"Enemies!"
"Yes, indeed. And you know it. Those sewer rats were not after simply anyone. They were not looking for just any unwary person to rip off. They identified you by calling out, 'Psychohistory!' And they called you a creep. Why do you suppose that was?"
"I don't know why."
"That's because you live in a world all your own, Dad, and you don't know what's going on on Trantor. Don't you suppose the Trantorians know that their world is going downhill at a rapid rate? Don't you suppose they know that your psychohistory has been predicting this for years? Doesn't it occur to you that they may blame the messenger for the message? If things go bad-and they are going bad-there are many who think that you are responsible for it."
"I can't believe that."
"Why do you suppose there's a faction at the Galactic Library that wants you out of there? They don't want to be in the way when you are mobbed. So-you've got to take care of yourself. You can't go out alone. I'll have to be with you or you will have to have bodyguards. That's the way it's going to be, Dad."
Seldon looked dreadfully unhappy.
Raych softened and said, "But not for long, Dad. I've got a new job.'
Seldon looked up. "A new job. What kind?"
"Teaching. At a University."
"Which University?"
"Santanni."
Seldon's lips trembled. "Santanni! That's nine thousand parsecs away from Trantor. It's a provincial world on the other side of the Galaxy."
"Exactly. That's why I want to go there. I've been on Trantor all my life, Dad, and I'm tired of it. There's no world in all the Empire that's deteriorating the way Trantor is. It's become a haunt of crime with no one to protect us. The economy is limping, the technology is failing. Santanni, on the other hand, is a decent world, still humming along, and I want to be there to build a new life, along with Manella and Wanda and Bellis. We're all going there in two months."
"All of you!"
"And you, Dad. And you. We wouldn't leave you behind on Trantor. You're coming with us to Santanni."
Seldon shook his head. "Impossible, Raych. You know that."
"Why impossible?"
"You know why. The Project. My psychohistory. Are you asking me to abandon my life's work?"
"Why not? It's abandoned you."
"You're mad."
"No, I'm not. Where are you going with it? You have no credits. You can't get any. There's no one left on Trantor who's willing to support you."
"For nearly forty year-"
"Yes, I admit that. But after all that time, you've failed Dad. There's no crime in failing. You've tried so hard and you've gone so far, but you've run into a deteriorating economy, a falling Empire. It's the very thing you've been predicting for so long that's stopping you at last. So-"
"No. I will not stop. Somehow or other, I will keep going."
"I tell you what, Dad. If you're really going to be so stubborn, then take psychohistory with you. Start it again on Santanni. There may be enough credits-and enthusiasm-to support it there."
"And the men and women who have been working for me so faithfully?"
"Oh bull, Dad. They've been leaving you because you can't pay them. You hang around here for the rest of your life and you'll be alone. Oh, come on, Dad. Do you think I like to talk to you this way? It's because no one has wanted to-because no one has had the heart to-that you're in your present predicament. Let's be honest with each other now. When you walk the streets of Trantor and you're attacked for no reason other than that you're Hari Seldon, don't you think it's time for a little bit of truth?"
"Never mind the truth. I have no intention of leaving Trantor."
Raych shook his head. "I was sure you'd be stubborn, Dad. You've got two months to change your mind. Think about it, will you?"
15
It had been a long time since Hari Seldon had smiled. He had conducted the Project in the same fashion that he always did: pushing always forward in the development of psychohistory, making plans for the Foundation, studying the Prime Radiant.
But he did not smile. All he did was to force himself through his work without any feeling of impending success. Rather, there was a feeling of impending failure about everything.
And now, as he sat in his office at Streeling University, Wanda entered. He looked up at her and his heart lifted. Wanda had always been special. Seldon couldn't put his finger on just when he and the others had started accepting her pronouncements with more than the usual enthusiasm; it just seemed always to have been that way. As a little girl, she had saved his life with her uncanny knowledge of "lemonade death" and all through her childhood she had somehow just known things.
Although Dr. Endelecki had asserted that Wanda's genome was perfectly normal in every way, Seldon was still positive that his granddaughter possessed mental abilities far beyond those of average humans. And he was just as sure that there were others like her in the Galaxy-on Trantor, even. If only he could find them, these mentalics, what a great contribution they could make to the Foundation. The potential for such greatness all centered in his beautiful granddaughter. Seldon gazed at her, framed in his office doorway, and he felt as if his heart would break. In a few days, she would be gone.
How could he bear it? She was such a beautiful girl-eighteen. Long blond hair, face a little broad but with a tendency to smile. She was even smiling now and Seldon thought, Why not? She's heading for Santanni and for a new life.
He said, "Well, Wanda, just a few more days."
"No. I don't think so, Grandpa."