Forward the Foundation

Seldon left, his lips pressed tightly together. Why he had thought that somehow the genome would be worked out in five minutes and that a glance at it in another five minutes would give him an answer, he did not know. Now he would have to wait for weeks, without knowing what would be found.

He ground his teeth. Would his newest brainchild, the Second Foundation, ever be established or was it an illusion that would remain always just out of reach?

Hari Seldon walked into Dr. Endelecki's office, a nervous smile on his face.

He said, "You said a couple of weeks, Doctor. It's been over a month mow."

Dr. Endelecki nodded. "I'm sorry, Professor Seldon but you wanted everything exact and that is what I have tried to do."

"Well?" The look of anxiety on Seldon's face did not disappear. What did you find?"

"A hundred or so defective genes."

"What! Defective genes. Are you serious, Doctor?"

"Quite serious. Why not? There are no genomes without at least a hundred defective genes; usually there are considerably more. It's not as bad as it sounds, you know."

"No, I don't know. You're the expert, Doctor, not I."

Dr. Endelecki sighed and stirred in her chair. "You don't know anything about genetics, do you, Professor?"

"No, I don't. A man can't know everything."

"You're perfectly right. I know nothing about this-what do you call it?-this psychohistory of yours."

Dr. Endelecki shrugged, then continued. "If you wanted to explain anything about it, you would be forced to start from the begi

"Well?"

"An imperfect gene usually means nothing. There are imperfect genes-so imperfect and so crucial that they produce terrible disorders. These are very rare, though. Most imperfect genes simply don't work with absolute accuracy. They're like wheels that are slightly out of balance. A vehicle will move along, trembling a bit, but it will move along."

"Is that what Wanda has?"

"Yes. More or less. After all, if all genes were perfect, we would all look precisely the same, we would all behave precisely the same. It's the difference in genes that makes for different people."

"But won't it get worse as we grow older?"

"Yes. We all get worse as we grow older. I noticed you limping when you came in. Why is that?"

"A touch of sciatica," muttered Seldon.

"Did you have it all your life?"

"Of course not."

"Well, some of your genes have gotten worse with time and now you limp."

"And what will happen to Wanda with time?"

"I don't know. I can't predict the future, Professor; I believe that is your province. However, if I were to hazard a guess, I would say that nothing unusual will happen to Wanda-at least, genetically-except the gathering of old age."

Seldon said, "Are you sure?"

"You have to take my word for it. You wanted to find out about Wanda's genome and you ran the risk of discovering things perhaps it is better not to know. But I tell you that, in my opinion, I can see nothing terrible happening to her."

"The imperfect genes-should we fix them? Can we fix them?"

"No. In the first place, it would be very expensive. Secondly, the chances are that they would not stay fixed. And finally, people are against it.

"But why?"

"Because they're against science in general. You should know this as well as anyone, Professor. I'm afraid the situation is such, especially since Cleon's death, that mysticism has been gaining ground. People don't believe in fixing genes scientifically. They would rather cure things by the laying on of hands or by mumbo-jumbo of some sort or other. Frankly it is extremely difficult for me to continue with my job. Very little funding is coming in."

Seldon nodded. "Actually I understand this situation all too well. Psychohistory explains it, but I honestly didn't think the situation was growing so bad so rapidly. I've been too involved in my own work to see the difficulties all around me." He sighed. "I've been watching the Galactic Empire slowly fall apart for over thirty years now-and now that it's begi

"Are you trying to?" Dr. Endelecki seemed amused.

"Yes, I am."

"Lots of luck. About your sciatica. You know, fifty years ago it could have been cured. Not now, though."

"Why not?"

"Well, the devices used for it are gone; the people who could have handled them are working on other things. Medicine is declining."

"Along with everything else," mused Seldon. "But let's get back to Wanda. I feel she is a most unusual young woman with a brain that is different from most. What do her genes tell you about her brain?"

Dr. Endelecki leaned back in her chair. "Professor Seldon do you know just how many genes are involved in brain function?"

"No.

"I'll remind you that, of all the aspects of the human body, the brain function is the most intricate. In fact, as far as we know, there is nothing in the Universe as intricate as the human brain. So you won't be surprised when I tell you that there are thousands of genes that each play a role in brain function."

"Thousands?"

"Exactly. And it is impossible to go through those genes and see anything specifically unusual. I will take your word for it, as far as Wanda is concerned. She is an unusual girl with an unusual brain, but I see nothing in her genes that can tell me anything about that brain-except, of course, that it is normal."

"Could you find other people whose genes for mental functioning are like Wanda's, that have the same brain pattern?"

"I doubt it very much. Even if another brain were much like hers, there would still be enormous differences in the genes. No use looking for similarities. Tell me, Professor, just what is it about Wanda that makes you think her brain is so unusual?"

Seldon shook his head. "I'm sorry. It's not something I can discuss."

"In that case, I am certain that I can find out nothing for you. How did you discover that there was something unusual about her brain-this thing you can't discuss?"

"Accident," muttered Seldon. "Sheer accident."

"In that case, you're going to have to find other brains like hers-also by accident. Nothing else can be done."

Silence settled over both of them. Finally Seldon said, "Is there anything else you can tell me?"

"I'm afraid not. Except that I'll send you my bill."

Seldon rose with an effort. His sciatica hurt him badly. "Well then, thank you, Doctor. Send the bill and I'll pay it."

Hari Seldon left the doctor's office, wondering just what he would do next.

Like any intellectual, Hari Seldon had made use of the Galactic Library freely. For the most part, it had been done long-distance through computer, but occasionally he had visited it, more to get away from the pressures of the Psychohistory Project than for any other purpose. And, for the past couple of years, since he had first formulated his plan to find others like Wanda, he had kept a private office there, so he could have ready access to any of the Library's vast collection of data. He had even rented a small apartment in an adjacent sector under the dome so that he would be able to walk to the Library when his ever-increasing research there prevented him from returning to the Streeling Sector.

Now, however, his plan had taken on new dimensions and he wanted to meet Las Zenow. It was the first time he had ever met him face-to-face.

It was not easy to arrange a personal interview with the Chief Librarian of the Galactic Library. His own perception of the nature and value of his office was high and it was frequently said that when the Emperor wished to consult the Chief Librarian, even he had to visit the Library himself and wait his turn.

Seldon however, had no trouble. Zenow knew him well, though he had never seen Hari Seldon in person. "An honor, First Minister," he said in greeting.

Seldon smiled. "I trust you know that I have not held that post in sixteen years."

"The honor of the title is still yours. Besides, sir, you were also instrumental in ridding us of the brutal rule of the junta. The junta, on a number of occasions, violated the sacred rule of the neutrality of the Library."

(Ah, thought Seldon that accounts for the readiness with which he saw me.)

"Merely rumor," he said aloud.

"And now, tell me," said Zenow, who could not resist a quick look at the time band on his wrist, "what can I do for you?"

"Chief Librarian," began Seldon "I have not come to ask anything easy of you. What I want is more space at the Library. I want permission to bring in a number of my associates. I want permission to undertake a long and elaborate program of the greatest importance."

Las Zenow's face drew into an expression of distress. "You ask a great deal. Can you explain the importance of all this?"

"Yes. The Empire is in the process of disintegration."

There was a long pause. Then Zenow said, "I have heard of your research into psychohistory. I have been told that your new science bears the promise of predicting the future. Is it psychohistorical predictions of which you are speaking?"

"No. I have not yet reached the point in psychohistory where I can speak of the future with certainty. But you don't need psychohistory to know that the Empire is disintegrating. You can see the evidence yourself."

Zenow sighed. "My work here consumes me utterly, Professor Seldon. I am a child when it comes to political and social matters."

"You may, if you wish, consult the information contained in the Library. Why look around this very office-it is chock-full of every conceivable sort of information from throughout the entire Galactic Empire."

"I'm the last to keep up with it all, I'm afraid," Zenow said, smiling sadly. "You know the old proverb: The shoemaker's child has no shoes. It seems to me, though, that the Empire is restored. We have an Emperor again."