It all started as a thought experiment: why isn't Asimov's inspirational Foundation story already on the screen? Either as a movie, trilogy, miniseries, or full-fledged series?
The source, as often happens, is old and shows its age. Rewording, tweaking, translating the original texts will be needed. Some bits could be fleshed out. But the message is as clear and timely as always.
What would it take to bring the old fable to modern audiences and get 'em into Seldon's grand Plan? Can the essence be preserved, even if the wrapping changes? How much?
It can't be that hard...
My experiments so far (in screenplay format):
In the old decadent Galactic Empire, a genius mathematician hatches a plan to preserve civilization: Psychohistorians. Concluded in The Plan.
* # WIDE URBAN AVENUE. Endlessly long, densely LINED with sophisticated (glass, metal, ceramics...) 200-story-high SKYSCRAPERS (a few slightly newer/shinier than the rest), long LENGTHS of DARK silk hanging down their facades (among 'em too). Everything fully covered/domed by a ceiling DISPLAYING a perfectly CLOUDY DAY. Empty of traffic. No sign of life (animals, plants) except:
(Aerial POLICE DRONE view of) A silent multitude (of all stations) PACKS the sides, WATCHING:
A massive stately elaborated DRESS PARADE with long LINES of SOLDIERS, MUSIC BANDS, HONOR GUARDS, MOURNERS, Funeral-Flower-carriers, etc. marching SOLEMNLY around:
A lone FLOATING (massive, ornamented, horse-drawn?) BIER carrying a big sculpted (darkwood, gold) COFFIN, its center covered with a splendid SILKEN (black) FLAG of a GOLDEN stylized SUN (globe-y) + a SILVER stylized SPACESHIP (cigar-y).
CAPTION: TRANTOR
FADE IN: Imperial Capital
FADE IN: (near the Galactic Core)
FADE IN: 12069 G.E
The bier reaches a GAP in the skyscraper 'walls':
An imposing 10-blocks-long 20-stories-high WHITE-STONE WALL/facade (behind an 'invisible' energy BARRIER). Beyond it: open clear sky, extensive GARDENS (w/ flowers, trees, animals...). On its (crenellated) top: 'spaceship+sun' BANNERS, soldiers manning slender BLAST CANNONS. Significant DAYLIGHT spills over it, onto the people & tall buildings opposite.
PROJECTED onto suitable surfaces:
GIANT portraits of SELDON, captioned with a carousel of: Distinguished Professor Man of the people Genius mathematician Minister of the Empire Worked for a better Future
Halfway up, a long BALCONY with 100s of NOTABLES, aristocrats, COURTIERS, et al. (gaudily dressed, w/ DRINKS) watching the event.
SELDON
(Voice Over, old)
The Galactic Empire has stood for 12000 years.
Higher up, a smaller balcony with 10s of pokerfaced GOVERNMENT OFFICIALS (aristocratic, old-ish, formally attired, w/ office STAFFS).
SELDON (V.O)
All 25 million inhabited worlds in the Galaxy owe allegiance to Trantor.
Still higher, a small balcony with the somber young EMPEROR (mid-10s, GOLD crown, darkish embroidered TUNIC, purple CAPE w/ 'spaceship+sun').
SELDON (V.O)
This will be the last half-century when that's still true.
On the middle balcony:
HIGH LORD 1
We could have allowed some of his people to come pay their last respects.
HIGH LORD 2
And give 'em the chance to start agitating again about a better and 'more scientific' government?
HIGH LORD 3
If not for his popularity among the commoners, we wouldn't even have organized this circus, with our Emperor still so new to the job!
HIGHEST LORD
Patience: With luck, today will be the last we hear of him and his damn prophecies!
A (fist-sized, GHOSTLY white) NUMBER 99.15 FLOATS nearby.
-+- PSYCHOHISTORIANS -+-
* SPACE. A small white-yellow SUN. Not much else. In the background, sparse stars, clustered near the farther-than-usual MILKY WAY 'river'.
TURN TO:
* SPACE. A middling brown-gray PLANET with several bright SPECS around glinting in the sunlight (Artificial SATELLITES, a fair-sized SPACESHIP...) 1 of which ZOOMS towards the narrow mostly-cloud-less atmosphere.
CAPTION: TERMINUS
FADE IN: (Near the Galactic Edge)
FADE IN: Youngest colony of
the Galactic Empire
FADE IN: 7 MONTHS EARLIER
PLUNGE INTO:
# * MASSIVE DUST CLOUD. DAY (dark, no hint of a sun). Billowing. Dense. STORMY.
SOUND of strong, buffeting WINDS.
PILOT
(Off Screen)
Sorry 'bout the views. Atmosphere's got too little water, too many particles!
Random TINY blue-white energy IMPACTS against the (circular?) screen. Swirly. INSISTENT.
A large LIGHTNING BOLT (glimpsed) in the distance. View SHAKES/SHUDDERS.
PILOT (O.S)
Nothing our Shields and Gravitics can't handle!
A THICKER blue-white Shield-membrane RISES (at an angle) to ENCOMPASS the view.
# BIG CIRCULAR ROOM. Low (artificial) light. A ring of (smallish) round VIEWPORTS line it (head level). Under them, SEATS with 10s of weary TRAVELERS (all kinds, young couples, CHILDREN...) all holding onto ARMRESTS/STRAPS.
Among 'em, glum GAAL (30s, business/academic). On her PAD screen: A great empire does not fall until
it has destroyed itself from within
A yellowish 97.56 FLOATS around.
Slight SHUDDER. Wind howling STOPS.
PILOT (O.S)
That was the Colony's Shield. We'll touchdown in a minute.
The FLOATING '97.56' CLIMBS to: 99.27
* BARREN PLAINS. OVERCAST DAY (no hint of water, greenery, animals...) Under a DOME SHIELD (half-invisible, 3-4 kilometers wide, half as tall) scintillating with 1000s of small IMPACTS from the all-around dust STORM.
At its center:
(Bird's eye view of) A LARGE upright bullet-shaped SPACESHIP (half as tall as the dome) with 10s of small WINDOWS, GOLDEN 'spaceship+sun' LOGO, small/discreet WEAPONS & ANTENNAS, vents releasing VAPOR wisps... propped/stabilized by big FINS, surrounded by much smaller BUILDINGS (many prefab-style), 50+ busy WORKSITES (digging, laying, erecting...), vehicles, machinery & PEOPLE like insects...
Another FLOATING number: 41
A FLYING SAUCER (80-120 meters wide, no rocketry, only minimal attitude thrusters) APPROACHES, LANDS on a (far side) PAD, extends a RAMP.
Crates + TRAVELERS descend it while (a few) others BOARD.
PILOT (O.S)
Your luggage will be at the Administrative building. Enjoy your stay at the cold raw edge of the Galaxy!
On the (cobblestone) road, a PARKED CAR (streamlined, retro-futuristic? convertible) branded: Synnax
City
TAXI
Putting her BRIEFCASE into the Taxi:
DRIVER
Good morning, Miss! Rainmakers outdid themselves today.
GAAL
Weather Control has other concerns beyond your car, Eli!
As she CLIMBS in:
DRIVER
Wish they didn't. Where to? City Council? The University?
GAAL
The Spaceport. I got the Trantor call!
STARTING the car (sounds of tires):
DRIVER
At long last! Time someone who knows how to manage things went there. Will you plead our case?
GAAL
(amused?)
I'll be busy learning from the best Theoretical Statisticians and Psychologists in the Galaxy. What would that case be?
DRIVER
We need better roads! More hover-lanes! Strangled traffic keeps Cities from growing as they should!
GAAL
It isn't so simple: Improved roads, Mass Transit, new buildings, farms, factories... all require more Energy than our current Power Plants can supply.
Cruising the tree-lined road (some STREAMLINED wind-turbines around):
DRIVER
Why not build more Solar or Wind?
GAAL
Same reason we don't use fully-automated vehicles: Beyond a certain point, costs outweigh benefits.
Approaching a (paved) HIGHWAY RAMP:
DRIVER
So... we need more Nucleic Plants.
GAAL
(sighs)
We already operate all the Secondaries our Primary will accommodate! The Council and the Governor have been asking Trantor for decades to enlarge it. But it's a strategical matter for the Fleet too, the Military, which makes things 10 times more complicated...
After the ramp, the Taxi smoothly FLOATS INTO the (copper-circuitry-filigreed-glass) hover-lanes of a brisk HI-TECH multi-lane multi-level SUPERHIGHWAY (filled to capacity, 1000s of lights blinking, incl. TRAINS).
On the DASHBOARD, a small SCREEN shows an Auto-Pilot
Engaged warning.
DRIVER
You'll meet 'em bureaucrats face to face, they won't ignore you! Grandma used to say when a tree stops growing it starts dying.
The gaudy river of cars LEADS to a sprawling skyscraper-studded metal-glass MEGA-CITY covering most of the horizon (glittering in sunlight, with a big RAINBOW over it).
GAAL
(glum)
None of her trees lived longer than 100 centuries, I bet. Nor did they encompass the entire Milky Way Galaxy, or rule 25 million worlds with anywhere from 1 to 100 billion population each...
About to enter a long TUNNEL:
GAAL
Who knows, with luck I may be heard amid the general clamoring!
Onboard the speeding CAR, (stretchable, foldable?) PAD in hand, FLIPPING menus & screens (GLIMPSES of much fancier architecture):
GAAL
(worried)
How bad is it? In this month of Jumping around from Trantor to here all the Reports I've seen were rather... terse.
Driving:
SENIOR
(grim)
Imperial Surveyors were right 15 centuries ago: this dustball is barely good enough for Colonizing. Sunlight's poor, magnetic field's weak, air's thin... A fitting capstone to my distinguished Career!
The floating '37' BECOMES: 35
GAAL
Founded many Colonies before?
SENIOR
(stung?)
I'm a Senior Planetologist, with 100s of Planetary Studies under my...!
(beat)
Nevermind. I helped choose this site, far from the dangers of storms, floods, volcanoes, quakes... Not that there'll be a lot of those, this rock isn't active enough. It's freezing nights that'll doom us.
GAAL
There were supposed to be enough Greenhouse gases.
TURNING towards the big central SHIP:
SENIOR
Before the Seeding of soil-conditioning microbes, back then, maybe. Now we have more Carbon compounds and free Oxygen, but with the shallow oceans, wild and unreliable wind currents and heat cycle...
Re: the SHIELD/DUST-STORM above:
SENIOR
Days are often dustier, blocking sunlight. Many nights, the scarce moisture falls to the ground as ice crystals.
The floating '35' drops to: 29
GAAL
Hence the Shield. Can we afford to use it so much?
SENIOR
Hardly. But we need it against these storms, and most nights too. It'll exhaust in 2-4 years our precious power Nucleics that should last 12-15.
The floating '29' drops to: 24
GAAL
The Empire pledged to get us up and running, but I doubt we can get 'em to deliver another big batch of Nucleics (or a self-sufficient Powerplant) soon enough... Can the Conditioning be adjusted, or accelerated?
SENIOR
(sighs)
The star (and the whole system) is low on heavier-than-Iron Elements. The planet is low on water, organics, useful minerals... everything! What little we've found is too scattered, not really worth the effort to mine it out, cheaper to bring from anywhere else.
The floating '24' drops to: 21
GAAL
So, no Plasteel or fibers? Hence all the brick, concrete and stone buildings?
SENIOR
Best our Fabbers can do with what's available. At least glass is cheap to make, if we forget about fancy mixes.
GAAL
No wonder schedules are all awry. But our time's running out!
Parking the car next to the towering SHIP:
SENIOR
Extreme weather prevents us from deploying Solar or Wind collectors. There's not enough qualified workers, too many mouths to feed. Our Hydroponics don't grow fast enough to replenish Reserves...
Re: her PAD:
GAAL
We are following Procedures from the heyday of the Colonization Waves, 50 centuries ago, last updated when the Agises were still strong, 20 centuries ago.
(beat)
I was right. We were never meant to succeed.
The '21' becomes: 18
SENIOR
We cannot build a self-sustaining settlement here. Some want to redeploy the Colony Ship, abandon this folly, and return.
Both LOOK upwards.
GAAL
No longer an option: our legal eagles back home lost the last Appeal. News reached me 5 Jumps ago. The Exodus needs to accelerate.
SENIOR
(glum)
That'll be great for morale. Will you tell the Team Leaders?
GAAL
Tomorrow, I guess. Shouldn't I?
Opening a service DOOR (elevated, at the top of 4-6 metal STEPS) next to some FAT PIPES (from the ship's side into the ground) with SIGNS: CAUTION!
HI-Power
Conduits STAY CLEAR!
SENIOR
Your call. The Meeting is scheduled early, before the Workday proper starts. Plenty Sleeping Quarters up here for you to choose.
She FOLLOWS him inside.
* SPACE. SYNNAX ORBIT. Beyond, a sizable (orangish) MOON. Farther, a (darkish) GAS GIANT. In the background, the writhing TENDRILS of the Blue Drift NEBULA.
100+ flying saucers, assorted TRANSPORTS, patrolships, yachts... around a HUGE SPHEROIDAL CRUISESHIP (hollow, with a central protruding/pointy cigar-shaped CORE) sporting 10s of big VIEWPORTS (wide 1-deck-tall on the fore/aft sections, narrow 10-deckers on the rest), 1000s of brightly-lit (round) WINDOWS + 30-50 evenly-spaced (slender) STRUTS with (torpedo-shaped) shield/weapons/manoeuver PODS attached on top (not unlike MINNOWS 'round a balloonfish).
CAPTION: Imperial Star-Liner
PROCYON
Dandelion Class
FADE IN: (loading / refitting)
# FLYING SAUCER. Coming thru the upper atmosphere, APPROACHES the waiting behemoth.
GAAL watches (many of) the Liner's WINDOWS & PODS pass by (+ other ships), until:
BACK TO:
The flying saucer DOCKS at 1 of the PODS (not unlike a half-pea onto a pea-pod).
# PROCYON CORRIDORS. Well-lit, well-appointed (not luxurious). PEOPLE going to and fro.
GAAL follows her PAD's directions, TURNS corners, finally arrives at a door.
She TOUCHES to it her new SILVER RING (ENGRAVED with tiny PROCYON
Class A letters).
The door displays an error message: WRONG ROOM CODE!
Please wait in the
OBSERVATION LOUNGE
She TRIES again. Same result.
# PROCYON OBSERVATION LOUNGE. Relatively narrow. A few PEOPLE (incl. FRIEND) watch the floor-to-ceiling WINDOW (showing the planet + ships/orbitals).
GAAL enters.
Approaching:
SHIP OFFICER
Ah! Glad to meet you! I'm the Deck's Manager, at your service!
(BOWS curtly)
You are with the Imperial University, right?
GAAL
I got a Scholarship for the Statistics, Systems, and Planning Group. Haven't had the entry Interview yet.
Offering a GOLDEN BRACELET (ENGRAVED with tiny PROCYON
1st Class letters).
SHIP OFFICER
We have a special deal for University members. Your Room has been upgraded, your Travel Voucher updated. Sorry for the inconvenience!
# PROCYON LIFT. GAAL watches the slit/vertical WINDOWS (showing glimpses of the inner fusiform CORE + its sturdy STRUTS).
# MEETING/CONTROL ROOM. Night lights. A big central table. Around the walls, ship machinery/consoles doing their thing.
GAAL, alone, TYPES on her PAD: Parameters much worse than
expected. Need assessment!
When she SENDS it, the screen changes to: MESSAGE SENT
Priority Hyper-relay trip
to Trantor: 12 hours.
Outside light briefly UNDIMS as:
* BARREN PLAINS. DUSK. Beyond the dark cloud cover, the small sun SETS over the horizon.
A trick of light & floating ice particles turns the bright pearl into a dazzling LIGHT PILLAR (with a fainter sibling to each side).
BACK TO:
She absorbs it for a moment, then it's gone.
# PROCYON SUITE. Dimly lit. Richly appointed. Gaal's BRIEFCASE on the bed. The door OPENS.
As GAAL enters, LIGHTS intensify, the inner door DISPLAYS: Bathroom
/
Emergency
ESCAPE POD
Please stand by for
clock Syncing and
Safety instructions.
* SPACE. SYNNAX ORBIT. Finally alone, the Cruiseship revvs ENGINES (core, pods), leisurely getting away, while its Shield intensifies to clearly VISIBLE, swelling/rippling just under the outer PODS.
# Gaal's SUITE. The outside WINDOW shows the receding planet/background + moving stars.
She watches the HOLO of a slowly-rotating SIMPLIFIED SHIP's SCHEMATIC/MODEL.
NARRATOR
...modular design, every room has independent self-contained Life Support, including air and water Recycling, which will cover most emergencies. No part of the ship is more than 3 minutes away from a Refuge. If disaster strikes, you'll get multi-sensory and electronic warnings...
The virtual Procyon DROPS Shields, RELEASES the semi-independent 'outrider' PODS, ERUPTS with 1000s of tiny Escape 'bubbles' (leaving all the corresponding HOLES).
GAAL (sotto)
Whoa!
The upper screen starts a COUNTDOWN: Time to Jump:
35 secs
GAAL checks the window.
NARRATOR
... variety of sleep and anti-nausea pills to minimize any possible discomfort related to the Hyperspace Jump, the best and safest method of Interstellar travel known to Mankind.
The holo ENDS with a Enjoy your trip! banner.
The countdown TICKS down to 6, 5, 4 secs...
BACK TO:
In deep space, RUNNING at full speed, the Cruiseship JUMPS/BLINKS out!
# MEETING/CONTROL ROOM. Night WATCHER peeks IN.
GAAL (arms crossed), WATCHES outside thru the WIDE VIEWPORT.
Her (towering) P.o.V:
* BARREN PLAINS. NIGHT. (bird's eye view of) Most worksites ACTIVE under strong FLOODLIGHTS.
SHIPS arriving/leaving.
A few STARS (a hint of the Milky Way) visible thru the faint DOME SHIELD.
Outside the DOME, light SNOWING.
BACK TO:
The '18' becomes: 14
She briefly CLOSES her eyes, SHAKES her head.
# PROCYON PROMENADE DECK. Ample, luxurious. Artificial (subdued) light. Some (upper-crust-y) PEOPLE watch the side-to-side WINDOW showing a hazy star CLUSTER (not unlike a paralyzed SWARM of colorful fireflies).
Enjoying their DRINKS:
FRIEND
(charming, late-30s, formal-casual)
... it's the runs between Jumps which take time, calibrating, calculating, getting into position...
GAAL
Nothing compared to the millennia the same trip would last under the Speed of Light.
FRIEND
Still, many people spend their time in the Shops, the Casinos, or sleep thru most of it.
GAAL
Which kinda defeats the purpose of a luxury Liner looping all the way to the outer portions of the Galaxy and back.
Re: the WINDOW:
FRIEND
These magnificent vistas surely beat seeing the same things on TV. And the price is such a brief pang of... nothingness.
A screen starts a COUNTDOWN: Time to Jump:
25 secs
FRIEND
Here comes!
Some of the others hastily TAKE a pill.
BLINK to black / BLINK back!
The window now SHOWS a blue-white gaseous NEBULA (not unlike icy cold smoke CLOUDS)
GAAL
Ack! ... Wow, you were right, the pill does smooth it!
Merriment.
FRIEND
As we travel towards the denser center of the galaxy, Jumps become harder to plot.
GAAL
As there are many more Gravity wells and debris fields to avoid?
FRIEND
That, and the vastly increased traffic, with every ship needing manoeuvering room, supplies, security screening... A trip that should take, say, 10 jumps, needs 50.
# MEETING/CONTROL ROOM. Night shift. GAAL, alone, REVIEWS (simplified) GRAPHS on her PAD.
Supplies (see-saw/descending) Population (exponential/ascending) Completion.
Projected vs Actual (see-saw/ascending) Delays (jumpy/ascending) Morale (jumpy/descending)
The 14 FLOATS around the corners.
# PROCYON RESTAURANT. Well-lit. 100s of people, waiters, soft music... WINDOWS show deep-space VISTAS (with noticeably DENSER background stars)
Enjoying their dinner:
FRIEND
... know Seldon only by reputation? Pity. My readers would kill to learn every detail 'bout the famous Academic who reached a prime Ministerial post only to see his master the Emperor assassinated a few years later.
In a good DRESS:
GAAL
His Statistical Psychology papers are groundbreaking almost to the point of unreadability, but his Sociological Equations are so original and beautiful! The way he uses his Derivatives and Expansions is...
(beat)
Of course not as interesting as the Imperial Court with all the Aristocracy, the Military, the Ceremonies...
FRIEND
Dress Parades, Coronations and Grand Councils? You'd be surprised how fast that gets old, unless there's a marriage, or a coup...
(SHRUGS)
What can I say, if the Empire was perfectly stable and uneventful, the likes of me would be out of a job.
GAAL
People value their Entertainment, to be sure, yet I bet they'd better appreciate the Drama if there was less of it, mixed with longer stretches of boredom.
FRIEND
(glum)
Tell that to the Pirates who attacked our sister vessel Betelgeuse when she was berthed at Florina, not 10 years ago. She could Jump to safety, but many others weren't so fortunate and are now a dry statistic.
GAAL
Numbers are dry only if you don't think about the people they represent.
# MEETING/CONTROL ROOM. Night shift.
GAAL, alone, REVIEWS a large/complex WORKFLOW chart on her PAD, ZOOMS some key parts. INPUTS numbers and other data. Goes back to the GRAPHS, which don't quite improve.
The '14' becomes: 15
Changing perspectives (+ a FLOODLIGHT outside FLASHING across the windows) HIDE the screens she OPENS next.
* SPACE. A fiery white TORCH of a star outshines all others. A fair distance away, Procyon (silhouetted against its glare) APPROACHES, adjusts course.
# PROCYON OBSERVATION POST. Utilitarian. Low artificial light.
A SCREEN shows a (magnified) SHINY BLOB of a planet next to a SHINIER star.
GAAL
Wow! It really does reflect a lot of sunlight! It's a case study in every Community Planner's Library, but still: a whole planet covered in metal... in a single city!
FRIEND
That's the old rusty-ball, all right. The Human Race's radiant Heart!
Switching CONTROLS/VIEWS:
GAAL
It's even brighter on infrared... So much waste heat to deal with, despite [+] Advanced Nucleic Powerplants solving all energy needs!
FRIEND
It wouldn't have been possible without the resources of the Empire, but with the growing population and every river and sweetwater body piped, diverted, used, the Oceans evaporating... The water cycle and the Climate simply stopped working.
GAAL
I've seen how complex Government machinery can be, and how many actual machines it involves. Few people realize that.
FRIEND
You bet! Databanks, processors, communications, human interfaces... plus all the Court's trappings and a full Planetary Shield. Trantor's rule over the Galaxy has taken its toll along the millennia.
GAAL
That's how 1 of the richest Agricultural worlds in the Galaxy became the biggest climate-conditioned City of all time.
FRIEND
On the plus side, building on dried seabeds while demolishing mountains for room and raw materials allows for truly great towers.
GAAL
How can people live with barely any hint of Nature or open air around (if you exclude the Imperial Palace's grounds)?
FRIEND
It's an unfortunate necessity but, y'know, living in the bowels of the political, economic, cultural and social center of the Universe has its perks.
# MEETING/CONTROL ROOM. Night shift. GAAL, alone, SLEEPS on her chair (her PAD in starfield/anti-snoop mode).
PLUNGE INTO:
* TRANTOR AIRSPACE. AFTERNOON. Bright WHITE level-ish surface (no mountains or any other natural features). PALE-BLUE cloudless sky. Far above, the Procyon's orbiting SPECK (+ BUNCHES of visible STARS). Strong whine of (constant) WIND.
CAPTION: TRANTOR
FADE IN: Mankind's richest world
Gradually discerned on approach: a (fractal-ish) patchwork of DOMES of all sizes, flatter SURFACES, ramps, the TOPS of some GIGANTIC buildings (slightly) protruding. SPACESHIPS/UFOs coming/going, other floating VEHICLES...
FADE IN: ADMINISTRATORS (+ data handlers, lawyers, attendants): 400 BILLION.
RINGS of (slender) mooring TOWERS, beacons, Defense CANNONS...
# * 8-PASSENGER MODULE (walk-in, squarish w/ rounded corners). A 2x2 GRID of double (swiveling) SEATS. Glass CANOPY & FLOOR. Fast GLIDING (in the middle of a TRAIN of MANY others, more or less occupied) over a (mostly-transparent, iridescent?) GLASSY platform (1 of many, with slightly RAISED rims + tenuous PATTERN of alternating half-circles) SUSPENDED halfway up the (barely discerned) dome-y CEILING inside a GIANT cavernous (noisy) BUILDING.
GAAL watches it all, MESMERIZED: other platforms/TRAINS around, on the far below FLOOR the ant-like THRONGS of people (uniformed and not), toy-like carts, kiosks, SHOPS, restaurants, the large (floating) DEPARTURES
and ARRIVALS billboards...
A small (armed) POLICE DRONE flies close by, then away, softly buzzing.
TAPPING controls to OPAQUE (their section of) the floor to 50%:
FRIEND
(suave)
Enough for now. You don't want to become spoiled! Or spooked!
Another long TRAIN (in the opposite direction) RUSHES by their side.
GAAL
(grinning)
We should have these at Synnax!
FRIEND
Why not: they only cost a fortune to build and maintain, plus the energy. There'd be no hovertrains up here if the planet's underground wasn't so stuffed with layers of machinery, farms, tunnels, generators, water cisterns, archives, and everything!
They (+ other nearby trains) APPROACH a still far yet towering WALL of (clear, sun-rainbowed) GLASS:
GAAL
Underground wouldn't quite be the same!
* GIANT GLASS FACADE. DUSK. With a HUGE BANNER: SPACEPORT
Center 260 West
As the train EXITS it (thru 1 of many cozy oval PORTS):
FRIEND
Definitely!
The surrounding BUILDINGS are all different, even taller/bigger, their ornate FACADES reaching all the way up to a DARKBLUE cloud-free SKY where a (yellow-orange) SUN SETS among (many) bright starry pinpricks (+ a distinctive center-view Milky Way galaxy), far ABOVE the (diverging) train platforms and the THRONGED (w/ vehicles, hovercars, pedestrians) STREETS far below.
Among the buildings leisurely GLIDES/FLOATS a manned PATROLSHIP/gunship (w/ several short- and long-barrel WEAPONS pointed at angles DOWNWARDS).
Looking UP:
GAAL
That sun... looks different. Softer.
FRIEND
It's a projection, filtered and time-shifted. Not all streets have it, but it helps with daily rhythms and ambience. Every District has its own flavor, some even prettier.
GAAL
So this is what Trantor City's "cavern" looks like, up close. TV doesn't do it justice! What about the Emperor's Palace?
FRIEND
100 square kilometers of forests, parks, and old buildings under the open sky, as TV shows it, under a Planetary Shield stronger than any Spaceport's. Sunlight filtered same as everywhere, though.
As the train RACES along the (canyon-ish) FACADES (on its PLATFORM, often SUBDIVIDING or REJOINING with others) the sky CHANGES (with the merest FLICKER) to early NIGHT. 1000s of night city LIGHTS come ON, wave after wave, a GALAXY of color!
* BIG-TICKET HOTEL, with wide STAIRS, powerful night LAMPS, + a big Luxor Hotel MARQUEE.
A much shorter TRAIN smoothly STOPS at the side PLATFORM (near the top of the stairs). 10s of people DEBARK. Among 'em:
FRIEND
An Ambassador-class place! Nice of 'em to book you here.
BRIEFCASE in hand:
GAAL
It'll be only 1 night. After that, I'll live on the University's premises, with the others.
FRIEND
(curt-BOWS)
This trip's been far more interesting than I had any right to expect. Specially the past 3 weeks.
GAAL
Mostly thanks to you. All these fascinating stops...! Ohh! 2 hours ago we were still aboard Procyon, matching orbits, but here we must part.
LOOKING around:
FRIEND
In case you didn't know: The current Emperor and his Court aren't friends of Hari Seldon. He doesn't play Courtier, hasn't left the Imperial University for years.
GAAL
He's a very busy man, a leading Scientist.
FRIEND
Many believe he's hiding his most important discoveries. Things concerning Trantor's well-being, perhaps even the whole Empire's.
GAAL
That's nonsens...
Leading her AWAY from the train platform while others BOARD:
FRIEND
(grim)
Sensationalist newspeople call him Raven Seldon since he started airing his beliefs that our decadent Empire cannot last, and that some of the worst horrors of past Eras could happen again soon: revolts, famines, wars...
GAAL
(shocked)
No!!
FRIEND
It could be a self-fulfilling Prophecy: he's well-known, respected. He forecasts mounting social unrest, people believe him, then get worried and restless, and there you have it: Like a spider on his web, he plays our strings and we dance!
The train LEAVES.
FRIEND
The Commission of Public Safety is rumoured to be building a Case against him and his closest associates. Things could get ugly: arrests, charges of Treason, trials...
GAAL
I can't... believe... !! Are you sure of all this?
FRIEND
You're an honest, hardworking person. I'd hate to see your Career destroyed, yourself thrown into a deep cell, only for being at the wrong place at the wrong time, mixing with the wrong people. Be very cautious!
Another train ARRIVES. He BOARDS it, waves farewell.
GAAL, speechless, slowly WAVES back.
(POLICE DRONE) view of:
She looks very SMALL/lost among the giant BUILDINGS and the heavy TRAFFIC (vehicles, unknown passers-by) several LEVELS below.
A train ARRIVES (from another direction).
# MEETING/CONTROL ROOM. EARLY MORNING (clear sunny SAPPHIRE sky outside).
6-8 people (incl. SENIOR) with GAAL around the table, interspersed with as many HOLOS.
GAAL
You made good progress despite the unusual limitations but, as most of you guess, this endeavour, as currently envisaged, has little chances of success. We must change that.
MURMURS. Agreement? Dissent?
The discreetly FLOATING '15' becomes a 16
* CANYON-ISH STREET. PRE-DAWN. Barely less traffic. A TRAIN appears 'round a corner (on its raised PLATFORM).
GAAL (tired) alone on her MODULE.
Her pad SCREEN: TRANTOR Imperial News:
Rabble-Rouser SELDON
at it AGAIN!
Spent the night hopping Trains, huh? I did pretty much the same, back when I first arrived from Helicon!
GAAL
(startled)
Who...!? Oh, it's you, Doctor Seldon!?
(looks around)
How...!? Doesn't matter: I'm leaving!
The train STARTS.
SELDON
How disappointing. We had a job interview scheduled today. Straightforward, thanks to your Degrees in Math and Psychology, applied for years in your role as Social Engineer and Mediator...
GAAL
(firm)
Well, there's no point now. You can play your political games with the Court, or whatever, without me.
A pale red 84.73 floats BETWEEN both.
SELDON
(firm)
But I need you to save Trantor, and with it the Empire and the entire Human race!
DAWN arrives (with the merest rainbow FLICKER) as the train TURNS a corner, RUSHING towards the (distant) Spaceport. Night LIGHTS fade / shut off.
GAAL
What are you talking about? Save, from what? Isn't that the Government's job? They pay your bills. Go tell 'em!
SELDON
Unfortunately, they care about little more than keeping things as they are, themselves in power, and ignore too many clues that are only evident to those who have studied Galactic History with the right tools.
* HUGE 'government' BUILDING. Metal/stone/glass, COLUMNS, 'spaceship+sun' LOGO and all. On reaching the recessed/widened PLATFORM before its 20th floor, the train STOPS. 100s of passengers DEBARK, spread out, enter the building's many DOORS... while as many others BOARD.
As the TRAIN resumes its route, something EXPLODES aboard a MODULE!
Flames/smoke engulf 3-4 more (+ their 10s of passengers, screaming GAAL, stony SELDON...) DAMAGE the PLATFORM, blow many WINDOWS around!
Safeties swiftly DISENGAGE the whole train. Even so, the BURNING/control-less modules (+ 1-2 others) FALL OFF onto the streets, while the rest (precariously) HANG ON.
A GHOSTLY floating 14.66 gets SWEPT away.
Sizable DEBRIS hits the upper hoverlanes (+ 100s of CARS) then the lower hoverlane (more cars), finally the STREET (packed with cars) + (fast-moving) sidewalks (1000+ PEDESTRIANS).
Our glorious Empire was forged in blood and fire, and by fire and blood it'll be undone. Not in a single battle, nor against an external enemy, but thanks to imperceptible historical trends that are slowly crushing it under its own weight.
GAAL
Why should I believe you?
SELDON
(smiles)
Indeed you should never believe all you're told. At least not before checking the Math.
(HANDING his PAD)
It's all in here. Your enrollment Application said you knew my work and my Equations. You even had your own ideas...
TAKING the pad:
GAAL
I wanted to use 'em, with their unique blend of Statistics and Psychology, to improve Urban Planning...
The pad DISPLAYS a set of convoluted undecipherable GRAPHS (3D? in BLACK / RED over WHITE). Unlabeled, unique, they BRANCH and re-unite, screenful after SCREENFUL.
The train APPROACHES the Spaceport's glass FACADE (with its Banner).
SELDON
(glum)
I used 'em to study much more than that, Miss Dornick, in my brief time as a Minister of the Empire, decades ago.
She ZOOMS IN until FINE lines/filigrees/details become apparent, UNDER/AROUND the main graphs, tracing diverging PATHS, loops, convergences, FRACTAL-like flourishes...
SELDON
What I learned then changed my life, and has kept me to this day looking hard for solutions and helpers.
PLUNGE INTO:
Further ZOOMING reveals (a roller-coaster of) finely-drawn EQUATIONS/SYMBOLS (in elegant/flowing SCRIPT) fed by some curves, SPAWNING others...
SELDON
I've found precious few of either, each and every one invaluable.
The train VANISHES thru 1 of the facade's many oval PORTS.
# MEETING/CONTROL ROOM. MORNING.
GAAL
(grim)
The Imperial Edict is clear: It's this or nothing!
SENIOR
It will still be death, only slower!
LEADER1
In this icy wasteland!?
LEADER2
(aghast)
Far from everything and everyone!?
LEADER3
I had a promising scientific career! It's not fair!
Others CONCUR.
GAAL
That's right. None of us will see our homes again. We'll all die here, cast out with little more than our hands, wits, and what scraps Trantor's political elites care to offer us. We may as well forget the Empire, as they'll forget us and our life's work.
SILENCE.
GAAL
But not yet! Remember why we're here, what we might accomplish, if only...!
Everybody GLANCES around at the others.
GAAL
We owe it to those who'll come after us and see the dream come true. We must keep hope alive, because the future of Mankind depends on us!
Agreement.
SENIOR
Aptly put. But how?
GAAL
Blasted if I know. Certainly not by following
(re: her PAD on the table)
inflexible Imperial custom and Procedures.
LEADER1
Hear, hear!
LEADER2
Told you so!
LEADER3
This was a mistake from day 1!
Despair?
SENIOR
We can only ask the Empire what their Procedures allow, when they allow. What else can we do?
GAAL
We are expected to fail, and that's our only freedom. But we are not alone, and we can draw new plans. Let's be creative, and fail to meet their expectations.
All these Historical events, so brilliantly analyzed, dissected, solved... The name of Psycho-History is well chosen. Never mind complexity, this must be published! The impact it will...!
SELDON
Destroy the Government, and with it the Empire, and all who live in it?
GAAL
What!? Why??
APPROACHING destination, the train SLOWS DOWN.
SELDON
My co-author, the late Yugo Amaryl, spent his last years verifying and refining our Equations and methods using 1000s of well-documented Historical records, all the way back to the times when Trantor's nascent Empire was only 1 of many.
GAAL
A monumental task, with so many variables to trace, including human behavior. That's why your Project needed so many people for so long?
SELDON
(nods)
1000s of Analysts, Mathematicians, Historians... Shortly before Amaryl's death, 15 years ago, I and others started testing our Models against much more recent data, trying to understand current History and Events as they unfolded.
Re: the pad:
GAAL
(awed)
These calculations... work with current, unfinished datasets?
SELDON
As you will soon see, they do, with unprecedented accuracy. People react in similar ways to similar stimuli, and larger samples yield better forecasting.
The train STOPS.
GAAL
But then, that would revolutionize the Empire! Open new...
A pale blue 90.01 slides BEHIND her.
SELDON
(sad)
Alas, we're Centuries too late. Check the last page.
She DOES (w/ mounting UNEASE).
SELDON
That's the Mathematical expression of the Empire today, with our best estimates of the most likely developments.
Most passengers LEAVE.
GAAL
(alarmed)
But this... cannot be!? With no margin for error!? It is a catastrophe!?
SELDON
Not yet. Not completely. There are a few secondary Branches around the main Equations.
GAAL
All of them have very low odds!
SELDON
(sighs)
It's all we got. We can still act, deflect the wrecking ball of History just enough to avoid the worst and bring hope of...
ARRIVING, in darkish UNIFORM, Blaster GUN (filigreed metal/glass, w/ latticework BARREL & broad star-shaped MUZZLE) in hand:
JERRIL
(formal)
Doctor Seldon, Doctor Dornick, you're both under arrest for High Treason!
There are armed POLICE OFFICERS (+ flying DRONES) on ALL the Trains/Platforms around.
GAAL
No!! Wait! You don't...!
SELDON
(cold)
Special Agent Jerril, why I'm not surprised.
# * TRAIN MODULE. Tension.
JERRIL SHOOTS!
The Blast (not unlike a streamlined LIGHTNING bolt) HITS SELDON (with a loud CRACK) squarely on the heart, TOPPLING him (slo-mo) backwards, WISPS of smoke off the burned HOLE (eye-size) in his clothing.
A ghostly 01.74 POPS in.
BACK TO:
JERRIL
(smiles back)
Nice of you to leave the University's grounds, and their extraordinary Privileges (granted by long-dead Emperors) that kept you shielded from Law and Justice!
Re: Gaal:
SELDON
You forced my hand, so close to the culmination of my work. We cannot afford to let go one so very talented and with a skillset so perfectly matching our needs.
GAAL
(deflated)
You are with the Commission?
TAKING the pad:
JERRIL
Sorry, Gaal, this was the only way [+]!
# MEETING/CONTROL ROOM. MID-MORNING.
TAPPING the table:
GAAL
We must rethink our goals, our needs, and our strengths.
LEADER1
The ultimate objective is the Library, the Research Centers, and...
LEADER2
They will have to wait until we can shelter and feed all of us when everybody finally arrives.
LEADER3
Don't forget breathable unfrozen air!
SENIOR
We'll need more Energy, for starters.
LEADER1
Raw materials!
LEADER2
Workers!
LEADER3
Ships!
Taking notes:
GAAL
Right. Imperial bureaucracy can supply some of those. We'll petition 'em for extra support, unlikely as they are to grant it. As for the rest... what are our assets?
Silent STARES all around.
LEADER1
A warehouse full of Datacubes? With more on the way?
GAAL
Who will value 'em, out here where neighboring worlds are so backward, or back home where knowledge pales before might?
LEADER2
What, then?
GAAL
We need to re-evaluate everything with new eyes. Problems, and solutions.
With a sweeping GESTURE encompassing the room with 'em all:
GAAL
(smiles)
Think! Isn't it obvious?
The ghostly '17' becomes a 18
# IMPOSING TRIBUNAL ROOM (polychromated high-ceiling, stone, WOOD, Imperial Banners & Flags with the 'spaceship+sun', uniformed GUARDS). SHADOWY. Closed HIGH DOORS.
Thru the (narrow/curtained) high WINDOWS (glimpses of Shielded GARDENS + PALACES, distant), light SHAFTS fall upon:
On a HIGH (stone) PLATFORM, a long (wood) DESK + high CHAIRS with 4-6 COMMISSIONERS (in scarlet+gold ROBES/caps, GRIM) flanking their leader, LINGE CHEN.
CAPTION: Commission of
Public Safety
At their feet, a small TABLE with SELDON, GAAL, + their LAWYER (formal, 40s).
FADE IN: Closed Hearing
Behind them, ROWS of (comfy, upholstered) BENCHES with 10s of Imperial BARONS (NOBLES, high BUREAUCRATS, Military CHIEFS... subtly arranged into different FACTIONS)
(vaporous) FADE IN/OUT: 95.87
At a (side) WITNESS LECTERN stands:
JERRIL
Our Spy Beams upon the Train recorded Seldon's usual subversive Propaganda. This time, we also got a comprehensive sample of the Equations allegedly behind it.
COMMISSIONER 1
Is that so? What do our experts say about his Math?
JERRIL
They cannot understand how it works, my Lord. Nobody outside his band of Loyalists does. They invented its symbols and its rules.
The audience MURMURS. SELDON's poker-faced.
COMMISSIONER 2
How can that be? They've been publishing Papers on it all for decades! Has the Empire run out of Scientists and Math people?
JERRIL
During that time, my Lord, Seldon's been recruiting everyone with the required high-level skills. 100s. All who listened to him. Like an infection, once his ideas catch 'em they become his Acolytes, eager to do and say anything he wants. We've seen how it worked on Dr. Dornick.
CHEN (+ others) look at GAAL (who CRINGES/blushes/cowers).
COMMISSIONER 3
It is our understanding, then, that certain kinds of Scientific minds, otherwise brilliant, are too easily entrapped by a certain kind of esoteric Truth, one that's undecipherable to the uninitiated, but gives the chosen ones the power to know what's best for all others?
JERRIL
I couldn't have put it better, my Lord.
COMMISSIONER 4
How mightily convenient! Seldon's the center of his own Religious Cult!
The audience AGREES.
CHEN
Thank you, Special Agent. Let's now hear what the Accused have to say for themselves.
JERRIL bows, RETREATS.
Both STANDING:
SELDON
I'll explain anything you want about my Math, my beliefs, and my Projects, your Excellency. I never meant for them to be a secret.
GAAL
I have no secrets. I haven't even joined his Group.
CHEN
Yet you left your career as a well-regarded Civil Servant, on track for the highest posts, to study under him, Dr. Dornick. Why?
GAAL
To... huh... apply his methods and insights to the design and planning of big cities such as Synnax, to make them fitter places for those who must live there, easier to develop...
CHEN takes a few NOTES, makes a small SIGNAL.
A SCREENFUL of EQUATIONS (+GRAPHS) is HOLO-PROJECTED (giant-size) in the middle of the room.
COMMISSIONER 1
What does all of that mean, Dr. Seldon? We can only read "Dahl Sector", and what look like dates.
SELDON
That is but 1 in a long series of Psycho-Historical case studies, my Lord, rendered as symbols and numbers for better evaluation.
The HOLO MORPHS INTO:
* TRANTOR WORKING-CLASS STREETS. DAY (plain sky-render). 1000s of (downtrodden) PROTESTERS wave Empire FLAGS, placards, SIGNS... NO to the
Breathing
TAX!
We need
FOOD!
A GHOSTLY floating 97.45 overhead.
Against that BACKDROP:
SELDON (cont.)
It models "Disturbances" on Trantor 4 Centuries ago, but that's hardly relevant.
BACK TO:
COMMISSIONER 2
We'll judge what's relevant. A jumble only you can read doesn't look better than the Historical records you purportedly analyzed.
CHEN
(impatient)
A series of what? Why is this particular Case highlighted within it?
SELDON
As you're no doubt aware, your Excellency, History deals mainly with changes and events: governments, discoveries, social upheavals, wars... Psycho-History studies people's relationships with those, before, during, and after.
COMMISSIONER 3
Your claim to know more than anyone about our own subjects is well-known. Can you prove it?
SELDON
Statistically? Yes, my Lord. Our Equations have been proven right across the broadest possible range of Cases. The inclusion of Psychology-based axioms and methods reduces uncertainty to manageable levels, allowing my Team to...
CHEN
(cold)
Dr. Seldon, suppose you don't need to repeat here your self-aggrandizing speeches. What about that highlight?
Re: the (MORPHED) HOLO:
SELDON
Dahl's Disturbances flared on and off for decades at the confluence of diverse broad factors, not different from those influencing the Empire at large.
* TRANTOR WORKING-CLASS STREETS. DAY. Protesters CLASH (moderately?) with POLICE.
A GHOSTLY floating 86.30
BACK TO:
SELDON
Then, thanks to amazing luck and shrewd Politics, all those factors combined to reduce tensions, restore social trust, and tame the problems to everybody's satisfaction.
COMMISSIONER 4
I fail to see the significance of...
CHEN SILENCES him with a small GESTURE.
SELDON
This pattern of self-correction is found, with minor variations, along the entire series of 1000s of such Events, regardless of their caliber or location, your Excellency, with 1 notable change: afterwards it stopped working, as Empire-wide stresses grew too big and irreconcilable.
COMMISSIONER 1
So all your vaunted Psycho-History has to show is something we all know: that malcontents can only be appeased by the careful use of force, be it political, legal, economic, or military.
SELDON
(firm)
No, my Lord. Our Math shows that this Case marks the last time the Empire...
# * An Imperial FLAG (black, old, slightly frayed, WAVING) MORPHS into the MILKY WAY GALAXY (filling the view), with small FLARES at random places & intervals, getting BIGGER, more FREQUENT + a floating REDDISH 73.17 slowly COUNTING UP.
(silhouetted) Against it:
SELDON (cont.)
...narrowly avoided the self-feeding loop of ever-widening conflict and misery that will in all likelihood lead to its complete destabilization, breakup, and Fall.
BACK TO:
COMMISSIONER 2
How do you dare...!? Our Empire has stood for 100s of Generations!
COMMISSIONER 3
Treason!
LOUD general MURMURING.
Gesturing 'SILENCE':
CHEN
(frosty)
What do you mean, "Fall"?
SELDON
(grim)
As our concluding page of Equations shows, in 3 Centuries or less...
The ROOM MORPHS/SHIFTS INTO:
* TRANTOR FASHIONABLE STREETS. NIGHT. Metal/glass TOWERS, 100s of GAUDY vehicles, impressively-dressed PEOPLE around the gloriously-lit THEATERS, SHOPS, ample PLAZAS (with a FEW manicured/artificial-looking TREES)...
The number 98.97 FLOATS around.
(anchored) In the middle of the WHIRL:
SELDON (cont.)
...Trantor, the most magnificent jewel Mankind has ever built, will...
As lights FLICKER/FAIL, 1000s of FACES look UP (or at each other) in complete HORROR & DISBELIEF!
EXPLODE/FLASH/FADE TO:
* IRREGULAR ROWS of CORN, COTTON et AL. DAY. Harsh SUNLIGHT. Some CLOUDS in the PALE-BLUE sky.
Rickety FARMS, propped by some rusty/pockmarked METAL posts/walls here & there.
A few (gaunt, sweaty) shirtless LABORERS (with primitive-ish TOOLS).
SELDON (cont.)
...lie in ruins, its peoples massacred, its riches wasted, its feats...
Beyond, the entire HORIZON is a TALL DARK RIDGE of shadows, actually what's left of the (part-COLLAPSED) all-encompassing metal COVER protecting the RUINS of OLD (broken/burnt) TOWERS & vehicles, dilapidated/destroyed THEATERS, ample PLAZAS (w/ NO sign of TREES) covered in DUST, trash, dry/charred BONES/SKULLS...
A slowly FLOATING DOWN 99.99
SELDON (cont.)
...and Culture forgotten. Most other worlds in the Galaxy won't fare better.
CHEN raises his (steel) GAVEL, drops it ONCE (loud GONG).
QUIET reigns again.
CHEN
Surely you realize, Dr. Seldon, that for someone in your position that is a most disloyal thing to say.
SELDON
Your Excellency, I'm afraid scientific truth is beyond loyalty and disloyalty. Try as I might, my Math doesn't sway.
A new set of (very different, as shown earlier?) EQUATIONS is PROJECTED.
CHEN
These so-called Sociological Equations no-one can read?
(to Gaal)
What do you say, Dr. Dornick? Is Seldon lying, or just exaggerating?
GAAL
(hesitant?)
Math doesn't lie, your Excellency, as long as it is correctly applied to factors that have been at work for millennia, whose effects can be felt even today, and will only increase until they overwhelm everything.
* SPACE. ORBITAL INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX. Large, refinery-ish, SHIELDED. Near a hefty (airless) MOON, not far from a HUGE ASTEROID FIELD (chunks of all KINDS and SIZES), with a small yellow-white SUN farther away.
A couple IMPERIAL PATROLSHIPS around. Cargo / aux SHIPS coming to & fro, some JUMPING. BUSY place.
BACK TO:
COMMISSIONER 1
What factors? We didn't give Seldon time to tell you anything!
* SPACE. ORBITAL INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX.
A SMALL EXPLOSION ERUPTS in a corner!
The PATROLSHIPS REACT FAST, but...
A CHAIN of ever BIGGER EXPLOSIONS spreads around, OBLITERATING the place (+ any ships not safely away)!
A floating 68.33
BACK TO:
Re: the HOLO-equations:
GAAL
(pointing)
Not directly, but it's all in there: uninspired leadership, mounting bureaucracy, stagnating colonization and development, economic booms and depressions, scientific slowdown...
HOLO-flash:
* THIN GARDEN-Y FOREST. DAWN. 2 Empire BARONS (with their GUARDS) face off in DUEL.
Both DRAW their ornamented BLASTERS, FIRE at each other!
GAAL (cont.)
...fraying social responsibility, feuding among the Great Families, wavering loyalties among Prefects and Viceroys, political coups and assassinations, uncertainty about Imperial succession...
A ghostly 79.23 in a corner near the ground.
BACK TO:
COMMISSIONER 2
None of that is new. The Empire is strong enough to go on!
GAAL
Not as strong as it once was. Like an old tree in the wind, it's the weaker branches and leaves that break first. There's a storm gathering, forceful enough to someday crack the main trunk itself.
* MILKY WAY GALAXY (slightly WAVING). The near-constant Flares COALESCE into a side-to-side LIGHTNING BOLT that SCORCHES most of the Galaxy!
The floating REDDISH 100.00 BLINKS.
Again, ANOTHER!!
BACK TO:
-+- THE PLAN -+-
SELDON
(sad)
In 10 Generations our Empire will Fall, and with it everything that's good. It will take another 1000 Generations of blood, war, and toil for a new one to rise from the ashes, a Second Empire that thanks to its shaky foundation will be even more prone to Falling than ours is.
* DECAYED MILITARY COMPOUND. DUSK. A RIOTOUS MASS of people ASSAULTS IT (with axes, STICKS, stones). SOLDIERS vigorously/murderously DEFEND IT, yet in the end it FALLS.
A yellowish 59.65 floats in the night.
BACK TO:
The whole room HUSHES, faces pale.
COMMISSIONER 3
1000...!? That's impossible to foresee, not even with your Math!
SELDON
Nobody can exactly forecast every storm on every planet beyond a few days, or every solar flare, every crop wasted... Yet we can accurately know where exactly every planet in the Galaxy will be in 1 million years, if no outside forces intervene.
CHEN stares at GAAL, who AGREES.
COMMISSIONER 4
It's easy to make dire predictions for a Future none of us will see!
* MEGACITY RUINS. DAY (timelapse). Among the RUBBLE, smoke & CORPSES, an INTENSE FIREFIGHT (most SHOOTERS unseen) DEVELOPS, Blasts FLYING every way, even as the sun SETS, and thru a starry cold NIGHT (FIRES here & there).
1 of the Blasts HOLLOWS OUT the 89.32 floating atop the smoke.
BACK TO:
SELDON
I've been making lesser predictions for nearly a decade, about seemingly unrelated things like price spikes, probability of diplomatic conflicts, or crime waves. Those, and worse, are becoming more frequent, not less, despite the efforts of all Governments.
MURMURS rise again. Agreement?
SELDON
Everything points in the same direction, and that's why we're all here today. Everywhere you look, my Lord, people envy and idealize the 'Golden Ages' of past generations, instead of those to come. Surely this Commission has keen enough Political instincts to feel that truth.
CHEN
Congratulations! Your symbols, regardless of their veracity, say very scary things! Suppose, for a moment, that your fearmongering worked, that we believed you, the Empire's in real danger and all... What are your plans? Do you have any?
SELDON
Several, your Excellency. The Empire can avert disaster if we all work together, and sweeping Reforms are established...
COMMISSIONER 1
That's it? You only want to regain power as Prime Minister? To lead us and save us from Trouble only you can see?
SELDON
(tired)
No, my Lord. I'm done with Politics. I'll devote my remaining years to a small but crucial part of the solution, which the Imperial University is uniquely suited to tackle: the centuries-overdue updating and mass distribution of a new and improved Encyclopedia Galactica.
WHISPERING.
COMMISSIONER 2
That old obsolete thing, that schoolchildren's toy? Why?
SELDON
It will embody the sum total of our knowledge, ideals, Culture, technology, History... All Libraries in the galaxy, major and minor, will get it for free, thus giving people an immediate and tangible item of Progress, a token of unified action, a reason for hope, while they wait for the more substantial changes.
More MURMURS!
The COMMISSIONERS exchange GLANCES / nods, check their DOCUMENTS...
CHEN
Your willingness to work for the well-being of the Human Race moves us to leniency, Dr. Seldon. We'll discuss the details later. Thank you all.
He raises his GAVEL again, DROPS it.
SELDON bows, SITS.
(Some of) the Barons CHEER / applaud.
* TERMINUS COLONY SHIP. DAY. No Shield/Dust-Storm (yet).
SENIOR
Good work, getting them all to agree on something. Though it's unlikely to last.
With SCARF & GLOVES:
GAAL
Until the next meeting, I hope. Think Trantor will buy our excuses?
Re: the SHIP:
SENIOR
That weather damaged it, and if we don't dismantle it early, storms will topple and destroy it? It's what would happen when the Shield failed.
GAAL
Yes, but...
SENIOR
We're only misplacing truth where it'll do most good. I've worked with Bureaucrats for decades. Not one willingly takes the extra burden of investigating what already makes sense.
A pale 24 FLOATS in the air.
GAAL
We need to rush all our schedules. This magnificent vessel will supply the metals, machinery, and other things we'll need to survive the next few years if additional help won't come.
SENIOR
We can keep its Powerplant, Comms and Shield Generators running, but...
GAAL
Yes?
SENIOR
(grim)
There'll be no going back after we start this [+]. And there's still our dwindling Energy reserves.
GAAL
We must look forward. We'll find a way to solve this planet's trap.
SENIOR
You said we should count people as assets, even if they don't have practical experience in anything immediately useful.
GAAL
Psycho-History works with people, their needs, beliefs, ideas... It's not just the teamwork that matters, but also the synergies of...
Turning to his CAR:
SENIOR
Allright: There's someone you need to see, over by the Landing Pads. Your Psychology could be useful with him.
GAAL
I thought all Department Leaders were at the meeting. Who's he?
Boarding the CAR:
SENIOR
A smuggler from Santanni, if you can believe him. He might be a Pirate, scouting his next hit. We caught him a few days back, been trying to decide how best get rid of him and his ship.
Climbing aboard:
GAAL
A smuggler of what?
Starting the vehicle:
SENIOR
People! Workers. Families. Refugees. With forged IDs and everything. And he's not the only one. We've been turning a blind eye because the extra hands were useful, but now...
GAAL
It could become a big problem!
2 (armored, Blaster-rifle-carrying) IMPERIAL GUARDS close from the outside the (ornate) HIGH DOOR to:
On a narrow ornate TABLE (by the wall) a long ORNATE (gold, silver, diamond) Staff of Office.
Around a wide TABLE:
COMMISSIONER 1
Well played, Seldon. The rumour mills are spreading the good news.
COMMISSIONER 2
I'm getting shows of support from Courtiers who had avoided me for years.
CHEN
Even the Emperor has officially requested to receive the first of your new Encyclopedias.
SELDON
(smiles)
He's still a boy, after all. Flourishing under your expert guidance.
COMMISSIONER 1
Frankly, I'm surprised, with all you say you know, you haven't fled someplace safe on a faraway planet.
SELDON
The Encyclopedia Project needs more effort than it seems, full access to the Imperial Library, and the work of many experts from the Imperial University.
CHEN
Forgive me if I fail to understand why, having manoeuvered yourself again into the public spotlight, you choose as your only prize that menial task.
GAAL
It will improve morale, and help quickstart other things. And it's only menial if we can keep the Empire from Falling.
SELDON
If we fail, no corner of the galaxy, however unimportant and isolated, will be safe, and the Encyclopedia will be fundamental for the Recovery, to avoid 1000 Generations of suffering Humanity.
* SPACE. NEAR a SMALL OCEAN/BEACH PLANET. A Procyon-like Star-liner (different markings/colors) JUMPS/BLINKS into an AMBUSH by (small-craft) Rebels/Pirates, who CLOSE IN from all sides.
Its shields SHRUG OFF (spread/absorb/dilute) their lightning-like BLASTS!
Safely to one side FLOATS a 66.81
BACK TO:
COMMISSIONER 2
A Recovery? How does a book do that?
SELDON
If the Empire Falls, whatever's left of unity and trust won't last. Interstellar Trade and living standards will decay; communications, Culture and Science will fragment, unravel, unable to keep their current levels at a much reduced scale.
* SPACE. The Star-liner attempts to RUN away at max impulse, Outrider Pods BLASTING.
A massive DREADNOUGHT (boxy, baroque, not unlike a flying armored skyscraper, with most corners at 45°), bigger than the Liner, with a PATTERN of crude fat BLOOD-RED + BLUE LINES painted over the 'Spaceship+sun' EMBLEM, sporting many kinds & SIZES of WEAPONS, UNLEASHES a tremendous forward BLAST (like a straightened-up LIGHTNING BOLT from hell) that SPLASHES the entire target SHIELD!
The '66.81' counts down to 66.30
BACK TO:
GAAL
Even less when Force becomes the default tool for everyone to get what they want. Populations will decline fast. Interstellar wars will be endless; entire regions will isolate themselves from their neighbors. Worlds will lose touch with anyone beyond a few Jumps, if they're lucky enough to have Jumpships and Fuel for 'em.
SELDON
That sorry state of things will endure, and endure, and endure, because every splinter entity will still use their scraps of the Empire's greatness to hold out against the rest, but none will have the whole picture.
* SPACE. The MANGLED Star-liner, TUMBLING, unshielded (small Blasts HIT it), its cigar-shaped CORE aflame, RELEASES the (few surviving) Outrider PODS + 1000s of Passenger Escape Capsules (some also on fire).
The Pirates ATTACK & DESTROY many of those!
The '66.30' counts down to 66.02
BACK TO:
GAAL
They won't even care, as long as their Warships work, and their people can wield Weapons. Everything else: Medicine, Astrophysics, Math, Biology, Laws, Art, Music, History... will be forgotten.
* WINDSWEPT BATTLEFIELD. Snow, dust & smoke keep visibility low. The (muddy) ground is CARPETED in rubble, bones, broken things, SKULLS...
Heavy BOOTS MARCH over them, slowly GRINDING 'em DOWN to fragments (spattered in BLOOD) including a floating 72.43
BACK TO:
SELDON
Until some lucky Warlord starts the accruing process that will eventually, through much pain and effort, rebuild a big enough and learned enough group capable of becoming the new Empire.
CHEN
Except that nothing will be forgotten, because everybody will have their copy of the Encyclopedia Galactica to find everything? And you know it because your Psycho-History allows you to calculate every last detail of that terror tale?
SELDON
Precisely. The long grinding process for Humanity to devolve into mindless savagery won't start. The accruing will be much faster. 33 Generations will do the work of 1000.
CHEN
I find the notion incredibly naive. Nothing would keep our future descendants from using that knowledge to improve their Weaponry and fight ever bloodier wars!
* GREEN PLANET. DUSK. A SYNNAX-style MEGACITY (unshielded) receives repeated DreadNought BLASTS, until FIRE/SMOKE hide most of it, including a FLOATING. 84.78
BACK TO:
GAAL
It would be a busy and bloody 33 Generations. But their death toll will be nothing against that of 1000 Generations of hardened war criminals devouring each other for mere Survival.
COMMISSIONER 1
(gestures)
You may have impressed the masses, but here we sit on this sunny day, at the center of Trantor's power, firmly holding the threads that link and weave the Galaxy into the greatest Empire mankind has ever known.
COMMISSIONER 2
While your grim tale of Dark Ages is nothing but the shadow of a nightmare without any solidity.
* SPACE. NEAR a (barely glimpsed) PLANET. A BIG Defensive FLEET (incl. orbital CANNONS, Patrolships, Frigates, Destroyers, Cruisers, DREADNOUGHTS, with the Imperial EMBLEM) stands GUARD.
In JUMPS/BLINKS an attacking FLEET of similar size/strength!
A ghostly 97.65
counts UP to 97.96
BACK TO:
SELDON
After being the Galactic Capital for so long, Trantor has become too specialized, less able to fend for itself, too vulnerable.
COMMISSIONER 1
Making and interpreting the Law for the whole Human Race is a colossal and thankless job. Those who dream of the near absolute power it entails cannot imagine the burden.
* SPACE. BATTLE rages ON.
With many ships on both sides DESTROYED or ABLAZE, an attacking DREADNOUGHT (shields repealing DreadNought Blasts) RACES towards the Planet's shiny white-blue atmosphere, BLASTING repeatedly (broadside & forward).
The '97.96' climbs to 98.07
BACK TO:
GAAL
Worse, as the administrative center of an Empire increasingly defined by sharply concentrated authority, it will become a greater prize.
COMMISSIONER 2
Don't forget the Imperial Fleet: it keeps Peace everywhere, and maintains Commerce routes open.
* TRANTOR. NOON. Surface SHIELDS repeal the (almost nuke-like) BLASTS!
Surface CANNONS return FIRE as the EMPEROR's PALACE's SHIELD turns mostly OPAQUE/mirror!
AIMED at it:
The INCOMING DreadNought (shielded, mostly intact) PLUNGES thru the air, becoming a massive FIREBALL.
The '98.07' climbs to 98.42
BACK TO:
SELDON
Revolts are sparked by discontent, but also by ambition and opportunity, as every Emperor since the Agises has found. What today is a rare Event will become more and more common, until Peace becomes the rarity.
* TRANTOR. NOON. Another accelerating DreadNought SMASHES the attacker's SIDE!
Both BREAK into smaller (yet sizable) FIREBALLS, which CRASH/EXPLODE far from the Palace, OVERWHELMING the City's SHIELDS, opening in the COVER large GASHES of sheer MAYHEM/DESTRUCTION, which expel plenty of FLAMES + huge SMOKE CLOUDS.
The '98.42' climbs to 98.78
BACK TO:
CHEN
To what extent can your Calculations be altered by events? Say, if this building exploded today, or tomorrow, or if a Revolt was allowed to fester instead of being outright stomped?
SELDON
(shrugs)
Statistically, only large masses of people are significant. The bigger the mass, the stronger its inertia. Each planet in the Empire is therefore on a path that cannot be easily changed.
GAAL
The Empire as a whole is almost impossible to deviate. It will take the efforts of many for a long time.
SELDON
But the general situation is volatile enough that a few important individuals may distort the overall pattern to some extent.
COMMISSIONER 1
Enough to avert the danger?
SELDON
Probably not. But untimely deaths, or the Government being perceived as opposed to fixing the ills of the Empire, could hasten the confluence of Forces that'd bring about a speedier Fall, in decades, not Centuries!
COMMISSIONER 2
Of course you'd say so!
SELDON
Justice is already seen as too arbitrary. Confirm it, turn Life and Death into whim, and the worsening Trends threatening the future will only worsen faster. Who knows if this mighty Commission would last another year!
CHEN looks daggers. His minions look less sure.
GAAL
Shouldn't we be planning the Government's actions? There's a lot of things to do if we're to avoid disaster!
After some knowing GLANCES and NODS:
COMMISSIONER 1
We appreciate your keeping your most alarming predictions from general knowledge.
COMMISSIONER 2
Truth be told, the Government feels public support doesn't need further eroding.
CHEN
Thus, we'll grant your wish, on the only condition that you'll publicly endorse our efforts to keep the Empire running smoothly.
SELDON
We've yet to talk about the best path forward.
COMMISSIONER 1
You'll be welcome to send us your valuable advice before leaving Trantor.
GAAL
Leave...!?
COMMISSIONER 2
We'll benefit from the ending of your alarmist Campaigning, and your Academics will labor faster and better, once free from the distractions of the Court.
GAAL
But the Encyclopedia needs plenty of resources and the work of 1000s of experts, which are found only here!
* IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY. DAY. A HOST of old (brick-style, classic?) BUILDINGS clustered around a handful (business-like, dark-blue) TOWERS. Under their own (semi-independent) COVER DOMES. Isolated from the city's TOWERS by extensive LAWNS / TREES / FENCES. Imperial FLAGS here & there, BIRDS & other small critters. Only moderate TRAFFIC, mostly PEDESTRIANS on old-style fixed (or slow-moving) sidewalks. TRAINS around (but not into).
BACK TO:
CHEN
They'll all go with you, and will have all our resources and goodwill at their disposal for as long as your Project helps our Government.
SELDON
I reckon someplace close enough to Trantor could be made to work if we...
COMMISSIONER 1
No. You're too smart, well-connected, dangerous. We'll send you as far away as possible, and you'll tell everyone it's for the greater good.
GAAL
(alarmed)
But that's Exile! You'll risk our efforts against the Fall of the Empire!?
COMMISSIONER 2
We'll manage the Empire. Being so smart, you'll have no trouble publishing the Encyclopedias.
SELDON
You overestimate my influence over my peers and friends. They'll rather stay with their families, lives, and careers than follow me.
CHEN
(smiles)
They'll do both. All of them are sentenced to Death if in a year's time any of 'em is found outside your new Headquarters. That includes anyone who's ever worked with you, talked to you, or been within earshot of your Doom rants.
GAAL
How can you...!? How will you even find 'em all!?
COMMISSIONER 1
Us? It'll be your responsibility to make sure all of 'em follow you, knowing what will happen to any who stay behind, included children and pets.
COMMISSIONER 2
You've studied so much History, you'll have no trouble finding ample precedent, believing we'll follow thru, and persuading any doubters.
CHEN
(icy)
Cooperate fully, or the Death sentence will apply within the hour. Troops are already taking position around the University, making sure everybody understands the situation.
But the Emperor...!? He won't allow such trampling of...!?
COMMISSIONER 1
(smiling)
Our Emperor always agrees with our Government.
COMMISSIONER 2
Or he wouldn't be the Emperor.
COMMISSIONER 1
Plus, he's currently busy planning a traditional Hunting Trip to a faraway wild planet.
SELDON
(defeated)
I'll... obey. We... will go... wherever... wherever...
CHECKING a Document:
CHEN
Name's Terminus. A fine empty planet on the edge of the Galaxy, far from everything. Lovely winters. Very peaceful all year round.
COMMISSIONER 1
You can go now.
Everyone STANDS.
COMMISSIONER 2
We'll be watching you.
CHEN
Until we can forget this whole matter.
* TERMINUS DIRT/GRAVEL ROAD. NOON. The 4x4 RACES towards a set of big WAREHOUSES/hangars:
SENIOR
He must have intercepted our comms. Several times, when 1 of our Transports got delayed, his ship took the slot, fooling the System until the legit one arrived, by which time he was long departed. But in his last attempt we were waiting for him.
Gaal's PAD: No need to further revise our plans.
Odds are still good.
Don't underestimate local resources.
Consult anything urgent with Bor.
For everything else, use your best
judgement.
Sorry I can't help you more.
H.S
CLOSING the message:
GAAL
What about his 'cargo', the people?
SENIOR
We checked all 120-odd of 'em. A bunch we signed on as workers, some highly qualified, even. The rest went to Construction, Hydroponics, Logistics, Recycling... The children all enrolled to School. We couldn't just kick 'em back whence they came.
GAAL
Why not?
SENIOR
The Periphery isn't a civilized place, not like the inner Regions. You should hear what some of 'em tell, the abuses of the powerful and ruthless. Anacreon isn't as bad as some other Provinces, but...
GAAL
Bad how? We are a Scientific Institution, with our own worries. We cannot involve ourselves in local affairs!
SENIOR
(grim)
Levies, pests, phony Trials, executions, conscription, piracy, persecution, Slavery in all but name... Authorities struggle with the diverse challenges and often are part of the problem.
GAAL
(aghast)
By the Galaxy, we should have chosen...! Too late now.
The car OBLITERATES the ghostly 24 FLOATING in its way.
* Between 2 tall HANGARS, a SPRAWL of BIG CUBIC stone/concrete BLOCKS (studded with SECURITY BEAMS).
STOPPING the car:
SENIOR
Portmaster locked him inside his ship while deciding, but the next night he was caught outside, disabling our magnetic Clamps.
Amid the BLOCKS: an OBLONG-PRISMATIC rusty-OLD (cobbled-together BATTERED patched-up) SHIP (2-3 times larger than the SAUCERS).
SENIOR
So they confiscated his Nucleic fuel and sealed his Emergency exits and technical Ports too.
3-5 electric-baton-wielding GUARDS greet 'em.
SENIOR
The next night he was caught infiltrating our Databanks, probably looking for another ship to hijack...
Both LEAVING the car:
GAAL
Resourceful fellow! It would have been easier to release him under oath to never return!
SENIOR
He'd break it, as he serves a demand driven by desperation. And if he wouldn't, others would.
GAAL
You're right. But if we explain things to him, he may realize he's only bringing people to share our doom.
# SPEEDING HOVERCAR. Curtained windows (GLIMPSES of the CITY outside). Subdued LIGHTING. Spacious, OLD yet well appointed.
SELDON sits still (spent) eyes CLOSED.
On a (pad) SCREEN:
# ORNATE PRESS ROOM. High-ceilinged, well lit, lined with ARMED GUARDS. PACKED with NEWSPEOPLE (cameras, mics, text transcribers furiously SCRIBBLING).
In front of 'em: CHEN (solemn, w/ STAFF), (several of) his COMMISSIONERS (in full regalia), + Hari SELDON (poker-faced), making short SPEECHES, fielding QUESTIONS...
BACK TO:
GAAL
This is highly irregular, we must Appeal! There'll be plenty of Precedents in the legal Databanks!
LAWYER
Forget it: Data Analysts and their alleged manipulations are among the most mistrusted of the bureaucratic Castes. Chen and his posse would never risk handing 'em such an opportunity to claw back power.
FILLING 3 small GLASSES from a BOTTLE of (strong) LIQUOR:
LAWYER
And, under pretense of coordinating the move, the University's already under Martial Law. They just emitted a Bulletin.
GAAL
Will they... resist?
LAWYER
No. Their only demand is that Dr. Seldon, a most respected Faculty member, be returned to them. Which we're doing right now.
GAAL
They could... lynch us?
LAWYER
Unlikely. Y'see, in the decades since the Commission attained power, the University has been at odds with their authoritarianism, while the general public regards Academics as 1 of the last Liberal Factions in the Court.
GAAL
So... under the guise of a Special Project, Chen gets rid of a bunch of political rivals, while reaping public credit? Masterfully played!
OPENING his eyes:
SELDON
(smiles)
Thanks!
He takes a GLASS, GULPS it.
GAAL
Wh...!?
Re: his PAD:
LAWYER
Sir, there are at least 3 different Spy Beams upon us! Our Field Distorter can hardly guarantee complete privacy!
GAAL
Distorter?
LAWYER
A modified Silence Bubble. Emits carefully constructed sounds and words, not just a suspicious nothingness, so eavesdroppers don't notice there's something amiss. A smuggler trick.
NAVIGATING his PAD:
SELDON
Smugglers, traders, pirates... all in the eye of the beholder, Heliconians say. Thanks for your help in there, selling it, Dornick. Sorry to have embroiled you in this.
GAAL
Telling 'em what Psycho-History made plain to me is the least I could do, with the fate of the Galaxy in the balance. Sorry it didn't work.
SELDON
(intense)
But it did work! See, there's no saving the Empire. I tried changing things, as Prime Minister. I did my best, to no avail. Now we know why: The Forces arrayed against such attempts are too entrenched. You saw the Equations: the inertia is too formidable, Galactic in scale.
On the (pad) SCREEN:
# ORNATE PRESS ROOM. Event about to end.
CHEERS + APPLAUSE!
BACK TO:
GAAL
Well, the odds aren't good, but wasn't that what your public Campaigning was meant to address? Your revelations, your negotiations?
SELDON
That was the most convenient way to ensure they'd take our compilation of Historical cases seriously and send us away to work on the Encyclopedia. It will take many years, and Trantor's environment will become too distracting meanwhile.
GAAL
(upset)
But... Exile!? For 1000s of people!? Innocents!
SIPPING his GLASS:
LAWYER
45000 between Faculty, students, and direct kin. 55000 if we don't want to risk these thugs making good on their threats.
(re: the SCREEN)
Don't be deceived by their sugar-coated Grand Announcement.
* TRANTOR HIGH-RISE BUILDING. NIGHT (some lights ON inside). With a big BANNER: FINANCIAL SERVICES
Discretion Guaranteed
Police FORCES (+vehicles) have it SURROUNDED (incl. AIR support, stopped traffic & trains, etc).
SELDON (O.S)
Add supporters, other volunteers, adventurers, hired help... They could easily number 75000 people. We'll all be safer on a faraway rock than near the endless intrigues of the Court.
Several platoons STORM every DOOR (+ platform ACCESSES). Shots are FIRED/HEARD!
Around floats a 94.24
BACK TO:
GAAL
(wondering)
You used Psycho-History to calculate... This was 1 of the Secondary Branches!?
WORKING his PAD:
SELDON
We are Mathematicians and Psychologists. 100s of our experts helped plan how best to manoeuver the Government into giving us what we needed, when we needed it.
LAWYER
Linge Chen, the true power behind a puppet Throne, is a notoriously hard man to manipulate. Luckily, some of his cronies in the Commission proved to be... reachable.
TAKING the last GLASS:
GAAL
Of course. It works better when people aren't aware they're being analyzed, their thinking studied, dissected, reduced to mere probabilities... But, I didn't even know there were habitable worlds left uncolonized in this day and age!
LAWYER
Marginally habitable, and only with work. There were 10s of 'em, decades ago. The more viable have all been claimed, thanks to our friends in high places. The rest are all in the less developed Periphery.
* ORBITAL SHIPYARD, above a rocky/cloudy PLANET. Not far: a WHITE-BLUE ringed GAS GIANT.
The big COLONY SHIP, surrounded by SCAFFOLDING, LIGHTS, service SHIPS & SPARKS, undergoes REPAIRS/REFITTING.
SELDON (O.S)
Terminus' colonization was delayed but, located in a backwater corner of the picturesque yet volatile Anacreon Province, not far from the calmer and wealthier Normannic Sector, it's perfect for us.
BACK TO:
GAAL
So, our arrest, the Trial... were calculated risks? Planned for?
(realization)
They were right: you're even more dangerous than they guessed!
She DRAINS her GLASS.
SELDON
(firm)
I'm the man with the Crystal Ball.
(his POV, projected on the car's ceiling?)
# DARK CAVE, with a (small, jagged, waist-level) OPENING showing a STARRY NIGHT. A sizable well-worn METAL SPEAR to its side. A knelt someone (pretty DECAYED, a WOMAN?) clad in OLD plastics / animal skins, LOOKS UP with longing, fear, despair...
A GHOSTLY 48.96 nearby.
SELDON (O.S.)
I have seen a Future too terrible to contemplate.
(S)he then resumes BANGING a broken Blaster's metal BUTT against a small/round FLINTSTONE, drawing SPARKS over some dry GRASS/LEAVES, half-charred branches + a SKINNED/gutted long-tailed toothy RAT.
SELDON (O.S.)
And I'll do anything in my power to remedy it.
As the FIRE catches ON, it reveals the dusty desperate SQUALOR of both place (actually a destroyed BUILDING) & dweller, who quickly PULLS a crude makeshift CURTAIN over the opening, HIDING the outside view.
BACK TO:
OFFERING his PAD:
SELDON
Here: we have harnessed the blind workings of History. This had less than 10% chances of happening on its own. Look now!
PAD screen: Projected odds
for T/A branch:
87% success
The NUMBER appears to FLOAT around (the % sign FADED away).
PEEKING thru the CURTAINS:
LAWYER
We're home.
SELDON
Good. I'm tired!
LAWYER
You should rest more, as your Medics say.
GAAL (worried, to Seldon)
Are you ill?
SELDON
They don't know what ails me, nor if resting does any good. Luckily my work will be finished soon!
* IMPERIAL UNIVERSITY. ARCHED stone-y GATE guarded by a MILITARY CONTROL.
A big (Burgundy) HOVERCAR, with a silvery Trantor
Imperial
University BANNER (+ the 'spaceship+sun' golden LOGO) LOWERS ordinary WHEELS as it LEAVES the HOVERLANE onto regular pavement, STOPS before 'em.
SOLDIERS SCAN it, WAVE it thru.
* OBLONG-PRISMATIC SHIP. AFTERNOON. A mostly-faded NAME on a flank: Trading Places
Sitting on CUBIC stone/concrete BLOCKS/fragments:
ASTER
(late-30s, in roguish dark LEATHER & BOOTS, alarmed)
4 years!? Are you sure?
GAAL
(glum)
At most, Mr. Aster. This planet is too harsh, and we have limited resources.
SENIOR
Some would call it an improvement over their other alternatives, but...
ASTER
But they trusted me! My friends, my son...! If his mother still lived, she'd be mad at me!
GAAL
There's still time to find 'em some other place to...
ASTER
You don't understand: it's hell out there except for the big and rich. Most people are resigned, but the rest... It's a wonder there aren't more Revolts, even if they never end well.
SENIOR
We got nothing against the people you brought. We've taken 'em in, but we no longer have...
ASTER
So, fix the planet! It can't be impossible: Other Colonies have managed it before.
GAAL
It took centuries. Millennia. We don't have that kind of margins.
SENIOR
If we could rain a million GigaTonnes of water on the Equatorial plains, we might be able to tame the darn dust storms. Another million or 2 could be enough to guarantee we wouldn't need to use our Shield during daytime anymore.
The FLOATING '24' CLIMBS to 26
ASTER
The key is... water?
SENIOR
Yes! Deeper oceans would capture more solar energy, and water vapor is a Greenhouse gas, so we wouldn't freeze so easily at night.
The FLOATING '26' CLIMBS to 28
GAAL
The entire Biology would benefit. But this star doesn't have a proper debris ring, rocky or icy, or we'd be already doing it.
ASTER
I know someone with a modified Mining Tow who can haul 1-2 GigaTonnes per Jump. Much cheaper, faster and... discreet than a proper Transport.
GAAL
Also riskier, I bet.
The FLOATING '28' CLIMBS to 33
SENIOR
Modified how? By whom? At what cost? It isn't something I'd consider workable under normal circumstances, but Imperial Procedures allow us to ask for Space Mining equipment, even if most minerals floating around the Periphery were Mined out long ago.
GAAL
100s of ships, capable for many GigaTonnes, but...
ASTER
Water should be plentiful around many uninhabited stars. I can ask my friends to bring you an ice mountain in the next few days, from somewhere suitably close, for Expenses and documents. And they'd let you study their gear.
The FLOATING '33' CLIMBS to 37
SENIOR
Our Nucleics stockpile isn't that big. We'll need many ice mountains, preferably laced with Carbon, Nitrogen, or Phosphorus compounds.
GAAL
What documents?
ASTER
A safe Port of Call is a luxury many can only dream. A place to call home with legal Identities, for me, my ship, and all the friends I can persuade to help with operations.
SENIOR
It'll take months just to get started, and that's assuming we can adapt what the Empire sends us, but if we could start the virtuous circle before the 3rd year...
GAAL
Virtuous...?
SENIOR
The energy we use for the Tows wouldn't be needed for the Shield. We could maybe save more than we spend, increasing the safe years until Terminus stopped trying to kill us.
ASTER
I... may... know someplace with unused Nucleics they could sell for the right incentive. And my boy says everybody here's smart. You could probably learn enough from the Techs that did the first Jump Tow and do the rest on your own.
The FLOATING '37' CLIMBS to 45
GAAL
It'll be a risky bet. Would those Techs come to work for us? Teach us? Find or make the needed parts?
ASTER
(smiles)
For the right incentive. There's little love lost between them and most Authorities.
SENIOR
I'll call the Portmaster and our Planners.
GAAL
How do we know this isn't a fairytale you've told us to take advantage of our precarious situation and just get away, never to return nor deliver?
ASTER
(serious)
People who matter dearly to me share your precariousness, my only son among 'em. He's in your Databanks, under his mother's family name.
SENIOR
Fair enough.
ASTER
He'll guarantee my good faith. Of course, the deal dies if he stops being happy here.
Working her PAD:
GAAL
Of course. What name?
ASTER
Hardin. Gene Hardin. I'll return for him, come what may.
The FLOATING '45' CLIMBS to 51
* UNIVERSITY OFFICE. Large, NATURALLY LIT from its tall WINDOWS. WOOD, bookcases, mementos...
SELDON (barely LIMPING) enters, followed by GAAL.
ENTERING & closing the DOOR:
LAWYER
Hari, we must ready your Speech. The Auditorium will soon open, people are starting to gather. The next few hours are critical for turning their fear and anger into carefulness and resolve.
HANDING his PAD:
SELDON
Sure, have at it.
GAAL
Anger? Why?
BROWSING the PAD:
LAWYER
They're losing everything for a Future none will see. I'd be upset too, if I didn't know better.
GAAL
What kind of Lawyer are you, Mr. Alurin?
ALURIN
(smiles)
I was a seasoned Psychologist and Counselor for Students before earning my Law Degree. Then I took advanced Math...
SITTING down behind a large VINTAGE DESK with a wide (inset) CONSOLE:
SELDON
Bor is 1 of the Project's most talented members, Miss Dornick. As you'll be, each in your own way.
ALURIN
I prefer Diplomacy to Statistics, but every tool counts. Do you really think she's ready, Hari?
SELDON (to GAAL)
What we'll now show you must never be discussed, or even mentioned, outside this room. We demand absolute discretion.
ALURIN
(serious)
You can still reject this job offer, live on Terminus working on the Encyclopedia as most others, or we can find a way to smuggle you back to Synnax with your folks.
GAAL
(wary)
I was going to ask you to get my parents on your evacuation list. They're farmers, care only about growing crops, would hardly miss Civilization. Give 'em some acreage, they'll be happy. That would be my only condition.
ALURIN nods.
SELDON TRACES several complex SHAPES with his hands over the desk's CONSOLE. The curtains CLOSE!
A (practically perfect) holo PROJECTION ACTIVATES in the middle of the room: a tall life-like antique GRANDFATHER CLOCK (in wood/glass + silver/gold) complete with long swinging PENDULUM & stately TICK-TOCK.
As the holo slowly ROTATES:
SELDON
This exquisitely detailed Simulacrum is but the latest in a long chain of replicas, all the way back to the first Trantorian Hegemons, 1 of whom had a physical replica made of the original artifact. Or maybe it was just another of many such replicas, as it's never worked to perfection.
They WATCH her INTENTLY.
Hesitating to TOUCH it:
GAAL
What is it? And why is it a secret? Did you steal it from the Emperor's own Vaults?
SELDON
(smiles)
Almost. It's a mechanical timepiece and a priceless work of art, a relic from a time when the whole Universe was believed deterministic, the probabilities of everything either a perfect 0 or a perfect 1. It may even predate Spaceflight, who knows. The exact details are lost to the mists of time, and there's too few experts in these old things.
GAAL
Looks too complex to me, indeed, much more than an Atomic Clock, or the Sundials which many countryfolk use because they don't need high tech.
ZOOMING the holo to 3x, 4x:
SELDON
This one, like a magician's prop, does more than meets the eye! Try to grab the Pendulum, gently.
GAAL does. The Pendulum SWISHES thru her like a ghost.
CHECKING his CONSOLE:
SELDON
Good: we have your personal Imprint now. Let me zoom in on the gears...
The HOLO focuses a bunch of BRONZE gears, wheels, pinions & other interlocked MECHANISMS.
Pointing:
SELDON
That most ingenious mechanism with the oscillating motion is the Escapment. Point at it, slowly. Don't touch it!
GAAL obeys.
The holo BLOWS UP FAST, 10x, 50x, filling the room, then leaving behind only the familiar intricate lines, GRAPHS & numbers of PSYCHOHISTORY!
SELDON
The Projector is now keyed to you, but only if 1 of us keys it too. Nobody works here alone.
PEEKING close/around:
GAAL
Amazing! It's the same Equations, but far more developed and detailed!?
SELDON
These Predictions, our best guide thru the coming Chaos, would unravel and become useless if they became public knowledge.
ALURIN
Trillions of lives are at stake. Only a handful close collaborators who helped craft 'em (including me) know their existence.
SELDON
(firm)
Neither the Commission nor any of the other groups who've been spying on us for decades must have the least hint.
ALURIN
There's no record of any crucial details outside our own heads. This tool is only a common ground and reference for all the Psycho-Historians.
GAAL
But if people knew these Equations, they could act to...!
(beat)
Huh... Change their future, and thus these results?
SELDON
Not by much, certainly not enough to stop the Fall, but enough to mess things and force us to search for a new even thornier path thru the Dark, as nobody else will put the best interests of Mankind above their own.
GAAL
I see.
ZOOMING IN & FOCUSING the HOLO-Equations:
SELDON
That is where we are now. The next steps are still in the planning phase. See the critical Junction ahead? The whole Project could stumble there.
POINTING/tracing:
GAAL
That's Terminus!? It must have taken years to plan. And the Logistics!? You Statisticians leave nothing to chance, do you?
SELDON
Not if we can help it!
GAAL
I see the significance of the place now. It can work as a beacon, provided it isn't within easy reach. A pioneer's dream. But, if you really intend to do it, send the entire University out there, to succeed or fail on their own...
ALURIN
Not the 'entire' University: a fair percent always refused to listen to us.
SELDON
You heard Chen: we have no other option now. Those who remain will risk their lives!
ALURIN
Which helps fight the temptation to find a nice hole and hide until the storm passes.
SELDON
This storm won't pass. It'll rage on unless someone puts a stop to it.
Re: the HOLO:
GAAL
These plans look like a Bunker. Typical siege mentality. Tell whoever's in charge they must build a City, not a dungeon. To reach for the stars. A mere Refuge won't cut it.
SELDON & ALURIN exchange knowing GLANCES.
TRACING imaginary LINES with her finger upon the Equations:
GAAL
A shining City, slowly extending soft... tendrils... of hope... and wisdom, thru the darkness... But it must be done right, starting with...
(realization)
Ohh. This is why you wanted me, from the start!
A floating 88.98 appears/vanishes.
SELDON
(smiles)
The last piece of our puzzle, once you learn to use Psycho-History for everything and everyone.
ALURIN
Anacreon for me, then. I'll go before the end of the year, to deliver our best good-will messages and stay as formal liaison with Terminus.
GAAL
I thought we had been granted a Charter to create an independent Scientific Foundation, under direct rule of his Majesty the Emperor.
SELDON
We have. But Anacreon will be the closest Imperial authority. We'll need their help to get started.
ALURIN
(winks)
They shouldn't be harder to persuade than the Commissioners. And so, the board will finally be set up for our Plan to develop.
GAAL
You'll teach me that, too!?
Re: the EQUATIONS:
ALURIN
It's taken our best people half their lives to work out the basics. We'll have only a few months for everything else.
GAAL
(smiles)
I already know the basics. And I'm a fast learner!
SELDON
Good, then. Let's begin.
* DEEP SPACE. A safe distance (10 light-minutes) from Terminus & ships around it (coming/going), a potato-ish ICE MOUNTAIN blinks/JUMPS IN, wrapped in a coarse NET of cables, a small ship's BRIDGE strapped in front.
SENIOR (O.S)
There comes the next: only 16 hours late, and 20 degrees off-vector!
ASTER (O.S)
Not bad for deep-space miners trying their best to avoid undue attention while performing hazardous work nobody's done in centuries in this region.
* SPACE. TERMINUS ORBIT. The small white-yellow sun DAWNS. A few ships ASCENDING or DESCENDING. Aster's ship FLOATS, "parked".
Inside, glimpsed thru its PORTS / WINDOWS:
SENIOR (O.S)
At this rate, we'd need more than a decade to rain enough water to alter Terminus' atmospheric dust, let alone weather. We must improve!
ASTER (O.S)
We're getting better: our off-books tows now take less than 2 days to approach the planet, and barely alter normal scheduled traffic anymore.
Halfway to the horizon, another huge ICE MOUNTAIN slowly DEORBITS, still wrapped in its NET, a bunch of ENGINES strapped to its back FLARING intermittently, adjusting course.
SENIOR (O.S)
What about uncontrolled disassembly? We were lucky nothing too big impacted close to the city, 3 days ago!
ASTER (O.S)
We'll soon see if the new arrangement with the seismic Resonators achieves the right effect.
The ice closest to the wrapping cables EMITS small vapor/snow CLOUDS from tiny growing CRACKS. A mute SHOCKWAVE envelops the entire mountain, until it FRAGMENTS into a million car-sized chunks, which calmly ESCAPE the loose net and start FALLING towards the planet below, GLITTERING in the sunlight.
SENIOR (O.S)
Who-hoo! YEAH!
ASTER (O.S)
Feels different when you're part of it, doesn't it? When it's your home...
* BARREN PLAINS. MORNING (little or no dust, no Shield). TERMINUS CITY under construction, SHIPS coming & going.
CAPTION: Seldon's
ENCYCLOPEDIA
FOUNDATION
A bright METEOR SHOWER (1000s of tiny fragments) in a corner of the sky.
(fast) TIMELAPSE of:
The Colony Ship is DISMANTLED but for the lower levels/GENERATORS, as the worksites MORPH into a small City. The SKY's deep blue clears a bit, with some gray-white CLOUDS, snowfalls, meteor showers, coming/going, while a FLOATING '53' counts to
68
A few WIND-TURBINES and Solar COLLECTORS pop here & there.
FADE IN: POPULATION: 124000
* A (huge) quiescent WORKSITE with the BANNER: SELDON HALL
Auditorium
Small frozen PUDDLES here & there.
In its middle (surrounded by SCAFFOLDING) a large (transparent) GLASS BLOCK, against which sits GAAL.
From her PAD:
ALURIN
(sad)
It's official: He died 5 days ago, in his University quarters. Jump Rot or whatever worsened his health so abruptly, his Medics couldn't stop the degeneration.
GAAL
(emotional)
He told me his illness that kept him from leaving Trantor had swayed public opinion somewhat in his favor, and he wanted to use that to help us...
The Pad emits a loud CRACKLE as its SCREEN flickers WHITE!
GAAL
Bor!? What was that!?
From the recovered screen:
ALURIN
Only a thunderstorm. Rainy season. Anacreon's jungle and weather are harsh with infrastructure outside the big Cities and the nobility's Castles.
GAAL
Lucky you. We got our first spontaneous rains only last month, and they turned to snow by night...
BACK TO:
FADE IN: Year One
(faster) TIMELAPSE OF:
The sky gets a bit WHITER (cloudier). More snow, meteor showers. Green plants APPEAR, SPREAD. A much bigger POWERPLANT grows around / ENCASES the Colony Ship's vestiges while around it the City GROWS, modernizes, sprawling, GLOWING as the day advances into STARRY NIGHT, lots of SHIPS flying around like BEES.
Greenery (prairies, small WOODS, farms) COVERS the rest of the no longer barren plains.
The floating '68' FLEES (greening) towards the horizon as it CLIMBS to
91.38
FADE IN: (Foundation Era)
While many of the distant stars appear to FLARE (in 1s & 2s), reminiscent of Seldon's "electrified" MAP:
(scrolling) TEXT:
JUMP ROT: poorly-known, semi-mythical hyper-
sensitivity at cell level to unusual stresses like
the Jump, afflicting less than 1 in 1000000 people,
of which most don't Jump-Travel and never notice.
Its most notorious sufferer (unconfirmed) was HARI
SELDON, who visited many Imperial Provinces as
Minister. Suspicions about this illness may have
helped his Judges decide to punish him by Exile.
