--> Onwards to the 2nd half: THE PLAN
(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.
(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).
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').
This will be the last half-century when that's still true.
On the middle balcony:
And give 'em the chance to start agitating again about a better and 'more scientific' government?
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!
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.
TURN TO:
CAPTION:
TERMINUS
FADE IN:
(Near the Galactic Edge)
FADE IN:
Youngest colony of
the Galactic Empire
FADE IN:
7 MONTHS EARLIER
PLUNGE INTO:
SOUND of strong, buffeting WINDS.
(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.
Nothing our Shields and Gravitics can't handle!
A THICKER blue-white Shield-membrane RISES (at an angle) to ENCOMPASS the view.
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.
That was the Colony's Shield. We'll touchdown in a minute.
The FLOATING '97.56' CLIMBS to:
99.27
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.
Your luggage will be at the Administrative building. Enjoy your stay at the cold raw edge of the Galaxy!
Nearby, a roadside SIGN:
ARRIVALS
Orientation ==>>
Directory
Administration
<<== Load/Unload
DEPARTURES
The (shivering? staring around wide-eyed) TRAVELERS + several crates FOLLOW it to the:
The floating '41' counts DOWN to:
39
A big BILLBOARD:
SHIPS TO/FROM:
Trantor: IN ORBIT
Anacreon: 16 hours
Locris: 2 days
Smyrno: 3 days
Santanni: 6 Days
Vega: 12 days
The others ENTER. GAAL puts on a WOOL CAP, faces a mud/dust-caked (roof-less) 4x4 CAR, driven by:
(late-50s, rugged jacket, sleek leather DRIVING GLOVES)
The other Heads are too busy! Welcome to the most isolated and underdeveloped outpost of the Empire!
The floating '39' counts DOWN to:
37
EXITING (in light summer clothing), a small HOLO of an older woman FLOATING before her:
(sunny)
It's the center of everything, mom! Of course they care!
(beat, as the HOLO talks inaudibly)
Me too. I'll message, promised!
She TOUCHES her ear. The HOLO vanishes.
CAPTION:
SYNNAX
FADE IN:
(Near the Empire's
Outer Core)
FADE IN:
5 MONTHS EARLIER
On the (cobblestone) road, a PARKED CAR (streamlined, retro-futuristic? convertible) branded:
Synnax
City
TAXI
Putting her BRIEFCASE into the Taxi:
As she CLIMBS in:
STARTING the car (sounds of tires):
At long last! Time someone who knows how to manage things went there. Will you plead our case?
(amused?)
I'll be busy learning from the best Theoretical Statisticians and Psychologists in the Galaxy. What would that case be?
We need better roads! More hover-lanes! Strangled traffic keeps Cities from growing as they should!
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):
Same reason we don't use fully-automated vehicles: Beyond a certain point, costs outweigh benefits.
Approaching a (paved) HIGHWAY RAMP:
(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.
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).
(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:
Onboard the speeding CAR, (stretchable, foldable?) PAD in hand, FLIPPING menus & screens (GLIMPSES of much fancier architecture):
(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:
(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
(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.
TURNING towards the big central SHIP:
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:
Days are often dustier, blocking sunlight. Many nights, the scarce moisture falls to the ground as ice crystals.
The floating '35' drops to:
29
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
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?
(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
Best our Fabbers can do with what's available. At least glass is cheap to make, if we forget about fancy mixes.
Parking the car next to the towering SHIP:
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:
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
We cannot build a self-sustaining settlement here. Some want to redeploy the Colony Ship, abandon this folly, and return.
Both LOOK upwards.
No longer an option: our legal eagles back home lost the last Appeal. News reached me 5 Jumps ago. The Exodus needs to accelerate.
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!
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.
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)
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).
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.
GAAL enters.
Approaching:
Ah! Glad to meet you! I'm the Deck's Manager, at your service!
(BOWS curtly)
You are with the Imperial University, right?
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).
We have a special deal for University members. Your Room has been upgraded, your Travel Voucher updated. Sorry for the inconvenience!
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:
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.
As GAAL enters, LIGHTS intensify, the inner door DISPLAYS:
Bathroom
/
Emergency
ESCAPE POD
Please stand by for
clock Syncing and
Safety instructions.
She watches the HOLO of a slowly-rotating SIMPLIFIED SHIP's SCHEMATIC/MODEL.
...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).
The upper screen starts a COUNTDOWN:
Time to Jump:
35 secs
GAAL checks the window.
... 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!
GAAL (arms crossed), WATCHES outside thru the WIDE VIEWPORT.
Her (towering) P.o.V:
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.
Enjoying their DRINKS:
(charming, late-30s, formal-casual)
... it's the runs between Jumps which take time, calibrating, calculating, getting into position...
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:
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
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)
Merriment.
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.
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.
Enjoying their dinner:
... 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:
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...
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.
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.
(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, 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.
A SCREEN shows a (magnified) SHINY BLOB of a planet next to a SHINIER star.
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!
Switching CONTROLS/VIEWS:
It's even brighter on infrared... So much waste heat to deal with, despite [+] Advanced Nucleic Powerplants solving all energy needs!
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.
I've seen how complex Government machinery can be, and how many actual machines it involves. Few people realize that.
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.
That's how 1 of the richest Agricultural worlds in the Galaxy became the biggest climate-conditioned City of all time.
On the plus side, building on dried seabeds while demolishing mountains for room and raw materials allows for truly great towers.
How can people live with barely any hint of Nature or open air around (if you exclude the Imperial Palace's grounds)?
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.
PLUNGE INTO:
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...
FADE IN:
COURTIERS (aristocrats, ambassadors, entertainers): 2.75 BILLION
A rippling SHIELD. Drop THRU.
FADE IN:
VISITORS (businesspeople, students, tourists): 68 BILLION/year
SILENCE.
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%:
Another long TRAIN (in the opposite direction) RUSHES by their side.
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:
SPACEPORT
Center 260 West
As the train EXITS it (thru 1 of many cozy oval PORTS):
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:
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.
So this is what Trantor City's "cavern" looks like, up close. TV doesn't do it justice! What about the Emperor's Palace?
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!
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:
BRIEFCASE in hand:
(curt-BOWS)
This trip's been far more interesting than I had any right to expect. Specially the past 3 weeks.
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:
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.
Many believe he's hiding his most important discoveries. Things concerning Trantor's well-being, perhaps even the whole Empire's.
Leading her AWAY from the train platform while others BOARD:
(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...
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.
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...
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).
6-8 people (incl. SENIOR) with GAAL around the table, interspersed with as many HOLOS.
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
GAAL (tired) alone on her MODULE.
Her pad SCREEN:
TRANTOR Imperial News:
Rabble-Rouser SELDON
at it AGAIN!
The train STOPS. People GO and COME.
SITTING in FRONT of her:
(old, balding, overweight? conservatively dressed? smiling)
Spent the night hopping Trains, huh? I did pretty much the same, back when I first arrived from Helicon!
(startled)
Who...!? Oh, it's you, Doctor Seldon!?
(looks around)
How...!? Doesn't matter: I'm leaving!
The train STARTS.
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...
(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.
DAWN arrives (with the merest rainbow FLICKER) as the train TURNS a corner, RUSHING towards the (distant) Spaceport. Night LIGHTS fade / shut off.
What are you talking about? Save, from what? Isn't that the Government's job? They pay your bills. Go tell 'em!
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.
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).
IMPACTS. Shrapnel. Smoke/dust clouds. Confusion. CRIES.
BACK TO:
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.
(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:
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).
(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...
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...
The train VANISHES thru 1 of the facade's many oval PORTS.
In this icy wasteland!?
(aghast)
Far from everything and everyone!?
I had a promising scientific career! It's not fair!
Others CONCUR.
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.
Everybody GLANCES around at the others.
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.
Blasted if I know. Certainly not by following
(re: her PAD on the table)
inflexible Imperial custom and Procedures.
Hear, hear!
Told you so!
This was a mistake from day 1!
Despair?
We can only ask the Empire what their Procedures allow, when they allow. What else can we do?
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.
The ghostly FLOATING '16' becomes a
17
Fast-BROWSING the pad:
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...!
APPROACHING destination, the train SLOWS DOWN.
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.
A monumental task, with so many variables to trace, including human behavior. That's why your Project needed so many people for so long?
(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:
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.
A pale blue
90.01 slides BEHIND her.
She DOES (w/ mounting UNEASE).
That's the Mathematical expression of the Empire today, with our best estimates of the most likely developments.
Most passengers LEAVE.
(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:
(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.
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:
(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:
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.
(deflated)
You are with the Commission?
TAKING the pad:
TAPPING the table:
They will have to wait until we can shelter and feed all of us when everybody finally arrives.
Don't forget breathable unfrozen air!
We'll need more Energy, for starters.
Workers!
Ships!
Taking notes:
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.
Who will value 'em, out here where neighboring worlds are so backward, or back home where knowledge pales before might?
What, then?
With a sweeping GESTURE encompassing the room with 'em all:
The ghostly '17' becomes a
18
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:
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.
Is that so? What do our experts say about his Math?
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.
How can that be? They've been publishing Papers on it all for decades! Has the Empire run out of Scientists and Math people?
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).
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?
How mightily convenient! Seldon's the center of his own Religious Cult!
The audience AGREES.
Thank you, Special Agent. Let's now hear what the Accused have to say for themselves.
JERRIL bows, RETREATS.
Both STANDING:
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.
I have no secrets. I haven't even joined his Group.
Yet you left your career as a well-regarded Civil Servant, on track for the highest posts, to study under him, Dr. Dornick. Why?
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.
What does all of that mean, Dr. Seldon? We can only read "Dahl Sector", and what look like dates.
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:
NO to the
Breathing
TAX!
FOOD!
A GHOSTLY floating
97.45 overhead.
Against that BACKDROP:
It models "Disturbances" on Trantor 4 Centuries ago, but that's hardly relevant.
BACK TO:
We'll judge what's relevant. A jumble only you can read doesn't look better than the Historical records you purportedly analyzed.
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.
Your claim to know more than anyone about our own subjects is well-known. Can you prove it?
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...
(cold)
Dr. Seldon, suppose you don't need to repeat here your self-aggrandizing speeches. What about that highlight?
Re: the (MORPHED) HOLO:
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.
A GHOSTLY floating
86.30
BACK TO:
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.
I fail to see the significance of...
CHEN SILENCES him with a small GESTURE.
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.
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.
73.17 slowly COUNTING UP.
(silhouetted) Against it:
...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:
Treason!
LOUD general MURMURING.
Gesturing 'SILENCE':
(frosty)
What do you mean, "Fall"?
The ROOM MORPHS/SHIFTS INTO:
The number
98.97 FLOATS around.
(anchored) In the middle of the WHIRL:
...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:
Rickety FARMS, propped by some rusty/pockmarked METAL posts/walls here & there.
A few (gaunt, sweaty) shirtless LABORERS (with primitive-ish TOOLS).
...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
...and Culture forgotten. Most other worlds in the Galaxy won't fare better.
REVERSEXPLODE BACK TO:
Standing UP:
Lies! Our Grand Fleet is unbeatable!
General ROARING
No! Silence him!
Treason!
No! Let him talk!
Very impressive project, well done!
ReplyDeleteThank you for the encouraging words. :-)
Delete