"Asimov, Isaac - Brin, David - Foundations Triumph" - читать интересную книгу автора (Asimov Isaac)

"Computer!" he shouted. "Call up the galaxy-wide chart of chaos worlds!"

Next to Antic's simplistic model, there suddenly appeared a vastly more sophisticated rendering. A depiction that showed the location and intensity of dangerous social disruptions during the last couple of centuries. Chaos outbreaks used to be rare, back in the old days of the empire. But in recent generations they had been growing ever more severe. The so-called Seldon Law, enacted during his tenure as First Minister, helped keep the lid on things for a while, maintaining galaxy-wide peace. But increasing numbers of chaos worlds offered just one more symptom that civilization could no longer hold. Things were falling apart.

Habitually, his eyes touched several past disasters of particular note.

Sark, where conceited "experts" once revived the Joan and Voltaire sims from an ancient, half-burned archive, bragging about the wonders that their brave new society would reveal. . . until it collapsed around them.

Madder Loss, whose prideful flare threatened to ignite chaos across the entire galaxy, before it abruptly sputtered out.

And Santanni. . . where Raych died, amid riots, rebellion, and horrid violence.

With a dry mouth, Hari ordered-

"Superimpose both of these displays. Do a simple correlative enhancement, type six. Show commonalities."

The two images moved toward each other, merging and transforming as the computer measured and emphasized similarities. In moments, the verdict could be seen in symbols, swirling around the galactic wheel.

A fifteen percent causation-correlation . . . between the appearance of chaos worlds and. . . and. ..

Hari blinked. He could not even remember what silliness the bureaucrat had been jabbering about. Something about molecules in space? Different kinds of dirt?

He almost shouted for an immediate visiphone link, to wake Horis Antic, partly in revenge for ruining Hari's own sleep.

Gripping the arms of his chair, he reconsidered, remembering what Dors had taught him when they lived together as husband and wife.

"Don't blurt the first thing that comes to mind, Hari. Nor always go charging ahead. Those traits may have served males well, back when they roamed some jungle, like primitive pans. But you are an imperial professor! Always fool them into thinking you're dignified."

"When in fact I'm-"

"A great big ape!" Dors had laughed, rubbing against him. "My ape. My wonderful human."

With that poignant memory, he recovered some calm. Enough to wait a while for answers.

At least until morning.



-6-



A figure stepped out of the forest, crossing a clearing toward the spot where Dors stood waiting. She scrutinized the newcomer carefully.

Its general shape remained the same-that of a tall, barrel-torsoed human male. But some details had changed. Lodovic now wore a somewhat younger face. A little more handsome in the classical sense, though still with fashionably sparse hair.

"Welcome back to Panucopia," the other robot told her, approaching to a distance of three meters, then stopping.

Dors sent a microwave burst, initiating conversation via highspeed channels.