David Brin: Foundation’s Triumph

“And you are not disappointed? About missing a trip into that future?”

“Not very much. It might have been interesting. But you had reasons for preventing it, and I understand them. I probably would have meddled.” Hari laughed again. “Besides, you’ll need a man who never makes mistakes, and I am anything but that.”

“Do you have any special regrets?”

“Just one. I can see it right now.” Hari gestured skyward, a bit to the left of zenith, but he wasn’t pointing to a constellation, rather, at a cluster of psychohistorical terms that floated in his sky, more real at this moment than the glittering stars.

“Please tell me,” Daneel entreated. “Explain what you see up there.”

Hari realized that his immortal friend, capable of extending his vision from X rays to the radio spectrum, was at the moment, envious. Hari derived a strange pleasure from that.

“I see my Foundation, right now being established on Terminus, beginning its bumpy path toward adventure and glory. The probabilities are strong for two centuries, at least. Psychosocial momentum has built up to a point where I can almost see the actors in this play. The Encyclopedists, politicians, traders, and charlatans will live in a time of great personal danger. And yet they’ll draw satisfaction from a sense of participating in something grand. Building a society that is preordained for success.”

Hari lifted his other hand, pointing toward a flickering in Earth’s ionized atmosphere.

“Ah! Did you see that? A perturbation! They are happening all the time, though most cancel each other out. Besides, we designed the Foundation to be robust, adapting to every flux and disturbance with great resiliency.

“And yet, with so much riding on the Plan, do we dare let human destiny depend on the reactions of a few million of our descendants? Can we trust them to respond with as much courage and determination as the equations predict?”

Hari shook his head. “No, we cannot. You convinced me of that, long ago, Daneel. Perturbations from the Plan must be corrected! The Plan must be kept on course. To do this, we shall need a guiding hand. A Second Foundation, using mathematics to track every swerve and deviation, then applying pressure here and there, at just the right points, so that the First Foundation stays on its assigned trajectory.”

He sighed. “I was easy to persuade. After all, the Second Foundation is an extension of me. A form of immortality. A way I can keep poking and meddling after this physical frame has been eaten by worms and turned into the soil Horis admires so much. The Second Foundation might have been Yugo Amaryl’s idea-did you inspire him though? In any event, vanity alone was enough to make me agree to it.

“But then you started demanding even more, Daneel.

“Will mathematics suffice? You worried that my successors wouldn’t be strong enough. A society of secret guides will need something more potent than equations. A superhuman power, enabling them to sway kings, mayors, and scientists away from perturbing thoughts, diverting them back toward the tracks they had been assigned. And 10, no sooner did you make this suggestion, than such a tool appears!”

Hari gestured toward the horizon, where Old Chicago flickered with a steady glow. “Your gift to the Seldon Plan, Daneel-mentalics! We really had to do a major reformulation of the Plan when that came to light. Fortunately, the mutation only appeared where you wanted it to. Some of the psychics will help seed your great universal mind, while others breed with my Fifty mathists, creating a new race that is capable of both calculation and magic.”

There was silence atop the rubble mound. Finally, Daneel commented, “You see a lot up there, my old friend.”

Hari nodded.

“Oh yes, I see all the adjustments we had to make in the equations, in order to deal with this new aristocracy that will be inbreeding for the next several centuries, developing its power and influence, relying ever more on mentalic dominance, and less on mathematics. If they are left in charge, even with a tradition of duty and noblesse oblige, they will eventually become a ruling class. A ruling race. One that will make every prior priesthood or royal family seem like amateurs.”

Hari glanced up at Daneel.

“But what choice have we? Eventually the Foundation will stop being distracted by momentary crises, by galactic competitors and the challenge of expansion. In time, the civilization we establish on Terminus will reach a new height of confidence…and face its inevitable collision with chaos. At that point, our predictions grow more approximate. The psychohistorical equations show the Foundation’s odds of success will have winnowed down to only seventy percent or so.”

“That is not good enough, Hari. Not nearly good enough.”

“So you insisted, Daneel. The Foundation will be as strong, dynamic, and empathic as any human civilization could possibly be. If any culture could ever be prepared to take on chaos, survive the solipsism plagues, and burst through to the other side, this will be the one. And yet, if it fails…”

“That’s the rub, Hari.”

“Indeed. We’re left with a one-in-four chance that humanity itself might be destroyed. I can see why you wanted something better, Daneel. You were compelled to do anything in your power that might boost the odds.

“First, you demanded a secret mentalic society, to help guide the First Foundation. But that only altered a few percentage points. Worse, it actually introduced new perturbations. Resentment by common folk against a psychic aristocracy, for instance. And danger from rogue mentalics.”

Hari lifted both hands. “Quite a choice isn’t it? Either a hell-bent battle with chaos or a permanent mutant ruling class. No wonder you finally decided there must be a third solution! No wonder you’ve worked so hard to develop Gaia, as a way to replace the Seldon Plan.”

When he responded, there was deep respect and compassion in Daneel’s voice.

“Your work still has great importance, Hari. Humanity must be kept engaged during the next few centuries.”

“Engaged? You mean distracted, don’t you? The people of my Foundation will think they are bold explorers, holding destiny in their hands, winning a better future by their own efforts, though aided by laws of history. Then, abruptly, you’ll bring this new thing upon them. Already approved by some fellow who knows everything.”

“A man who is always right,” Daneel corrected.

Hari waved a hand. “Whatever.”

Daneel sighed.

“I know you have reservations, Hari. But consider the long-range prospect. What if there are entities in other galaxies, similar to the meme-minds we encountered on Trantor? What if they are more powerful? Perhaps they have already assimilated all life-forms in their home galaxies. Their influence may even now be stretching this way, toward us. That outside force could be a terrible threat to humanity. Only if the human species is unified, powerful, and cohesive, a true Galaxia superorganism-can we be assured of your survival.”

Hari blinked for a moment. “Isn’t that a far-fetched scenario? Or at least a long way off?”

“Perhaps. But dare I take that chance? I am compelled by the Zeroth Law-and by my promise to Elijah Baley, to protect you all, no matter what the pains! No matter what the cost.”

R. Daneel Olivaw took a step forward, motioning toward the heavens. “Besides, think of it, Hari! Every human soul in contact with every other one! All knowledge shared instantly. All misunderstandings erased. Every bird, animal, and insect incorporated into the vast, unified web. The ultimate of serenity and understanding that your ancient sages yearned for. And it can be achieved in just over half the time that you project for the Foundation’s final battle with chaos.”