David Brin - Foundation’s Triumph

Daneel nodded.

“And so it cannot happen yet. It must not be brought about by artificial means. We shall have to wait until a large enough population of human mentalics is ready. Until the empire has collapsed, and humanity roils in suffering. Then as they yearn for something to unify and save them, that will be the time to offer them Gaia .”

Zun turned to look at Daneel. “Gaia?”

“An ancient term for a spirit that covers an entire planet. A gentle, loving goddess who knows when every sparrow falls, because each bird of the air, all the fish of the sea, and every living human, will be an integral part of her.”

The Immortal Servant’s voice grew distant as Daneel’s eyes seemed to focus on a far horizon, one filled with majesty and beauty.

“And after each planet has its Gaia, then we may see something even greater. Something all-encompassing. Galaxia .”

His voice softened further.

“And that is when…perhaps…I shall find some peace.”

Two mysterious ship traces led away from the Thumartin Nebula, heading in opposite directions from the site where a million archives and terraforming machines had recently exploded into sparkling clouds of ionized memory. It was decided that Dors would follow one of the departing trails. Lodovic’s Calvinian friends would follow the other one in their own speedy craft.

That was fine by Dors, who felt a strong hunch which direction Hari had been taken.

Unfortunately, Lodovic Trema agreed with her choice. After briefly introducing Dors to his new allies, he threw a carryall over his shoulder and crossed the tunnel connecting both airlocks, making himself right at home aboard her ship!

“Zorma and her friends have less need of me than you do,” he explained.

“Then their need is less than zero!” she retorted. He only smiled, appearing disinclined to argue. But Dors was having none of that.

“This is going to be a full and complete exchange of information, Trema. Or else you can get out and walk the rest of the way. Start by telling me about these allies of yours. You know how I feel about fanatics who deny the Zeroth Law.”

Just a couple of years ago, one small Calvinian cult based on Trantor had decided it was time to attack Daneel Olivaw where it could hurt him most-by wrecking the Seldon Plan. If the Immortal Servant cared about Hari and psychohistory, then that group of rejectionist robots was determined to interfere. They nearly tricked a human mentalic into messing with Hari’s mind. Only good luck and quick intervention had foiled the plot, in the nick of time.

“This group is different,” Lodovic assured her. “You even met Zorma once before, back on Trantor, when she wore a male body and argued against the plan to sabotage Hari.”

Dors recalled. The Calvinian had seemed reasonable at the time. Still, she shook her head.

“That’s hardly a basis for trusting fanatics.”

“According to some, the real fanatics and heretics are Zeroth Law robots,” Lodovic replied. “You’ve replayed the memories of R. Giskard Reventlov. You know how slender a thread he and Daneel were pulling when they replaced our old religion with a new one.”

“The civil wars are over, Lodovic. A vast majority of surviving robots accept the Zeroth Law, while the Old Believers break up into dozens of little sects, hiding and conspiring in dark comers of the galaxy. Tell me, what do your new friends believe? What funny little notions have they picked up during their long, frustrated diaspora?”

Constellations flickered and shifted subtly outside, each time her ship performed another hyperspatial jump. Lodovic smiled.

“Their creed is odd all right-that our masters should be consulted about their own destiny.”

Dors nodded. Trema had been drifting toward this apostasy ever since his accident. Why else would he give her Giskard’s head in the first place?

“That’s fine in principle. But how practical is it?”

“You refer to chaos,” Lodovic replied. “Indeed, Zorma and her compatriots must be careful which humans they reveal themselves to. But surely, you’ve seen the figures from Daneel’s humanics studies? Over two percent of the population is already resistant to both Olivaw’s damping factors and to the seductions of chaos. It’s one reason why Hari Seldon theorized that a foundation, based on Terminus, might evolve enough social and psychological strength to burst past the threshold that has so far proved lethal to every other-”

Dors lifted a hand to cut him off.

“This is all very interesting, Lodovic: Normally, I’d love to meet these mature humans your Calvinian pals choose to confide in. But right now I’m only interested in finding Hari Seldon! Do you know anything about the group that has him?”

Lodovic nodded.

“You’re right, Dors. The old religion did break up into many little cults. They never had a charismatic leader, like Daneel, to weld them together. Those Calvinians on Trantor-led by poor old Plussix-were embarrassingly simpleminded. You’ll recall that Zorma tried to talk them out of their foolish plan. She also sought to dissuade the group that has kidnapped Hari.”

Her emotion-simulation programs crafted a chill of horror along her spine.

“Do you know what the kidnappers want?”

“Alas, no. They are a strange group, more sophisticated than the ones on Trantor, with some weirdly original ideas they’ve cooked up over the centuries. Zorma’s intelligence about them is limited. But it appears that some of their leaders were once allied with Daneel, then parted with him under unpleasant circumstances.

“Zorma is also pretty sure they have big plans for your former husband.”

Dors detected a little stress on the word “former,” and wondered why Lodovic chose to emphasize that point.

The nearby holographic unit, where she stored the Joan of Arc sim, emitted an eager microwave impulse, reminding Dors of a promise she had made.

J oan wants to contact the version of Voltaire that Lodovic carries in his mutated positronic brain. As if I’d trust the two of them together.

That provoked a stray thought.

What would Daneel think, knowing that Lodovic and I have teamed up, even distrustfully?

She shook her head.

“Do you know anything else about the cult that took Hari?”

“Not much, except that they aren’t cautious or responsible, like Zorma’s group, or simple fanatics, like Plussix’s. In fact, Dors, they’re the kind you might have predicted I’d wind up with! Very sophisticated. Clever. Technologically adept.”

Lodovic’s smile was grim.

“And from almost any point of view, Dors, they are quite certifiably insane.”

Over the course of two days, Mors Planch made four escape attempts. Each time he was foiled, the space pilot grew more cheerful and, strangely, more confident.

Either the man is going crazy before our eyes, Hari reflected with some fascination. Or else it’s all part of a plan…try one thing after another in order to bracket the robots’ capabilities. Learn their limitations. Either way, it’s a wonder to behold.

The latest attempt involved Planch accoutering himself in a makeshift garment made of insulation foil stripped off the villa’s central ducting system. Who knew where the fellow came up with the ingenious notion, but he managed to walk past several layers of security sensors and reached the road leading toward Pengia Town before one of Gornon’s robot assistants spotted him visually. Politely and gently, but with irresistible strength, the humanoid took Planch’s arm and led him back inside. With the hood of his homemade stealth garment thrown back, grinning lopsidedly at Sybyl and Maserd and the others, he marched back into captivity, acting as if he, and not the robot, were in charge.