Foundation and Chaos

Page 60

But if he kept missing recording dates. the opportunity would soon pass, and he could finally stop feeling the least shred of guilt.

Hari simply wanted to live his last few years--or however long he had--as a nonentity, unimportant, forgotten.

Being forgotten would not take long. Trantor would manufacture other interests in a few days. Memory of the trial of the year would fade...

“I don’t want to meet him,” Klia said to Daneel. They stood in the waiting room of Seldon’s apartment block. “Neither does Brann.”

Brann seemed unwilling to be caught up in a debate. He crossed his thick arms in front of him and looked for all the world like a genie in a child’s story.

“Plussix wanted me to change his mind...” Klia said. Dors shot Klia a surprisingly angry look, and Klia turned away. She’s a robot--I know she’s a robot! How can she care what we do, what happens? “I wouldn’t have,” she stammered. “I couldn’t have, but that was what they wanted me to do. Lodovik--Kallusin--” She took a deep breath. “I am so embarrassed.”

“We have discussed this,” Daneel said. “Our decision has been made.”

Her mind itched. She felt genuinely uncomfortable around the robots. “I just want to go somewhere safe with Brann and be left alone,” Klia said softly, and she turned away from Dors’ accusing stare.

“It is necessary for Hari Seldon to meet you face-to-face,” Daneel said patiently.

“I don’t understand why.”

“That may be so, but it is necessary.” He held his hand out, directing them toward the lift. “A measure of freedom will follow for all of us, then.”

Klia shook her head in disbelief, but did as she was told, and Brann, holding his opinions to himself for now, followed.

Hari came out of a light doze and wandered groggily toward the door, half expecting to see Wanda and Stettin back for another pep talk. The door display allowed him to observe the group of figures standing in the hall vestibule: a tall, handsome man of middle years, whom he almost immediately recognized as Daneel; a burly Dahlite male and slender, intense-looking young woman; and another woman

Hari backed away from the door display and closed his eyes. It was not over. He would never be his own man; history had him too firmly in its grip.

“No dream,” he said to himself, “only a nightmare,” but he felt a small surge both of anticipation and irritation. He told himself he really did not want to see anybody, but the gooseflesh on his arms betrayed him.

He let the door slide open.

“Come in,” he said, raising his eyebrows at Daneel. “You might as well be a dream. I know I’m going to forget this meeting as soon as you all leave.” Daneel returned Hari’s expression with a nod, businesslike as usual. He would make a terrific trader in the big Galactic combines, Hari thought. Why do I feel affection for this machine? Sky knows--! But it’s true--I am glad to see him.

“You may remember now,” Daneel said. And Hari did remember all that had happened in the Hall of Dispensation. Vara Liso’s death at the hands of Lodovik Trema...And this young girl and her large friend.

And the female who might have been--must have been!--Dors.

He met the girl’s brief glance and nodded to her. He hardly dared glance at the other woman.

“They wanted me to discourage you,” Klia said in a small voice, staring around the front room with its small pieces of furniture, its stacks of bookfilms, the Minor Radiant--a miniature and less powerful version of Yugo Amaryl’s Prime Radiant--and his portraits of Dors and Raych and the grandchildren. Despite herself, she was impressed by the sense of order, the simplicity, the monkish austerity. “There wasn’t time--and I couldn’t have, anyway,” she concluded.

“I don’t know the details, but I thank you for your restraint,” Hari said. “It seems not to have been necessary, perhaps.” He braced himself, swallowed, and half turned toward the other woman. “We’ve met...here before, I think,” he said, and swallowed again. Then he turned to Daneel. “I must know. I must not be made to forget! You assigned me my love, my companion--Daneel, as my friend, as my mentor, is this Dors Venabili?”

“I am,” Dors said, and stepping forward, she took Hari’s hand in hers, squeezing it ever so gently, as had been her habit years ago.

She hasn’t forgotten! Hari held his free hand up to the ceiling, forming a fist, and his eyes filled with tears. He shook his fist at the ceiling as Brann and Klia watched in embarrassment, seeing such an old man exhibit his emotions so openly.

Even Hari did not quite understand what his emotions were--rage, joy, frustration? He lowered his arm and in one motion reached out to embrace Dors, their hands still awkwardly clasped between them. Secret steel, gripping him so gently. “No dream,” he murmured into her shoulder, and Dors held him, feeling his aging body, so different from the mature Hari. She looked at Daneel then, and her eyes were filled with resentment, her own anger, for Hari was in pain, their presence was causing him pain, and she had been programmed above all other imperatives to prevent harm and pain coming to Hari Seldon.

Daneel did not turn away from her stare. He had endured worse conflicts with his robotic conscience, though this was near the top of any list.

But they were so close--and he would make it up to Hari.

“I have brought Klia here to show you the future,” Daneel said. Klia sucked in her breath and shook her head, not understanding.

Hari let go of Dors and drew himself up, his formerly stooped posture straightening. He gained fully three centimeters in height.

“What can this young woman tell me?” he said. He gestured to the furniture. “I forget my manners,” he said stiffly. “Please, make yourselves comfortable. Robots need not sit if they do not wish to.”

“I would love to sit here again, and relax with you,” Dors said, and lowered herself to the small chair beside him. “So many intense memories from this place. I have missed you so!” She could not take her eyes off him.