Foundation's Edge (Foundation, #4)

by Isaac Asimov

Trevize didn’t soften. He said, “Let’s not bother with ingratiation. Your job is to badger me as though I were a traitor.

Stor Gendibal did not require the evidence of others to give him a sense of worth.

The language of Speakers had its advantage in speed and in infinite delicacy, but it had the disadvantage of making it almost impossible to mask true opinion. Gendibal knew his own opinion of the First Speaker. He felt the First Speaker to be a man past his mental prime. The First Speaker—in Gendibal’s assessment—expected no crisis, was not trained to meet one, and lacked the sharpness to deal with one if it appeared. With all Shandess’s goodwill and amiability, he was the stuff of which disaster was made.

Pelorat said, “We’ve only been in space two days and I find myself quite comfortable, although I miss fresh air, nature, and all that. Strange! Never seemed to notice all that sort of thing when it was all around me. Still between my wafer and that remarkable computer of yours, I have my entire library with me—or all that matters, at any rate. And I don’t feel the least bit frightened of being out in space now. Astonishing!”

Gendibal did not see Novi again till after dinnertime, at which time she was brought to him by the woman to whom he had endlessly explained the situation—at least, the nonsexual character of the situation. She had understood—or, at least, did not dare show any indication of failure to understand, which was perhaps just as good.

“So? Interesting!” said Gendibal with no obvious conviction. “And better yet. To know when a truth will do is admirable, since no nontruth can be presented with the same sincerity. Palver once said, ‘The closer to the truth, the better the lie, and the truth itself, when it can be used, is the best lie.’ ”

“You see that I’m still in a state where I can indulge in cool, analytical reasoning. Very odd! Or can I tell? Am I in a panic, incoherent, mad—and merely under the illusion that I am indulging in cool, analytical reasoning?” Pelorat shrugged. “You seem sane to me. Perhaps I am as insane as you and am under the same illusion, but that sort of argument gets us nowhere. All humanity could share a common insanity and be immersed in a common illusion while living in a common chaos. That can’t be disproved, but we have no choice but to follow our senses.” And then, abruptly, he said, “In fact, I’ve been doing some reasoning myself.”

“He’s been at his post too long. He’s beginning to think like a Sayshellian.” “That’s the occupational hazard of an ambassadorship, Liono.

Trevize stirred restlessly. “I believe this is a common speculation in quantum mechanics—a very ancient one, in fact.” “Ah, you’ve heard of it. But let us go on. Imagine it is possible for human beings to freeze all the infinite number of Universes, to step from one to another at will, and to choose which one should be made ‘real’—whatever that word means in this connection.” Trevize said, “I hear your words and can even imagine the concept you describe, but I cannot make myself believe that anything like this could ever happen.” “Nor I, on the whole,” said Dom, “which is why I say that it would all seem to be a fable. Nevertheless, the

“The robots were deeply indoctrinated with what are called the Three Laws of Robotics, which date back into prehistory. There are several versions of what those Three Laws might have been. The orthodox view has the following reading: ‘1) A robot may not harm a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm; 2) A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law; 3) A robot must protect its own existence, as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.’ “As robots grew more intelligent and versatile, they interpreted these Laws, especially the all-overriding First, more and more generously and assumed, to a greater and greater degree, the role of protector of humanity. The protection stifled people and grew unbearable. “The robots were entirely kind. Their labors were clearly humane and were meant entirely for the benefit of all—which somehow made them all the more unbearable. “Every robotic advance made the situation worse. Robots were developed

with telepathic capacity, but that meant that even human thought could be monitored, so that human behavior became still more dependent on robotic oversight. “Again robots grew steadily more like human beings in appearance, but they were unmistakably robots in behavior and being humanoid made them more repulsive. So, of course, it had to come to an end.” “Why ‘of course?’ ” asked Pelorat, who had been listening intently. Dom said, “It’s a matter of following the logic to the bitter end. Eventually, the robots grew advanced enough to become just sufficiently human to appreciate why human beings should resent being deprived of everything human in the name of their own good. In the long run, the robots were forced to decide that humanity might be better off caring for themselves, however carelessly and ineffectively. “Therefore, it is said, it was the robots who established Eternity somehow and became the Eternals. They located a Reality in which they felt that human beings could be as secure as possible—alone

alone in the Galaxy. Then, having done what they could to guard us and in order to fulfill the First Law in the truest sense, the robots of their own accord ceased to function and ever since we hav...

Trevize said, “This is unlikely.” Pelorat turned to him. “No, Golan. It’s not at all unlikely. Societies create their own history and tend to wipe out lowly beginnings, either by forgetting them or inventing totally fictitious heroic rescues.