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percent of boon petitions received funds, and then after two years' delay, and
for about half the requested money.
Worse, since the lead time was so great, there was a premium on hitting the
nail squarely on the head with every boon.
To be sure a study would work, most of it was done before writing the boon
petition. This insured that there were no
"holes" in the petition, no unexpected swerves in the work.
This meant scholarship and research had become mostly surprise-free, as well.
No one seemed to notice that this robbed them of their central jay. die
excitement of the unexpected.
"I will. . . speak to my department" Order them to do it, would have been more
honest. But one did toy to preserve the amenities.
When she had left, Dors came into his office immediately, with Yugo right
behind. "I will not work with these!" she said, eyes flaring.
Hari studied two large blocks of what seemed to be stone. Yet they could not
be that heavy, for Yugo cradled one in each open palm. "The sims?" he guessed.
"In ferrite cores," Yugo said proudly. "Stuck down in a rat's warren, on a
planet named Sark."
"The world with that 'New Renaissance' movement?"
"Yeah kinda crazy, dealin' with them. I got the sims, though. They just came
in, Worm Express. The woman in charge there, a Buta Fyrnix, wants to talk to
you."
"I said I didn't want to be involved."
"Part of the deal is she gets a face-to-face."
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Hari blinked, alarmed. "She'd come all the way here?"
"No, but they're payin' for a tightbeam. She's standin' by. I've routed her
through. Just punch for the link."
Hari had the distinct feeling that he was being hustled into something risky,
far beyond the limits of his ordinary caution. Tightbeam time was expensive,
because the Imperial wormhole system had been impacted with flow for
millennia. Using it for a face-to-face was simply decadent, he felt. If this
Fyrnix woman was paying for galactic-scale standby time, just to chat with a
mathist. . .
Spare me from the enthused, Hari thought. "Well, all right."
Buta Fyrnix was a tall, hot-eyed woman who smiled brightly as her image
blossomed in the office. "Professor Seldon! I
was so happy that your staff has taken an interest in our New Renaissance."
"Well, actually, I gather it's about those simulations." For once, he was
grateful for the two-second delay in transmission. The biggest wormhole mouth
was a light-second from Trantor, and apparently Sark had about the same.
"Of course! We found truly ancient archives. Our progressive movement here is
knocking over the old barriers, you'll find."
"I hope the research will prove interesting," Hari said neutrally. How did
Yugo get him into this?
"We're turning up things that will open your eyes, Dr. Seldon." She turned and
gestured at the scene behind her, a large warren crammed with ancient ceramo
storage racks. "We're hoping to blow the lid off the whole question of
pre-Empire origins, the Earth legend the works!"
"I, ah, I will be very happy to see what results."
"You've got to come and see it for yourself. A mathist like you will be
impressed. Our Renaissance is just the sort of forward-looking enterprise that
hands were bleeding and she had a cut on her left cheek. She gazed straight at
him. "I am charged with your safety."
Yugo drawled, "Sure a funny way to show it."
"I had to protect you from a potentially "
"By destroying an ancient artifact?" Hari demanded.
"I smothered nearly all the eruption, minimizing your risk. But yes, I deem
this Sark involvement as "
"I know, I know." Hari raised his hands, palms toward her, recalling.
The night before he had come home from his rather well-received speech to find
Dors moody and withdrawn. Their bed had been a rather chilly battleground,
too, though she would not come out and say what had irked her so. Winning
through withdrawal, Hari had once termed it. But he had no idea she felt this
deeply.
Marriage is a voyage of discovery that never ends, he thought ruefully.
"I make decisions about risk," he said to her, eyeing the rubble in his
office. "You will obey them unless there is an obvious physical danger.
Understand?"
"I must use my judgment "
"No! Involvement with these Sarkian simulations may teach us about shadowy,
ancient times. That could affect psychohistory." He wondered if she were
carrying out an order from Olivaw. Why would the robots care so strongly?
"When you are plainly imperiling "
"You must leave planning and psychohistory! to me."
She batted her eyelashes rapidly, pursed her lips, opened her mouth . . . and
said nothing. Finally, she nodded. Hari let out a sigh.
Then his secretary rushed in, followed by the
Specials, and the scene dissolved into a chaos of explanations. He looked the
Specials captain straight in the face and said that the ferrite cores had
somehow fallen into each other and apparently struck some weak fracture point.
They were, he explained making it up as he went along, with a voice of
professorial authority he had mastered long ago fragile structures which used
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tension to stabilize themselves, holding in vast stores of microscopic
information.
To his relief the captain just screwed up his face, looked around at the mess,
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