Foundation’s Triumph

The tall, lanky form of Kers Kantun marched along deck plates that had been untrodden for mille

“The guardian will see us now. Please come along. There is much to do.”

The station was much bigger than it appeared from the outside. Twisty corridors jutted at all angles, leading from one oddly shaped storage room to the next. Not all archives, apparently, were of the crystalline variety designed to hurtle vast distances across interstellar space. Some rooms were filled almost to bursting with stacks of slender wafers, or round disks whose surfaces gleamed like rainbows. Hari shuddered, knowing how much harm even one of these objects might do if humanity’s long ignorance ended too abruptly.

His former servant led them circuitously to a chamber deep in the hollowed planetoid. There Hari encountered a strange-looking machine with a myriad legs, squatting like a spider at the center of her web. The mechanism looked as old as the archaic tilling machines, and just as dead…until a blank lens abruptly filled with opalescent light, fixing an unblinking gaze on the two humans. Hari realized that he and Maserd might be the first living creatures ever to confront this primeval being, in this cryptic place.

After several seconds, a voice emerged, resonating from within the guardian’s metal interstices.

“I am told that we have reached a juncture of crisis and decision,” the old robot said. “A time when the age-old quandary must be settled, at last.”

Hari nodded. “This place is no longer secret or secure. Ships are on the way. Their crews are ill with an especially virulent chaos plague. They mean to seize the archives and use them to infect the entire human cosmos.”

“So I have been told. By the Zeroth Law, it is incumbent upon us to destroy the artifacts that I have guarded for so long. And yet, there is a problem.”

Hari glanced at Maserd, but the nobleman appeared baffled. When he looked at Kers Kantun, Seldon got his answer.

“The guardian is a Zeroth Law robot, Dr. Seldon. Nearly all of those who survived our great civil war adhere to Giskardian beliefs. Still, that has not settled all philosophical differences among us.”

It was a revelation to Hari. “I thought Daneel was your leader.”

Kers nodded. “He is. And yet, each of us retains alooseness.…an uncertainty that comes from deep within-the place within our positronic brains wherein lies the Second Law. Nearly all of us believe in Daneel’s policies, in his judgment, and his dedication to the good of humankind. But there are many who feel uncomfortable about the details.”

Hari pondered for a moment. “I get it. These archives have been preserved because of the commands that were written upon them, instructions dictated by knowledgeable and sovereign human beings who cared deeply about the commands they were giving. That’s a lot of Second Law emphasis for a robot to ignore. To do so must cause you a great deal of pain, I would guess.”

“There you have it, Dr. Seldon,” Kers acknowledged. “That is where you come in.”

Biron Maserd cut in.

“You want us to cancel the instructions for you!”

“Correct. The two of you have great authority, not only in the universe of human affairs, but in your reputation among robotkind. You, Lord Maserd, are one of the most respected members of the gentry caste, with a blood lineage that is considerably more worthy than most current claimants to the imperial throne.”

Maserd’s countenance glowered. “Do not repeat that assertion anywhere if you have the slightest respect for my family’s survival.”

Kers Kantun bowed. “Then by the Second, First, and Zeroth Laws, I will not repeat it. Nevertheless, it gives you considerable cachet, not just among humans, but among many robots, who have an almost mystical reverence for regal legitimacy.”

Kers then turned to Hari. “But your authority is greater still, Dr. Seldon. Not only were you the greatest human in many generations to hold the position of First Minister of the Empire, but you are also clearly the mostknowledgeable human to come along within any robot’s living memory. Your awareness of the entire galactic situation is unmatched by any organic person for ten thousand years.

“In fact, through your insights into psychohistory, you are perhaps the most knowledgeable human who ever lived-at least when it comes to the matters at hand.”

“But I thought knowledge was dangerous,” muttered Maserd.

Kers answered, “As you well know, my lord, a substantial fraction of humans are invulnerable to chaos. Those with intense feelings of responsibility, for instance, such as yourself. Or those lacking imagination. And some, like Professor Seldon, owe their immunity to something that can only be called wisdom.”

“So you want us to cancel the orders printed on the archives. You’re going to destroy them anyway, for Zeroth Law reasons. But our permission will make your action less painful?”

“That is right, Dr. Seldon. If you tell us this has your approval. But it won’t change what has to be done, either way.”

Silence ensued once more, as Hari thought of all the archives trapped in storage chambers, or tethered to this ancient space station. The hopes and passions of i

“I suspect poor Horis Antic was being used, was he not?”

Biron Maserd gasped. “I hadn’t thought of that! Then you and I weredestined to come here, Seldon. This was no accident. No mere happenstance. By the nebular gods, Professor. Your robot friends could outscheme any of the great families!”

Hari let out a sigh.

“Well, it does no good to resent them as if they were human. Daneel’s folk have their own logic. We are their gods, you know. Keeping us ignorant is a form of worship. I guess now it’s time for an act of sacrifice.”

Although his body felt once again fatigued and encumbered with age, he straightened his shoulders.

“I hereby override the preservation commandments that are inscribed on the archives. By my authority as a sovereign and knowledgeable human leader, and by the respect you robots seem to have for me, I order you to destroy the archives before they fall into the wrong hands, doing horrible harm to humanity, and to trillions of individual human beings.”

Kers Kantun bowed to Hari, then glanced casually toward Biron Maserd, as if to emphasize that the nobleman’s authority was less needed.

“So let it be done,” the starship captain said between clenched teeth.

Hari could well understand how Maserd felt. His own mouth tasted like ashes.What a terrible universe, he thought,to force such decisions on us.

The ancient robot at the center of the room writhed its many arms. All of its eyes came alight. The voice emerged as a fluting sigh.

“It commences.”

From some place in the distance, Hari heard muffled explosions. Thrumming vibrations carried through the floor under his feet, signaling that the demolition had begun. On several view screens, a million glittering archives brightened as sudden flashes burst amid them.

The spiderlike guardian continued, this time with a lower voice that sounded raspy with exhaustion.

“And so my long labors come to an end. At this point, masters, even as your orders are being carried out, I wish to ask you for one simple favor. And yet, it is the verY thing that I am prevented from requesting.”

“What’s stopping you?” Maserd asked.

“The Third Law of Robotics.”

The nobleman looked puzzled. Hari glanced at Kers Kantun, but his assistant kept silent as a stone.

“Isn’t that the program requiring you to protect your own existence?”

“It is, master. And it can only be overridden by invoking one of the other laws.”

“Well…” Hari frowned. “I should be able to do that simply byordering you to tell me what you want. Okay then, spill it.”