Foundation's Triumph

by David Brin

  Or else, maybe he’d just rather live comfortably in a cosmopolitan place, as an alternative to having his memory wiped.

  Any further discussion of the matter was forestalled when R. Gornon shouted over his shoulder, “Everyone get belted in! They don’t have a sophisticated guide beam here, so it may be rougher than you are used to.”

  No one thought of disobeying. Gornon’s power had been amply demonstrated. As the passengers watched Pengia’s rustic spaceport loom ahead, everyone knew there were matters left unsettled. Each of them would meet a point of decision on Pengia. A shifting of destiny.

  They were met at the edge of the landing field by half a dozen sturdy-looking men. Hari had an unmistakable feeling that they were robots--doubtless members of Gornon’s small Calvinian cult.

  Three large vehicles came alongside the ship, which had settled down next to a hangar. Into one car went Biron Maserd’s crewmen and those who had served aboard Mors Planch’s raider ship. The second took aboard Horis, Sybyl, Planch, and Maserd, with Jeni’s levitation chair gently loaded in back. Their immediate stop would be a local hospital, where doctors were familiar with brain fever and had facilities to help the young woman.

  Gornon showed no concern that she might talk about what she had seen. Brain fever victims often had extravagant hallucinations, and no one would take her wild stories seriously. Besides, Hari noted that the ship’s motivators had been left running on idle. The Calvinians didn’t plan to stay long--a few days at most.

  Even that may be too long, if Daneel’s organization is as efficient as ever. Hari wondered what could possibly drive these robot heretics to take such a risk.

  Hari and Gornon joined the others. On automatic pilot, the limousine started heading toward some nearby hills, evidently a zone where local gentry lived. Hari presumed Gornon had a villa waiting. Nothing but the best for his captives.

  As the limo reached a side gate to depart the provincial spaceport, Hari looked back at the Pride of Rhodia, and the acuity that had been newly restored to his eyesight made him notice something strange.

  The robots Gornon had left in charge of the ship were now unloading something bulky through the passenger hatchway. It was white and shaped like an oversize coffin.

  Even the burly robots seemed to strain under its weight as they carried it toward the third and last vehicle. Their movements indicated great care, as if their cargo were somehow more precious than their own lives.

  As if many hopes rested on its safe journey to some faraway destination.

  Part 5

  A RECURRING

  RENDEZVOUS

  PENGIA...A world in Rigel Sector noted for producing elegant craft-ceramics and for certain anomalous oceanic life-forms that have recently been investigated for their unique neuromentalic traits, offering hope for organic humans with immune systems that reject standard symbiotic host-implants...

  Pengia stands out mainly for its almost complete lack of historical interest. A modest agricultural world, it appears to have taken part in few notable events during the dark ages, and none at all in the Imperial Era. Only once--520 years into the Interregnum--did it experience momentary prominence, right after the Battle of Chjerrups, by playing host to the first Galactic Coalescence Investigation Commission. Those hearings made Pengia’s name briefly famous, wherever broadcasts were not jammed by...

  That illustrious phase soon passed, however, as the tumultuous destiny debates spread their heady turmoil to more populated venues. Thereafter, Pengia soon lapsed...

  --Encyclopedia Galactica,

  117th Edition, 1054 F.E.

  1.

  R. Zun Lurrin at last understood the awesome scope of Daneel’s long-range design for the salvation of humanity.

  “You plan to help them unite. To create a telepathic network, in which each human soul connects to every other.”

  The Immortal Servant nodded as he gazed at sixty human subjects with identical expressions of contentment playing across their faces, meditating beneath a high-arched dome.

  “Imagine it. No more rancor. An end to bitterness and egotistic rivalry. And above all, there would be no solipsism. For how can anyone ignore the feelings of other people, when those feelings have become intensely palpable, like integral parts of your own mind?”

  “Unity and oneness,” Zun sighed. “The old dream. And we could provide it to them at last.”

  But then Zun frowned as he contemplated the sixty humans in front of him.

  “They are at peace, in total connectedness, because each one is paired with a positronic mentalic amplifier. Only now you say we cannot do the same thing on a massive scale?”

  Daneel nodded. “That sort of dependency on mechanical methods we must not allow.”

  “But it would let us combine with our masters! Robots and humans, bound together in permanent, loving synergy.”

  “And in such a synergy, the machine portion would grow ever more dominant with the passage of time,” Daneel said. “Moreover, consider how many robots we would have to build. It could only be done by unleashing self-reproduction. That opens the door to selection, Darwinism, evolution...and eventually a new android species. One that thinks primarily of its own self-interest instead of humanity’s. I swore never to permit this.

  “No. We must not let humans become overly dependent upon robots. That was the Spacer approach--the heresy that Elijah Baley warned against. The abomination that forced Giskard to act as he did.”

  Daneel’s voice resonated with determination. “Humans must eventually stand on their own. And there are more reasons than the ones that I have told you so far. Reasons having to do with survival of the race itself.”

  Zun Lurrin contemplated this for a time.

  “In that case let me extrapolate, Daneel. From this data, I shall hazard to guess your plan.

  “A hundred years ago, you began a series of genetic experiments on small groups of human beings. One of these projects brought forth the mathematical genius of Hari Seldon. Another produced a sudden wave of mutants on Trantor--humans capable of mentalic powers that only a few robots formerly possessed.”

  “Excellent. You are on the right track, Zun.” Daneel nodded. “Think about the scene in front of you--these sixty humans united in glorious tranquility, power, and contentment. Now envision it taking place without robotic aid! They would form their own mental comity. A union of souls. One that is sturdy, free of reliance on artificial aids.”

  Zun Lurrin nodded. “I understand what you are saying, Daneel. That would certainly be more desirable. And yet, consider the delay! It will take centuries to develop human mentalics strong and numerous enough to serve as psychic bridges, connecting whole cities, territories, even planets. Why wait so long? At this very moment, we have tools at hand that could be modified for this very purpose! Why not use these devices--strictly for the interim, until enough powerful human mentalics become available~ The Galactic Empire need not fall. It could simply be transformed, almost overnight, if we only reprogram certain implements--”

  Daneel shook his head in the human fashion, indicating polite disagreement.

  “It is a tempting notion. But the drawbacks are fatal. Number one, to impose this union of spirits by mechanical means would create tremendous First Law conflict among many robots, whose circuits would interpret it as ‘harm.’ I have tried out this idea on several of your peers, and their reactions vary from enthusiasm, such as yours, all the way to outrage and revulsion.

  “Clearly, such a peremptory action would reignite the robotic civil wars.”

  Zun quailed at the notion. “I assume you erased all memory of this idea from the robots that rejected it?”

  “I took that precaution, yes. And if your reaction had been different, I would have done the same to you, Zun. My apologies.”

  “No apology is required where necessity and the good of humanity are concerned,” Zun said, dismissing Daneel’s concern with the wave of one hand. “And your other reason~”

 
“Human variability. In recent millennia, small but significant numbers have grown immune to nearly all of the stabilizing influences that we have used to stave off chaos. They are also extremely resistant to mentalic suasion. Imagine how these individuals would react if they abruptly saw their friends, neighbors, and loved ones becoming ‘meditation masters’ overnight!

  “No, that understates it, Zun. Suppose we do manage to draw a majority of humans into a macro-consciousness, abandoning individuality to unite in a single mentation-stream. How will the remnant minority react to being left out?

  “Would they go mad? Or feel abandoned?

  “Or might they misinterpret what they see happening, and imagine that some alien force has turned their loved ones into zombies, compelling them to think identical rigid thoughts, all at the same time?

  “Don’t forget, these exceptional ones are often ingenious. They would throw all their energies into uncovering and fighting that outside alien force.

  “They would find us. They would wage a war against us.”

  Zun Lurrin envisioned the scene as Daneel described it, and understood at once the farseeing wisdom of the Immortal Servant.

  “This new breakthrough--this new way of human life--it must be introduced at the right time, under appropriate circumstances. All robots must see it as necessary. All humans must view it as an improvement.”

  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.”

  2.

  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.

  Joan 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 cer
tifiably insane.”

  3.

  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.

  Of course this is a farce, Hari thought. Our captors have the ability to subdue Planch any number of ways, from sedating him to altering his memories. So why don’t they? Is Gornon trying to demonstrate something, through his forbearance?

  Hari found himself rooting for Mors Planch, especially since it wouldn’t matter much if the man did get away. As an outlaw, the raider captain could hardly go to the police or galactic news media with his wild story. And it was probably too late for him to affect Ktlina’s renaissance, whose doom was already a. foregone conclusion. Anyway, since these robots were avowedly opponents of Hari’s friend, Daneel, he didn’t owe them anything. In fact, he had every reason to delay their departure from Pengia.