Isaac Asimov - Prelude to Foundation

Sunmaster Fourteen listened with no trace of expression on his face, but when she was done, he addressed Seldon, saying, “This robot, as you see it, is a symbol, a symbol of all we have lost and of all we no longer have, of all that, through thousands of years, we have not forgotten and what we intend someday to return to. Because it is all that remains to us that is both material and authentic, it is dear to us—yet to your woman it is only ‘a dead lump of metal.’ Do you associate yourself with that judgment, Tribesman Seldon?”

Seldon said, “We are members of societies that do not tie ourselves to a past that is thousands of years old, making no contact at all with what has existed between that past and ourselves. We live in the present, which we recognize as the product of all the past and not of one long-gone moment of time that we hug to our chests. We realize, intellectually, what the robot may mean to you and we are willing to let it continue to mean that to you. But we can only see it with our own eyes, as you can only see it with yours. To us , it is a dead lump of metal.”

“And now,” said Dors, “we will leave.”

“You will not ,” said Sunmaster Fourteen. “By coming here, you have committed a crime. It is a crime only in our eyes, as you will hasten to point out”—his lips curved in a wintry smile—“but this is our territory and, within it, we make the definitions. And this crime, as we define it, is punishable by death.”

“And you are going to shoot us down?” said Dors haughtily.

Sunmaster Fourteen’s expression was one of contempt and he continued to speak only to Seldon. “What do you think we are, Tribesman Seldon? Our culture is as old as yours, as complex, as civilized, as humane. I am not armed. You will be tried and, since you are manifestly guilty, executed according to law, quickly and painlessly.

“If you were to try to leave now, I would not stop you, but there are many Brothers below, many more than there appeared to be when you entered the Sacratorium and, in their rage at your action, they may lay rough and forceful hands on you. It has happened in our history that tribespeople have even died so and it is not a pleasant death—certainly not a painless one.”

“We were warned of this,” said Dors, “by Skystrip Two. So much for your complex, civilized, and humane culture.”

“People can be moved to violence at moments of emotion, Tribesman Seldon,” said Sunmaster Fourteen calmly, “whatever their humanity in moments of calm. This is true in every culture, as your woman, who is said to be a historian, must surely know.”

Seldon said, “Let us remain reasonable, Sunmaster Fourteen. You may be the law in Mycogen over local affairs, but you are not the law over us and you know it. We are both non-Mycogenian citizens of the Empire and it is the Emperor and his designated legal officers who must remain in charge of any capital offense.”

Sunmaster Fourteen said, “That may be so in statutes and on papers and on holovision screens, but we are not talking theory now. The High Elder has long had the power to punish crimes of sacrilege without interference from the Imperial throne.”

“ If the criminals are your own people,” said Seldon. “It would be quite different if they were outsiders.”

“I doubt it in this case. Tribesman Hummin brought you here as fugitives and we are not so yeast-headed in Mycogen that we don’t strongly suspect that you are fugitives from the Emperor’s laws. Why should he object if we do his work for him?”

“Because,” said Seldon, “he would. Even if we were fugitives from the Imperial authorities and even if he wanted us only to punish us, he would still want us. To allow you to kill, by whatever means and for whatever reason, non-Mycogenians without due Imperial process would be to defy his authority and no Emperor could allow such a precedent. No matter how eager he might be to see that the microfood trade not be interrupted, he would still feel it necessary to re-establish the Imperial prerogative. Do you wish, in your eagerness to kill us, to have a division of Imperial soldiery loot your farms and your dwellings, desecrate your Sacratorium, and take liberties with the Sisters? Consider.”

Sunmaster Fourteen smiled once again, but displayed no softness. “Actually, I have considered and there is an alternative. After we condemn you, we could delay your execution to allow you to appeal to the Emperor for a review of your case. The Emperor might be grateful at this evidence of our ready submission to his authority and grateful too to lay his hands on you two—for some reason of his own—and Mycogen might profit. Is that what you want, then? To appeal to the Emperor in due course and to be delivered to him?”

Seldon and Dors looked at each other briefly and were silent.

Sunmaster Fourteen said, “I feel you would rather be delivered to the Emperor than die, but why do I get the impression that the preference is only by a slight margin?”

“Actually,” said a new voice, “I think neither alternative is acceptable and that we must search for a third.”

It was Dors who identified the newcomer first, perhaps because it was she who expected him.

“Hummin,” she said, “thank goodness you found us. I got in touch with you the moment I realized I was not going to deflect Hari from”—she held up her hands in a wide gesture—“this.”

Hummin’s smile was a small one that did not alter the natural gravity of his face. There was a subtle weariness about him.

“My dear,” he said, “I was engaged in other things. I cannot always pull away at a moment’s notice. And when I got here, I had, like you two, to supply myself with a kirtle and sash, to say nothing of a skincap, and make my way out here. Had I been here earlier, I might have stopped this, but I believe I’m not too late.”

Sunmaster Fourteen had recovered from what had seemed to be a painful shock. He said in a voice that lacked its customary severe depth, “How did you get in here, Tribesman Hummin?”

“It was not easy, High Elder, but as Tribeswoman Venabili likes to say, I am a very persuasive person. Some of the citizens here remembered who I was and what I have done for Mycogen in the past, that I am even an honorary Brother. Have you forgotten, Sunmaster Fourteen?”

The Elder replied, “I have not forgotten, but even the most favorable memory cannot survive certain actions. A tribesman here and a tribeswoman . There is no greater crime. All you have done is not great enough to balance that. My people are not unmindful. We will make it up to you some other way. But these two must die or be handed over to the Emperor.”

“I am also here,” said Hummin calmly. “Is that not a crime as well?”

“For you,” said Sunmaster Fourteen, “for you personally , as a kind of honorary Brother, I can . . . overlook it . . . once. Not these two.”

“Because you expect a reward from the Emperor? Some favor? Some concession? Have you already been in touch with him or with his Chief of Staff, Eto Demerzel, more likely?”

“That is not a subject for discussion.”

“Which is itself an admission. Come on, I don’t ask what the Emperor promised, but it cannot be much. He does not have much to give in these degenerate days. Let me make you an offer. Have these two told you they are scholars?”

“They have.”

“And they are. They are not lying. The tribeswoman is a historian and the tribesman is a mathematician. The two together are trying to combine their talents to make a mathematics of history and they call the combined subject ‘psychohistory.’ ”