Foundation by Isaac Asimov Read Free Book Online

increasing number of people involved in non-Encyclopedia affairs.
But
that does not mean that the first and
only
aim of the Foundation is no longer to publish the definitive Encyclopedia of all human knowledge. We are a State-supported, scientific institution, Hardin. We cannot—must not—
will
not interfere in local politics.”
    “Local politics! By the Emperor’s left toe, Pirenne, this is a matter of life and death. The planet, Terminus, by itself cannot support a mechanized civilization. It lacks metals. You know that. It hasn’t a trace of iron, copper, or aluminum in the surface rocks, and precious little of anything else. What do you think will happen to the Encyclopedia if this watchmacallum King of Anacreon clamps down on us?”
    “On
us
? Are you forgetting that we are under the direct control of the Emperor himself? We are not part of the Prefect of Anacreon or of any other prefect. Memorize that! We are part of the Emperor’s personal domain, and no one touches us. The Empire can protect its own.”
    “Then why didn’t it prevent the Royal Governor of Anacreon from kicking over the traces? And only Anacreon? At least twenty of the outermost prefects of the Galaxy, the entire Periphery as a matter of fact, have begun steering things their own way. I tell you I feel dammed uncertain of the Empire and its ability to protect us.”
    “Hokum! Royal Governors, Kings—what’s the difference? The Empire is always shot through with a certain amount of politics and with different men pulling this way and that. Governors have rebelled, and, for that matter, Emperors have been deposed, or assassinated before this. But what has that to do with the Empire itself? Forget it, Hardin. It’s none of our business. We are first of all and last of all—scientists. And our concern is the Encyclopedia. Oh, yes, I’d almost forgotten. Hardin!”
    “Well?”
    “Do something about that paper of yours!” Pirenne’s voice was angry.
    “The Terminus City
Journal
? It isn’t mine; it’s privately owned. What’s it been doing?”
    “For weeks now it has been recommending that the fiftieth anniversary of the establishment of the Foundation be made the occasion for public holidays and quite inappropriate celebrations.”
    “And why not? The computoclock will open the Vault in three months. I would call this first opening a big occasion, wouldn’t you?”
    “Not for silly pageantry, Hardin. The Vault and its opening concern the Board of Trustees alone. Anything of importance will be communicated to the people. That is final and please make it plain to the
Journal
.”
    “I’m sorry, Pirenne, but the City Charter guarantees a certain minor matter known as freedom of the press.”
    “It may. But the Board of Trustees does not. I am the Emperor’s representative on Terminus, Hardin, and have full powers in this respect.”
    Hardin’s expression became that of a man counting to ten, mentally. He said, grimly: “In connection with your status as Emperor’s representative, then, I have a final piece of news to give you.”
    “About Anacreon?” Pirenne’s lips tightened. He felt annoyed.
    “Yes. A special envoy will be sent to us from Anacreon. In two weeks.”
    “An envoy? Here? From Anacreon?” Pirenne chewed that. “What for?”
    Hardin stood up, and shoved his chair back up against the desk. “I give you one guess.”
    And he left—quite unceremoniously.

2
    Anselm haut Rodric—“haut” itself signifying noble blood—
Sub-prefect of Pluema and Envoy Extraordinary of his Highness of Anacreon—plus half a dozen other titles—was met by Salvor Hardin at the spaceport with all the imposing ritual of a state occasion.
    With a tight smile and a low bow, the sub-prefect had flipped his blaster from its holster and presented it to Hardin butt first. Hardin returned the compliment with a blaster specifically borrowed for the occasion. Friendship and good will were thus established, and if Hardin noted the