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“The thing is, Hummin, that I had the idea that there were humaniform robots, that they were long-lived, that at least one might still be alive, and that it might be in the aerie. There was a robot there, but it was metallic, it was dead, and it was merely a symbol. Had I but known-”

“Yes. Did we all but know, there would be no need for questions or for research of any kind. Where did you get your information about humaniform robots? Since no Mycogenian would have discussed that with you, I can think of only one source. The Mycogenian Book-a powered print-book in ancient Auroran and modern Galactic. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“And how did you get a copy?”

Seldon paused, then muttered, “Its somewhat embarrassing.”

“I am not easily embarrassed, Seldon.”

Seldon told him and Hummin allowed a very small smile to twitch across his face.

Hummin said, “Didn’t it occur to you that what occurred had to be a charade? No Sister would do a thing like that-except under instruction and with a great deal of persuading.”

Seldon frowned and said with asperity, “That was not at all obvious. People are perverted now and then. And its easy for you to grin. I didn’t have the information you had and neither did Dors. If you did not wish me to fall into traps, you might have warned me of those that existed.”

“I agree. I withdraw my remark. In any case, you don’t have the Book any longer, I’m sure.”

“No. Sunmaster Fourteen took it from me.”

“How much of it did you read?”

“Only a small fraction. I didn’t have time. It’s a huge book and I must tell you, Hummin, it is dreadfully dull.”

“Yes, I know that, for I think I have read more of it than you have. It is not only dull, it is totally unreliable. It is a one-sided, official Mycogenian view of history that is more intent on presenting that view than a reasoned objectivity. It is even deliberately unclear in spots so that outsiders-even if they were to read the Book-would never know entirely what they read. What was it, for instance, that you thought you read about robots that interested you?”

“I’ve already told you. They speak of humaniform robots, robots that could not be distinguished from human beings in outward appearance.”

“How many of these would exist?” asked Hummin. “They don’t say.-At least, I didn’t come across a passage in which they gave numbers. There may have been only a handful, but one of them, the Book refers to as ‘Renegade.’ It seems to have an unpleasant significance, but I couldn’t make out what.”

“You didn’t tell me anything about that,” interposed Dors. “If you had, I would have told you that it’s not a proper name. It’s another archaic word and it means, roughly, what ‘traitor’ would mean in Galactic. The older word has a greater aura of fear about it. A traitor, somehow, sneaks to his treason, but a renegade flaunts it.”

Hummin said, “I’ll leave the fine points of archaic language to you, Dors, but, in any case, if the Renegade actually existed and if it was a humaniform robot, then, clearly, as a traitor and enemy, it would not be preserved and venerated in the Elders’ aerie.”

Seldon said, “I didn’t know the meaning of ‘Renegade,’ but, as I said, I did get the impression that it was an enemy. I thought it might have been defeated and preserved as a reminder of the Mycogenian triumph.”

“Was there any indication in the Book that the Renegade was defeated?”

“No, but I might have missed that portion-”

“Not likely. Any Mycogenian victory would be announced in the Book unmistakably and referred to over and over again.”

“There was another point the Book made about the Renegade,” said Seldon, hesitating, “but I can’t be at all sure I understood it.” Hummin said, “As I told you… They are deliberately obscure at times.”

“Nevertheless, they seemed to say that the Renegade could somehow tap human emotions… influence them-”

“Any politician can,” said Hummin with a shrug. “It’s called charisma-when it works.”

Seldon sighed. “Well, I wanted to believe. That was it. I would have given a great deal to find an ancient humaniform robot that was still alive and that I could question.”

“For what purpose?” asked Hummin.

“To learn the details of the primordial Galactic society when it still consisted of only a handful of worlds. From so small a Galaxy psychohistory could be deduced more easily.”

Hummin said, “Are you sure you could trust what you heard? After many thousands of years, would you be willing to rely on the robot’s early memories? How much distortion would have entered into them?”

“That’s right,” said Dors suddenly. “It would be like the computerized records I told you of, Hari. Slowly, those robot memories would be discarded, lost, erased, distorted. You can only go back so far and the farther you go back, the less reliable the information becomes-no matter what you do.”

Hummin nodded. “I’ve heard it referred to as a kind of uncertainty principle in information.”

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