Forward the Foundation (Page 117)

"I must alert the Encyclopedists as soon as possible," Seldon said. "Although there are only thirty-two left, they are good and dedicated workers. I’ll get them installed at the Library and then I’ll tackle the next hurdle-credits. Perhaps this alliance with the Library is what I need to convince people to give us funding. Let’s see-I’ll call upon Terep Bindris again and I’ll take you two with me. He was kindly disposed toward me, at least at first. But how will he be able to resist us now?"

The ground-car eventually came to a halt outside the Psychohistory Building at Streeling. The side panels slid open, but Seldon did not immediately move to disembark. He turned to face Wanda.

"Wanda, you know what you and Stettin were able to accomplish with Acarnio; I’m sure you both can push some credits out of a few financial benefactors as well.

"I know how you hate to leave your beloved Prime Radiant, but these visits will give you two a chance to practice, to hone your skills, to get an idea of just what you can do."

"All right, Grandpa, although I’m sure that, now that you have the Library’s imprimatur, you will find that resistance to your requests has lessened."

"There’s another reason I think it’s important for the two of you to get out and around together. Stettin, I believe you said that on certain occasions you’ve ‘felt’ another mind like yours but haven’t been able to identify it."

"Yes," answered Palver, "I’ve had flashes, but each time I was in a crowd. And, in my twenty-four years, I can remember feeling such a flash just four or five times."

"But, Stettin," said Seldon, his voice low with intensity, "each flash was, potentially, the mind of another person like you and Wanda-another mentalic. Wanda’s never felt these flashes because, frankly, she’s been sheltered all her life. The few times she’s been out in a crowd there must not have been any other mentalics around.

"That’s one reason-perhaps the most important reason-for you two to get out-with me or without me. We must find other mentalics. The two of you alone are strong enough to push a single person. A large group of you, all pushing together, will have the power to move an Empire!"

With that. Hari Seldon swung his legs around and hoisted himself out of the ground-car. As Wanda and Palver watched him limp up the pathway to the Psychohistory Building, they were only dimly aware of the enormous responsibility Seldon had just placed on their young shoulders.

33

It was midafternoon and the Trantorian sun glinted on the metal skin covering the great planet. Hari Seldon stood at the edge of the Streeling University observation deck, attempting to shield his eyes from the harsh glare with his hand. It had been years since he’d been out from under the dome, save for his few visits to the Palace, and somehow those didn’t count; one was still very much enclosed on the Imperial grounds.

Seldon no longer traveled around only if accompanied. In the first place, Palver spent the majority of his time with Wanda, either working on the Prime Radiant, absorbed in mentalic research, or searching for others like them. But if he had wanted, Seldon could have found another young man-a University student or a Project member-to act as his bodyguard.

However, Seldon knew that a bodyguard was no longer necessary. Since the much publicized hearing and the reestablishment of ties with the Galactic Library, the Commission for Public Safety had taken a keen interest in Seldon. Seldon knew that he was being followed; he had caught sight of his "shadow" on a number of occasions in the past few months. He also had no doubt that his home and office had been infiltrated by listening devices, but he himself activated a static shield whenever he engaged in sensitive communications.

Seldon was not sure what the Commission thought of him-perhaps they were not yet sure themselves. Regardless of whether they believed him to be a prophet or a crackpot, they made it their business to know where he was at all times-and that meant that, until the Commission deemed otherwise, at all times Seldon was safe.

A light breeze billowed the deep blue cloak Seldon had draped over his unisuit and ruffed the few wispy white hairs remaining on his head. He glanced down over the railing, taking in the seamless steel blanket below. Beneath that blanket, Seldon knew, rumbled the machinery of a vastly complicated world. If the dome were transparent, one would see ground-cars racing, gravicabs swooshing through an intricate network of interconnecting tunnels, space hyperships being loaded and unloaded with grain and chemicals and jewels bound for and from practically every world of the Empire.

Below the gleaming metal cover, the lives of forty billion people were being conducted, with all the attendant pain, joy, and drama of human life. It was an image he loved dearly-this panorama of human achievement-and it pierced his heart to know that, in just a few centuries, all that now lay before him would be in ruins. The great dome would be ripped and scarred, torn away to reveal the desolate wasteland of what was once the seat of a thriving civilization. He shook his head in sadness, for he knew there was nothing he could do to prevent that tragedy. But, as Seldon foresaw the ruined dome, he also knew that from the ground laid bare by the last battles of the Empire living shoots would spring and somehow Trantor would reemerge as a vital member of the new Empire. The Plan saw to that.

Seldon lowered himself onto one of the benches ringing the deck’s perimeter. His leg was throbbing painfully; the exertion of the trip had been a bit much. But it had been worth it to gaze once again at Trantor, to feel the open air around him and see the vast sky above.

Seldon thought wistfully of Wanda. He rarely saw his granddaughter at all anymore and invariably Stettin Palver was present when he did. In the three months since Wanda and Palver had met, they seemed to be inseparable. Wanda assured Seldon that the constant involvement was necessary for the Project, but Seldon suspected it went deeper than mere devotion to one’s job.