She said, "What about the Second Foundation?"
His voice was automatically a whisper, thin and sibilant. "Do you know the thoroughness with which Seldon covered his traces? The proceedings of the Seldon Convention would have been of no use to me at a as little as a month ago, before this strange insight came. Even now, it seems - tenuous. The papers put out by the Convention are often apparently unrelated; always obscure. More than once I wondered if the members of the Convention, themselves, knew all that was in Seldon's mind. Sometimes I think he used the Convention only as a gigantic front, and single-handed erected the structure-"
"Of the Foundations?" urged Bayta.
"Of the Second Foundation! Our Foundation was simple. But the Second Foundation was only a name. It was mentioned, but if there was any elaboration, it was hidden deep in the mathematics. There is still much I don't even begin to understand, but for seven days, the bits have been clumping together into a vague picture.
"Foundation Number One was a world of physical scientists. It represented a concentration of the dying science of the Galaxy under the conditions necessary to make it live again. No psychologists were included. It was a peculiar distortion, and must have had a purpose. The usual explanation was that Seldon's psychohistory worked best where the individual working units - human beings - had no knowledge of what was coming, and could therefore react naturally to all situations. Do you follow me, my dear-"
"Yes, doctor."
"Then listen carefully. Foundation Number Two was a world of mental scientists. It was the mirror image of our world. Psychology, not physics, was king." Triumphantly. "You see?"
"I don't."
"But think, Bayta, use your head. Hari Seldon knew that his psychohistory could predict only probabilities, and not certainties. There was always a margin of error, and as time passed that margin increases in geometric progression. Seldon would naturally guard as well as he could against it. Our Foundation was scientifically vigorous. It could conquer armies and weapons. It could pit force against force. But what of the mental attack of a mutant such as the Mule?"
"That would be for the psychologists of the Second Foundation!" Bayta felt excitement rising within her.
"Yes, yes, yes! Certainly!"
"But they have done nothing so far."
"How do you know they haven't?"
Bayta considered that, "I don't. Do you have evidence that they have?"
"No. There are many factors I know nothing of. The Second Foundation could not have been established full-grown, any more than we were. We developed slowly and grew in strength; they must have also. The stars know at what stage their strength is now. Are they strong enough to fight the Mule? Are they aware of the danger in the first place? Have they capable leaders?"
"But if they follow Seldon's plan, then the Mule must be beaten by the Second Foundation."
"Ah," and Ebling Mis's thin face wrinkled thoughtfully, "is it that again? But the Second Foundation was a more difficult job than the First. Its complexity is hugely greater; and consequently so is its possibility of error. And if the Second Foundation should not beat the Mule, it is bad - ultimately bad. It is the end, may be, of the human race as we know it."
"No.
"Yes. If the Mule's descendants inherit his mental powers - You see? Homo sapiens could not compete. There would be a new dominant race - a new aristocracy - with homo sapiens demoted to slave labor as an inferior race. Isn't that so?"
"Yes, that is so."
"And even if by some chance the Mule did not establish a dynasty, he would still establish a distorted new Empire upheld by his personal power only. It would die with his death; the Galaxy would be left where it was before he came, except that there would no longer be Foundations around which a real and healthy Second Empire could coalesce. It would mean thousands of years of barbarism. It would mean no end in sight."
"What can we do? Can we warn the Second Foundation?"
"We must, or they may go under through ignorance, which we can not risk. But there is no way of warning them."
"No way?"
"I don't know where they are located. They are 'at the other end of the Galaxy' but that is all, and there are millions of worlds to choose from."
"But, Ebling, don't they say?" She pointed vaguely at the films that covered the table.
"No, they don't. Not where I can find it - yet. The secrecy must mean something. There must be a reason-" A puzzled expression returned to his eyes. "But I wish you'd leave. I have wasted enough time, and it's growing short - it's growing short."
He tore away, petulant and frowning.
Magnifico's soft step approached. "Your husband is home, my lady."
Ebling Mis did not greet the clown. He was back at his projector.
That evening Toran, having listened, spoke, "And you think he's really right, Bay? You think he isn't-" He hesitated.
"He is right, Torie. He's sick, I know that. The change that's come over him, the loss in weight, the way he speaks - he's sick. But as soon as the subject of the Mule or the Second Foundation, or anything he is working on, comes up, listen to him. He is lucid and clear as the sky of outer space. He knows what he's talking about. I believe him."
"Then there's hope." It was half a question.
"I... I haven't worked it out. Maybe! Maybe not! I'm carrying a blaster from now on." The shiny-barreled weapon was in her hand as she spoke. "Just in case, Torie, just in case."
"In case what?"
Bayta laughed with a touch of hysteria, "Never mind. Maybe I'm a little crazy, too - like Ebling Mis."