Foundation and Chaos

57.

Chen had first aroused Hari’s enmity by the manner of his deposing (and exiling? assassinating?) the Emperor Agis XIV. Hari had often wished he could have done something about that…

And throughout the trial, Linge Chen had sat behind his judicial bench with an expression of aristocratic boredom, doing nothing, saying little, letting his advocate-a man of little apparent wit himself-do all the questioning. Despite the visit in his first cell, Hari’s opinion of Chen was back to square one-complete disdain.

The advocate had led Hari’s testimony the previous day into the thorny question of the Psychohistory Project itself, and Hari’s predictions. Hari had told them what they needed to know, and not a whit more-and still, he believed he had carried the day.

On the fourth day, when prompted by the advocate to specify the actual signs of the Empire’s decay and collapse, Hari used the Commission of Public Safety as an example.

“The best traditions of Imperial governance are now overwhelmed by wheezing formulaic engines of political ingenuity and law driven to extremes. Laws are convoluted, and they are overwhelmed by case histories with an extraordinary power of precedence and a devastating lack of relevance. The deadweight of the past oppresses us as surely as if all the corpses of our ancestors were gathered in our living rooms, refusing to be buried. But we do not even recognize their faces, or know their names, for though the past crushes us, we are ignorant of it. We have lost so much history we can never recover our way to our origins. We do not know who we are, or why we are placed here…”

“You believe we are ignoramuses, professor?”

Hari gave the Chief Commissioner’s advocate a weary smile then, and turned to the baronial judges. “Not one of you can tell me what happened five hundred years ago, much less a thousand. A list of Emperors, to be sure-but what they did, how they lived, matters not in the least to you…And yet, when a case comes up, you send your servants into the stacks of traditional legal and political history to dig up cases like old bones into which you would breathe a magic yet grotesque life.”

Linge Chen’s gaze narrowed a bit at that, nothing more.

What is he up to? Hari wondered. Half the time he seems intent on letting me hang myself with treasonous arrogance-or so it must seem to the audience. And the other half-he lets me drive home points that must resonate with all of them, that must convince them I’m right…

Now the advocate advanced upon Gaal Dornick, who sat in the docket caught between boredom and fear for his life-a numbing situation, as Hari well knew.

“Our proceedings here will soon be at an end. But something has happened in this antiquated political apparatus of ours”-the advocate cast a wry glance at Hari-”which causes this Commission some concern. A new branch of administration has been formed, the Commission for the General Security, and it has made its first task the investigation of the possibility that this Empire has been infiltrated for thousands of years by malevolent forces. A brief has been placed before this Commission, accompanied by a writ demanding immediate action from the Emperor Klayus himself. Our Commission, and our honorable Chief Commissioner, is always concerned with those problems which concern the Emperor. So tell me, Gaal Dornick-what do you know about robots? Not tiktoks, but fully mental, thinking machines.”

Hari looked up slowly, saw Gaal’s confusion. Oh, Sky, he thought. This means we’re going to be grilled by Farad Sinter…Hari turned to Boon and whispered, “Did you know this would come up now?”

Boon replied, “No. Sinter has filed another writ claiming the right to question you during this trial, for his own purposes of gathering evidence. I don’t believe Chen can deny the writ, unless he wants to deny the authority of General Security. It’s not in his best interests to do that…yet.”

Hari leaned back. Gaal was already in the middle of his answer, precise and unequivocal, as was his habit.

“They’re an ancient myth, and, of course, I suppose they might have existed at one time, in the dim past. I know of childhood stories”

“We are not concerned with childhood stories,” the advocate said. “In the interests of investigating this issue before it gets a thorough public airing, we need to know if you have ever had personal knowledge of the existence of a robot or robots.”

Gaal smiled, a little embarrassed by the ridiculous subject. “No,” he said.

“Are you absolutely certain?”

“Yes. I have never had personal knowledge.”

“Do robots serve in Professor Seldon’s Project?”

“I know of none, personally,” Gaal said.

“Thank you,” the advocate said. “Now, I would like to once again, and for the last time, call Professor Hari Seldon.”

Hari took the stand once more, and watched Gaal retire back to the Crib of the Accused. They exchanged brief glances; Gaal was completely puzzled by this line of questioning, and well he might be. What in hell did robots have to do with Hari or the Project?

“Professor, these proceedings have proved wearisome and unpredictive-I mean, unproductive!-to us all.” The advocate shook his head at this slip of the tongue and grimaced, all for show, Hari was convinced.

“I agree,” Hari said quietly.

“Now a new element has been introduced, and we must ask these final questions in the interests of performing our duties with loyal efficiency and attention to detail.”

“Of course,” Hari said.

“Are any robots currently employed in your Project?”

“No,” Hari said.

“Have any robots ever served in this Project?”

“No,” Hari said.

“Have you ever been acquainted with any robots?”

“No,” Hari said, and hoped that Daneel’s conditioning would deceive any lie-detection equipment being secretly employed by Chen.

“In your opinion, is this concern about robots symptomatic of a failing Empire?”

“No,” Hari said. “Throughout history, humans have always been distracted by upwellings from their mythic past.”

“And what do you mean by ‘mythic past’?”

“We try to make connections with our past, just as we try to extend ourselves indefinitely into the future. We are an aggrandizing race. We imagine a past that fits our present, or explains our present, and as our knowledge of the past dims, we fill it with our modern psychological concerns.”

“What concern do robots represent?”

“Loss of control, I would imagine.”

“Have you ever felt this ‘loss of control,’ professor?”

“Yes, but I have never blamed it on robots.”

The barons smiled, then immediately sobered at a rise of Chen’s index finger. Chen was listening very intently.

“Is this Empire threatened by a conspiracy of robots?”

“It does not figure in my calculations,” Hari said, quite truthfully.

“Are you prepared to answer even more detailed questions from the advocates for General Security tomorrow, pertaining to this subject?”

Hari nodded. “If necessary, yes.”

The advocate dismissed him. Hari returned to the box and leaned over to ask Boon, “What was that all about?”

“The Commission is covering its hindquarters,” Boon said, out of earshot of Gaal Dornick. “I’ve received a message from my office.” He produced a note. “Sinter is after you, professor. He’s asking for another indictment to be prepared on behalf of the Commission for General Security. He requests waiver of double prosecution on discovery of extraordinary evidence. That’s all I’ve been able to learn.”

“You mean, this trial won’t be the end of it?”

“I’m afraid not,” Boon said. “I’ll try to make the General Security proceedings just an extension-invoke your meritocratic right for adjunct hearing on related inquisition-but I don’t know how the new system will work.”

“Pity,” Hari said. “I know how much Linge Chen would like to be done with me. And I with him.” He looked at Boon with an expression that might have been mistaken for amusement.

Boon nodded solemnly. “Indeed,” he said.