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Dors nodded. “I read a report. They’ve never been resettled, after all these thousands of years. Imperial surveys keep relisting them as uninhabitable, and the Giskardian projectors must be meant to keep it that way, empty of human civilization.”

These were places almost as resonant in robot memory as Earth, especially Aurora, where the great inventor Fastolfe once preached human self-reliance…and where the villain Amadiro plotted to slay everyone on Earth. Followers of that same Amadiro later unleashed fleets of robotic terraformers, programmed to make the galaxy safe and welcoming for humanity, whatever the cost.

She peered at the readings once more.

“I’m picking up the strongest projector. It lies directly in front of us, at the end of our path.”

They both understood what that meant. People weren’t supposed to go to Earth anymore. And yet, long-range sensors showed that people were doing exactly that, aboard at least a dozen ships!

Of course, even a normal human could overcome the gentle suasion of a Giskardian projector, which relied on relentless repetition instead of brute mentalic force to sway whole planetary populations. In the short term, the crews of those ships would feel little more than an overall creepiness and a wish to be elsewhere, feelings that could be overcome with determination.

Alas, she feared those converging on the old homeworld had more than enough of that commodity to drive them on.

Part 6. Full Circle

Our capacity to model reality has burgeoned far beyond our ancestors’ expectations. Even the renowned Seldonites of yore, plotting secretively on fabled Trantor, could not have imagined what powers of extrapolation are nowadays shared widely.

And yet (we should remind ourselves) such abilities-whether exercised jointly or individually-do not make us gods.

Not quite.

Having emerged at last from a long dark epoch of forgetfulness, we can now gaze back upon events that took place at the very beginning of this era, cultivating sympathy for the tragic souls who struggled amid ignorance to get us here. Their disputes, often contradictory or violent, stirred the brew of circumstance that transformed and renewed the galaxy.

Remember, most of them were just as sure of their beliefs as we are today certain of ours. Likewise, some of our present-day convictions may yet prove to be wrong.

Only a diversity of viewpoint helps prevent self-deception.

Only criticism can defeat error.

Sim-cast by the Siwenna Commune for

Cooperative Contemplation,

—Reflections on an Unplanned Destiny
in year 826 of the Foundation Era

1.

The horizon glowed.

The sky of planet Earth shimmered with countless scintillations, individual sparks that rivaled the scattered stars for possession of night. Near the ground, one could almost imaginehearing the soft crackle of radiation, whose intensity varied wildly from place to place. In some patches it was terribly intense. Through goggles provided by the robot Gornon Vlimt, those sites revealed themselves with eerie fluorescence, as if ghosts were trying to ooze upward, struggling to escape the tortured ground.

Pride of Rhodiahad landed near one of the “safe spots,” a former city site hugging the coastline of a long freshwater lake that frothed with scummy green-and-purple algae. From atop a huge mound of broken masonry, Hari could discern the outlines ofthree ancient cities, one crowding up against the ruins of the next.

Most recent and least impressive was a jumble of relatively modern-looking arcology-habitats of Topan Style, from the early Consolidation Era of the Trantorian Empire-the last time Earth had a fair-sized population, numbering almost ten million.

Just southward along the lakeshore stood a truly mammoth structure, a city that was impressive both by galactic standards and by how very old it was. A vast self-contained unit-extending far underground-that once protected its inhabitants from the wind, rain, and, above all, having to look upon a naked sky.

It wasn’t radioactivity that caused the thirty million inhabitants of New Chicago to huddle together so. Earth had still been green and vibrant when this beehive metropolis thrived. In fact, the habitat only started to empty when the fecund soil began turning lethal…when those who could depart fled for the stars in a great, panicky diaspora. Until that awful exodus, vast numbers of people thronged the giant enclosed city, separated from nature by only a thin shell of steel.

No, the thing that drovesomany otherwise healthy people to cower so, away from all pleasures of sunshine, was the same deadly enemy I fought all my life. This metropolis was an early object lesson in the dangers of chaos.

Beyond the huge squat dome, there stood yet another city-Old Chicago, Gornon had called it-a tumulus of fallen buildings from an even earlier age, less technologically advanced. And yet, Hari’s goggles amplified the distant view, sweeping his gaze along graceful arcs of highways more daring and lovely than any to be seen on an imperial world. Some of the tallest buildings still stood, and their unabashedly ambitious architecture made his heart leap. The ancient metropolis had been built by people with a boldness of spirit that their descendants in New Chicago apparently lacked.

Somethinghad happened to smash that boldness.

I’ve given it names. My equations describe the way it seductively draws in the best and brightest, eventually transforming them into solipsists who rage against their neighbors. And yet, I confess I’ll never understand you, Chaos.

The robot Gornon stood nearby, resembling a human in every way except his attire. He wore normal street clothes, while Hari-and his two human friends, farther down the slope-were accoutered in one-piece outfits that offered safety from the sleeting rays.

“Old Giskard Reventlov made a fantastic decision, transforming all of this into a wasteland, wouldn’t you say, Professor Seldon?”

Hari had been expecting Gornon’s question. How could he answer?

The universe was turned topsy-turvy. Humans were the creators and gods, who had no power, no memory, and almost no volition-only mortality. The created-servants were in charge, as they had been ever since that day when an omnipotent angel cast mankind firmly out of its first Eden. Hari could barely encompass the concept with his mind. To truly understand it was quite beyond him.

And yet, the mathematics implies…

Gornon persisted. “At least you can see why a majority of robots at first resisted Daneel’s innovation, his Zeroth Law. They saw the pain it caused and chose to rally around the banner of Susan Calvin.”

“Well, it did you little good. Your civil war resulted in a power vacuum. While two main factions of robots fought it out, the Auroran followers of Amadiro were free to unleash their pitiless terraformers, without interference or human guidance. Anyway, when the war finally did end, Daneel had the final say.”

“I concede that Olivaw had an advantage from the start. The Zeroth Law was especially attractive to some of the brightest positronic minds. They had been looking for some way to deal with the inevitable contradictions created by the first Three Laws.”

Hari smirked. “Contradictions? Like kidnapping an old man and dragging him halfway across the galaxy to a poisoned planet? How does that jibe with your precious First Law of Robotics?”

“I think you know the answer, Professor. Daneel Olivaw won the civil war, not only by taking control, but in a much larger sense as well. There simply are no pure Calvinians anymore. The old religion is impossible to maintain under present circumstances. We all believe insome version of a Zeroth Law. In the paramount importance of humanity-as opposed to any single human being.”