Chapter 2

There are many epigrams  attributed to Hardin ?a confirmed epigrammatist ?
a good many of  which are probably apocryphal. Nevertheless, it is reportedthat on a certain occasion, he said:
"It pays to be  obvious, especially if you have a reputation for subtlety."Poly Verisof  had had occasion to act on that advice  more than once for hewas now in the  fourteenth year of his double status on Anacreon ?a doublestatus the  upkeep of which reminded him often  and unpleasantly of a danceperformed barefoot on hot metal.
To  the people  of  Anacreon he  was  high priest,  representative of  thatFoundation which,  to those "barbarians,"  was the acme of  mystery and thephysical center of this religion they had created ?with Hardin's help ?inthe  last three  decades. As  such, he  received a  homage that  had becomehorribly wearying, for from his soul he despised the ritual of which he wasthe center.
But to  the King  of Anacreon ? the old one  that had been,  and the younggrandson that  was now  on the throne ? he was simply the  ambassador of apower at once feared and coveted.
On  the whole,  it  was an  uncomfortable job,  and his  first trip  to theFoundation in three years, despite the disturbing incident that had made itnecessary, was something in the nature of a holiday.
And  since it  was not  the first  time he  had had  to travel  in absolutesecrecy, he again made  use of Hardin's epigram on the uses of the obvious.
He changed into his  civilian clothes ?a holiday in itself ?and boarded apassenger  liner to  the  Foundation, second  class. Once  at  Terminus, hethreaded his way through the crowd at the spaceport and called up City Hallat a public visiphone.
He said,  "My name is Jan Smite. I have an  appointment with the mayor thisafternoon."The dead-voiced  but efficient  young lady at  the other end  made a secondconnection and  exchanged a few rapid  words, then said to  Verisof in dry,mechanical tone, "Mayor Hardin  will see you in half an hour, sir," and thescreen went blank.
Whereupon  the ambassador  to  Anacreon bought  the latest  edition  of theTerminus City  Journal, sauntered casually to  City Hall Park and, sitting.
down on  the first empty bench  he came to, read  the editorial page, sportsection  and comic  sheet while  waiting. At  the end  of half an  hour, hetucked the paper under  his arm, entered City Hall and presented himself inthe anteroom.
In doing all this he remained safely and thoroughly unrecognized, for sincehe   was  so   entirely   obvious,  no   one  gave   him  a   second  look.
Hardin  looked up at  him and grinned.  "Have a  cigar! How was  the trip?"Verisof helped himself. "Interesting.  There was a priest in the next cabinon his way here  to take a special course in the preparation of radioactivesynthetics ?for the treatment of cancer, you know ?
"Surely, he didn't call it radioactive synthetics, now?""I guess not! It was the Holy Food to him."The mayor smiled. "Go on.""He inveigled  me into a theological  discussion and did his  level best toelevate me out of sordid materialism.""And never recognized his own high priest?""Without my crimson robe? Besides, he was a Smyrnian. It was an interestingexperience, though.  It is remarkable, Hardin,  how the religion of sciencehas grabbed  hold. I've written an  essay on the subject  ?entirely for myown amusement;  it wouldn't do  to have it published.  Treating the problemsociologically, it would seem  that when the old Empire began to rot at thefringes, it  could be considered  that science, as science,  had failed theouter worlds.  To be reaccepted it would have  to present itself in anotherguise   and  it   has   done  just   that.  It   works   out  beautifully.""Interesting!" The mayor placed his arms around his neck and said suddenly,"Start talking about the situation at Anacreon!"The ambassador frowned and  withdrew the cigar from his mouth. He looked atit   distastefully   and   put   it   down.  "Well,   it's   pretty   bad.""You wouldn't be here, otherwise.""Scarcely.  Here's the  position.  The key  man at  Anacreon is  the PrinceRegent, Wienis. He's King Lepold's uncle.""I know.  But Lepold is coming of age next year,  isn't he? I believe he'llbe sixteen in February.""Yes." Pause, and then a wry addition. "If he lives. The king's father diedunder suspicious circumstances. A  needle bullet through the chest during ahunt. It was called an accident.""Hmph. I seem to remember Wienis the time I was on Anacreon, when we kickedthem off  Terminus. It was before your time. Let's  see now. If I remember,he was  a dark young fellow,  black hair and a squint  in his right eye. Hehad a funny hook in his nose.""Same fellow. The hook  and the squint are still there, but his hair's graynow. He plays the  game dirty. Luckily, he's the most egregious fool on theplanet. Fancies  himself as a shrewd devil, too,  which mades his folly themore transparent.""That's usually the way.""His notion  of cracking an egg is to shoot a  nuclear blast at it. Witnessthe tax on Temple  property he tried to impose just after the old king diedtwo years ago. Remember?"Hardin  nodded  thoughtfully, then  smiled.  "The priests  raised a  howl.""They raised one you could hear way out to Lucreza. He's shown more cautionin dealing with the priesthood since, but he still manages to do things thehard  way.   In  a  way,   it's  unfortunate  for  us;   he  has  unlimitedself-confidence.""Probably an over-compensated inferiority  complex. Younger sons of royaltyget that way, you know.""But it amounts to the same thing. He's foaming at the mouth with eagernessto attack the Foundation. He scarcely troubles to conceal it. And he's in aposition to do it, too, from the standpoint of armament. The old king builtup a magnificent navy,  and Wienis hasn't been sleeping the last two years.
In fact,  the tax  on Temple property  was originally intended  for furtherarmament, and  when that fell  through he increased the  income tax twice.""Any grumbling at that?""None of serious importance.  Obedience to appointed authority was the textof  every sermon  in  the kingdom  for weeks.  Not  that Wienis  showed anygratitude.""All   right.   I've   got    the   background.   Now   what's   happened?""Two weeks  ago an Anacreonian merchant ship  came across a derelict battlecruiser of  the old Imperial Navy. It must have  been drifting in space forat least three centuries."Interest flickered  in Hardin's eyes. He sat up.  "Yes, I've heard of that.
The Board of Navigation has sent me a petition asking me to obtain the shipfor  purposes   of  study.   It  is  in  good   condition,  I  understand.""In entirely  too good  condition," responded Verisof,  dryly. "When Wienisreceived  your suggestion  last  week that  he turn  the  ship over  to theFoundation, he almost had convulsions.""He hasn't answered yet.""He won't  ?except with guns,  or so he thinks. You see,  he came to me onthe day  I left Anacreon and requested that  the Foundation put this battlecruiser into  fighting order and turn  it over to the  Anacreonian navy. Hehad the  infernal gall to say that your note of  last week indicated a planof the Foundation's to  attack Anacreon. He said that refusal to repair thebattle cruiser  would confirm  his suspicions; and  indicated that measuresfor the  self-defense of Anacreon would  be forced upon him.  Those are hiswords. Forced upon him! And that's why I'm here."Hardin laughed gently.
Verisof  smiled and  continued, "Of  course, he  expects a refusal,  and itwould  be  a  perfect  excuse  ? in  his  eyes ? for  immediate  attack.""I see  that, Verisof. Well, we have at least six  months to spare, so havethe ship  fixed up and present it with my  compliments. Have it renamed theWienis as a mark of our esteem and affection."He laughed again.
And again Verisof responded  with the faintest trace of a smile, "I supposeit's the logical step, Hardin ?but I'm worried.""What about?""It's a  ship! They could  build in those days.  Its cubic capacity is halfagain that of the  entire Anacreonian navy. It's got nuclear blasts capableof  blowing up  a planet,  and a  shield that  could take a  Q-beam withoutworking   up   radiation.   Too   much  of   a   good   thing,  Hardin   ?
"Superficial, Verisof,  superficial. You and I  both know that the armamenthe now  has could defeat Terminus handily, long  before we could repair thecruiser for  our own  use. What does  it matter, then,  if we  give him thecruiser  as   well?  You   know  it  won't   ever  come  to   actual  war.""I   suppose  so.  Yes."   The  ambassador   looked  up.  "But   Hardin  ?
"Well? Why do you stop? Go ahead.""Look. This isn't my  province. But I've been reading the paper." He placedthe  Journal on  the desk and  indicated the  front page. "What's  this allabout?"Hardin dropped  a casual glance. "'A group of  Councilmen are forming a newpolitical party."'
"That's what  it says."  Verisof fidgeted. "I  know you're in  better touchwith internal matters than  I am, but they're attacking you with everythingshort of physical violence. How strong are they?""Damned strong. They'll probably  control the Council after next election.""Not before?"  Verisof looked  at the mayor  obliquely. "There are  ways ofgaining control besides elections.""Do you take me for Wienis?""No. But repairing the ship will take months and an attack after that iscertain. Our yielding will be taken as a sign of appalling weakness and theaddition of the Imperial Cruiser will just about double the strength ofWienis' navy. He'll attack as sure as I'm a high priest. Why take chances?
Do one of two things. Either reveal the plan of campaign to the Council, orforce the issue with Anacreon now!"Hardin frowned. "Force the issue now? Before the crisis comes? It's the onething  I  mustn't  do.  There's  Hari  Seldon  and  the  Plan,  you  know."Verisof hesitated, then muttered, "You're absolutely sure, then, that thereis a Plan?""There can scarcely be  any doubt," came the stiff reply. "I was present atthe opening  of the  Time Vault and  Seldon's recording revealed  it then.""I didn't  mean that, Hardin. I just don't see how  it could be possible tochart  history  for  a thousand  years  ahead.  Maybe Seldon  overestimatedhimself." He shriveled a  bit at Hardin's ironical smile, and added, "Well,I'm no psychologist,""Exactly. None of us  are. But I did receive some elementary training in myyouth  ?enough  to know  what psychology  is capable  of, even if  I can'texploit  its capabilities  myself.  There's no  doubt but  that  Seldon didexactly  what he  claims  to have  done. The  Foundation,  as he  says, wasestablished as  a scientific  refuge ?the  means by which  the science andculture of  the dying Empire was  to be preserved through  the centuries ofbarbarism  that  have begun,  to  be rekindled  in  the end  into a  secondEmpire."Verisof nodded, a trifle  doubtfully. "Everyone knows that's the way thingsare  supposed  to go. But  can we afford  to take chances? Can  we risk thepresent for the sake of a nebulous future?""We must  ?because the future isn't nebulous.  It's been calculated out bySeldon and  charted. Each  successive crisis in  our history is  mapped andeach  depends  in  a  measure on  the  successful  conclusion  of the  onesprevious. This is only the second crisis and Space knows what effect even atrifling deviation would have in the end.""That's rather empty speculation.""No! Hari Seldon said in the Time Vault, that at each crisis our freedom ofaction would  become circumscribed  to the point  where only one  course ofaction was possible.""So as to keep us on the straight and narrow?""So as  to keep  us from deviating, yes.  But, conversely, as long  as morethan one course of  action is possible, the crisis has not been reached. Wemust let things drift so long as we possibly can, and by space, that's whatI intend doing."Verisof didn't  answer. He chewed his  lower lip in a  grudging silence. Ithad only  been the year before that Hardin  had first discussed the problemwith him  ?the real problem; the  problem of countering Anacreon's hostilepreparations.  And then  only because  he, Verisof,  had balked  at furtherappeasement.
Hardin  seemed to follow  his ambassador's  thoughts. "I would  much rathernever to have told you anything about this.""What makes you say that?" cried Verisof, in surprise.
"Because there are six  people now ?you and I, the other three ambassadorsand Yohan  Lee ? who have a  fair notion of  what's ahead;  and I'm damnedafraid that it was Seldon's idea to have no one know.""Why so?""Because even Seldon's advanced psychology was limited. It could not handletoo many independent variables.  He couldn't work with individuals over anylength of  time; any more than  you could apply kinetic  theory of gases tosingle molecules.  He worked  with mobs, populations of  whole planets, andonly  blind mobs who  do not possess foreknowledge  of the results of theirown actions.""That's not plain.""I can't help it. I'm not psychologist enough to explain it scientifically.
But this  you know. There are  no trained psychologists on  Terminus and nomathematical texts  on the  science. It is  plain that he wanted  no one onTerminus capable of working  out the future in advance. Seldon wanted us toproceed blindly  ?and  therefore correctly ? according to the  law of mobpsychology. As  I once told you, I never knew where  we were heading when Ifirst drove  out the Anacreonians. My idea had  been to maintain balance ofpower, no  more than  that. It was  only afterward that  I thought  I saw apattern  in  events;  but I've  done  my  level best  not  to  act on  thatknowledge. Interference due to foresight would have knocked the Plan out ofkilter."Verisof nodded thoughtfully. "I've heard arguments almost as complicated inthe Temples back on Anacreon. How do you expect to spot the fight moment ofaction?""It's spotted  already. You  admit that once  we repair the  battle cruisernothing will  stop Wienis  from attacking us.  There will no  longer be anyalternative in that respect.""Yes"All  right.  That  accounts for  the  external  aspect. Meanwhile,  you'llfurther admit  that the  next election will  see a new  and hostile Councilthat will  force action  against Anacreon. There is  no alternative there.""Yes.""And as  soon as all the alternatives disappear,  the crisis has come. Justthe same ?I get worried."He  paused,   and  Verisof  waited.  Slowly,   almost  reluctantly,  Hardincontinued,  "I've got  the idea  ?just  a notion  ?that the  external andinternal pressures were planned to come to a head simultaneously. As it is,there's a few months difference. Wienis will probably attack before spring,and elections are still a year off.""That doesn't sound important.""I don't  know. It may be due merely  to unavoidable errors of calculation,or it might be  due to the fact that I knew too  much. I tried never to letmy foresight influence my  action, but how can I tell? And what effect willthe  discrepancy  have? Anyway,"  he  looked  up, "there's  one thing  I'vedecided.""And what's that?""When the  crisis does begin to break, I'm going to  Anacreon. I want to beon the spot ... Oh, that's enough, Verisof. It's getting late. Let's go outand make a night of it. I want some relaxation.""Then get it right  here,' said Verisof. "I don't want to be recognized, oryou know  what this  new party your  precious Councilmen are  forming wouldsay. Call for the brandy."And Hardin did ?but not for too much.