are becoming eternal; that’s why whole systems are losing nuclear power and going back to barbarous techniques of chemical power.
“If you ask me,” he cried, “
the Galactic Empire is dying
!”
He paused and dropped into his chair to catch his breath, paying no attention to the two or three that were attempting simultaneously to answer him.
Crast got the floor. “I don’t know what you’re trying to gain by your hysterical statements, Mr. Mayor. Certainly, you are adding nothing constructive to the discussion. I move, Mr. Chairman, that the speaker’s remarks be placed out of order and the discussion be resumed from the point where it was interrupted.”
Jord Fara bestirred himself for the first time. Up to this point Fara had taken no part in the argument even at its hottest. But now his ponderous voice, every bit as ponderous as his three-hundred-pound body, burst its bass way out.
“Haven’t we forgotten something, gentlemen?”
“What?” asked Pirenne, peevishly.
“That in a month we celebrate our fiftieth anniversary.” Fara had a trick of uttering the most obvious platitudes with great profundity.
“What of it?”
“And on that anniversary,” continued Fara, placidly, “Hari Seldon’s Vault will open. Have you ever considered what might be in the Vault?”
“I don’t know. Routine matters. A stock speech of congratulations, perhaps. I don’t think any significance need be placed on the Vault—though the
Journal
”—and he glared at Hardin, who grinned back—“did try to make an issue of it. I put a stop to that.”
“Ah,” said Fara, “but perhaps you are wrong. Doesn’t it strike you”—he paused and put a finger to his round little nose—“that the Vault is opening at a very convenient time?”
“Very
in
convenient time, you mean,” muttered Fulham. “We’ve got some other things to worry about.”
“Other things more important than a message from Hari Seldon? I think not.” Fara was growing more pontifical than ever, and Hardin eyed him thoughtfully. What was he getting at?
“In fact,” said Fara, happily, “you all seem to forget that Seldon was the greatest psychologist of our time and that he was the founder of our Foundation. It seems reasonable to assume that he used his science to determine the probable course of the history of the immediate future. If he did, as seems likely, I repeat, he would certainly have managed to find a way to warn us of danger and, perhaps, to point out a solution. The Encyclopedia was very dear to his heart, you know.”
An aura of puzzled doubt prevailed. Pirenne hemmed. “Well, now, I don’t know. Psychology is a great science, but—there are no psychologists among us at the moment, I believe. It seems to me we’re on uncertain ground.”
Fara turned to Hardin. “Didn’t you study psychology under Alurin?”
Hardin answered, half in reverie: “Yes, I never completed my studies, though. I got tired of theory. I wanted to be a psychological engineer, but we lacked the facilities, so I did the next best thing—I went into politics. It’s practically the same thing.”
“Well, what do you think of the Vault?”
And Hardin replied cautiously, “I don’t know.”
He did not say a word for the remainder of the meeting—even though it got back to the subject of the Chancellor of the Empire.
In fact, he didn’t even listen. He’d been put on a new track and things were falling into place—just a little. Little angles were fitting together—one or two.
And psychology was the key. He was sure of that.
He was trying desperately to remember the psychological theory he had once learned—and from it he got one thing right at the start.
A great psychologist such as Seldon could unravel human emotions and human reactions sufficiently to be able to predict broadly the historical sweep of the future.
And what would that mean?
4
Lord Dorwin took snuff. He also had long hair, curled intricately and, quite
“If you ask me,” he cried, “
the Galactic Empire is dying
!”
He paused and dropped into his chair to catch his breath, paying no attention to the two or three that were attempting simultaneously to answer him.
Crast got the floor. “I don’t know what you’re trying to gain by your hysterical statements, Mr. Mayor. Certainly, you are adding nothing constructive to the discussion. I move, Mr. Chairman, that the speaker’s remarks be placed out of order and the discussion be resumed from the point where it was interrupted.”
Jord Fara bestirred himself for the first time. Up to this point Fara had taken no part in the argument even at its hottest. But now his ponderous voice, every bit as ponderous as his three-hundred-pound body, burst its bass way out.
“Haven’t we forgotten something, gentlemen?”
“What?” asked Pirenne, peevishly.
“That in a month we celebrate our fiftieth anniversary.” Fara had a trick of uttering the most obvious platitudes with great profundity.
“What of it?”
“And on that anniversary,” continued Fara, placidly, “Hari Seldon’s Vault will open. Have you ever considered what might be in the Vault?”
“I don’t know. Routine matters. A stock speech of congratulations, perhaps. I don’t think any significance need be placed on the Vault—though the
Journal
”—and he glared at Hardin, who grinned back—“did try to make an issue of it. I put a stop to that.”
“Ah,” said Fara, “but perhaps you are wrong. Doesn’t it strike you”—he paused and put a finger to his round little nose—“that the Vault is opening at a very convenient time?”
“Very
in
convenient time, you mean,” muttered Fulham. “We’ve got some other things to worry about.”
“Other things more important than a message from Hari Seldon? I think not.” Fara was growing more pontifical than ever, and Hardin eyed him thoughtfully. What was he getting at?
“In fact,” said Fara, happily, “you all seem to forget that Seldon was the greatest psychologist of our time and that he was the founder of our Foundation. It seems reasonable to assume that he used his science to determine the probable course of the history of the immediate future. If he did, as seems likely, I repeat, he would certainly have managed to find a way to warn us of danger and, perhaps, to point out a solution. The Encyclopedia was very dear to his heart, you know.”
An aura of puzzled doubt prevailed. Pirenne hemmed. “Well, now, I don’t know. Psychology is a great science, but—there are no psychologists among us at the moment, I believe. It seems to me we’re on uncertain ground.”
Fara turned to Hardin. “Didn’t you study psychology under Alurin?”
Hardin answered, half in reverie: “Yes, I never completed my studies, though. I got tired of theory. I wanted to be a psychological engineer, but we lacked the facilities, so I did the next best thing—I went into politics. It’s practically the same thing.”
“Well, what do you think of the Vault?”
And Hardin replied cautiously, “I don’t know.”
He did not say a word for the remainder of the meeting—even though it got back to the subject of the Chancellor of the Empire.
In fact, he didn’t even listen. He’d been put on a new track and things were falling into place—just a little. Little angles were fitting together—one or two.
And psychology was the key. He was sure of that.
He was trying desperately to remember the psychological theory he had once learned—and from it he got one thing right at the start.
A great psychologist such as Seldon could unravel human emotions and human reactions sufficiently to be able to predict broadly the historical sweep of the future.
And what would that mean?
4
Lord Dorwin took snuff. He also had long hair, curled intricately and, quite
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