Foundation

4

PSYCHOHISTORY … Gaal Dornick, using non-mathematical concepts, has defined psychohistory to be that branch of mathematics which deals with the reactions of human conglomerates to fixed social and economic stimuli …

… Implicit in all these definitions is the assumption that the human conglomerate being dealt with is sufficiently large for valid statistical treatment. The necessary size of such a conglomerate may be determined by Seldon’s First Theorem which … A further necessary assumption is that the human conglomerate be itself unaware of psychohistoric analysis in order that its reactions be truly random …

The basis of all valid psychohistory lies in the development of the Seldon Functions which exhibit properties congruent to those of such social and economic forces as …

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

‘Good afternoon, sir,’ said Gaal. ‘I— I—’

‘You didn’t think we were to meet before tomorrow? Ordinarily, we would not have. It is just that if we are to use your services, we must work quickly. It grows continually more difficult to obtain recruits.’

‘I don’t understand, sir.’

‘You were talking to a man on the observation tower, were you not?’

‘Yes. His first name is Jerril. I know no more about him.’

‘His name is nothing. He is an agent of the Commission of Public Safety. He followed you from the space-port.’

‘But why? I am afraid I am very confused.’

‘Did the man on the tower say nothing about me?’

Gaal hesitated, ‘He referred to you as Raven Seldon.’

‘Did he say why?’

‘He said you predict disaster.’

‘I do. What does Trantor mean to you?’

Everyone seemed to be asking his opinion of Trantor. Gaal felt incapable of response beyond the bare word, ‘Glorious.’

‘You say that without thinking. What of psychohistory?’

‘I haven’t thought of applying it to the problem.’

‘Before you are done with me, young man, you will learn to apply psychohistory to all problems as a matter of course – observe.’ Seldon removed his calculator pad from the pouch at his belt. Men said he kept one beneath his pillow for use in moments of wakefulness. Its grey, glossy finish was slightly worn by use. Seldon’s nimble fingers, spotted now with age, played along the hard plastic that rimmed it. Red symbols glowed out from the grey.

He said, ‘That represents the condition of the Empire at present?’

He waited.

Gaal said finally, ‘Surely that is not a complete representation.’

‘No, not complete,’ said Seldon. ‘I am glad you do not accept my word blindly. However, this is an approximation which will serve to demonstrate the proposition. Will you accept that?’

‘Subject to my later verification of the derivation of the function, yes.’ Gaal was carefully avoiding a possible trap.

‘Good. Add to this the known probability of Imperial assassination, viceregal revolt, the contemporary recurrence of periods of economic depression, the declining rate of planetary explorations, the …’

He proceeded. As each item was mentioned, new symbols sprang to life at his touch, and melted into the basic function which expanded and changed.

Gaal stopped him only once. ‘I don’t see the validity of that set-transformation.’

Seldon repeated it more slowly.

Gaal said, ‘But that is done by way of a forbidden socio-operation.’

‘Good. You are quick, but not yet quick enough. It is not forbidden in this connection. Let me do it by expansions.’

The procedure was much longer and at its end, Gaal said, humbly, ‘Yes, I see now.’

Finally, Seldon stopped. ‘This is Trantor five centuries from now. How do you interpret that? Eh?’ He put his head to one side and waited.

Gaal said, unbelievingly, ‘Total destruction! But – but that is impossible. Trantor has never been—’

Seldon was filled with the intense excitement of a man whose body only had grown old. ‘Come, come. You saw how the result was arrived at. Put it into words. Forget the symbolism for a moment.’

Gaal said, ‘As Trantor becomes more specialized, it becomes more vulnerable, less able to defend itself. Further, as it becomes more and more the administrative centre of Empire, it becomes a greater prize. As the Imperial succession becomes more and more uncertain, and the feuds among the great families more rampant, social responsibility disappears.’

‘Enough. And what of the numerical probability of total destruction within five centuries?’

‘I couldn’t tell.’

‘Surely you can perform a field-differentation?’

Gaal felt himself under pressure. He was not offered the calculator pad. It was held a foot from his eyes. He calculated furiously and felt his forehead grow slick with sweat.

He said, ‘About 85 per cent?’

‘Not bad,’ said Seldon, thrusting out a lower lip, ‘but not good. The actual figure is 92.5 per cent.’

Gaal said, ‘And so you are called Raven Seldon? I have seen none of this in the journals.’

‘But of course not. This is unprintable. Do you suppose the Imperium could expose its shakiness in this manner? That is a very simple demonstration in psychohistory. But some of our results have leaked out among the aristocracy.’

‘That’s bad.’

‘Not necessarily. All is taken into account.’

‘But is that why I’m being investigated?’

‘Yes. Everything about my project is being investigated.’

‘Are you in danger, sir?’

‘Oh, yes. There is a probability of 1.7 per cent that I will be executed, but of course that will not stop the project. We have taken that into account as well. Well, never mind. You will meet me, I suppose, at the University tomorrow?’

‘I will,’ said Gaal.

5

COMMISSION OF PUBLIC SAFETY … The aristocratic coterie rose to power after the assassination of Cleon I, last of the Entuns. In the main, they formed an element of order during the centuries of instability and uncertainty in the Imperium. Usually under the control of the great families of the Chens and the Divarts, it degenerated into a blind instrument for maintenance of the status quo … They were not completely removed as a power in the state until after the accession of the last strong Emperor, Cleon II. The first Chief Commissioner …

… In a way, the beginning of the Commission’s decline can be traced to the trial of Hari Seldon two years before the beginning of the Foundational Era. That trial is described in Gaal Dornick’s biography of Hari Seldon …

ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

Gaal did not carry out his promise. He was awakened the next morning by a muted buzzer. He answered it, and the voice of the desk clerk, as muted, polite and deprecating as it well might be, informed him that he was under detention at the order of the Commission for Public Safety.

Gaal sprang to the door and found it would no longer open. He could only dress and wait.

They came for him and took him elsewhere, but it was still detention. They asked him questions most politely. It was all very civilized. He explained that he was a provincial of Synnax; that he had attended such and such schools and obtained a Doctor of Mathematics degree on such and such a date. He had applied for a position on Dr Seldon’s staff and had been accepted. Over and over again he gave these details; and over and over again they returned to the question of his joining the Seldon Project. How had he heard of it; what were to be his duties; what secret instructions had he received; what was it all about?

He answered that he did not know. He had no secret instructions. He was a scholar and a mathematician. He had no interest in politics.

And finally the gentle inquisitor asked, ‘When will Trantor be destroyed?’

Gaal faltered, ‘I could not say of my own knowledge.’

‘Could you say of anyone’s?’

‘How could I speak for another?’ He felt warm; over-warm.

The inquisitor said, ‘Has anyone told you of such destruction; set a date?’ And, as the young man hesitated, he went on, ‘You have been followed, doctor. We were at the airport when you arrived; on the observation tower when you waited for your appointment; and, of course, we were able to overhear your conversation with Dr Seldon.’

Gaal said, ‘Then you know his views on the matter.’

‘Perhaps. But we would like to hear them from you.’

‘He is of the opinion that Trantor would be destroyed within five centuries.’

‘He proved it – uh – mathematically?’

‘Yes, he did’ – defiantly.

‘You maintain the – uh – mathematics to be valid, I suppose?’

‘If Dr Seldon vouches for it, it is valid.’

‘Then we will return.’

‘Wait. I have a right to a lawyer. I demand my rights as an Imperial citizen.’

‘You shall have them.’

And he did.

It was a tall man that eventually entered, a man whose face seemed all vertical lines and so thin that one could wonder whether there was room for a smile.

Gaal looked up. He felt dishevelled and wilted. So much had happened, yet he had been on Trantor not more than thirty hours.

The man said, ‘I am Lors Avakim. Dr Seldon has directed me to represent you.’

‘Is that so? Well, then, look here. I demand an instant appeal to the Emperor. I’m being held without cause. I’m innocent of anything, of anything.’ He slashed his hands outwards, palms down. ‘You’ve got to arrange a hearing with the Emperor, instantly.’

Avakim was carefully emptying the contents of a flat folder on to the floor. If Gaal had had the stomach for it, he might have recognized Cellomet legal forms, metal thin and tape like, adapted for insertion within the smallness of a personal capsule. He might also have recognized a pocket recorder.

Avakim, paying no attention to Gaal’s outburst, finally looked up. He said, ‘The Commission will, of course, have a spy beam on our conversation. This is against the law, but they will use one nevertheless.’

Gaal ground his teeth.

‘However,’ and Avakim seated himself deliberately, ‘the recorder I have on the table – which is a perfectly ordinary recorder to all appearances and performs its duties well – has the additional property of completely blanketing the spy beam. This is something they will not find out at once.’

‘Then I can speak.’

‘Of course.’

‘Then I want a hearing with the Emperor.’

Avakim smiled frostily, and it turned out that there was room for it on his thin face after all. His cheeks wrinkled to make the room. He said, ‘You are from the provinces.’

‘I am none the less an Imperial citizen. As good a one as you or as any of this Commission of Public Safety.’

‘No doubt; no doubt. It is merely that, as a provincial, you do not understand life on Trantor as it is. There are no hearings before the Emperor.’

‘To whom else would one appeal from this Commission? Is there other procedure?’

‘None. There is no recourse in a practical sense. Legalistically, you may appeal to the Emperor, but would get no hearing. The Emperor today is not the Emperor of an Entun dynasty, you know. Trantor, I am afraid, is in the hands of the aristocratic families, members of which compose the Commission of Public Safety. This is a development which is well predicted by psychohistory.’

Gaal said, ‘Indeed? In that case, if Dr Seldon can predict the history of Trantor five hundred years into the future—’

‘He can predict it fifteen hundred years into the future.’

‘Let it be fifteen thousand. Why couldn’t he yesterday have predicted the events of this morning and warned me? – no, I’m sorry.’ Gaal sat down and rested his head in one sweating palm. ‘I quite understand that psychohistory is a statistical science and cannot predict the future of a single man with any accuracy. You’ll understand that I’m upset.’

‘But you are wrong. Dr Seldon was of the opinion that you would be arrested this morning.’

‘What!’

‘It is unfortunate, but true. The Commission has been more and more hostile to his activities. New members joining the group have been interfered with to an increasing extent. The graphs showed that for our purposes, matters might best be brought to a climax now. The Commission of itself was moving somewhat slowly so Dr Seldon visited you yesterday for the purpose of forcing their hand. No other reason.’

Gaal caught his breath. ‘I resent—’

‘Please. It was necessary. You were not picked for any personal reasons. You must realize that Dr Seldon’s plans, which are laid out with the developed mathematics of over eighteen years, include all eventualities with significant probabilities. This is one of them. I’ve been sent here for no other purpose than to assure you that you need not fear. It will end well; almost certainly so for the project; and with reasonable probability for you.’

‘What are the figures?’ demanded Gaal.

‘For the project, over 99.9 per cent.’

‘And for myself?’

‘I am instructed that this probability is 77.2 per cent.’

‘Then I’ve got better than one chance in five of being sentenced to prison or to death.’

‘The last is under one per cent.’

‘Indeed. Calculations upon one man mean nothing. You send Dr Seldon to me.’

‘Unfortunately, I cannot. Dr Seldon is himself arrested.’

The door was thrown open before the rising Gaal could do more than utter the beginning of a cry. A guard entered, walked to the table, picked up the recorder, looked upon all sides of it and put it in his pocket.

Avakim said quietly, ‘I will need that instrument.’

‘We will supply you with one, Counsellor, that does not cast a static field.’

‘My interview is done, in that case.’

Gaal watched him leave and was alone.

6

The trial (Gaal supposed it to be one, though it bore little resemblance legalistically to elaborate trial techniques Gaal had read of) had not lasted long. It was in its third day. Yet already, Gaal could no longer stretch his memory back far enough to embrace its beginning.

He himself had been but little pecked at. The heavy guns were trained on Dr Seldon himself. Hari Seldon, however, sat there unperturbed. To Gaal, he was the only spot of stability remaining in the world.

The audience was small and drawn exclusively from among the Barons of the Empire. Press and public were excluded and it was doubtful that any significant number of outsiders even knew that a trial of Seldon was conducted. The atmosphere was one of unrelieved hostility toward the defendants.

Five of the Commission of Public Safety sat behind the raised desk. They wore scarlet and gold uniforms and the shining, close-fitting plastic caps that were the sign of their judicial function. In the centre was the Chief Commissioner Linge Chen. Gaal had never before seen so great a Lord and he watched him with fascination. Chen, throughout the trial, rarely said a word. He made it quite clear that much speech was beneath his dignity.

The Commission’s Advocate consulted his notes and the examination continued, with Seldon still on the stand:

Q. Let us see, Dr Seldon. How many men are now engaged in the project of which you are head?

A. Fifty mathematicians.

Q. Including Dr Gaal Dornick?

A. Dr Dornick is the fifty-first.

Q. Oh, we have fifty-one then? Search your memory, Dr Seldon. Perhaps there are fifty-two or fifty-three? Or perhaps even more?

A. Dr Dornick has not yet formally joined my organization. When he does, the membership will be fifty-one. It is now fifty, as I have said.

Q. Not perhaps nearly a hundred thousand?

A. Mathematicians? No.

Q. I did not say mathematicians. Are there a hundred thousand in all capacities?

A. In all capacities, your figure may be correct.

Q. May be? I say it is. I say that the men in your project number ninety-eight thousand, five hundred and seventy-two.

A. I believe you are counting women and children.

Q. (raising his voice) Ninety-eight thousand five hundred and seventy-two individuals is the intent of my statement. There is no need to quibble.

A. I accept the figures.

Q. (referring to his notes) Let us drop that for a moment, then, and take up another matter which we have already discussed at some length. Would you repeat, Dr Seldon your thoughts concerning the future of Trantor?

A. I have said, and I say again, that Trantor will lie in ruins within the next five centuries.

Q. You do not consider your statement a disloyal one?

A. No, sir. Scientific truth is beyond loyalty and disloyalty.

Q. You are sure that your statement represents scientific truth?

A. I am.

Q. On what basis?

A. On the basis of the mathematics of psychohistory.

Q. Can you prove that this mathematics is valid?

A. Only to another mathematician.

Q. (with a smile) Your claim then, is that your truth is of so esoteric a nature that it is beyond the understanding of a plain man. It seems to me that truth should be clearer than that, less mysterious, more open to the mind.

A. It presents no difficulties to some minds. The physics of energy transfer, which we know as thermodynamics, has been clear and true through all the history of man since the mythical ages, yet there may be people present who would find it impossible to design a power engine. People of high intelligence, too. I doubt if the learned Commissioners—

At this point, one of the Commissioners leaned toward the Advocate. His words were not heard but the hissing of the voice carried a certain asperity. The Advocate flushed and interrupted Seldon.

Q. We are not here to listen to speeches, Dr Seldon. Let us assume that you have made your point. Let me suggest to you that your predictions of disaster might be intended to destroy public confidence in the Imperial Government for purposes of your own.

A. That is not so.

Q. Let me suggest that you intend to claim that a period of time preceding the so-called ruin of Trantor will be filled with unrest of various types.

A. That is correct.

Q. And that by the mere prediction thereof, you hope to bring it about, and to have then an army of a hundred thousand available.

A. In the first place, that is not so. And if it were, investigation will show you that barely ten thousand are men of military age, and none of these has training in arms.

Q. Are you acting as an agent for another?

A. I am not in the pay of any man, Mr. Advocate.

Q. You are entirely disinterested? You are serving science?

A. I am.

Q. Then let us see how. Can the future be changed, Dr Seldon?

A. Obviously. This court-room may explode in the next few hours, or it may not. If it did, the future would undoubtedly be changed in some minor respects.

Q. You quibble, Dr Seldon. Can the overall history of the human race be changed?

A. Yes.

Q. Easily?

A. No. With great difficulty.

Q. Why?

A. The psychohistoric trend of a planetful of people contains a huge inertia. To be changed it must be met with something possessing a similar inertia. Either as many people must be concerned, or if the number of people be relatively small, enormous time for change must be allowed. Do you understand?

Q. I think I do. Trantor need not be ruined, if a great many people decide to act so that it will not.

A. That is right.

Q. As many as a hundred thousand people?

A. No, sir. That is far too few.

Q. You are sure?

A. Consider that Trantor has a population of over forty billions. Consider further that the trend leading to ruin does not belong to Trantor alone but to the Empire as a whole and the Empire contains nearly a quintillion human beings.

Q. I see. Then perhaps a hundred thousand people can change the trend, if they and their descendants labour for five hundred years.

A. I’m afraid not. Five hundred years is too short a time.

Q. Ah! In that case, Dr Seldon, we are left with this deduction to be made from your statements. You have gathered one hundred thousand people within the confines of your project. These are insufficient to change the history of Trantor within five hundred years. In other words, they cannot prevent the destruction of Trantor no matter what they do.

A. You are unfortunately correct.

Q. And on other hand, your hundred thousand are intended for no illegal purpose.

A. Exactly.

Q. (slowly and with satisfaction) In that case, Dr Seldon – now attend, sir, most carefully, for we want a considered answer. What is the purpose of your hundred thousand?

The Advocate’s voice had grown strident. He had sprung his trap; backed Seldon into a corner; driven him astutely from any possibility of answering.

There was a rising buzz of conversation at that which swept the ranks of the peers in the audience and invaded even the row of Commissioners. They swayed toward one another in their scarlet and gold, only the Chief remaining uncorrupted.

Hari Seldon remained unmoved. He waited for the babble to evaporate.

A. To minimize the effects of that destruction.

Q. And exactly what do you mean by that?

A. The explanation is simple. The coming destruction of Trantor is not an event in itself, isolated in the scheme of human development. It will be the climax to an intricate drama which was begun centuries ago and which is accelerating in pace continuously. I refer, gentlemen, to the developing decline and fall of the Galactic Empire.

The buzz now became a dull roar. The Advocate, unheeded, was yelling, ‘You are openly declaring that—’ and stopped because the cries of ‘Treason’ from the audience showed that the point had been made without any hammering.

Slowly, the Chief Commissioner raised his gavel once and let it drop. The sound was that of a mellow gong. When the reverberations ceased, the gabble of the audience also did. The Advocate took a deep breath.

Q. (theatrically) Do you realize, Dr Seldon, that you are speaking of an Empire that has stood for twelve thousand years, through all the vicissitudes of the generations, and which has behind it the good wishes and love of a quadrillion human beings?

A. I am aware both of the present status and the past history of the Empire. Without disrespect, I must claim a far better knowledge of it than any in this room.

Q. And you predict its ruin?

A. It is a prediction which is made by mathematics. I pass no moral judgements. Personally, I regret the prospect. Even if the Empire were admitted to be a bad thing (an admission I do not make), the state of anarchy which would follow its fall would be worse. It is that state of anarchy which my project is pledged to fight. The fall of Empire, gentlemen, is a massive thing, however, and not easily fought. It is dictated by a rising bureaucracy, a receding initiative, a freezing of caste, a damming of curiosity – a hundred other factors. It has been going on, as I have said, for centuries, and it is too majestic and massive a movement to stop.

Q. Is it not obvious to anyone that the Empire is as strong as it ever was?

A. The appearance of strength is all about you. It would seem to last for ever. However, Mr. Advocate, the rotten tree-trunk, until the very moment when the storm-blast breaks it in two, has all the appearance of might that it ever had. The storm-blast whistles through the branches of the Empire even now. Listen with the ears of psychohistory, and you will hear the creaking.

Q. (uncertainly) We are not here, Dr Seldon, to lis—

A. (firmly) The Empire will vanish and all its good with it. Its accumulated knowledge will decay and the order it has imposed will vanish. Interstellar wars will be endless; interstellar trade will decay; population will decline; worlds will lose touch with the main body of the Galaxy – and so matters will remain.