But none of these things brought them any closer to the issue that burned foremost in his mind.
“Horis, your paper speaks ofanomalies in the tilling. Please tell me about the exceptions. The ones that roused your suspicions.”
The bureaucrat nodded again.
“Yes, yes! You see, Professor, tilling is not quite as universal a phenomenon as might at first appear! In my long experience as an inspector, visiting more worlds than I could count, I have found irregularities. Planets where the plains and valleys have much coarser consistencies, far more varied, with no trace of the sifting or recent heating that we find in most lowlands. Out of interest-more as a hobby or pastime than anything else-I began listing other unusual traits on these planets…such as the existence of large numbers of genetically unusual beasts. In several cases, there were signs that a supernova had gone off in the region, sometime in the last thirty thousand years. One planet has a fantastic amount of ambient radioactivity in its crust, while several others have a multitude of fused metal mounds scattered allover their surface. I began charting these anomalies, and found that they clustered along great sweeping bands…”
“And these bands also relate to thosespace currents you spoke of? How did you discover that?”
Antic smiled. “A lucky fluke. While nosing around through the galactographic files for data, I met a fellow aficionado… another bureaucrat like me, with a secret hobby. We compared our little fanaticisms-and if you think mine is strange, you should hear him go on and on about the ebb and flow of these diffuse clouds of atoms in space! He thinks he sees patterns in them that have escaped notice by the Imperial Navigation Service. Which is entirely possible, since they only care about maintaining clear routes for commerce. Even then it’s all kept as routine as poss-”
“Horis.”
“Uh? Oh, yes. Well, anyway, my new friend and I compared notes…I also had the temerity to apply a few of the mathematical tools that I saw described in popular accounts of your work, Professor. The result is the galactic chart that caught your interest last night.” Antic exhaled deeply. “And so here we are!”
Hari frowned.
“I saw only your name on the paper.”
“Yes, well…my friend is rather shy. He feels we don’t have anywhere near enough evidence yet to go public. Without solid, tangible proof, a speculative article might jeopardize our careers.”
“Whereas you felt the risk of coming forward was worthwhile.”
Antic smiled while reaching into his pouch for another pill.
“It did catch your interest, Professor Seldon. You’re sitting across from me. I know you wouldn’t waste your precious time on something that’s completely trivial.”
Hope seemed to swell in the Grey’s voice, as if expecting the blue mantle of meritocracy to be draped across his shoulders at any moment. But Hari was too distracted to offer polite praise. His mind roiled.
I wouldn’t waste my time on trivia? Can you be so sure, my young friend? Perhaps I’m only here tonight because of terminal boredom…or else encroaching senility. I may be missing something obvious. Something that would topple your amateurish offerings like a house of cards in a Trantorquake.
Only Hari had not found a flaw so far. Though Antic’s analytical work seemed pedestrian, it was also meticulously honest. Hari’s check of references and public data sets revealed no apparent errors of fact.
Whatever pattern he’s discovered-using dirt samples and drifting clouds of nothing in space-it seems to correlate roughly to the zones where chaos worlds have been most frequent…a problem I’ve been trying to solve for half my life.
In fact, this was not essential to the success or failure of the Foundation Plan. Once the empire’s fall began accelerating, the appearance of chaos worlds would cease. People all across the galaxy would be much too busy surviving, or engaging in more classic styles of rebellion, to engage in orgies of wild, utopian individualism.
And yet, psychohistory will always be incomplete without an answer to this hellish at tractor state.
Then there was another factor, equally compelling.
Santanni…where Raych died. And Siwenna, where the ship carrying Manella and Bellis was last seen before vanishing. Both worlds lie near some of Antic’s anomalies.
Hari felt a decision welling up from within.
One thing he knew for certain. He hated his life now. Ever since completing the time Vault recordings, he’d been sitting around as a revered historical figure, just waiting to die. That was not his style. Anyway, he had felt more alive the last two days than any time in the last year.
Abruptly, he decided.
“Very well, Horis Antic. I will go with you.”
Across the table, the portly man in the gray uniform visibly paled. His eyes seemed to pop, staring back at Hari, while his Adam’s apple bobbed ludicrously.
Finally, Antic swallowed hard.
“How…” he began, hoarsely. “How did y-you…”
Hari smiled.
“How did I know that you were about to suggest a private expedition?”
He spread his hands, feeling a bit like his old self again.
“Well after all, young sir, Iam Hari Seldon.”
8.
According to his plea-bargain agreement with the Commission for Public Safety, Hari wasn’t supposed to leave Trantor. He also knew that Wanda and the Fifty would never permit him to go charging off to the stars. Even though he was no longer needed for the success of the Plan, no one would take responsibility for risking the life of the father of psychohistory.
Fortunately, Hari knew a loophole that just might let him get away.You can go quite far without officially leaving Trantor, he thought, while making the necessary arrangements.
There was very little to pack for the journey-just a few necessities, which Kers Kantun loaded in a suitcase, plus a few of Hari’s most valued research archives, including a copy of the Foundation Plan Prime Radiant. None of it looked too out of the ordinary, slung on the back of his mobile chair.
Hari’s servant-guardian had argued against this trip, worrying aloud about the stress of travel. But in fact, it wasn’t hard to get Kers to obey. Hari realized why the Valmoril’s objections were so mild.
He knows that boredom is the worst threat to my health, right now. If I don’t find something useful to do, I’ll just fade away. This little escapade probably won’t amount to much. Space travel is still pretty routine. And meanwhile, I’ll be too busy to let myself die.
So the two of them set out from his apartment the next morning, as if on a normal daily excursion. But instead of heading for the imperial gardens, Kers steered Hari onto a transitway bound for the Orion elevator.
As their car sped along, and the surrounding metal tube seemed to flow past in a blur, Hari kept wondering if they would be stopped at some point along the way. It was a real possibility.
Had the Special Police really been withdrawn, as Gaal assured? Or were they watching him even now, with little spy cameras and other gadgets?
A year ago, right after the trial, official surveillance had been intense, sniffing each comer of Hari’s life and eyeing his every move. But a lot had changed since then. Linge Chen was now convinced by the cooperation of Hari and the Fifty. There had been no more disruptive news leaks about an “imminent collapse of the empire.” More importantly, the move to Terminus was going according to plan. The hundred thousand experts that Hari had recruited with promises of employment on a vastEncyclopedia Galactica project were now being prepared and sent in groups to that far-off little world and a glorious destiny they could not possibly suspect.