“That is not good enough, Hari. Not nearly good enough.”
“So you insisted, Daneel. The Foundation will be as strong, dynamic, and empathic as any human civilization could possibly be. If any culture could ever be prepared to take on chaos, survive the solipsism plagues, and burst through to theother side, this will be the one. And yet, if it fails…”
“That’s the rub, Hari.”
“Indeed. We’re left with a one-in-four chance that humanity itself might be destroyed. I can see why you wanted something better, Daneel. You were compelled to do anything in your power that might boost the odds.
“First, you demanded a secret mentalic society, to help guide the First Foundation. But that only altered a few percentage points. Worse, it actually introduced new perturbations. Resentment by common folk against a psychic aristocracy, for instance. And danger from rogue mentalics.”
Hari lifted both hands. “Quite a choice isn’t it? Either a hell-bent battle with chaos or a permanent mutant ruling class. No wonder you finally decided there must be a third solution! No wonder you’ve worked so hard to develop Gaia, as a way to replace the Seldon Plan.”
When he responded, there was deep respect and compassion in Daneel’s voice.
“Your work still has great importance, Hari. Humanity must be kept engaged during the next few centuries.”
“Engaged? You mean distracted, don’t you? The people of my Foundation will think they are bold explorers, holding destiny in their hands, winning a better future by their own efforts, though aided by laws of history. Then, abruptly, you’ll bring this new thing upon them. Already approved by some fellow whoknows everything.”
“A man who is alwaysright,” Daneel corrected.
Hari waved a hand. “Whatever.”
Daneel sighed.
“I know you have reservations, Hari. But consider the long-range prospect. What if there are entities in other galaxies, similar to the meme-minds we encountered on Trantor? What if they are more powerful? Perhaps they have already assimilated all life-forms in their home galaxies. Their influence may even now be stretching this way, toward us. That outside force could be a terrible threat to humanity. Only if the human species is unified, powerful, and cohesive, a trueGalaxia superorganism-can we be assured of your survival.”
Hari blinked for a moment. “Isn’t that a far-fetched scenario? Or at least a long way off?”
“Perhaps. But dare I take that chance? I am compelled by the Zeroth Law-and by my promise to Elijah Baley, to protect you all, no matter what the pains! No matter what the cost.”
R. Daneel Olivaw took a step forward, motioning toward the heavens. “Besides, think of it, Hari! Every human soul in contact with every other one! All knowledge shared instantly. All misunderstandings erased. Every bird, animal, and insect incorporated into the vast, unified web. The ultimate of serenity and understanding that your ancient sages yearned for. And it can be achieved in just over half the time that you project for the Foundation’s final battle with chaos.”
“Yes, it has attractive features,” Hari conceded.
“And yet, my mind and heart keep ponderingTerminus, at the opposite side of the galaxy. A small world very much like this one…this poor, wounded Earth. Despite everything, Daneel, the oddswere in their favor. All the factors agreed. They would have had a good chance-”
“Seventy percent is not good enough.”
“So you won’t let them try?”
“Hari, even if they do break through to that mythicalother side, you don’t know what kind of society they will build afterward! You admit the socio-equations explode into singularities at that point. All right, the Foundationers may defeat chaos. They may achieve some great new wisdom, but then what? How about thenext crisis to come along? Psychohistory offers no insights. Both you and I are blind. We have no idea what would follow. No ability to plan or protect them.”
Hari nodded. “That uncertainty…that inability to predict…has been my lifelong terror. It’s what I always fought against, and the bond that united me to you, Daneel. Only now, as I approach my end, do I see a strange sort of beauty in it.
“Humanity has been like a child who was horribly traumatized, and thereafter stayed in the nursery, where it could be kept safe and warm. You may differ with the Calvinians over many things, Daneel. But you both prescribedamnesia to help ease our collective trauma-a dull forgetfulness that could have vanished anytime our protectors chose to pull back the blinds and open the door. But you never did.
“Treating us that way would have been a horrible crime, except for the excuse of chaos. And evenwith that excuse, isn’t there a limit? A point at which the child must be untethered, letting her take on new challenges? Facing the future on its own terms?”
Hari smiled. “We can only ask that our descendants be better than we are. We cannot demand that they be perfect. They’ll have to solve their problems, one at a time.”
Daneel stared for a while, then looked away.
“You may be able to take such an attitude, late in life, but my programming is less flexible. I cannot take risks with humanity’s survival.”
“I see that. But consider, Daneel. If Elijah Baley were here right now, don’t you thinkhe would be willing to take a chance?”
The robot didn’t answer. Silence stretched between them, and that was all right with Hari. He was still looking at equations painted across the stars, waiting for something to reappear.
Something he had glimpsed before.
Abruptly, several of the floating factors entered a new orbit, coalescing in a pattern that existed nowhere except in his own mind. No existing version of the Seldon Plan Prime Radiant contained this insight. Perhaps it was an old man’s hallucination. Or else, an emergent property arising from all the new things he had learned during this final adventure.
Either way, it made him smile.
Ah, there you are again! Are you real? Or a manifestation of wishful thinking?
The motif was that of a circle, returning to its origins.
Hari looked up at Daneel, no doubt the noblest person he had ever met. After twenty thousand years, struggling for the sake of humanity, the robot was undeterred, unbowed, as resolute as ever to deliver his masters to some destination that was safe, happy, and secure.
Surely he will keep his final promise to me. I will get to see my beloved wife, one last time.
Having lived more intimately with a robot than any human, Hari had some sympathy for Zorma and Cloudia, who wanted greater union between the two races. Perhaps in many centuries their approach would combine with others in some rich brew. But their hopes and schemes were irrelevant at present. For now, only two versions of destiny showed any real chance of success. Daneel’s Galaxia, on the one hand… and the glimmering figure Hari now saw floating in the sky above him.
“Our children may surprise you, Daneel,” he commented at last, breaking the long silence.
Pondering briefly, his robot friend replied, “These children-you refer to the descendants of those exiled to Terminus?”
Hari nodded. “Five hundred and some odd years from now, they will already be a diverse and persnickety people, proud of both their civilization and their individuality. You may fool a majority of robots with your ‘man who is always right,’ but I doubt many in the Foundation will accept it.”
“I know,” Daneel acknowledged with pain in his voice. “There will be resistance against assimilation by Gaia. Shortsighted panic, perhaps even violence. All of it unavailing in the long run.”