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Such was the look of stunned surprise on Antic’s face that Hari felt unable to speak. He looked to Daneel, silently asking his robot friend to explain, which he did in a voice like Ruellis of old.

“Do not forget, my dear young human, that I invented your Grey Order. I know its capabilities. I am aware how many millions sacrifice themselves while wearing that uniform, unthanked and despised by the other castes. You might even have managed, with resiliency and a little help from psychohistory, to keep the old empire sputtering along, until my new prize-my Galaxia-is ready to be born. But therein lies the rub.”

“You see, I also remember your ancestor-whose name was Antyok-back when humanity stumbled on an actual alien race that had been spared by the terraformers. Robots from allover the galaxy convened to discuss the matter. There were just a few thousand of the alien creatures, and humanity already numbered five quadrillion. Yet, we argued for a year about the danger these beings presented. Humans in every sector and province were agog with enthusiasm to help the nonhumans get on their feet. An excitement for diversity and new voices to talk to. Some robots worried about the potential for triggering chaos. Others projected that the aliens might become a threat to humans in just a couple of thousand years if allowed to spread among the stars. Meanwhile, some, such as the robot you knew as R. Gornon, pleaded that nonhumans merited protection under an expanded version of the Zeroth Law.”

“The point is that none of our robotic deliberations ultimately mattered. News reached our secret meeting ground that the aliens had escaped! They hijacked starships that came into their possession through a twisty chain of mysterious coincidences. Investigators found more than enough blame to pass around, but they assigned none of it to the individual who was actually responsible. Your ancestor, a humble bureaucrat who knew all the right levers for manipulating the system, for getting justice done while pretending to be an innocuous, faceless official.”

It was a different version of the story Horis had told aboard ship. But Hari felt chills hearing it confirmed.

He nodded. “Your very presence here, Horis, shows this resiliency hasn’t been lost. I was First Minister of the Empire, remember? I know the data files on Trantor are limitless. Nothing can be purged from them completely. Anyone with enough skill can defeat the amnesia and find what they need to know about the human past…and now about itsfuture, as well. You are a living demonstration of the reason for it all, Horis.”

“Me? You mean the bureaucracy? We faceless drones? We dull bean counters and pencil pushers? You mean the empire has to fall because ofus?”

Hari nodded. “I never thought of it quite in that way before. But then again, I’m not the one doing the toppling.” He glanced toward Daneel. “This is all about human volition, isn’t it? It’s all about that day, in five centuries or so, when a choice must be made by a man who isnever wrong. When that day comes, there must not be a galactic bureaucracy anymore. No cubicles and dusty offices to burst forth with surprise meddlers, like Horis and his friends. No prim procedures to make sure every decision is deliberated openly.

“The Fall of Trantor isn’t really about chaos, is it, Daneel? It is about killing your own fine invention, the Grey Order, the only way itcan be killed, by total destruction of the filing cabinets, the computer memories, the men…”

This time, R. Daneel Olivaw didn’t answer. The expression on his face sufficed. If any human ever doubted that an immortal robot could feel pain, all question would be erased by looking at Daneel’s Promethean visage.

“So we’re doomed to keep fighting the darkness…for nothing. To die at our desks, never knowing the futility of it all.

Hari put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You must forget about this now. Go back to your paper folders and soil reports. The knowledge you fought so hard to acquire, with such ingenuity and courage, will only cause you pain. It’s time to let it go, Horis.”

Antic looked up at Hari bleakly. “You aren’t going to wait until Trantor?”

Hari looked to Daneel, appealing silently for a delay so that Horis might at least converse with them during the voyage back. But his robot friend answered with a terse shake of the head. Antic had proved too resourceful, too ready with fresh tricks up his sleeve.

Sensing this, the Grey Man stood up, straightening his bearing, trying for some dignity. But he could not keep from stuttering.

“W-will it hurt?”

Daneel spoke reassuringly to the human’s eyes.

“Not at all. In fact…it is already done.”

10.

Helped by the two software sims, Joan and Voltaire, they were at last able to find every sabotage bug that Zorma’s group had planted aboard the ship. Lodovic shouted enthusiastically when the engines came back on, proclaiming his sense of triumph with a strut around the control room, exactly like a jubilant human male.

Dors felt emotional patterns surge through her own simulation subroutines. Despite her ongoing sense of urgency, it had been oddly pleasant working side by side with Trema, sharing theories and insights, trying one solution after another. She enjoyed his swaggering victory display-which was not all that different from the way Hari used to act, whenever he made some breakthrough in the models of psychohistory.

I am so sorry to interrupt this celebration,“ commented Joan of Arc, her slender boyish figure appearing in the central holo screen. In the background, Dors could see a male form wearing archaic doublets and hose-the simulation known as Voltaire-listening intently to a pair of headphones, as if trying to pick up something faint with distance.

“You asked us to monitor any transmissions coming from Earth. Voltaire now reports picking up a message using code patterns characteristic of the Second Foundation. It appears to be from Wanda Seldon, informing her compatriots on Trantor that she has successfully recovered her grandfather. The plot to kidnap him is foiled. They will be departing Earth within a few hours, taking Hari straight home.

Dors looked at Lodovic, who exhaled a long sigh.

“Well then, I guess that’s it. All this rushing about, and we hardly made a difference. Seldon is safe, and we never even had to confront Daneel along the way.”

Dors felt genuine relief on both counts. And yet, it was only natural to feel a bit let down.

“I guess it’s just as well. We’re just a couple of highly dressed-up tiktoks.”

Lodovic laughed gently. “Oh, I think we’re more than that. You, at least, are something special, Dors. We should discuss this, at length.”

Dors nodded. It sounded like a good idea. They had much to talk about. And yet, despite mixed feelings, it was easy to tell where her top priority lay.

“I must go to Trantor now, you understand.”

“And I agree. You have strong obligations, and I wouldn’t think of interfering. But perhaps we can meet when matters there have been resolved?”

This time it was her turn to offer a soft smile. “It might be arranged. Meanwhile, can I drop you off somewhere along the way?”

“I’ll ride with you as far as Demarchia. There are some things I want to look into there.” Then his voice lowered. “Just be careful on Trantor, will you?”

Dors shook her head. “I doubt anyone would choose to harm me. Besides, I can take care of myself.”

“It’s not harm done by others that I fear. You are vulnerable, Dors. You were designed to be more human than any other robot. Your bond with Hari is intense. Be prepared for a rough time when the end comes. If you need someone to talk to-”

No more had to be said. Silence reigned while she took control of the ship and sent it plunging on the first of many long hyperspace jumps that would bring them to the center of the galaxy. To the place where all roads led, and where she had one great duty left to perform, before her path could truly be called free.