Back to the 1st half: PSYCHOHISTORIANS <--
--> Onwards to the next installment: ENCYCLOPEDIA
CHEN raises his (steel) GAVEL, drops it ONCE (loud GONG).
QUIET reigns again.
Surely you realize, Dr. Seldon, that for someone in your position that is a most disloyal thing to say.
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.
These so-called Sociological Equations no-one can read?
(to Gaal)
What do you say, Dr. Dornick? Is Seldon lying, or just exaggerating?
(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.
A couple IMPERIAL PATROLSHIPS around. Cargo / aux SHIPS coming to & fro, some JUMPING. BUSY place.
BACK TO:
What factors? We didn't give Seldon time to tell you anything!
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:
(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:
Both DRAW their ornamented BLASTERS, FIRE at each other!
...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:
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.
The floating REDDISH
100.00 BLINKS.
Again, ANOTHER!!
BACK TO:
(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.
A yellowish
59.65 floats in the night.
BACK TO:
The whole room HUSHES, faces pale.
1000...!? That's impossible to foresee, not even with your Math!
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.
1 of the Blasts HOLLOWS OUT the
89.32 floating atop the smoke.
BACK TO:
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?
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.
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?
Several, your Excellency. The Empire can avert disaster if we all work together, and sweeping Reforms are established...
That's it? You only want to regain power as Prime Minister? To lead us and save us from Trouble only you can see?
(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.
That old obsolete thing, that schoolchildren's toy? Why?
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...
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.
With SCARF & GLOVES:
Re: the SHIP:
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.
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.
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.
(grim)
There'll be no going back after we start this [+]. And there's still our dwindling Energy reserves.
You said we should count people as assets, even if they don't have practical experience in anything immediately useful.
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:
Allright: There's someone you need to see, over by the Landing Pads. Your Psychology could be useful with him.
Boarding the CAR:
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:
Starting the vehicle:
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...
# IMPOSING PRIVATE OFFICE. DAY. High-ceiling, finely DECORATED floor, stone, WOOD, paintings, BANNERS, bookcases... Wide (high) sunny BALCONY upon the (distant) Shielded Imperial GARDENS / PALACES.
On a narrow ornate TABLE (by the wall) a long ORNATE (gold, silver, diamond) Staff of Office.
Around a wide TABLE:
Well played, Seldon. The rumour mills are spreading the good news.
I'm getting shows of support from Courtiers who had avoided me for years.
Frankly, I'm surprised, with all you say you know, you haven't fled someplace safe on a faraway planet.
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.
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.
It will improve morale, and help quickstart other things. And it's only menial if we can keep the Empire from Falling.
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.
Its shields SHRUG OFF (spread/absorb/dilute) their lightning-like BLASTS!
Safely to one side FLOATS a
66.81
BACK TO:
A Recovery? How does a book do that?
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.
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:
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.
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.
The Pirates ATTACK & DESTROY many of those!
The '66.30' counts down to
66.02
BACK TO:
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.
Heavy BOOTS MARCH over them, slowly GRINDING 'em DOWN to fragments (spattered in BLOOD) including a floating
72.43
BACK TO:
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.
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?
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.
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!
84.78
BACK TO:
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.
(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.
While your grim tale of Dark Ages is nothing but the shadow of a nightmare without any solidity.
In JUMPS/BLINKS an attacking FLEET of similar size/strength!
A ghostly
97.65
counts UP to
97.96
BACK TO:
After being the Galactic Capital for so long, Trantor has become too specialized, less able to fend for itself, too vulnerable.
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.
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:
Worse, as the administrative center of an Empire increasingly defined by sharply concentrated authority, it will become a greater prize.
Don't forget the Imperial Fleet: it keeps Peace everywhere, and maintains Commerce routes open.
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:
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.
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:
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?
(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.
The Empire as a whole is almost impossible to deviate. It will take the efforts of many for a long time.
But the general situation is volatile enough that a few important individuals may distort the overall pattern to some extent.
Enough to avert the danger?
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!
Of course you'd say so!
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.
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:
We appreciate your keeping your most alarming predictions from general knowledge.
Truth be told, the Government feels public support doesn't need further eroding.
Thus, we'll grant your wish, on the only condition that you'll publicly endorse our efforts to keep the Empire running smoothly.
You'll be welcome to send us your valuable advice before leaving Trantor.
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.
But the Encyclopedia needs plenty of resources and the work of 1000s of experts, which are found only here!
BACK TO:
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.
I reckon someplace close enough to Trantor could be made to work if we...
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.
(alarmed)
But that's Exile! You'll risk our efforts against the Fall of the Empire!?
We'll manage the Empire. Being so smart, you'll have no trouble publishing the Encyclopedias.
You overestimate my influence over my peers and friends. They'll rather stay with their families, lives, and careers than follow me.
(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.
How can you...!? How will you even find 'em all!?
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.
You've studied so much History, you'll have no trouble finding ample precedent, believing we'll follow thru, and persuading any doubters.
(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.
BACK TO:
But the Emperor...!? He won't allow such trampling of...!?
Or he wouldn't be the Emperor.
Plus, he's currently busy planning a traditional Hunting Trip to a faraway wild planet.
(defeated)
I'll... obey. We... will go... wherever... wherever...
CHECKING a Document:
Name's Terminus. A fine empty planet on the edge of the Galaxy, far from everything. Lovely winters. Very peaceful all year round.
Everyone STANDS.
We'll be watching you.
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:
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.
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...
Bad how? We are a Scientific Institution, with our own worries. We cannot involve ourselves in local affairs!
(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.
The car OBLITERATES the ghostly
24 FLOATING in its way.
STOPPING the car:
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).
3-5 electric-baton-wielding GUARDS greet 'em.
The next night he was caught infiltrating our Databanks, probably looking for another ship to hijack...
Both LEAVING the car:
He'd break it, as he serves a demand driven by desperation. And if he wouldn't, others would.
You're right. But if we explain things to him, he may realize he's only bringing people to share our doom.
SELDON sits still (spent) eyes CLOSED.
On a (pad) SCREEN:
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:
This is highly irregular, we must Appeal! There'll be plenty of Precedents in the legal Databanks!
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:
And, under pretense of coordinating the move, the University's already under Martial Law. They just emitted a Bulletin.
Will they... resist?
No. Their only demand is that Dr. Seldon, a most respected Faculty member, be returned to them. Which we're doing right now.
They could... lynch us?
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.
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:
He takes a GLASS, GULPS it.
Wh...!?
Re: his PAD:
Sir, there are at least 3 different Spy Beams upon us! Our Field Distorter can hardly guarantee complete privacy!
Distorter?
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:
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.
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.
(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:
CHEERS + APPLAUSE!
BACK TO:
Well, the odds aren't good, but wasn't that what your public Campaigning was meant to address? Your revelations, your negotiations?
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.
(upset)
But... Exile!? For 1000s of people!? Innocents!
SIPPING his GLASS:
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.
FINANCIAL SERVICES
Discretion Guaranteed
Police FORCES (+vehicles) have it SURROUNDED (incl. AIR support, stopped traffic & trains, etc).
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:
WORKING his PAD:
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.
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:
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!
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.
The big COLONY SHIP, surrounded by SCAFFOLDING, LIGHTS, service SHIPS & SPARKS, undergoes REPAIRS/REFITTING.
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:
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.
(his POV, projected on the car's ceiling?)
A GHOSTLY
48.96 nearby.
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.
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:
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:
Are you ill?
They don't know what ails me, nor if resting does any good. Luckily my work will be finished soon!
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.
Trading Places
Sitting on CUBIC stone/concrete BLOCKS/fragments:
(glum)
At most, Mr. Aster. This planet is too harsh, and we have limited resources.
There's still time to find 'em some other place to...
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.
It took centuries. Millennia. We don't have that kind of margins.
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
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
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.
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.
Also riskier, I bet.
The FLOATING '28' CLIMBS to
33
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.
100s of ships, capable for many GigaTonnes, but...
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
Our Nucleics stockpile isn't that big. We'll need many ice mountains, preferably laced with Carbon, Nitrogen, or Phosphorus compounds.
What documents?
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.
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...
Virtuous...?
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.
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
It'll be a risky bet. Would those Techs come to work for us? Teach us? Find or make the needed parts?
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?
(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.
Working her PAD:
Of course. What name?
The FLOATING '45' CLIMBS to
51
SELDON (barely LIMPING) enters, followed by GAAL.
ENTERING & closing the DOOR:
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:
BROWSING the PAD:
They're losing everything for a Future none will see. I'd be upset too, if I didn't know better.
(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:
Bor is 1 of the Project's most talented members, Miss Dornick. As you'll be, each in your own way.
I prefer Diplomacy to Statistics, but every tool counts. Do you really think she's ready, Hari?
What we'll now show you must never be discussed, or even mentioned, outside this room. We demand absolute discretion.
(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.
(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:
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:
(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.
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:
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:
The HOLO focuses a bunch of BRONZE gears, wheels, pinions & other interlocked MECHANISMS.
Pointing:
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!
PEEKING close/around:
These Predictions, our best guide thru the coming Chaos, would unravel and become useless if they became public knowledge.
Trillions of lives are at stake. Only a handful close collaborators who helped craft 'em (including me) know their existence.
(firm)
Neither the Commission nor any of the other groups who've been spying on us for decades must have the least hint.
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.
But if people knew these Equations, they could act to...!
(beat)
Huh... Change their future, and thus these results?
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.
ZOOMING IN & FOCUSING the HOLO-Equations:
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:
That's Terminus!? It must have taken years to plan. And the Logistics!? You Statisticians leave nothing to chance, do you?
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...
Not the 'entire' University: a fair percent always refused to listen to us.
Which helps fight the temptation to find a nice hole and hide until the storm passes.
Re: the HOLO:
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:
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.
(smiles)
The last piece of our puzzle, once you learn to use Psycho-History for everything and everyone.
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.
I thought we had been granted a Charter to create an independent Scientific Foundation, under direct rule of his Majesty the Emperor.
We have. But Anacreon will be the closest Imperial authority. We'll need their help to get started.
(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.
Re: the EQUATIONS:
It's taken our best people half their lives to work out the basics. We'll have only a few months for everything else.
There comes the next: only 16 hours late, and 20 degrees off-vector!
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.
Inside, glimpsed thru its PORTS / WINDOWS:
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!
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.
What about uncontrolled disassembly? We were lucky nothing too big impacted close to the city, 3 days ago!
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.
Who-hoo! YEAH!
Feels different when you're part of it, doesn't it? When it's your home...
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
A few WIND-TURBINES and Solar COLLECTORS pop here & there.
FADE IN:
POPULATION: 124000
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:
(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.
(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!
Bor!? What was that!?
From the recovered screen:
Only a thunderstorm. Rainy season. Anacreon's jungle and weather are harsh with infrastructure outside the big Cities and the nobility's Castles.
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
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.
Encyclopedia Galactica
(116th Ed.) 1020 F.E
Good work!
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