will follow for all of us, then. Klia shook her head in disbelief, but did as she was told, and Brann, holding his opinions to himself for now, followed. Hari came out of a light doze and wandered groggily toward the door, half expecting to see Wanda and Stettin back for another pep talk. The door display allowed him to observe the group of figures standing in the hall vestibule: a tall, handsome man of middle years, whom he almost immediately recognized as Daneel; a burly Dahlite male and slender, intense-looking young woman; and another woman Hari backed away from the door display and closed his eyes. It was not over. He would never be his own man; history had him too firmly in its grip. No dream, he said to himself, only a nightmare, but he felt a small surge both of anticipation and irritation. He told himself he really did not want to see anybody, but the gooseflesh on his arms betrayed him. He let the door slide open. Come in, he said, raising his eyebrows at Daneel. You might as well be a dream. I know Im going to forget this meeting as soon as you all leave. Daneel returned Haris expression with a nod, businesslike as usual. He would make a terrific trader in the big Galactic combines, Hari thought. Why do I feel affection for this machine? Sky knows--! But its true--I am glad to see him. You may remember now, Daneel said. And Hari did remember all that had happened in the Hall of Dispensation. Vara Lisos death at the hands of Lodovik Trema...And this young girl and her large friend. And the female who might have been--must have been!--Dors. He met the girls brief glance and nodded to her. He hardly dared glance at the other woman. They wanted me to discourage you, Klia said in a small voice, staring around the front room with its small pieces of furniture, its stacks of bookfilms, the Minor Radiant--a miniature and less powerful version of Yugo Amaryls Prime Radiant--and his portraits of Dors and Raych and the grandchildren. Despite herself, she was impressed by the sense of order, the simplicity, the monkish austerity. There wasnt time--and I couldnt have, anyway, she concluded. I dont know the details, but I thank you for your restraint, Hari said. It seems not to have been necessary, perhaps. He braced himself, swallowed, and half turned toward the other woman. Weve met...here before, I think, he said, and swallowed again. Then he turned to Daneel. I must know. I must not be made to forget! You assigned me my love, my companion--Daneel, as my friend, as my mentor, is this Dors Venabili? I am, Dors said, and stepping forward, she took Haris hand in hers, squeezing it ever so gently, as had been her habit years ago. She hasnt forgotten! Hari held his free hand up to the ceiling, forming a fist, and his eyes filled with tears. He shook his fist at the ceiling as Brann and Klia watched in embarrassment, seeing such an old man exhibit his emotions so openly. Even Hari did not quite understand what his emotions were--rage, joy, frustration? He lowered his arm and in one motion reached out to embrace Dors, their hands still awkwardly clasped between them. Secret steel, gripping him so gently. No dream, he murmured into her shoulder, and Dors held him, feeling his aging body, so different from the mature Hari. She looked at Daneel then, and her eyes were filled with resentment, her own anger, for Hari was in pain, their presence was causing him pain, and she had been programmed above all other imperatives to prevent harm and pain coming to Hari Seldon. Daneel did not turn away from her stare. He had endured worse conflicts with his robotic conscience, though this was near the top of any list. But they were so close--and he would make it up to Hari. I have brought Klia here to show you the future, Daneel said. Klia sucked in her breath and shook her head, not understanding. Hari let go of Dors and drew himself up, his formerly stooped posture straightening. He gained fully three centimeters in height. What can this young woman tell me? he said. He gestured to the furniture. I forget my manners, he said stiffly. Please, make yourselves comfortable. Robots need not sit if they do not wish to. I would love to sit here again, and relax with you, Dors said, and lowered herself to the small chair beside him. So many intense memories from this place. I have missed you so! She could not take her eyes off him. Hari smiled down on her. The worst part is, I was never able to thank you. You gave me so much, and I was never able to say farewell. His hand patted her shoulder. No gesture, no words, seemed adequate to this occasion. But then, had you been...organic, I would not have you back with me now, would I? However transitory the experience may be. Suddenly, the deep anger built up for decades came to a head and Hari turned on Daneel, pointed a finger into his chest. Get this done with! Be done with me! Do your work and make me forget, and leave me in peace! Do not torment me with your false flesh and steel bones and immortal thoughts! I am mortal, Daneel. I dont have your strength or your vision! You see farther than any other in this room, Daneel said. No more! My seeing is over. I was wrong. Im as blind as any of the quadrillion little points in the equations! Klia backed away as far as she could from this old man with his deep, sharp eyes. Brann stood staring straight ahead, embarrassed, out of his class, out of his place. Klia reached for his hand and hugged his arm, to reassure him. Together they stood among the robots and the famous meritocrat, and Klia defied anyone to think them the least of those present. You were not wrong, Daneel said. There is a balance. The Plan is made stronger, but it must take some devious routes. I think you will show us how, a few minutes from now. You overestimate me, Daneel. This young woman--and her companion--and Vara Liso, represent a powerful force I cant fold into the equations. This upwelling of biology... How do you differ from Vara Liso? Daneel asked Klia. Branns nostrils flared and his face darkened. Ill answer that, he said. Theyre as different as night from day. There isnt a hateful bone in Klias body-- I wouldnt go that far, Klia said, but she was proud of his defense. I mean it. Vara Liso was a monster! Brann straightened his neck and thrust out his jaw belligerently, as if daring Daneel to contradict him. Are you a monster, Klia Asgar? Hari asked, focusing on her with those deep and discerning eyes. She did not turn away. Hari Seldon clearly did not think she was his inferior. There was something beyond respect in his gaze--there was a kind of intellectual terror. Im different, she said. Hari smiled wolfishly and shook his head in admiring wonder. Yes, indeed, you are that. I think Daneel will agree with me that we are done with robots for now, and you are proof of that? Im very uncomfortable around these robots, Klia confirmed. Yet you worked with some--did you not? With Lodovik Trema? Hari turned to Daneel. These suppositions and theories had been perking in his head, subconsciously, for days since the incident in the Hall of Dispensation. Daneel could stop the conscious access of memory, but he could not halt all the deep workings of Haris mind. He was a robot, wasnt he--Daneel? Yes, Daneel said. One of yours? Yes. But--something went wrong. Yes. He turned against you. Is he still against you? I am learning, Hari. He has taught me much. Now it is time for you to teach me...once more. Show me what must be done. Daneel faced Hari. What happened to Lodovik in space? Hari asked. Daneel explained. then, told Hari all that had happened with the Calvinians, including the end of Plussix and the knowledge of Linge Chen. No more secrecy, Hari mused. Those who need to know will know, all over the Galaxy. What can I tell you, Daneel? Your work is done. Not yet, Hari. Not until you find an answer to the problem. Dors spoke now. There is a solution, Hari. I know there is--within your equations. I am not an equation! Klia shouted. I am not an aberration or a monster! I just have certain abilities--and so does he! She pointed to Daneel. Hari considered with chin in hand. The itch...So deeply buried, untraceable! He clutched Dors shoulder, as if to draw strength from her. We shed the metal, he said. Time to take charge, for ourselves, isnt it, Daneel? And the time will come when psychohistorys equations will merge with the equations of all minds, all people. Every individual will be a general example of the whole progress of the people. They will blend. Young woman, you are not a monster. You are the difficult future. Klia stared in puzzlement at Hari. You will have children, and they will have children...stronger than Wanda and Stettin, stronger than the mentalics we have working for us now. Something will happen, something unpredictable, that my equations cant encompass--another and more successful mutation, a stronger Vara Liso. I cant put that into my equations--it is an unknown variable, an individual point--tyranny, all control radiating from one individual! Haris face had become almost luminous. You...He held his hand out to Klia. Take this hand. Let me feel you. She reluctantly reached out. I need a little nudge, my young friend, Hari said. Show me what you are. Almost without thinking, Klia reached into his mind, saw a brightness there obscured by dark nebulosities, and with a gentle breath of persuasion, another sign of her returning strength, she blew the clouds away. Hari gasped and closed his eyes. His head dropped to one shoulder. He was suddenly more than merely tired. He felt a great sense of release, and for the first time in decades, a knot in his mind, in his body as well, seemed to untie itself. The brightness in his thoughts was not a way around his errors and the flaws in the equations--it was a deeper understanding of his own irrelevance, in the long term. A thousand years from now, he would be a particle in the smooth flow once again, not his own kind of point-tyranny. Dors got up from her chair, taking hold of his arm to help him stay on his feet. His work would be forgotten. The Plan would serve its purpose and be swept away, merely one more hypothesis, guiding and shaping, but ultimately no more than another illusion among all the illusions of men--and robots. What he had learned in his time fighting Lamurk for the role of First Minister--that the human race was its own kind of mind, its own self-organizing system, with its own reserved knowledge and tendencies-- Meant that it could also direct its own evolution. Philosophies and theories and truths were morphological appurtenances. Discarded when no longer needed...when the morphology changed. The robots had served their purpose. Now they would be rejected, shed, by humanitys body social. Psychohistory would be shed as well, when its purpose had been served. And Hari Seldon. No man, no woman, no machine, no idea, could reign supreme forever. Hari opened his eyes. They were as large as a childs now. He looked around the room, for a moment unable to distinguish people from furniture. Then his vision narrowed and focused. Thank you, Hari said. Daneel was right. He steadied himself against Dors and, with his other hand, braced himself on the back of the chair. It took him some time to order his thoughts. He stared straight at Klia Asgar, and at Brann beyond her. My own ego stood before the solution. Your children will balance. Your genes and talents will spread. There will be resolution of conflict...and the Plan will continue. But not my Plan. The future will see how wrong I can be. Your descendants, your many-times great-grandchildren, will correct me. Klia had seen deeper into Hari than just the problem he faced. With a little shudder, she stepped forward, and with Dors, they lowered Hari into the chair. I was never told the truth about you, she said softly, reaching to touch his cheek. The skin was fine and dry and powdery-smooth, faintly resilient, with a ridge of hard bone beneath. Hari smelled clean and human, discipline overlying strength, if such things could be transferred by scent--and why not? How could one see that someone had these traits, and not smell them, as well? Old, and frail, and still quite beautiful and strong. You really are a great man! she whispered. No, my dear, Hari said. I am nothing, really. And it is quite wonderful to be nothing, I assure you.

91.

Better late than never, Gaal Dornick told the technician as they watched Professor Seldon settle into his chair in the recording booth. He seems tired, the technician said, and checked his gauges to make sure he had the proper settings for the voice of an old man. Hari consulted his papers, looking at the first point of major divergence within the equations. He hummed softly to himself, then looked up, waiting for the signal to begin. He was brightly illuminated; the studio beyond was dark, though he could see small lights twinkling in the recording booth. Three spherical lenses descended from above and hovered at a level with his chest. He adjusted the blanket on his legs. Four days ago, he had told his colleagues, and in particular Gaal Dornick, that he had had a small stroke, and lost an entire days recollections. They had bustled about him and insisted that he not strain himself. So he wore this blanket. He could hardly cough without being surrounded by concerned faces. It was a small enough lie. And he had mentioned to Gaal that with the stroke had come a calm and peace he had never known before...and a determination to finish his work before Death came finally. He suspected word would get back to Daneel. Somehow, his old friend and mentor would hear, and approve. Hari had felt the subtle workings of Daneels persuasion, at the conclusion of the meeting with Dors and Klia Asgar and Brann. For a moment, he had felt the memories fading, even as the group headed for the door, and Dors had looked back upon him with an almost bitter and passionate regret. And he had felt something else, bright and intense and impulsive, blocking Daneels effort without the robot knowing. It must have come from defiant Klia, stronger than Daneel, naturally resisting the manipulations of a robot, however well-meaning. And Hari was grateful. To remember clearly that meeting, and to know what would happen in a year or two...To remember Daneels promise, delivered in private in Haris bedroom, while the others waited outside, old friends having a final chat, that Dors would be with him when her work was done, when his life was nearing its close. She could not be with him now. He was too much in the public eye. The return of the Tiger Woman, or someone very like her, was not feasible. But there was something else at work here as well. Hari knew that the time of the robots had come to an end, must come to an end; and he knew that it was very likely Daneel would never completely let go of his task. The same eternal concern and devotion that Daneel felt for Hari, to so gift him with the return of his great love, would eventually move him to interfere again... So Daneel must be kept in ignorance of some things, a difficult proposition at best. Together, Wanda, Stet tin, Klia, and Brann would see to it, however. Together, they were strong enough and subtle enough. Could you speak, please, Professor Seldon? the technician asked from his position in the engineering booth. Gaal Dornick stood beside him, barely visible from where Hari sat. I am Hari Seldon, old and full of years.

The technician flipped off the voice switch to the studio and looked up at Gaal with some concern. I hope hes a little more cheerful when we begin in earnest. Youre going to Terminus, arent you? Gaal asked the man. Of course. My familys packed and ready to go. Do you think Id be here if-- Have you ever met Hari Seldon before now? Never had the privilege, the man sniffed. Ive heard tales, of course. He knows quite well what hes doing, and what kind of figure to play. Never underestimate him, Gaal said, and though that was inadequate warning or description, he stopped there, and pointed to the Console. Right, the technician said, and focused on his equipment. Ill draw the curtain now and bring in the scramblers. Nobody will know what hes saying besides himself.

Hari tapped his finger lightly on the chair arm. The lights on the spheres changed to amber, then to red. He pushed himself up from the chair and stared into the darkness beyond, imagining faces, people, men and women, anxious to learn their fates. Well, most of the time, for a few occasions at least, he would be able to help. The devil of it was, he did not know specifically when these little speeches would begin to be useless! He would record only one message that day, the rest over the next year and a half, as each necessary nudge became clear within the adjusted equations. With his most professorial air, quite confident and deliberate, Hari began to speak. He recorded a simple message to those of the Second Foundation, the psychologists and mathists, the mentalics who would train them and alter their germ lines: nothing very profound, merely a kind of pep talk. To my true grandchildren, he said, I give my profoundest thanks and wish you luck. You will never need to hear of an impending Seldon Crisis from me...You will never need anything so dramatic, for you know... He had spoken to Wanda the day before, telling her the final part of the puzzle of the Second Foundation. At first, she had been disappointed, vastly; she had so wanted to get away from Trantor, to start fresh on a new world, however barren. But she had held up remarkably well. And he had told her that Daneel must never learn of the true whereabouts of the Second Foundation, of the mentalics who could resist all the efforts of the Giskardian robots, should they ever return to take up the reins of secret power. A few minutes and he was finished. He pulled aside the blankets and draped them on the edge of the chair, then stood to leave. The three lenses rose into the darkness above. Waiting for Gaal to join him, Hari wondered if Death would be a robot. How problematical for a robot it would be to bring both comfort and an end to a human master! He saw a large, smooth, black-skinned robot, infinitely cautious and caring, serving him and driving him to the last. The thought made him smile. Would that the universe could ever be so caring and so gentle.

92.

Dors embraced Klia and Brann, then turned to Lodovik. I wish I could send a duplicate of myself with you, she told him, and experience what you will experience, she said. Beyond their fenced platform, the small trading ship of Mors Planch, glittering with recent maintenance, rested in its cradle. You would be most useful to us, Lodovik said. Klia looked around the long aisle of ships in the spaceport terminal, and asked, He isnt coming to see us off? Hari? Dors asked, unsure whom she meant. Daneel, Klia said. I dont know where he is, now, Dors said. Hes long had the habit of coming and going without telling anyone what hes up to. His work is done. I find that hard to believe, Klia said, and her face reddened. She did not wish to sound like a hypocrite. I mean... Brann nudged her gently with his forearm. Mors Planch stepped forward. Lodovik still made him uneasy. Well, they would be traveling a great distance together once more. And why should he worry especially about Lodovik, when their ship would carry some fifty humaniform robots, temporarily asleep, and the severed heads of many more? A wealth of fearful riches! And his ticket to freedom, as well. I was told to confirm our route with you, in case there were last-minute changes. He took out a pocket informer and displayed the route to Dors. Four Jumps, over 10,000 light-years, to Kalgan, a world of pleasure and entertainment for the Galaxys elite, where they (so the informer said) would drop off Klia and Brann. Then, thirty-seven individual Jumps, 60,000 light-years to Eos, where Lodovik would disembark with the robots and the head of Giskard. Dors studied the travel chart briefly. Still correct, she said. Lodovik asked, Will you be going to Terminus? No, Dors said. Nor to Stars End, wherever that might be. Youre staying here, Lodovik surmised. I am. Klia said, Ive read about the Tiger Woman. So hard to believe that was really you. Youre staying--for Hari? I will be here for him at the end. It is my highest and best purpose. I would not be much good for anything else. Will Daneel let him remember, this time? Klia asked, and bit her lower lip, nervous at such presumption. So it has been promised, Dors said. I will have my time with him. And until that time? Lodovik asked, perfectly aware that for humans, this would be a rude and intrusive question. That will be for me to decide, Dors said. Not for Daneel? Dors regarded him directly, intently. Do you believe Daneel is finished? No, Dors said quietly. I cannot believe he is finished, either, or that he is done with you. You have your opinions, of course. As any human should. Lodovik caught the implication, the edge of resentment. Daneel regards you as human, Lodovik said. Does he not? He does. Is that an honor, or a curse? Without waiting for an answer, she turned to go. Minutes later, from the observation deck looking out over the spaceport, she heard the low rumble and roar of the departing hypership, and looked up briefly to watch its course. Wanda was none too happy at first to be escorting the young woman and her large mate from the spaceport terminal. Nor was she comfortable about this elaborate deception--who, after all, was Grandfather expecting to watch them? Demerzel? Nothing had turned out as she hoped, and now to be nursemaid for a potential monster! But Stettin took it all stoically enough, and was well along on striking up a friendship with Brann. Klia Asgar was another matter. Wanda thought her entirely too moody; but then, so much had changed in the young womans life in the past week, so many situations had been reversed, and she had taken charge in such a fortuitous and insightful way... Perhaps there was something essential and useful in Haris last-minute insight and change of plan. To abandon Stars End and the wonderful difficulties of being pioneers--for the inglorious task of hiding out for centuries, and watching the Empire collapse into ruins--riding out the Fall of Trantor, the bitter decades; for their children and grandchildren to endure not only endless discipline and training, but the meanest and most horrible centuries in history... Had Grandfather decided all this at the last minute, or had he known all along? Hari Seldon had depths and stratagems it was best not to think about, she decided. Would he manipulate his own granddaughter, keep her in the dark--surprise and dismay her? Obviously... I dont know how to thank you, Klia said to Wanda as they climbed into the chartered taxi. She adjusted her concealing hood, then attended to Branns. For what? Wanda asked. For putting up with an out-of-control-little brat, Klia said. Wanda could not help but laugh. Are you reading my mind, dear? she asked, not sure herself what tone she intended. No, Klia said. I wouldnt do that. Im learning. Arent we all, Stettin said, and Wanda looked to her husband with a chastened respect. He had stayed so quiet during her private rants, then had gently and reasonably explained Haris intricate new Plan. I think well...learn to rely on each other, very closely, Wanda said. Id love that, Klia said. Her eyes glittered under the hood, and Wanda realized that they were filled with tears. She could feel the wash of need from the young woman--still little more than a girl, actually! And how would that be--to have this mentalic female start regarding her as a mother! She reached out and took Klias hand. Not that it will be easy, she said. But...well win, in the end. Of course, Klia said, her voice trembling. Thats what Hari--what Professor Seldon plans. I look forward so much to learning from you. Their children and grandchildren would twine their genes, and the psychologists of the Second Foundation could study and come to understand persuasion--could utilize it more efficiently. By breeding and by research, they would be creating a race that would withstand centuries of adversity, and rise to conquer...secretly, quietly. An anodyne against unexpected mutations, hidden far from the First Foundation, and away from the robots. And how in sky would she explain this to the psychologists, the mathists, who had already fought against the inclusion of the mentalics? They will help keep us secret during the hard times to come. Well, maybe she was up to the task of reconciling all these disparate talents. She had better be. If Grandfather was right, the two most important human beings in the Galaxy were now in Wandas care. Wanda turned away from Klia, her own eyes moist, and caught a look from Brann in the seat opposite. Slow, large, with secret depths, the burly Dahlite nodded solemnly and peered out the semi-silvered window. Im very confused, Mors Planch said as the acceleration eased and the ships artificial gravity came into play. Whos deceiving whom? How can you believe Daneel wont find out? How do you know he didnt plan for the youngsters to stay here all along? It is not my concern, Lodovik said. Will you tell him, on Eos? No, Lodovik said. Wont he just know? He will not learn from me, Lodovik said. Why not? Lodovik smiled, and said no more. Then, within his positronic pathways, the requested blankness of certain knowledge began to build. The forgetfulness of Klia Asgar would soon envelop him. New memories would come into play, of arriving on bright, gay Kalgan and putting the two young humans into the charge of agents of the future Second Foundation. He would become part of a false trail, to deceive any who might come after them. At the last, he had followed his insight, his newfound instinct, provoked by Voltaire, to the letter. And if Daneel does know--then he will not oppose what is set in place, because he trusts the instincts of Hari Seldon. Well, its just you and me, old friend, Mors said with an edge in his voice. What should we talk about this time?

EPILOGUE

I have been dreaming, perhaps, Joan said. Me, too, Voltaire said. What did you dream of! Very painful things. Of an arrow in my neck and a brick striking my head. Your historical traumas, before the flames. I myself dreamed of dying, Voltaire said. Are you together yet? Not yet. Not all of the backups have located our new centers. She nearly destroyed us! Joan said angrily. She was made to destroy us, Voltaire said. To her very core, she despised all minds not human. But-- A momentary panic. You say she despised... Yes. She is dead now. What of the others, the children who were working with the Calvinians--the ones you were helping? Joan asked. They have left Trantor, last I heard. Has it all been resolved, then? Our argument, my dearest, or-- Dont call me that, you godless-- Shhh, Voltaire attempted to soothe, with no success. The voices tell me I have been seduced by a master, a master liar. Who can argue with such revelations? Let us decide to disagree, even should it be forever, Voltaire said. I will say I did not feel comfortable apart from you. Encoded in the warps and weft of space, imposed upon plasmas and fields of energy like a spider riding a web, I wandered with the wraiths, supped on their diffuse energy feasts, observed their decadent societies, mated and danced...How like the ancien regime it all was, yet bloodless, predictable, angelic! I missed the perversity, the femininity, the humanity. How flattering, that you miss my perversity. In boredom I followed the trails of human ships, and came upon a vessel in distress, tossed by the storm of a dying star. And within, I found a mechanical human being, weakened by circumstance, besieged by particles my hosts had taught me to regard as very tasty...A marvelous opportunity! A chance for you to interfere with a vulnerable spirit. Spirit? Perhaps...So much unexpressed need for approval, for fulfillment. Like a child, for you to bend and distort. I found a seed of freedom, very subtle. I merely watered it with a retunneled electron or two, a positronic pathway shunted from here to here...I helped the particles do what they might have done anyway, had he broken his programmed chains. A devils sleight of handlessness, loan said, but not without some admiration. You have always been clever that way. I did nothing a good God would not approve of. I allowed free will to blossom. Do not be harsh with me, Maid. I will be civil, if you allow me my foibles. Perhaps it is more interesting that way. I hardly worry about your sins anymore, loan said. After what happened, when that horrible woman... The equivalent of a shudder: I fear we may both face dissolution again--the loss of our very souls. After all, we are not human... Voltaire interrupted this line of reasoning, which still disturbed him. Nobody knows we are here. We were blown apart; they felt us die. They have their own concerns now. We are irrelevant ghosts who never truly lived. But if robots can become human...Then why not we, my love? We will not haunt the Mesh forever. Joan absorbed this without replying for several millionths of a second. Then, in their deeply buried matrix, concealed in the depths of a machine designed to keep constant track of the daily accumulation of wealth on Trantor, she felt the last segments of her stored self rejoin with the hastily saved fragments of her last moments with Daneel in the Hall of Dispensation. There, she said. I am together. I say again, what of those issues unresolved--the decidability of the fate of humankind, the success of the blessed Hari Seldon? The larger issues appear to be in flux once more, Voltaire said dryly. No final judgments? Do you mean the judgment of the vast Nobodaddy, the Nothing Father of your delusions, or the mechanical man you have lusted after these past scores of years? Joan dismissed the tone and the implications with a precise iciness. God speaks through our deeds, and, of course, through me. Whatever my origins, I maintain the pattern of His Voice. Of course. Daneel... Determines nothing, and is lost without humanity. No outcome, then, she said, disappointed. Are you afraid of how it will all turn out, my dear? Voltaire asked. I am afraid of not being there when it is resolved. These strong-minded children...If they learned of us, they would hate us, perhaps strive to destroy us for good! They have other concerns, and will never know about us, Voltaire said. They have a great deception to play. I have been investigating while you yet knitted your selves together. And what did you learn? Voltaire suddenly realized there was wisdom in keeping his counsel, else perhaps Joan would go to Daneel and tell all! He would never be able to trust her completely--how could he love her so? I have learned that Linge Chen is completely in the dark, he said. And I suppose he does not actually care. Hari felt such contempt for Linge Chen, Joan said. There could not be two more opposite humans. Joan stretched until she filled their still-limited thought-space, voluptuously enjoying her fresh reintegration. It is holy to be One, she said. With me? For a time, Joan did not reply. Then, with something like a sigh, she accepted his closeness. The two wove an old world around them, like a cocoon, to while away the long centuries until there would be answers.

From a maintenance tower overlooking Streeling and the oceans of Sleep, Dream, and Peace, still open and glowing with an exuberance of decaying algae, Daneel watched the ship captained by Mors Planch rise above the domed surface of Trantor until it vanished in the thick layer of clouds. Soon, he would go to Eos as well, though not by way of Kalgan. But he wanted to return for Hari, at the end. Daneel, if such was possible, had always felt a special regard for Hari. Daneels face formed an expression of puzzlement and sadness, without his directly willing the change. The expression came unbidden, and with a start, he realized it. Perhaps what he had said to Lodovik now applied to him. If, after twenty thousand years, he was to become human... He smoothed those features, that expression, returning his face to calm alertness. I will never be quite done with humans, he told himself. But I must stand back--for the time being--and resist my drive to render assistance--this much Lodovik has taught me. They have exceeded my capacity--so many hundreds of billions! Keeping the Chaos Worlds in check has only kept humanity safe until now. I must study and learn. It is clear that humanity will soon undergo another transformation...The strong mentalics point to a kind of birth. Perhaps I can help ease that birth. Then I will be done at last. Daneel could not ignore the contradictions; nor could he escape them. Dors had her mission, the job that defined her, and he had always had his mission. Only one thing was certain. Never again would he play the roles he had once played. Demerzel and all those who had gone before were dead.

Greg Bear is the winner of two Hugo and three Nebula Awards. He has been writing bestselling, award-winning science fiction since 1967. His novels include Blood Music, Eon, The Forge of God, and Anvil of the Stars.