Foundation. Айзек Азимов

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СКАЧАТЬ it into estates?’

      ‘There is no necessity as yet. We’re extremely centralized; we have to be, because of the Encyclopedia. Some day, perhaps, when our population has grown—’

      ‘A strange world! You have no peasantry?’

      Hardin reflected that it didn’t require a great deal of acumen to tell that his eminence was indulging in a bit of fairly clumsy pumping. He replied casually: ‘No – nor nobility.’

      Haut Rodric’s eyebrows lifted. ‘And your leader – the man I am to meet?’

      ‘You mean Dr Pirenne? Yes! He is the Chairman of the Board of Trustees – and a personal representative of the Emperor.’

      ‘Doctor? No other title? A scholar? And he rates above the civil authority?’

      ‘Why, certainly,’ replied Hardin, amiably. ‘We’re all scholars more or less. After all, we’re not so much a world as a scientific foundation – under the direct control of the Emperor.’

      There was a faint emphasis upon the last phrase that seemed to disconcert the sub-prefect. He remained thoughtfully silent during the rest of the slow way to Cyclopedia Square.

      If Hardin found himself bored by the afternoon and evening that followed, he had at least the satisfaction of realizing that Pirenne and haut Rodric – having met with loud and mutual protestations of esteem and regard – were detesting each other’s company a good deal more.

      Haut Rodric had attended with glazed eye to Pirenne’s lecture during the ‘inspection tour’ of the Encyclopedia Building. With polite and vacant smile, he had listened to the latter’s rapid patter as they passed through the vast storehouses of reference films and the numerous projection rooms.

      It was only after he had gone down level by level into and through the composing departments, editing departments, publishing departments, and filming departments that he made the first comprehensive statement.

      ‘This is all very interesting,’ he said, ‘but it seems a strange occupation for grown men. What good is it?’

      It was a remark, Hardin noted, for which Pirenne found no answer, though the expression of his face was most eloquent.

      The dinner that evening was much the mirror image of the events of that afternoon, for haut Rodric monopolized the conversation by describing – in minute technical detail and with incredible zest – his own exploits as battalion head during the recent war between Anacreon and the neighbouring newly proclaimed Kingdom of Smyrno.

      The details of the sub-prefect’s account were not completed until dinner was over and one by one the minor officials had drifted away. The last bit of triumphant description of mangled space-ships came when he had accompanied Pirenne and Hardin on to the balcony and relaxed in the warm air of the summer evening.

      ‘And now,’ he said, with a heavy joviality, ‘to serious matters.’

      ‘By all means,’ murmured Hardin, lighting a long cigar of Vegan tobacco – not many left, he reflected – and teetering his chair back on two legs.

      The Galaxy was high in the sky and its misty lens shape stretched lazily from horizon to horizon. The few stars here at the very edge of the universe were insignificant twinkles in comparison.

      ‘Of course,’ said the sub-prefect, ‘all the formal discussions – the paper signing and such dull technicalities, that is – will take place before the— What is it you call your Council?’

      ‘The Board of Trustees,’ replied Pirenne, coldly.

      ‘Queer name! Anyway, that’s for tomorrow. We might as well clear some of the underbrush, man to man, right now, though. Hey?’

      ‘And this means—’ prodded Hardin.

      ‘Just this. There’s been a certain change in the situation out here in the Periphery and the status of your planet has become a trifle uncertain. It would be very convenient if we succeeded in coming to an understanding as to how the matter stands. By the way, mayor, have you another one of those cigars?’

      Hardin started and produced one reluctantly.

      Anselm haut Rodric sniffed at it and emitted a clucking sound of pleasure. ‘Vegan tobacco! Where did you get it?’

      ‘We received some last shipment. There’s hardly any left. Space knows when we’ll get more – if ever.’

      Pirenne scowled. He didn’t smoke – and, for that matter, detested the odour. ‘Let me understand this, your eminence. Your mission is merely one of clarification?’

      Haut Rodric nodded through the smoke of his first lusty puffs.

      ‘In that case, it is soon over. The situation with respect to Encyclopedia Foundation Number One is what it always has been.’

      ‘Ah! And what is it that it always has been?’

      ‘Just this: a State-supported scientific institution and part of the personal domain of his august majesty, the Emperor.’

      The sub-prefect seemed unimpressed. He blew smoke rings. ‘That’s a nice theory, Dr Pirenne. I imagine you’ve got charters with the Imperial Seal upon it – but what’s the actual situation? How do you stand with respect to Smyrno? You’re not fifty parsecs from Smyrno’s capital, you know. And what about Konom and Daribow?’

      Pirenne said: ‘We have nothing to do with any prefect. As part of the Emperor’s—’

      ‘They’re not prefects,’ reminded haut Rodric; ‘they’re kingdoms now.’

      ‘Kingdoms then. We have nothing to do with them. As a scientific institution—’

      ‘Science be dashed!’ swore the other, via a bouncing soldierly oath that ionized the atmosphere. ‘What the devil has that got to do with the fact that we’re liable to see Terminus taken over by Smyrno at any time?’

      ‘And the Emperor? He would just sit by?’

      Haut Rodric calmed down and said: ‘Well, now, Dr Pirenne, you respect the Emperor’s property and so does Anacreon, but Smyrno might not. Remember, we’ve just signed a treaty with the Emperor – I’ll present a copy to that Board of yours tomorrow – which places upon us the responsibility of maintaining order within the borders of the old Prefect of Anacreon on behalf of the Emperor. Our duty is clear, then, isn’t it?’

      ‘Certainly. But Terminus is not part of the Prefect of Anacreon.’

      ‘And Smyrno—’

      ‘Nor is it part of the Prefect of Smyrno. It’s not part of any prefect.’

      ‘Does Smyrno know that?’

      ‘I don’t care what it knows.’

      ‘We do. We’ve just finished a war with her and she still holds two stellar systems that are ours. Terminus occupies an extremely strategic spot between the two nations.’

      Hardin felt weary. He broke in: ‘What is your proposition, СКАЧАТЬ