Hari understood his granddaughter’s reasoning. It might seem cruel to leave Sybyl and the others on a poisoned world, with only mutated Earthlings for company. But members of the Second Foundation were used to thinking in terms of vast populations, represented as equations in the Plan, and treating individuals as little more than gas molecules.
I have thought in such terms myself,he pondered.
No doubt the robot Gornon would be back as soon as Wanda left. The Calvinians of Gornon’s sect might disagree with him on many levels, but they would take care of Sybyl and the others, while taking steps to maintain secrecy about what had happened.
“Well then, come along, my friend,” Biron Maserd said, putting an arm around the slim shoulders of Horis Antic. “It looks like we’re off to Trantor. Perhaps we’ll never know what an adventure we had. But rest assured that I’ll take care of you.”
The little Grey bureaucrat smiled meekly at the tall nobleman. Horis seemed about to speak his gratitude when abruptly his eyes rolled upward in their sockets. He keeled over and toppled to the ground at Maserd’s feet. Soon his snores echoed across the little vale.
Wanda sighed. “All right then. I wasn’t looking forward to meddling in his nervous mind anyway. If destiny puts him on Earth, so be it. The rest of us have serious traveling to do if we’re to reach Trantor within the week.”
Hari saw Maserd struggle briefly with himself. It was easy to tell what conflicted the nobleman. Whether to pick up Horis and carry him, or leave the Grey Man behind. The trade-offs were substantial. Hari wasn’t surprised when Maserd let out a sigh, took off his jacket, and laid it atop Horis Antic.
“Sleep well, my friend. At least if you stay here, your mind remains your own.”
Together they set off-Maserd, Planch, and Hari-following Wanda, while Gaal Dornick took up the rear. Hari glanced back to see a single source of light glowing amid the ancient university buildings, the cracked shell of the sarcophagus where R. Gornon had intended to send him…on an adventure that now would never happen.
Though Hari had doubted the whole idea, he nevertheless felt a wash of disappointment.It might have been nice to see the future.
Soon they were aboard Wanda’s spaceship, fighting the gravity of Old Earth, lifting away from the mother world. One whose continents gleamed with fires that could not be quenched.
5.
Lodovic’s simulation programs must be overheating, Dors thought as she listened to her companion curse loudly. His head and torso writhed underneath the ship’s instrument console. Loud bangs emerged as he hammered at an access panel.
“I wish I had brought my cyborg arms,” he muttered. “These circuit boards are impossible to reach with humanoid fingers. I’ll have to tear apart the whole galaxy-cursed unit!”
“Are you sure the problem is physical? It might be a software bug.”
“Don’t you think I’d cover that? I’ve set my Voltaire subpersona loose in the computer system. He’s been looking for the cause of the shutdown. Why don’t you make yourself useful by scanning the ship’s exterior?”
Dors almost snapped back at Lodovic, telling him to keep a civil tongue in his head. But, of course, that would only be her own simulation patterns, responding realistically to his.
It’s a good thing neither of us is human,she thought. Orthis guy would really be getting on my nerves.
With a conscious effort, she overcame her reflexive ersatz irritation.And yet, even though pretense is unneeded aboard this ship, for some reason neither of us has chosen to turn off the subroutines. The habit of feigning humanness is just too strong.
“I’ll get right on it. We’ve got to solve this problem! All those ships, converging on Earth…Hari’s there, and here we are, drifting helpless in space.”
Having been designed to appear as human as possible, Dors even had to put on a space suit before going outside, though she could dispense with a bulky cooling unit. Upon emerging from the aft airlock, the first area she checked was near the engines. For some reason, the hyperdrive had kicked out just as they were passing through the restricted zone of a former Spacer world-one of humanity’s original fifty colonies.
Unfortunately, she could find no sign of damage. No spalling from micrometeoroids or hyperspatial anomalies.
“I might offer a suggestion, Dors….”
“What is it, Joan?” she asked, aware of a tiny hologram in one corner of her faceplate-a slender girl wearing a medieval helmet. Perhaps the Joan of Arc persona was jealous. After all, Lodovic was being helped by Joan’s alter ego, the Voltaire sim. The persistent love-hate relationship between those two reconstructed personalities reminded Dors of some human married couples she had known-unable to avoid competing with each other, and unable to resist an intense polar attraction.
“I wonder,“ said the soft voice of a warrior maiden from long ago, “if you have considered the possibility of betrayal. I know it seems an all-too-human attribute, and you artificial beings consider yourselves above that sort of thing, but in my era it was always the most high-minded who seemed ready to excuse treason in the name of some sacred goal. “
Dors felt a churning. “You mean we might have been disabled on purpose?”
Even while uttering the words, she realized that Joan must be right! Turning to clamber swiftly along the gleaming hull, Dors swung from one magnetic grasp-hold to the next with graceful speed, until the forward airlock came into view…where her ship had been connected to Zorma’s craft during that brief meeting in space when a passenger had come aboard
Then she saw it! A bulbous tumor resembling a metal canker, marring the gleaming surface of her beautiful vessel. It must have been placed there at the last moment, as the two ships were about to head off in opposite directions.
Dors cursed as long and harshly as Lodovic had earlier. Drawing her blaster, she fired at the parasitic device. Even after it melted to slag, she did not put the weapon back in its holster. Dors kept it drawn when she entered the airlock, intent on confronting her hitchhiker with this betrayal.
“I hope you have a good explanation,” she said upon entering the control room and leveling the blaster at Lodovic, who stood contemplating a control panel.
But Trema did not turn around. With an abrupt gesture he called to her, “Come see this. Dors.”
Warily, she stepped closer and saw that a face had appeared on the big view screen. She recognized it at once. Cloudia Duma-Hinriad, human co-commander of the strange sect that believed in uniting robots and humans as equals. The woman-apparently in her late thirties, but perhaps much older-paused as if waiting for Dors to arrive. The effect was eerie, since Dors knew this must be a recording.
“Hello, Dors and Lodovic. If you’re watching, it means you destroyed the device we attached to disable your ship. Please accept our apologies. Dors, Lodovic knew nothing of this when he volunteered to help you find Hari Seldon.
“Alas, that is a journey we could not allow you to complete. Dangerous events are afoot. Many ancient powers are risking everything, as if on a roll of cosmic dice. We are willing to stake our own lives in this endeavor, but not yours! The pair of you are far too valuable and must be kept out of harm’s way.“
Dors looked at her companion, but Lodovic’s expression was as puzzled as she felt. How bizarre to have a human say that tworobots must be preserved, perhaps at the cost of human life.