Then, reading further, Hari came across another ancient empire that lasted much longer than Rome, offering far greater peace and stability to larger numbers. Naturally, it was primitive, with many faults. But the basic configuration might have appealed to a deathless robot, seeking inspiration for a new society. One that could protect his self-destructive masters from themselves.

“Show me China,” Hari commanded. “Before the industrial-scientific age.”

The archive responded with lines of archaic text, accompanied by crude images. But Hari’s external computer translated for him, automatically collating the data in psychohistorical terms.

Problem number one,he thought, as if lecturing on basic psychohistory to a junior member of the Fifty.A certain fraction of humans will always seek power over others. This is rooted in our misty animal past. We inherit the trait because those creatures who succeeded often had more descendants. Many tribes and nations wind up being torn apart by this ingrained drive. But a few cultures learned to channel unavoidable ambition and dissipate it, like a metal rod shunting lightning into the ground.

In ancient China, a powerful emperor could be relied on to check noble excesses. Highborn families were also drawn into rituals of courtly fashion and intrigue, involving complex stratagems of alliance and betrayal that could win or lose them status at every turn-clearly an early version of theGreat Game that obsessed most of the patrician class in Hari’s day. The peaks and lows of aristocratic families made gaudy headlines, diverting the galaxy’s masses, but in fact the maneuverings of mighty star lords had little to do with actually running the empire. The wealth they flaunted could easily be spared. Meanwhile, practical governance was left in the hands of meritocrats and civil servants.

In psychohistorical terms, this was called an at tractor state. In other words, society had a natural sink into which the power-hungry were drawn, fostering their preening illusions without wreaking much real harm. It had worked well for a long time in the Galactic Empire, much as it did in pretechnical China.

And to supplement this, the ancients even had an elementary version of Ruellianism.The Confucian ethical system that pervaded China long ago also preached about obligations the mighty owed to those they ruled. This analogy provoked a wry thought in Hari. He called up, from his personal reference archive, a picture of Ruellis herself. A grainy image from early days of the Galactic Empire. Pondering the famous leader’s high forehead-her broad cheeks and proud bearing-he mused.

Could that have been you, Daneel? Of course you’ve used a fantastic range of disguises. And yet, do I see a faint similarity between this woman’s face and the one you wore when we first met? When you were Demerzel, First Minister of the Empire?

Was this yet another of your roles, in a tireless campaign to prod stubborn humanity toward a gentle, decent society?

If so, were you dismayed when your most brilliant success only spawned the first great wave of interstellar chaos outbreaks?

Of course it would be pointless to try and track all of the characters played by the Immortal Servant across twenty thousand years, as Daneel and his robot helpers relentlessly kept trying to ease the pain of their ignorant, obstinate masters.

Hari returned to contemplating parallels with ancient China.

Problem number two: how to keep the ruling class from becoming static? The natural tendency of any group, once on top, is to use its power for self-aggrandizement. To make sure newcomers never threaten them.

China suffered from this stifling problem, like every other human culture. But a civil-service testing system did sometimes allow the bright or capable to rise along a route that was independent of jostling gentry. And Hari spotted another, more subtle parallel.

The Chinese created a special class of authorities who could only be loyal to the empire, and not to their own descendants. Because they would never have children.

These were the court eunuchs. In psychohistorical terms, it made sense. And an analogy in the modern Galactic Empire was obvious.

Daneel’s followers. Positronic robots programmed to think only of humanity’s good. Above all, they never breed, so evolution’s compelling logic will never sway them toward selfishness. They have been our equivalent to loyal eunuchs, operating in secret for ages.

The insight pleased Hari, though he suspected old China might have been more complex thanA Child’s Book of Knowledge portrayed it.

Only the empire Daneel created for us, and kept steady through dogged effort, is failing under its own inertia. Something new must be created to take its place.

Hari once thought he knew what the replacement would look like. The Seldon Plan foresaw a more vibrant empire growing from the ashes of the old. He felt overwhelmingly tempted to tell the stowaway, young Jeni Cuicet, all about the Foundation and the glory that would crown her descendants, if only she’d put her trust in destiny and go to Terminus with her parents!

Of course Hari could never betray the secret Plan that way. But what if he offered hints. tantalizing enough to make Jeni change her mind? Once he had been an able politician. If he could persuade her that somehow everything will eventually turnout…

Hari sensed that his mind was drifting in undisciplined ways, down soppy, sentimental paths. He suddenly felt old. Futile.

Anyway, the next empire won’t be based on my Foundation, after all. The grand drama we’re kindling on Terminus will be just a distraction, to keep humanity occupied while Daneel sets the table for a new feast. A warm-up act before the real show.

Hari didn’t know yet what form that next phase would take…though his robot friend had dropped some hints when they last met. But it would surely leap as far ahead of the old empire as a starship outraced a canoe.

I should feel proud that Daneel finds my work useful in preparing the way. And yet….

And yet, the equations still called to Hari. Like those semi-random patterns of shadow and light he had seen, back in Shoufeen Woods, they whispered during his waking hours and shimmered through his dreams.

Theymust be more than just a distraction!

Psychohistory had another level. He felt sure. Another layer of truth.

Perhaps something even R. Daneel Olivaw did not know.

Dors Venabili finished her preparations.

Klia Asgar and her husband Brann were getting used to playing the role of minor planetary gentry on Smushell, wealthy enough to afford servants and have a large family without much inconvenience, yet not so rich they would attract undue attention. That had been thequid pro quo deal between a pair of human mentalics and their robot guardians. In return for a better life than they had known on Trantor, Klia and Brann would have lots of babies…a drove of scampering little psychic adepts…to provide the core genetic pool for some urgent aim that only Daneel Olivaw knew about, for the time being.

Well, it has to be important,Dors thought, not for the first time.Or Daneel wouldn’t keep several of his best agents here, guarding two young humans who are perfectly capable of taking care of themselves.

Indeed, while their power over other human minds was sporadic and nowhere near as great as Daneel’s, Klia and Brann could make their neighbors like them, sway shopkeepers, or even steal anything they wanted. It was more than enough to warn against any likely danger on a quiet rural world.

Still, Daneel won’t recall me to other service…or let me go to Trantor and be with Hari in his last year of life.