Forward the Foundation

found.

“To tell you the truth, all this ‘out and around’ takes us away from our work on the Prime Radiant and it is distracting as well. Now that I have Stettin to ‘talk’ to, verbal communication is somewhat too harsh, too loud.”

Seldon’s smile faded. He had been afraid of this. As Wanda and Palver had been honing their mentalic skills, so their tolerance for “ordinary” life had diminished. It only made sense; their mentalic manipulations set them apart.

“Wanda, Stettin, I think it may be time for me to tell you more about the idea Yugo Amaryl had years ago and about the Plan I’ve devised as a result of that idea. I haven’t been ready to elaborate upon it until now, because until this moment, all the pieces have not been in place.

“As you know, Yugo felt we must establish two Foundations—each as a fail-safe measure for the other. It was a brilliant idea, one which I wish Yugo could have lived long enough to see realized.” Here Seldon paused, heaving a regretful sigh.

“But I digress. —Six years ago, when I was certain that Wanda had mentalic, or mind-touching, capabilities, it came to me that not only should there be two Foundations but that they should be distinct in nature, as well. One would be made up of physical scientists—the Encyclopedists will be their pioneer group on Terminus. The second would be made up of true psychohistorians; mentalists—you. That is why I’ve been so eager for you to find others like you.

“Finally, though, is this: The Second Foundation must be secret. Its strength will lie in its seclusion, in its telepathic omnipresence and omnipotence.

“You see, a few years ago, when it became apparent that I would require the services of a bodyguard, I realized that the Second Foundation must be the strong, silent, secret bodyguard of the primary Foundation.

“Psychohistory is not infallible—its predictions are, however, highly probable. The Foundation, especially in its infancy, will have many enemies, as do I today.

“Wanda, you and Palver are the pioneers of the Second Foundation, the guardians of the Terminus Foundation.”

“But how, Grandfather?” demanded Wanda. “We are just two—well, three, if you count Bor. To guard the entire Foundation, we would need—”

“Hundreds? Thousands? Find however many it takes, Granddaughter. You can do it. And you know how.

“Earlier, when relating the story of finding Dr. Alurin, Stettin said you simply stopped and communicated out to the mentalic presence you felt and he came to you. Don’t you see? All along I’ve been urging you to go out and find others like you. But this is difficult, almost painful for you. I realize now that you and Stettin must seclude yourselves, in order to form the nucleus of the Second Foundation. From there you will cast your nets into the ocean of humanity.”

“Grandfather, what are you saying?” Wanda asked in a whisper. She had left her seat and was kneeling next to Seldon’s chair. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No, Wanda,” Seldon replied, his voice choked with emotion. “I don’t want you to leave, but it is the only way. You and Stettin must isolate yourselves from the crude physicality of Trantor. As your mentalic abilities grow stronger, you will attract others to you—the silent and secret Foundation will grow.

“We will be in touch—occasionally, of course. And each of us has a Prime Radiant. You see, don’t you, the truth—and the absolute necessity—of what I am saying, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, Grandfather,” said Wanda. “More important, I feel the brilliance of it as well. Rest assured; we won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, dear,” Seldon said wearily.

How could he do this—how could he send his darling granddaughter away? She was his last link to his happiest days, to Dors, Yugo, and Raych. She was the only other Seldon in the Galaxy.

“I shall miss you terribly, Wanda,” Seldon said as a tear worked its way down his finely creased cheek.

“But, Grandfather,” Wanda said as she stood with Palver, preparing to leave. “Where shall we go? Where is the Second Foundation?”

Seldon looked up and said, “The Prime Radiant has already told you, Wanda.”

Wanda looked at Seldon blankly, searching her memory.

Seldon reached out and clutched at his granddaughter’s hand.

“Touch my mind, Wanda. It is there.”

Wanda’s eyes widened as she reached into Seldon’s mind.

“I see,” Wanda whispered to Seldon.

Section 33A2D17: Star’s End.

PART 5 EPILOGUE

I am Hari Seldon. Former first minister to Emperor Cleon I. Professor Emeritus of Psychohistory at Streeling University on Trantor. Director of the Psychohistory Research Project. Executive Editor of the Encyclopedia Galactica. Creator of the Foundation.

It all sounds quite impressive, I know. I have done a great deal in my eighty-one years and I am tired. Looking back over my life, I wonder if I could have—should have—done certain things differently. For instance: Was I so concerned with the grand sweep of psychohistory that the people and events that intersected my life sometimes seemed inconsequential by comparison?

Perhaps I neglected to make some small incidental adjustments here or there that would have in no way compromised the future of humanity but might have dramatically improved the life of an individual dear to me. — Yugo, Raych?.?.?. I can’t help but wonder?.?.?. Was there something I could have done to save my beloved Dors?

Last month I finished recording the Crisis holograms. My assistant, Gaal Dornick, has taken them to Terminus to oversee their installation in the Seldon Vault. He will make sure that the Vault is sealed and that the proper instructions are left for the eventual openings of the Vault, during the Crises.

I’ll be dead by then, of course.

What will they think, those future Foundationers, when they see me (or, more accurately, my hologram) during the First Crisis, almost fifty years from now? Will they comment on how old I look or how weak my voice is or how small I seem, bundled in this wheelchair? Will they understand—appreciate—the message I’ve left for them? —Ah well, there’s really no point in speculating. As the ancients would say: The die is cast.

I heard from Gaal yesterday. All is going well on Terminus. Bor Alurin and the Project members are flourishing in “exile.” I shouldn’t gloat, but I can’t help but chuckle when I recall the self-satisfied look on the face of that pompous idiot Linge Chen when he banished the Project to Terminus two years ago. Although ultimately the exile was couched in terms of an Imperial Charter (“A state-supported scientific institution and part of the personal domain of His August Majesty, the Emperor”—the Chief Commissioner wanted us off Trantor and out of his hair, but he could not bear the thought of giving up complete control), it is still a source of secret delight to know that it was Las Zenow and I who chose Terminus as Foundation’s home.

My one regret where Linge Chen is concerned is that we were not able to save Agis. That Emperor was a good man and a noble leader, even if he was Imperial in name only. His mistake was to believe in his title and the Commission of Public Safety would not tolerate the burgeoning Imperial independence.

I often wonder what they did to Agis—was he exiled to some remote Outer World or assassinated like Cleon?

The boy-child who sits on the throne today is the perfect puppet Emperor. He obeys every word Linge Chen whispers in his ear and fancies himself a budding statesman. The Palace and trappings of Imperial life are but toys to him in some vast fantastical game.

What will I do now? With Gaal finally gone to join the Terminus group, I am utterly alone. I hear from Wanda occasionally. The work at Star’s End continues on course; in the past decade she and Stettin have added dozens of mentalics to their number. They increasingly grow in power. It was the Star’s End contingent—my secret