Forward the Foundation (Page 40)

"It don’t seem likely."

"No? Then let’s look at the breakdowns as spread through time rather than through space."

The blue areas and the red spots disappeared and, for a time, the map of Trantor was blank-and then the markings began to appear and disappear one at a time, here and there.

"Notice," said Seldon, "that they don’t appear in clumps in time, either. One appears, then another, then another, and so on, almost like the steady ticking of a metronome."

"Do ya think that’s on purpose, too?"

"It must be. Whoever is bringing this about wants to cause as much disruption with as little effort as possible, so there’s no use doing two at once, where one will partially cancel the other in the news and in the public consciousness. Each incident must stand out in full irritation."

The map went out and the lights went on. Seldon returned the sphere, shrunken back to its original size, to his pocket.

Raych said, "Who would be doing all this?"

Seldon said thoughtfully, "A few days ago I received a report of a murder in Wye Sector."

"That’s not unusual," said Raych. "Even though Wye isn’t one of your really lawless sectors, there must be lots of murders there every day."

"Hundreds," said Seldon, shaking his head. "We’ve had bad days when the number of deaths by violence on Trantor as a whole approaches the million-a-day mark. Generally there’s not much chance of finding every culprit, every murderer. The dead just enter the books as statistics. This one, however, was unusual. The man had been knifed-but unskillfully. He was still alive when found, just barely. He had time to gasp out one word before he died and that word was ‘Chief.’

"That roused a certain curiosity and he was actually identified. He works in Anemoria and we don’t know what he was doing in Wye. But some worthy officer managed to dig up the fact that he was an old Joranumite. His name was Kaspal Kaspalov and he is well known to have been one of the intimates of Laskin Joranum. And now he’s deadknifed."

Raych frowned. "Do you suspect another Joranumite Conspiracy, Dad? There aren’t any Joranumites around anymore."

"It wasn’t long ago that your mother asked me if I thought that the Joranumites were still active and I told her that any odd belief always retained a certain cadre, sometimes for centuries. They’re usually not very important, just splinter groups that simply don’t count. Still, what if the Joranumites have kept up an organization, what if they have retained a certain strength, what if they are capable of killing someone they consider a traitor in their ranks, and what if they are producing these breakdowns as a preliminary to seizing control?"

"That’s an awful lot of ‘what if ‘s,’ Dad."

"I know that. And I might be totally wrong. The murder happened in Wye and, as it so happens, there have been no infrastructure breakdowns in Wye."

"What does that prove?"

"It might prove that the center of the conspiracy is in Wye and that the conspirators don’t want to make themselves uncomfortable, only the rest of Trantor. It also might mean that it’s not the Joranumites at all but members of the old Wyan family who still dream of ruling the Empire once again."

"Oh boy, Dad. You’re building all this on very little."

"I know. Now suppose it is another Joranumite Conspiracy. Joranum had, as his right-hand man, Gambol Deen Namarti. We have no record of Namarti’s death, no record of his having left Trantor, no record of his life over the last decade or so. That’s not terribly surprising. After all, it’s easy to lose one person among forty billion. There was a time in my life when I tried to do just that. Of course, Namarti may be dead. That would be the easiest explanation, but he may not be."

"What do we do about it?"

Seldon sighed. "The logical thing would be to turn to the security establishment, but I can’t. I don’t have Demerzel’s presence. He could cow people; I can’t. He had a powerful personality; I’m just a-mathematician. I shouldn’t be First Minister at all; I’m not cut out for it. And I wouldn’t be-if the Emperor weren’t fixated on psychohistory to a far greater extent than it deserves."

"You’re kinda whipping yourself, ain’t you, Dad?"

"Yes. I suppose I am, but I have a picture of myself going to the security establishment, for instance, with what I have just shown you on the map"-he pointed to the now-empty tabletop-"and arguing that we were in great danger of some conspiracy of unknown consequence and nature. They would listen solemnly and, after I had left, they would laugh among themselves about ‘the crazy mathematician’-and then do nothing."

"Then what do we do about it?" said Raych, returning to the point.

"It’s what you will do about it, Raych. I need more evidence and I want you to find it for me. I would send your mother, but she won’t leave me under any circumstances. I myself can’t leave the Palace grounds at this time. Next to Dors and myself, I trust you. More than Dors and myself, in fact. You’re still quite young, you’re strong, you’re a better Heliconian Twister than I ever was, and you’re smart.

"Mind you, now, I don’t want you to risk your life. No heroism, no derring-do. I couldn’t face your mother if anything happened to you. Just find out what you can. Perhaps you’ll find that Namarti is alive and operating-or dead. Perhaps you’ll find out that the Joranumites are an active group-or moribund. Perhaps you’ll find out that the Wyan ruling family is active-or not. Any of that would be interesting-but not vital. What I want you to find out is whether the infrastructure breakdowns are of human manufacture, as I think they are, and, far more important still, if they are deliberately caused, what else the conspirators plan to do. It seems to me they must have plans for some major coup and, if so, I must know what that will be."