Forward the Foundation - Isaac Asimov [207]
"Yes," said Seldon, nodding. "I still say so. Does it have a name or is there just a letter-number combination?"
"Believe it or not, it has a name. Those who sent out the probes named it Terminus, an archaic word meaning `the end of the line.' Which it would seem to be."
Seldon said, "Is the world part of the territory of the Province of Anacreon?"
"Not really," said Zenow. "If you'll study the red line and the red shading, you will see that the blue dot of Terminus lies slightly outside it -fifty light-years outside it, in fact. Terminus belongs to nobody; it's not even part of the Empire, as a matter of fact."
"You're right, then, Las. It does seem like the ideal world I've been looking for."
"Of course," said Zenow thoughtfully, "once you occupy Terminus, I imagine the Governor of Anacreon will claim it as being under his jurisdiction."
"That's possible," said Seldon, "but we'll have to deal with that when 1 he matter comes up."
Zenow rubbed his hands again. "What a glorious conception. Setting up a huge project on a brand-new world, far away and entirely isolated, so that year by year and decade by decade a huge Encyclopedia of all human knowledge can be put together. An epitome of what is present in this Library. If I were only younger, I would love to join the expedition."
Seldon said sadly, "You're almost twenty years younger than I am." (Almost everyone is far younger than I am, he thought, even more sadly.)
Zenow said, "Ah yes, I heard that you just passed your seventieth birthday. I hope you enjoyed it and celebrated appropriately."
Seldon stirred. "I don't celebrate my birthdays."
"Oh, but you did. I remember the famous story of your sixtieth birthday."
Seldon felt the pain, as deeply as though the dearest loss in all the world had taken place the day before. "Please don't talk about it," he said.
Abashed, Zenow said, "I'm sorry. We'll talk about something else. If, indeed, Terminus is the world you want, I imagine that your work on the preliminaries to the Encyclopedia Project will be redoubled. As you know, the Library will be glad to help you in all respects."
"I'm aware of it, Las, and I am endlessly grateful. We will, indeed, keep working."
He rose, not yet able to smile after the sharp pang induced by the reference to his birthday celebration of ten years back. He said, "So I must go to continue my labors."
And as he left, he felt, as always, a pang of conscience over the deceit he was practicing. Las Zenow did not have the slightest idea of Seldon's true intentions.
3
Hari Seldon surveyed the comfortable suite that had been his personal office at the Galactic Library these past few years. It, like the rest of the Library, had a vague air of decay about it, a kind of weariness-something that had been too long in one place. And yet Seldon knew it might remain here, in the same place, for centuries more-with judicious rebuildings-for millennia even.
How did he come to be here?
Over and over again, he felt the past in his mind, ran his mental tendrils along the line of development of his life. It was part of growing older, no doubt. There was so much more in the past, so much less in the future, that the mind turned away from the looming shadow ahead to contemplate the safety of what had gone before.
In his case, though, there was that change. For over thirty years psychohistory had developed in what might almost be considered a straight line-progress creepingly slow but moving straight ahead. Then six years ago there had been a right-angled turn-totally unexpected.
And Seldon know exactly how it had happened, how a concatenation of events came together to make it possible.
It was Wanda, of course, Seldon's granddaughter. Hari closed his eyes and settled into his chair to review the events of six years before.
Twelve-year-old Wanda was bereft. Her mother, Manella, had had another child, another little girl, Bellis, and for a time the new baby was a total preoccupation.