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The Originist
by Orson Scott Card
Leyel Forska sat before his lector display, reading through an array of recently published scholarly papers. A holograph of two pages of text hovered in the air before him. The display was rather larger than most people needed their pages to be, since Leyel’s eyes were no younger than the rest of him. When he came to the end he did not press the PAGE key to continue the article. Instead he pressed NEXT.
The two pages he had been reading slid backward about a centimeter, joining a dozen previously discarded articles, all standing in the air over the lector. With a soft beep, a new pair of pages appeared in front of the old ones.
Deet spoke up from where she sat eating breakfast. “You ‘re only giving the poor soul two pages before you consign him to the wastebin?”
“I’m consigning him to oblivion,” Leyel answered cheerfully. “No, I’m consigning him to hell.”
“What? Have you rediscovered religion in your old age?”
“I’m creating one. It has no heaven, but it has a terrible everlasting hell for young scholars who think they can make their reputation by attacking my work. “
“Ah, you have a theology,” said Deet. “Your work is holy writ, and to attack it is blasphemy. “
“I welcome intelligent attacks. But this young tubeheaded professor from-yes, of course, Minus University-”
“Old Minus U?”
“He thinks he can refute me, destroy me, lay me in the dust, and all he has bothered to cite are studies published within the last thousand years. “
“The principle of mille
“The principle of mille
“Stupid and outmoded. But my dearest darling sweetheart Leyel, you did it by spending part of the immeasurably vast Forska fortune to search for inaccessible and forgotten archives in every section of the Empire.”
“Neglected and decaying. I had to reconstruct half of them.”
“It would take a thousand universities’ library budgets to match what you spent on research for ‘Human Origin on the Null Planet.’ “
“But once I spent the money, all those archives were open. They have been open for three decades. The serious scholars all use them, since mille
“So colorful an image. My breakfast tastes much better now… “ She slid her tray into the cleaning slot and glared at him. “Why are you so snappish? You used to read me sections from their silly little papers and we’d laugh. Lately you’re just nasty.”
Leyel sighed. “Maybe it’s because I once dreamed of changing the galaxy, and every day’s mail brings more evidence that the galaxy refuses to change.”
“Nonsense. Hari Seldon has promised that the Empire will fall any day now.”
There. She had said Hari’s name. Even though she had too much tact to speak openly of what bothered him, she was hinting that Leyel’s bad humor was because he was still waiting for Hari Seldon’s answer. Maybe so-Leyel wouldn’t deny it. It was a
“Well, I hope you have a wonderful morning, growling and grumbling about the stupidity of everyone in origin studies-except your esteemed self.”
“Why are you teasing me about my vanity today? I’ve always been vain.”
“I consider it one of your most endearing traits.”
“At least I make an effort to live up to my own opinion of myself.”
“That’s nothing. You even live up to my opinion of you.” She kissed the bald spot on the top of his head as she breezed by, heading for the bathroom.
Leyel turned his attention to the new essay at the front of the lector display. It was a name he didn’t recognize. Fully prepared to find pretentious writing and puerile thought, he was surprised to find himself becoming quite absorbed. This woman had been following a trail of primate studies-a field so long neglected that there simply were no papers within the range of mille
It seemed that the woman-a Dr. Thoren Magolissian-had been following Leyel’s lead, searching for the principles of human origin rather than wasting time on the irrelevant search for one particular planet. She had uncovered a trove of primate research from three mille
Never mind.
Magolissian’s article. What startled Leyel was her conclusion that primitive language capability seemed to be inherent in the primate mind. Even in primates incapable of speech, other symbols could easily be learned-at least for simple nouns and verbs-and the nonhuman primates could come up with sentences and ideas that had never been spoken to them. This meant that mere production of language, per se, was prehuman, or at least not the determining factor of huma
It was a dazzling thought. It meant that the difference between humans and nonhumans-the real origin of humans in recognizably human form-was post-linguistic. Of course this came as a direct contradiction of one of Leyel’s own assertions in an early paper-he had said that “since language is what separates human from beast, historical linguistics may provide the key to human origins”-but this was the sort of contradiction he welcomed. He wished he could shout at the other fellow, make him look at Magolissian’s article. See? This is how to do it! Challenge my assumption, not my conclusion, and do it with new evidence instead of trying to twist the old stuff. Cast a light in the darkness, don’t just chum up the same old sediment at the bottom of the river.
Before he could get into the main body of the article, however, the house computer informed him that someone was at the door of the apartment. It was a message that crawled along the bottom of the lector display. Leyel pressed the key that brought the message to the front, in letters large enough to read. For the thousandth time he wished that sometime in the decamille
“Who is it?” Leyel typed.
A moment’s wait, while the house computer interrogated the visitor.
The answer appeared on the lector: “Secure courier with a message for Leyel Forska.”
The very fact that the courier had got past house security meant that it was genuine-and important. Leyel typed again. “From?”
Another pause. “Hari Seldon of the Encyclopedia Galactica Foundation.”
Leyel was out of his chair in a moment. He got to the door even before the house computer could open it, and without a word took the message in his hands. Fumbling a bit, he pressed the top and bottom of the black glass lozenge to prove by fingerprint that it was he, by body temperature and pulse that he was alive to receive it. Then, when the courier and her bodyguards were gone, he dropped the message into the chamber of his lector and watched the page appear in the air before him.
At the top was a three-dimensional version of the logo of Hari ‘s Encyclopedia Foundation. Soon to be my insignia as well, thought Leyel. Hari Seldon and I, the two greatest scholars of our time, joined together in a project whose scope surpasses anything ever attempted by any man or group of men. The gathering together of all the knowledge of the Empire in a systematic, easily accessible way, to preserve it through the coming time of anarchy so that a new civilization can quickly rise out of the ashes of the old. Hari had the vision to foresee the need. And I, Leyel Forska, have the understanding of all the old archives that will make the Encyclopedia Galactica possible.
Leyel started reading with a confidence born of experience; had he ever really desired anything and been denied?
My dear friend:
I was surprised and honored to see an application from you and insisted on writing your answer personally. It is gratifying beyond measure that you believe in the Foundation enough to apply to take part. I can truthfully tell you that we have received no application from any other scholar of your distinction and accomplishment.
Of course, thought Leyel. There is no other scholar of my stature, except Hari himself, and perhaps Deet, once her current work is published. At least we have no equals by the standards that Hari and I have always recognized as valid. Hari created the science of psychohistory. I transformed and revitalized the field of originism.
And yet the tone of Hari’s letter was wrong. It sounded like-flattery. That was it. Hari was softening the coming blow. Leyel knew before reading it what the next paragraph would say.
Nevertheless, Leyel, I must reply in the negative. The Foundation on Terminus is designed to collect and preserve knowledge. Your life’s work has been devoted to expanding it. You are the opposite of the sort of researcher we need. Far better for you to remain on Trantor and continue your inestimably valuable studies, while lesser men and women exile themselves on Terminus.
Your servant,
Hari
Did Hari imagine Leyel to be so vain he would read these flattering words and preen himself contentedly? Did he think Leyel would believe that this was the real reason his application was being denied? Could Hari Seldon misknow a man so badly?