Prelude to Foundation

“Ah, I thought I saw you there. It was-excuse me-that moment of recognition that led me to sit here. If I am intruding on your privacy-”

“Not at all. I’m just enjoying an idle moment.”

“Let’s see how close I can get. You’re Professor Seldon.”

“Seldon. Hari Seldon. Quite close. And you?”

“Chetter Hummin.” The man seemed slightly embarrassed. “Rather a homespun name, I’m afraid.”

“I’ve never come across any Chetters before,” said Seldon. “Or Hummins. So that makes you somewhat unique, I should think. It might be viewed as being better than being mixed up with all the countless Haris there are. Or Seldons, for that matter.”

Seldon moved his chair closer to Hummin, scraping it against the slightly elastic ceramoid tiles.

“Talk about homespun,” he said, “What about this Outworldish clothing I’m wearing? It never occurred to me that I ought to get Trantorian garb.”

“You could buy some,” said Hummin, eyeing Seldon with suppressed disapproval.

“I’ll be leaving tomorrow and, besides, I couldn’t afford it. Mathematicians deal with large numbers sometimes, but never in their income.-I presume you’re a mathematician, Hummin.”

“No. Zero talent there.”

“Oh.” Seldon was disappointed. “You said you saw me at the Decennial Convention.”

“I was there as an onlooker. I’m a journalist.” He waved his teleprints, seemed suddenly aware that he was holding them and shoved them into his jacket pouch. “I supply the material for the news holocasts.” Then, thoughtfully, “Actually, I’m rather tired of it.”

“The job?”

Hummin nodded. “I’m sick of gathering together all the nonsense from every world. I hate the downward spiral.”

He glanced speculatively at Seldon. “Sometimes something interesting turns up, though. I’ve heard you were seen in the company of an Imperial Guard and making for the Palace gate. You weren’t by any chance seen by the Emperor, were you?” The smile vanished from Seldon’s face. He said slowly, “If I was, it would scarcely be something I could talk about for publication.”

“No, no, not for publication. If you don’t know this, Seldon, let me be the first to tell you-The first rule of the news game is that nothing is ever said about the Emperor or his personal entourage except what is officially given out. It’s a mistake, of course, because rumors fly that are much worse than the truth, but that’s the way it is.”

“But if you can’t report it, friend, why do you ask?”

“Private curiosity. Believe me, in my job I know a great deal more than ever gets on the air.-Let me guess. I didn’t follow your paper, but I gathered that you were talking about the possibility of predicting the future.”

Seldon shook his head and muttered, “It was a mistake.”

“Pardon me?”

“Nothing.”

“Well, prediction-accurate prediction-would interest the Emperor, or any man in government, so I’m guessing that Cleon, First of that Name, asked you about it and wouldn’t you please give him a few predictions.”

Seldon said stiffly, “I don’t intend to discuss the matter.”

Hummin shrugged slightly. “Eto Demerzel was there, I suppose.”

“Who?”

“You’ve never heard of Eto Demerzel?”

“Never.”

“Cleon’s alter ego-Cleon’s brain-Cleon’s evil spirit. He’s been called all those things-if we confine ourselves to the nonvituperative. He must have been there.”

Seldon looked confused and Hummin said, “Well, you may not have seen him, but he was there. And if he thinks you can predict the future-”

“I can’t predict the future,” said Seldon, shaking his head vigorously. “If you listened to my paper, you’ll know that I only spoke of a theoretical possibility.”

“Just the same, if he thinks you can predict the future, he will not let you go.”

“He must have. Here I am.”

“That means nothing. He knows where you are and he’ll continue to know. And when he wants you, he’ll get you, wherever you are. And if he decides you’re useful, he’ll squeeze the use out of you. And if he decides you’re dangerous, he’ll squeeze the life out of you.”

Seldon stared. “What are you trying to do. Frighten me?”

“I’m trying to warn you.”

“I don’t believe what you’re saying.”

“Don’t you? A while ago you said something was a mistake. Were you thinking that presenting the paper was a mistake and that it was getting you into the kind of trouble you don’t want to be in?”

Seldon bit his lower lip uneasily. That was a guess that came entirely too close to the truth-and it was at this moment that Seldon felt the presence of intruders.

They did not cast a shadow, for the light was too soft and widespread. It was simply a movement that caught the corner of his eye-and then it stopped.

Flight