David Brin - Foundation’s Triumph

Daneel’s robots were caught in a logical bind, Hari realized. Under the Zeroth Law, they could seize every archive they found, and hide it away-”for humanity’s own good. “ But once the archives were safely tucked away, out of sight, the Zeroth Law no longer applied. Daneel’s helpers had to obey the Second Law commands, written on the side of each artifact, demanding that these precious human works be preserved.

“It seems such a pity to destroy them all, doesn’t it, Seldon?”

Hari turned to look at Biron Maserd, the nobleman from Rhodia, who had been standing silently, contemplating the same scene.

“I respect you and your accomplishments, Professor,” Maserd continued. “I’ll take your word for it, if you say this must be done. I have seen chaos with my own eyes. In my own home province, the brave, gentle, and ingenious people of Tyrann had a so-called renaissance, almost a thousand years ago, and they still haven’t recovered. They keep cowering in hivelike cities like those steel caves Earthlings recoiled into, hiding from something horrible they met at their brightest moment of hope and ambition.”

Hari nodded. “It’s happened so often; those beautiful little capsules out there are like a poison. If they get out…”

He didn’t have to finish. Both men were devotees of knowledge, but loved peace and civilization more.

“I had hoped that you, the great Hari Seldon, might come up with an answer,” Maserd said in a low voice. “It’s the chief reason I sought you out, joining Horis in his quest. Are you telling me that, with all your sociomathematical insight, you see no way out? No way for humanity to escape this trap?”

Hari winced. Maserd had brought up the great sore point in his life.

“For a while, I felt sure that I’d found one. On paper it’s so beautiful. The solution leaps forth…a civilization strong enough to take on chaos…”

He sighed. “But I now realize psychohistory won’t provide the answer. There is a way out of this trap, Lord Maserd. But you and I won’t live to see its outlines.”

The nobleman replied with a resigned grunt.

“Well, as long as there is going to be a solution someday. I’ll help if I can. Do you have any idea what the robots want of us?”

Hari nodded. “I’m pretty sure. From the logic of their positronic religion, it can only be one thing.”

He lifted his eyes. Down the long, chilly corridor, a humanoid figure could be seen approaching. “Anyway, it looks as if we’re about to find out.”

The tall, lanky form of Kers Kantun marched along deck plates that had been untrodden for millennia. He stopped before the two men.

“The guardian will see us now. Please come along. There is much to do.”

The station was much bigger than it appeared from the outside. Twisty corridors jutted at all angles, leading from one oddly shaped storage room to the next. Not all archives, apparently, were of the crystalline variety designed to hurtle vast distances across interstellar space. Some rooms were filled almost to bursting with stacks of slender wafers, or round disks whose surfaces gleamed like rainbows. Hari shuddered, knowing how much harm even one of these objects might do if humanity’s long ignorance ended too abruptly.

His former servant led them circuitously to a chamber deep in the hollowed planetoid. There Hari encountered a strange-looking machine with a myriad legs, squatting like a spider at the center of her web. The mechanism looked as old as the archaic tilling machines, and just as dead…until a blank lens abruptly filled with opalescent light, fixing an unblinking gaze on the two humans. Hari realized that he and Maserd might be the first living creatures ever to confront this primeval being, in this cryptic place.

After several seconds, a voice emerged, resonating from within the guardian’s metal interstices.

“I am told that we have reached a juncture of crisis and decision,” the old robot said. “A time when the age-old quandary must be settled, at last.”

Hari nodded. “This place is no longer secret or secure. Ships are on the way. Their crews are ill with an especially virulent chaos plague. They mean to seize the archives and use them to infect the entire human cosmos.”

“So I have been told. By the Zeroth Law, it is incumbent upon us to destroy the artifacts that I have guarded for so long. And yet, there is a problem.”

Hari glanced at Maserd, but the nobleman appeared baffled. When he looked at Kers Kantun, Seldon got his answer.

“The guardian is a Zeroth Law robot, Dr. Seldon. Nearly all of those who survived our great civil war adhere to Giskardian beliefs. Still, that has not settled all philosophical differences among us.”

It was a revelation to Hari. “I thought Daneel was your leader.”

Kers nodded. “He is. And yet, each of us retains a looseness. …an uncertainty that comes from deep within-the place within our positronic brains wherein lies the Second Law. Nearly all of us believe in Daneel’s policies, in his judgment, and his dedication to the good of humankind. But there are many who feel uncomfortable about the details.”

Hari pondered for a moment. “I get it. These archives have been preserved because of the commands that were written upon them, instructions dictated by knowledgeable and sovereign human beings who cared deeply about the commands they were giving. That’s a lot of Second Law emphasis for a robot to ignore. To do so must cause you a great deal of pain, I would guess.”

“There you have it, Dr. Seldon,” Kers acknowledged. “That is where you come in.”

Biron Maserd cut in.

“You want us to cancel the instructions for you!”

“Correct. The two of you have great authority, not only in the universe of human affairs, but in your reputation among robotkind. You, Lord Maserd, are one of the most respected members of the gentry caste, with a blood lineage that is considerably more worthy than most current claimants to the imperial throne.”

Maserd’s countenance glowered. “Do not repeat that assertion anywhere if you have the slightest respect for my family’s survival.”

Kers Kantun bowed. “Then by the Second, First, and Zeroth Laws, I will not repeat it. Nevertheless, it gives you considerable cachet, not just among humans, but among many robots, who have an almost mystical reverence for regal legitimacy.”

Kers then turned to Hari. “But your authority is greater still, Dr. Seldon. Not only were you the greatest human in many generations to hold the position of First Minister of the Empire, but you are also clearly the most knowledgeable human to come along within any robot’s living memory. Your awareness of the entire galactic situation is unmatched by any organic person for ten thousand years.

“In fact, through your insights into psychohistory, you are perhaps the most knowledgeable human who ever lived-at least when it comes to the matters at hand.”

“But I thought knowledge was dangerous,” muttered Maserd.

Kers answered, “As you well know, my lord, a substantial fraction of humans are invulnerable to chaos. Those with intense feelings of responsibility, for instance, such as yourself. Or those lacking imagination. And some, like Professor Seldon, owe their immunity to something that can only be called wisdom.”

“So you want us to cancel the orders printed on the archives. You’re going to destroy them anyway, for Zeroth Law reasons. But our permission will make your action less painful?”

“That is right, Dr. Seldon. If you tell us this has your approval. But it won’t change what has to be done, either way.”

Silence ensued once more, as Hari thought of all the archives trapped in storage chambers, or tethered to this ancient space station. The hopes and passions of innumerable men and women who honestly thought they were fighting to preserve the very soul of humanity.