Flux Tales Of Human Futures

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Flux Tales Of Human Futures Page 25

by Card, Orson Scott


  part of the Empire. Imperial authority will not touch them, and their taxes will no

  longer flow inward to Trantor. The Empire is no longer Galactic. The death of

  Commissioner Chen-- today-- will mark the beginning of the fall of the Galactic

  Empire, though no one but us will notice what it means for decades, even centuries

  to come."

  "So soon after Hari's death. Already his predictions are coming true."

  "Oh, it isn't just coincidence," said Zay. "One of our agents was able to

  influence Chen just enough to ensure that he sent Rom Divart in person to strip you

  of your fortune. That was what pushed Rom over the edge and made him carry out this

  coup. Chen would have fallen-- or died-- sometime in the next year and a half no

  matter what we did. But I'll admit we took a certain pleasure in using Hari's death

  as a trigger to bring him down a little early, and under circumstances that allowed

  us to bring you into the library."

  "We also used it as a test," said Deet. "We're trying to find ways of influencing

  individuals without their knowing it. It's still very crude and haphazard, but in

  this case we were able to influence Chen with great success. We had to do it-- your

  life was at stake, and so was the chance of your joining us."

  "I feel like a puppet," said Leyel.

  "Chen was the puppet," said Zay. "You were the prize."

  "That's all nonsense," said Deet. "Hari loved you, I love you. You're a great man.

  The Second Foundation had to have you. And everything you've said and stood for all

  your life made it clear that you were hungry to be part of our work. Aren't you?"

  "Yes," said Leyel. Then he laughed. "The index!"

  "What's so funny?" asked Zay, looking a little miffed. "We worked very hard on

  it."

  "And it was wonderful, transforming, hypnotic. To take all these people and put

  them together as if they were a single mind, far wiser in its intuition than anyone

  could ever be alone. The most intensely unified, the most powerful human community

  that's ever existed. If it's our capacity for storytelling that makes us human, then

  perhaps our capacity for indexing will make us something better than human."

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  Deet patted Zay's hand. "Pay no attention to him, Zay. This is clearly the mad

  enthusiasm of a proselyte."

  Zay raised an eyebrow. "I'm still waiting for him to explain why the index made

  him laugh."

  Leyel obliged her. "Because all the time, I kept thinking-- how could librarians

  have done this? Mere librarians! And now I discover that these librarians are all of

  Hari Seldon's prize students. My questions were indexed by psychohistorians!"

  "Not exclusively. Most of us are librarians. Or machinists, or custodians, or

  whatever-- the psychologists and psychohistorians are rather a thin current in the

  stream of the library. At first they were seen as outsiders. Researchers. Users of

  the library, not members of it. That's what Deet's work has been for these last few

  years-- trying to bind us all together into one community. She came here as a

  researcher too, remember? Yet now she has made everyone's allegiance to the library

  more important than any other loyalty. It's working beautifully too, Leyel, you'll

  see. Deet is a marvel."

  "We're all creating it together," said Deet. "It helps that the couple of hundred

  people I'm trying to bring in are so knowledgeable and understanding of the human

  mind. They understand exactly what I'm doing and then try to help me make it work.

  And it isn't fully successful yet. As years go by, we have to see the psychology

  group teaching and accepting the children of librarians and machinists and medical

  officers, in full equality with their own, so that the psychologists don't become a

  ruling caste. And then intermarriage between the groups. Maybe in a hundred years

  we'll have a truly cohesive community. This is a democratic city-state we're

  building, not an academic department or a social club."

  Leyel was off on his own tangent. It was almost unbearable for him to realize that

  there were hundreds of people who knew Hari's work, while Leyel didn't. "You have to

  teach me!" Leyel said. "Everything that Hari taught you, all the things that have

  been kept from me--"

  "Oh, eventually, Leyel," said Zay. "At present, though, we're much more interested

  in what you have to teach us. Already, I'm sure, a transcription of the things you

  said when you first woke up is being spread through the library."

  "It was recorded?" asked Leyel.

  "We didn't know if you were going to go catatonic on us at any moment, Leyel. You

  have no idea how you've been worrying us. Of course we recorded it-- they might have

  been your last words."

  "They won't be. I don't feel tired at all."

  "Then you're not as bright as we thought. Your body is dangerously weak. You've

  been abusing yourself terribly. You're not a young man, and we insist that you stay

  away from your lectot for a couple of days."

  "What, are you now my doctor?"

  "Leyel," Deet said, touching him on his shoulder the way she always did when he

  needed calming. "You have been examined by doctors. And you've got to realize-- Zay

  is First Speaker."

  "Does that mean she's commander?"

  "This isn't the Empire," said Zay, "and I'm not Chen. All that it means to be

  First Speaker is that I speak first when we meet together. And then, at the end, I

  bring together all that has been said and express the consensus of the group."

  "That's right," said Deet. "Everybody thinks you ought to rest."

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  "Everybody knows about me?" asked Leyel.

  "Of course," said Zay. "With Hari dead you're the most original thinker we have.

  Our work needs you. Naturally we care about you. Besides, Deet loves you so much,

  and we love Deet so much, we feel like we're all a little bit in love with you

  ourselves."

  She laughed, and so did Leyel, and so did Deet. Leyel noticed, though, that when

  he asked whether they all knew of him, she had answered that they cared about him

  and loved him. Only when Zay said this did he realize that she had answered the

  question he really meant to ask.

  "And while you're recuperating," Zay continued, "Indexing will have a go at your

  new theory--"

  "Not a theory, just a proposal, just a thought--"

  "--and a few psychohistorians will see whether it can he quantified, perhaps by

  some variation on the formulas we've been using with Deet's laws of community

  development. Maybe we can turn origin studies into a real science yet."

  "Maybe," Leyel said.

  "Feel all right about this?" asked Zay.

  "I'm not sure. Mostly. I'm very excited, but I'm also a little angry at how I've

  been left out, but mostly I'm-- I'm so relieved."

  "Good. You're in a hopeless muddle. You'll do your best work if we can keep you

  off balance forever." With that, Zay led him back to the bed, helped him lie down,

  and then left the room.

  Alone with Deet, Leyel had nothing to say. He just held her hand and looked up

  into her face, his heart too full to say anything with
words. All the news about

  Hari's byzantine plans and a Second Foundation full of psychohistorians and Rom

  Divart taking over the govemment-- that receded into the background. What mattered

  was this: Deet's hand in his, her eyes looking into his, and her heart, her self,

  her soul so closely bound to his that he couldn't tell and didn't care where he left

  off and she began--

  How could he ever have imagined that she was leaving him? They had created each

  other through all these years of marriage. Deet was the most splendid accomplishment

  of his life, and he was the most valued creation of hers. We are each other's

  parent, each other's child. We might accomplish great works that will live on in

  this other community, the library, the Second Foundation. But the greatest work of

  all is the one that will die with us, the one that no one else will ever know of,

  because they remain perpetually outside. We can't even explain it to them. They

  don't have the language to understand us. We can only speak it to each other.

  _

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