Second Foundation - Isaac Asimov [90]
It might have been hours, in the utter silence that followed—
And then in the darkness of the comparison, Anthor said huskily: “Sure, sure, it’s only the onset of a complex. Isn’t that what he told us? No such thing as tampering; it’s all a silly anthropomorphic notion—but look at it! A coincidence, I suppose.”
“What’s the matter?” shrieked Munn.
Darell’s hand was tight on the librarian’s shoulder. “Quiet, Munn—you’ve been handled; you’ve been adjusted by them.”
Then the light went on, and Munn was looking about him with broken eyes, making a horrible attempt to smile.
“You can’t be serious, surely. There is a purpose to this. You’re testing me.”
But Darell only shook his head. “No, no, Homir. It’s true.”
The librarian’s eyes were filled with tears, suddenly. “I don’t feel any different. I can’t believe it.” With sudden conviction: “You are all in this. It’s a conspiracy.”
Darell attempted a soothing gesture, and his hand was struck aside. Munn snarled, “You’re planning to kill me. By Space, you’re planning to kill me.”
With a lunge, Anthor was upon him. There was the sharp crack of bone against bone, and Homir was limp and flaccid with that look of fear frozen on his face.
Anthor rose shakily, and said, “We’d better tie and gag him. Later, we can decide what to do.” He brushed his long hair back.
Turbor said, “How did you guess there was something wrong with him?”
Anthor turned sardonically upon him. “It wasn’t difficult. You see, I happen to know where the Second Foundation really is.”
Successive shocks have a decreasing effect—
It was with actual mildness that Semic asked, “Are you sure? I mean, we’ve just gone through this sort of business with Munn—”
“This isn’t quite the same,” returned Anthor. “Darell, the day the war started, I spoke to you most seriously. I tried to have you leave Terminus. I would have told you then what I will tell you now, if I had been able to trust you.”
“You mean you have known the answer for half a year?” smiled Darell.
“I have known it from the time I learned that Arcadia had left for Trantor.”
And Darell started to his feet in sudden consternation. “What had Arcadia to do with it? What are you implying?”
“Absolutely nothing that is not plain on the face of all the events we know so well. Arcadia goes to Kalgan and flees in terror to the traditional center of the Galaxy, rather than return home. Lieutenant Dirige, our best agent on Kalgan, is tampered with. Homir Munn goes to Kalgan and he is tampered with. The Mule conquered the Galaxy, but, queerly enough, he made Kalgan his headquarters, and it occurs to me to wonder if he was conqueror or, perhaps, tool. At every turn, we meet with Kalgan, Kalgan—nothing but Kalgan, the world that somehow survived untouched all the struggles of the warlords for over a century.”
“Your conclusion, then.”
“Is obvious,” Anthor’s eyes were intense. “The Second Foundation is on Kalgan.”
Turbor interrupted. “I was on Kalgan, Anthor. I was there last week. If there was any Second Foundation on it, I’m mad. Personally, I think you’re mad.”
The young man whirled on him savagely. “Then you’re a fat fool. What do you expect the Second Foundation to be? A grammar school? Do you think that Radiant Fields in tight beams spell out ‘Second Foundation’ in green and purple along the incoming spaceship routes? Listen to me, Turbor. Wherever they are, they form a tight oligarchy. They must be as well hidden on the world on which they exist, as the world itself is in the Galaxy as a whole.”
Turbor’s jaw muscles writhed. “I don’t like your attitude, Anthor.”
“That certainly disturbs me,” was the sarcastic response. “Take a look about you here on Terminus. We’re at the center—the core—the origin of the First Foundation with all its knowledge of physical science. Well, how many of the population are physical scientists? Can you operate an Energy Transmitting Station? What do you know of the operation of a hypernuclear motor? Eh? The