CHAPTER 5 TERMINUS
A military man and a scientist sat in a bar, located in a seedier section of Terminus City.
"Any progress, Dr. Darell?" said Admiral Dean Kyrin, research officer of the Third Battle Fleet, Foundation Space Force.
"We're getting close, Admiral," said Dr. Darell, psychological research specialist. "I'm working on a form of brain analysis. A band of frequencies which might be an indicator of mental interference by...Them."
"Tremendous." the military man clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll see to it you have unlimited funds. We've got to solve this as soon as possible—before we ourselves are compromised!"
The scientist and the military man sat whispering, like two spies, or perhaps two lovers.
"There's not a moment to lose…"
"You sure none of them are here? Listening in?" the Admiral tapped his temple.
Dr. Darell took out a small device. "This static generator emits a damping field. I hope it works. They may already be on to us."
The Admiral lifted his mug. "To Mental Freedom!"
The two men parted ways.
As far as Minna Eksteen knew, she knew, she had always lived here in Terminus City...headquarters of the Foundation, the major planetary power bloc in the Galactic periphery. A city that boasted private cars, airships, and more consumer goods than a person could imagine. Gourmet food from numerous planets. Fashionable clothing! Of course, as a lifelong resident, you would think she'd take it in stride. But no!
And somehow she had never gotten used to the constant roar of traffic on busy Hardin Blvd. She missed living in a quiet place that she sometimes saw in dreams: golden grainfields, placid grazing animals, majestic and desolate ruins fringing the horizon. Where was that place?
They visited the most famous attraction in the Foundation and its allied worlds: the Seldon Vault. This pavilion, lovingly crafted and carved from fine native wood, boasted a pointed cathedral roof and contained a plexiglass enclosure, where the great psychohistorian's holographic image addressed his people in times of crisis.
Her son Joram and her friend Scholar Emil lived in nearby apartments, and she frequently met with a small group who all worked in the vast Library complex. Occasionally these friends met up with a larger fellowship of Colleagues who went by the name of the 'Chess Society'. But instead of plotting to capture each others' kings, they vied for the future of the Galaxy. They met, exchanged coded messages. Minna would lead them in calculations and mentalic exercises.
This tiny network made up the elusive, mysterious Second Foundation . They think we live out somewhere in the vast reaches, and we've been right beside them all along.
Life continued in this quiet way, until one day their routine was interrupted by alarming news. Lord Stettin of Kalgan attacks Foundation Fleet. And then Kalgan declares War!
The war went badly for the Foundation at first. Their fleet was forced to fall back. But eventually they rallied their courage, and sent the Kalganians home with their tails between their legs. There were wild victory celebrations in Terminus...but some quiet speculations as well.
Did the Second Foundation help us win the war? Or maybe the war was their fault?
Or are they quietly watching us and pulling our strings?
Whose side are they on?
A military man and a politician sat in a dimly lit bar.
"Councilor Gillam, I invited you for a drink because I need your help," said the war hero Admiral Dean Kyrin. He wore a plain suit, but his chest still stuck out like it was bedecked with medals.
The other man, City Councilman Jamey Gillam, leaned his elbows on the greasy table. Everyone wants to buy a politician. "So, Admiral, how can I help you?"
The Admiral gazed about as if searching for listeners. "This is all confidential, between you and me. Understood?" He leaned close. "I've got tremendous news. One of our war research scientists, Toran Darell, has been successful in his search. And guess what he's learned:" he leaned a centimeter closer and whispered. "The Second Foundation is located right here on Terminus. They've been hiding among us all along!"
"What! You're serious?' Gillam's bright, blue eyes widened "But everyone thinks-"
"Yes, everyone thinks they live at someplace called Star's End...out in the wilds of the Nebular Rift, or somewhere. That's what They want you to think! Dr. Darell has found a way to detect their mental influence by brain analysis—it shows up in something called the Tamper Plateau."
"Well that's excellent news." Gillam snuck a look at his watch. Seemed like every day someone else came up with a crackpot Second Foundation theory. "No more wild goose chases all around the galaxy then..."
"...But we need City Hall to help us implement his plan."
"Excuse me, which plan?"
"Why, rounding them up of course!"
Gillam sighed. "Is that really necessary? There's no proof they've harmed anyone. People think they helped us win the Kalgan war."
"Oh, by the Mule's Nose! If they helped us, it's not from the goodness of their hearts. They want to take power for themselves!" The Admiral signaled the bartender for another beer. "It's no joke, Councilor. I've wanted a spot on the Council for years and I've lost every election. Know why? It's because my talents have been suppressed. My rivals have beaten me out because they are Second Foundationers!"
Gillam rolled his eyes." So how will you find these scary boogeymen? Do they have horns and a tail?"
"Don't be silly. They look just like human beings, but they're mutants. Just like the Mule! Don't worry, we'll catch them. With this!" He held up a satchel and took out a small black cylinder studded with controls.
"What in Space is that?"
"Dr. Darell calls this the Mental Static Projector. He says it emits an electromagnetic field on a certain wavelength. It does nothing to a normal human, but it'll jam the mind-workers' mental frequency, probably causing great pain and neutralizing their mental control powers."
"Huh. Looks like a kids' toy."
"This is just a demo. We want the Mayor's permission and funding to install transmitters all around the city. We'll turn on the power, and...BAM!" He smacked his palm with a fist.
"Oh, by the spacefiend. That's preposterous!" Gillam stood up. "Excuse me, I have to get back. I've got meetings to attend.."
The Admiral blocked his way. "Councilor, I do have some information about your past. How you avoided the draft during the Kalgan War. Help me out and I'll make sure that information stays hidden. Just put in a good word with the Mayor, that's all."
"Oh, all right. I'll do my best." Gillam groaned inwardly. It's not like any of this is even true. Never heard a bigger load of bullcrap in my life.
CHAPTER 6 MIND STATIC
Minna and the Colleagues met in the Terminus Central Library archives, surrounded by film cassettes and dusty books. Joram studied an electronics primer, while Kav leaned over a page of Foundation history.
"I'm still trying to understand," Kav murmured. "What's our relationship with the First Foundation? Are they our brothers, parents, children, cousins? Colleagues, rivals, enemies?"
"Well this guy sure has an opinion." Amie held up a news tablet. "Listen to this editorial. It's by some nut calling himself 'the Admiral'. He's started something he calls the Foundation Freedom Party. 'People, wake up'," she quoted. "'The Second Foundation controls the media, and trade all thru the galaxy. They started the Arcturian Plague to make a fortune on medicine. They started the Kalgan war to sell weapons to both sides."
"By the Emperor's ghost," Breen swore. "That guy sounds like a silo about to catch fire."
"A silo full of manure," Emil put in.
Kav grinned. "We should be trying to Persuade them. Why don't we?"
Minna shivered. Seemed like it was always cold here on Terminus. "A Persuasion is not always effective. There have been attempts , and they have made the situation worse. For now, our plan is to sit tight."
"Well that's easy enough, I guess...aagh!" Joram suddenly cried out, grabbing his head with both hands.
"What's wrong?" Then it caught her as well. First, a buzzing between her ears. It rapidly expanded to a splitting headache and far worse. The headache intensified and her body began to convulse. Is it that brain virus again? Oh why won't it stop?
"Joram! C..call the medics!"
Joram and the rest of the Colleagues lay on the floor, hands clutching their heads, incapacitated with pain.
"Ohhh, help...must get help…" she crawled toward the exit and made it out to the sidewalk and lay there while lightning flashed inside her head. Through her agony she saw a van come by. Medics...thank God! "M-medics," she cried. "Help!"
"There's a couple more of them" one of the medics shouted.
"Quick, round 'em up!"
They looked more like police than medics.
Minna woke to find herself laid out on a cot. Her head ached as if a thousand hammers were hitting it. Joram lay on a bench nearby. Farther off others of the 'chess club' lay on stained mattresses or curled up on the floor. She spotted Kav, and Scholar Emil and Sharl and Amie and Breen, all of them holding onto their heads and groaning in pain.
She noticed that the walls and floors were concrete, and bars covered the windows. This didn't look like a hospital.
A man entered to look them over. He had a grim, squinty expression and he wore a dark jacket with shoulder pads that bulked up his shape. A few others trailed behind. They carried blasters, not medi-scopes. They looked like military men, not doctors.
"Hey Mister," Joram called. "Can you help us?"
The man smiled. "Hello, folks, I'm Admiral Dean Kyrin and you're in the old Han Pritcher Navy barracks, where we kept Kalganian prisoners of war. Your game is up, folks. We know that you're Second Foundation. We know that you've infiltrated Terminus, preparing for a takeover!"
Oh, by Vosk the spacefiend, thought Minna.
"You're not even going to try to deny it?" He chuckled. "Well, it would do no good. Your reaction to this device is all the proof I need. " Kyrin held up a small black cylinder full of dials and buttons.. "This little device was invented by my engineer, Dr. Toran Darell. It's called the Mind Static generator. It emits electromagnetic waves, tuned to the same frequency as the one you Second Foundationers use to exert your mental control over us. It has no effect at all on a normal person. But for mental mutants like yourselves, it's a very handy control mechanism. When I turn this dial down, you'll feel a bit better. Don't you?" He smiled. "But watch what happens when I turn it up-"
He did so, and the Colleagues' cries increased in volume.
Only Joram remained alert, eyeing the device with smoldering intensity. Watch it, Minna wanted to warn him. If she knew her son, he was probably planning to seize it and take it apart to discover how it worked.
"As long as you cooperate," said Kyrin, "I'll keep it on a lower setting. Any attempt to escape, or try any of your mind-control tricks...I'll turn it all the way to the top. And don't think you can rush me and seize this gadget," he added. "This is just a control. We've set up the radar transmitters at the base to saturate this entire area with Mind Static. Any attempt to escape will result in permanent brain damage. Now who wants to be the first to tell us about your plot against the Foundation?"
Minna struggled to sit up and face the man. When she met his eyes, she did not need the mentalic frequency to know that this was a madman. With an effort, she controlled her spike of terror. "Sir. You need not show off your toy any longer. I'm Speaker Minna. I will speak with you." Best to cooperate before that thing burned their brains to a cinder.
She straightened her braid of thick black hair, and pulled her crocheted shawl around her shoulders. Fixing her eyes on the black gadget, she began. "You are correct. We are the Second Foundation that you've been s-searching for." It was a struggle to speak with the mind-static like a steamroller inside her head. "We live on Terminus. We have always lived here."
Kyrin eyes narrowed. "Yes? Go on, lady. What was your objective?" He held up the gizmo.
"To guard Seldon's Plan...keep it on course."
"You mean by twisting people's thoughts around, like I could twist this dial?"
She watched the Admiral's fingers twitching on the control, like itchy fingers on a blaster. "We...we do not 'twist' thoughts, sir." She ran a trembling hand through her hair. "Our actions are minimal, like micro-surgery," she said, gathering a scrap of dignity. "We take very seriously our oath never to harm anyone. Seldon meant for us to protect the F-first Foundation. We are the heirs of Hari Seldon."
"A pretty speech, Ma'am." He stared at her with slitted eyes. "You really expect me to believe it? Tell me: how long have you Mentals been manipulating our every move?"
Minna sighed. "We...we stopped the Mule. We have been...working...ever since. Putting the Plan on track."
"Did you start the Kalgan War?"
"The goal of Seldon's Plan is peace, not war."
"We'll see about that. For starters, you will supply us with the names of all your accomplices."
After several days of intensive questioning, the detainees no longer showed any defiance or bragged about being Seldon's heirs. The constant mental static began to take a toll. But no amount of torture, threats or bullying could get them to change their story. Dr. Abek had done his memory-blocking work well well.
"Tell us about your secret base out there, on the other end of the galaxy."
"We have no base. No planet except this one."
"Seldon said the Second Foundation is located at 'at the other end of the Galaxy, at Stars End'. Where is Star's End?"
"Th...the Galaxy is a circle...the end is at the beginning." Minna drew a figure with her hands. "We have always lived right here among the First Foundation."
"How many of you are there?"
"Merely fifty...kept our numbers small to avoid detection. And now you have found us," Minna concluded, hands spread out in resignation.
CHAPTER 7 POLITICIANS
Councilor Gillam paced in front of the raised platform, where Mayor Vandikoff sat with several other officials. The rest of the City Council occupied the curved chamber of City Hall, gripping their media pads.
Gillam glared at Admiral Kyrin, who smiled back. "Now that the worthy hero Admiral Kyrin has overseen the capture of these nefarious mind-masters, what does he intend to do with them?"
Kyrin had put on a his full military suit, bedecked with medals, and he sat clasping his hands, looking quite comfortable. "Dispose of them, of course. Either lethal injection, or a blaster to the head."
"Are you out of your mind? Aren't you concerned that by exterminating the Second Foundation, we might also doom ourselves?"
"Why? You think the Foundation can't rule its own destiny?" He turned aside to the other Councilors. "Apparently the noted Councilor Gillam believes we're weaklings," he sneered. "Thinks we can't succeed without a Big Daddy controlling our every move."
"It doesn't matter what I think. It's what the galaxy believes. The neighboring worlds believe the Second Foundation stopped the Mule and are now helping us. Warlords are afraid to try their luck against two Foundations now, but without our silent allies-"
Kyrin snorted in laughter. "Who cares what a bunch of Anacreon savages believe? Our fleet could wipe them out of the skies like swatting flies."
"Excuse me, Admiral." Gillam bit back an expletive. "For a military man you're mighty short-sighted. Don't you remember our history? The battles we lost, when we thought Seldon's invisible hand had deserted us? Don't you realize that a good part of the Seldon Plan boils down to 'we believe we can't be defeated, so the rest of the galaxy believes it too—and their behavior follows'."
"Gentlemen, please." Mayor Vandikoff tapped the table with a small gavel. "Councilor Gillam, you have one minute."
"All right, forget our collective ego and think of our conscience. We do believe in due process, don't we? And justice?"
"Sure, in regards to normal humans-"
"Imagine when word gets out, of this atrocity that you propose!"
"Word won't get out. I'll take care of the lying media." Kyrin fondled the Mind Static device, which he carried like a talisman.
"What are you going to do? Start killing reporters? You're a bigger fool than the Mule's Clown."
Mayor Vandikoff rapped the gavel a bit louder. "Councilor, kindly restrain your language. Your time's almost up-"
Gillam ignored that. "Know what they'll say? 'Those superstitious bigots on Terminus couldn't stand knowing they were second best,'" he mimicked, "'so they wiped out the most advanced psychohistorians in the Galaxy. Maybe Terminus didn't like the future they predicted!'"
Uneasy laughter floated thru the chamber. "Or maybe you've decided to just toss Seldon's Plan in the trash and become a little galactic emperor right now. Stifling the news, executing anyone you don't like-"
The Mayor banged the desk. "Gillam, time's up. Kindly yield the floor-"
Gillam pointed a shaking finger at the Admiral and addressed the assembly. "Councilors, I say this Admiral Kyrin is leading us down a dangerous path! Seldon would be rolling in his grave!"
"Bailiffs," the Mayor shouted, "Please escort Councilor Gillam out of the chamber!"
Shortly after the guards had escorted him out of the chamber, an aide caught him in the hall and slipped him a note. The Secretary of Planetary Relations requests a meeting in her office."
Secretary Barb Lanell wore the latest fashion, a nyak-skin cape from Anacreon. Her office was filled with souvenirs from the surrounding worlds. "Hello Mr. Commissioner. Care for some vape?" She lit an inhaler and sat down. "I heard your speech, Mr Gillam. Tell me, what do you think we should do with those Second Foundationers?"
Gillam sighed. "I've watched closed-circuit videos of them. A bunch of librarians, bookish nerds and retired professors. These are your monstrous mutants? It's absurd. Maybe just let them go?"
"Are you out of your mind? Of course they look harmless. That's what they want you to think! They've influenced you!"
"Rubbish. I'm going to advocate for releasing them. Shouldn't our two Foundations work together?"
Lanell inhaled from her vape pipe. "Work together? Ah yes, now you're talking." A smirk played about her lips. "Can you wangle me a meeting with some of them?"
He noted her sly expression. "Why? You want to propose an alliance?"
Lanell exhaled, filling the room with sweet fumes. "Not exactly. I thought we could use their mind control abilities on our behalf. Keep some for hostages as good behavior of course. I'm sure you'd like to climb a little higher, pad your bank account, become a big wheel. I wouldn't mind becoming Mayor myself. Or maybe something more while I'm at it."
CHAPTER 8 SECRETARY
After the detainees were placed into separate cells, Secretary Barb Lanell had a few chairs brought to the guardroom and began interviewing them. "Have a seat, Miss... Minna Eksteen." She consulted her list. "You're the speaker for these...people? I trust you're being treated well. Care for a cake stick?"
"No thank you. The brain static is destroying my appetite."
"That's a shame. Now let's get to business. Look, there's some in the government who advocate, how shall we say, disposing of your organization. Between you and me, I think we could work with each other."
"I can't think straight with that brain buzz-saw out there. Get it turned off, and we'll talk."
Lanell laughed. "What? You think I'm stupid? Soon as I did that, you'd jump right in my head and start rooting around in my most intimate fantasies."
Minna repressed her own laughter. The silly ideas people had about 'mind masters'! "Then we are at a standstill, Madam Secretary."
The Secretary took a bite of the cake stick. "Look. The Second Foundation has got to go. But individually, some of you could find a good situation with me."
Minna rubbed her eyes. Galaxy, but it was impossible to sleep with the constant mind-static. "Look Madam Secretary, I don't need any mind-reading powers to see that you want to exploit us for your own ends." The avarice of politicians is one of the most reliable constants in psychohistorical analysis.
Lanell didn't seem bothered. "Of course. Why not? When a resource comes your way, why not take advantage of it? We at the First Foundation are pragmatists. And I think some of you may be, too." "What do you mean?"
"Oh, there's a few who might see things my way and get a better deal." She looked toward the exit. Minna followed the Secretary's eyes. Through the cell window, she saw the guards leading Joram out.
"Wait! Where are they taking my son?"
"I've got to run. Have a good day, Madam Speaker."
Joram looked around the Secretary's office. He wanted to scratch an itch on his back, but the hand restraints wouldn't let him. "So, you're the big power around here?"
Secretary Lanell poured herself a cup of coffee. "I thought we might come to an accommodation."
"Whose side are you on, ma'am?"
"There are no sides here. Everyone's for themselves. Even you, right?" She poured out a mug for him. Her polished nails clicked on the mug.
"Yeah. I guess I'd like to be on the winning side in all this." Looking out the window he could see a large brain-static transmitter in the center of the boulevard. He stared at it, while drinking his coffee. "You've got these static towers all around the city, haven't you?"
"Indeed we do. Dr. Darell had them installed when he discovered your little group. Now listen: we of the Foundation do not like to have our actions controlled by puppet-masters, so your nest of mutants will have to be broken up. However, it could be useful to keep a few talented folks like you on my side. You understand what I'm saying? Of course, I need to have assurances that you don't double cross me. That old woman with the tatty shawl...calls herself a Speaker...she's your mother, right?"
Joram's cuffed hands tightened around the mug.
The secretary's eyes missed nothing. "Of course, mothers are very special. You wouldn't want to see her harmed. If you try any trickery, she'll pay the price. All the rest of them, too. I hate to think what will happen to them. That mind-static broadcast could be very damaging. Your poor mother will- "
"Yes, yes, ma'am, I get the picture." He sighed. "What do you want?"
"I've always wanted to be Mayor of Terminus. And hey, maybe something more than just this scrubby little city. I'm sure that with just a little help from someone like you, I could rule the Periphery. I could make things much more comfortable for you and the Madam Speaker."
Joram thought for a moment, then gave her a sly grin. "Maybe...but I wouldn't be able to do anything, until you turn off those spacedamn mind-static transmitters."
"We'll work on it."
Meanwhile, his new 'sponsor' gave him nice quiet lodgings, and even granted his request for a reading tablet. Joram could then access every entry about electro-neurology in the Encyclopedia Galactica, and lie quietly thinking about those transmitters, and listen to those electrons marching through the circuits.
That poor Madam Secretary had made a big mistake if she thought he could help her become Queen of the Periphery. The joke's on her. She picked the Zero. I don't have the Persuasion power to make a cat climb a tree.
Now if a person could Persuade electrons, he would be the guy.
CHAPTER 9 GILLAM
The next day the guards admitted another visitor to the Detention Unit for a secret conference: an older fellow with a receding hairline and few extra pounds. His intense blue eyes roved about the place, missing nothing. One assistant carried a video pad. "I'm Commissioner Jamey Gilliam. I've been trying to line up some legal help for you folks, but it's not looking too good."
Minna introduced Scholars Sharl and Emil, and a few others, and they formed the approximate circular configuration of the Speakers council which remained a vague memory for them.
"Good day sir. Thank you for daring to meet with the scary mind-masters." Emil inclined his head, with an ironic smile. "We promise to behave ourselves."
Gillam, plainly uneasy, looked down at his notepad. "Lawyers are afraid to take your case," he said. "They're not sure whether you're Foundation citizens, traitors or enemy spies. I did manage to get a temporary protection order, to prevent...mistreatment...by this Admiral Kyrin. He's talking about putting all of you to death, you know. Probably in public."
Minna's fingers twisted the fringe on her shawl. "Indeed. That's what we expected."
Communication had been difficult between the group, surrounded by guards and cells and bars. But occasionally they managed to share a few words. Thus they had reached an understanding of their situation. The unexplained memory gaps, like a tattered curtain sewed from scraps, hinted at a deliberate memory block. From there, the truth was only a short journey. We're here as decoys to hide a secret: the real location of the Second Foundation…. wherever that might be.
But whoever had set up this plan—they had made a serious mistake.
"The threat of execution doesn't upset you?" said Gillam.
"The probability of death was over 90 percent."
"Don't you have some sort of mental powers to save yourselves?"
"Not with those mind static transmitters out there." Emil put his hands to his head. "Have you ever tried to think with 10 hammers hitting you on the brain?"
"Never mind about us," said Minna. "What matters is the dangerous course Terminus has chosen—hunting and plotting to destroy your sister Foundation. Did you not consider the consequences? What did you plan to do when you found us...thank us with flowers for guarding the Plan? Well now that you've found us, you are on the verge of a Seldon Crisis."
The room fell silent, and all that could be heard was the faint buzz of the giant mind-static transmitter outside. The words 'Seldon Crisis' always caught people's attention.
"Consider this, Mr. Councilor." Emil's fingers smoothed the scarf Minna had given him. "What would happen if you managed to get us released from this place?"
Gillam sighed. "Kyrin's ahead in the campaign. He's been stirring people up, gathered a big following. If I win the next election, I'll pull every string to have you quietly removed from the planet and lodged in a secure location. Somewhere a little warmer and cleaner than this dump." He gestured at the dingy concrete and drafty windows. "But...I'm afraid you couldn't be released. Public opinion would not allow that. People fear someone with more talents than themselves. I'd probably be impeached, accused of treason myself."
"Of course. We're responsible for all your problems," said Emil. "If you burn your toast, the Second Foundation is to blame."
"The Councilor is correct," white-haired Scholar Sharl put in. "If Terminus set us free, this whole thing would start all over again in another decade. It has all been calculated by psychohistory."
Minna stood up. Unable to use the mentalic Speaker style of address, she relied on gestures to accent her speech. "Sir, I have studied this problem all my life. My qualifying thesis was on a question Seldon asked in Folio 1510: If a culture relies on hatred of the outsider, what are the projected effects on the society? The probability is that at some point the First Foundation would be infected with a mental virus. The symptoms are hyper-nationalism and xenophobia, scapegoating of an outside group. The result is repression of civil liberties, and the rise of tyranny."
Gillam's eyes followed her hands, as she counted off the points.
"On the other hand, the First Foundation values science, intelligence, and individual freedom. You see yourselves as the Good Guys. Your citizens won't stand for mass executions and arrests. These are something out of the bad old days of Empire. That kind of atrocity is what the Seldon Plan is supposed to prevent. And so... this conflict is leading you into a Seldon Crisis."
Her fingertips met in a broken V, illustrating the concept. Seldon Crisis.
"Some people in the First Foundation want to get rid of us so they can have the galaxy to themselves. They dream of a Second Empire built with blasters and star cruisers. They don't realize that this is the opposite of what the Seldon Plan is all about. His plan was for humans to evolve past those things."
Minna hesitated. How much should she reveal? Every member of the Second Foundation learned that strict secrecy was necessary for the Plan to function. But it was already too late for that. Better to reveal the truth, than to let these people believe the lies of Kyrin.
"Seldon created the Second Foundation to help put his plan into reality. We were there to steer you away from your worst nature. The madness of militarism, hatred and ambition: these are sicknesses that must be kept in check if humanity is to survive."
"So you're not here to...make puppets of ordinary humans?" Gillam whispered, trying for irony.
Another eyebrow lift. "We practice our mind-touch abilities within strict guidelines, with rigorous monitoring, as set out by Seldon's granddaughter Wanda. There is less to fear from us, than from a skilled surgeon who makes an incision in order to heal. And that is what we have been doing since the beginning, although...in the past 50 years, we have been unable to function properly because of threats to our existence: first, the Mule, and now our brothers of the First Foundation."
Gillam took a ragged breath. "I'm...I'm deeply sorry for what's happened to you. I feel responsible. Why didn't I kick that blasted Admiral in the butt the first time he…" he wiped at his eye. "I'll never forgive myself. I'll do whatever I can...perhaps I can arrange a quiet escape, for some of you at least."
"We don't have much time," said Emil. "Those mental static transmitters are going to cause permanent brain damage. That's probably what they want, eh?"
The assistant spoke up. "Mr. Gillam, I'm sorry to interrupt. Kyrin is giving a campaign speech. Look at this!" He handed the viewer to the Councilor.
