Isaac Asimov - Foundation and Empire

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ROBOT STORIES AND NOVELS

I, Robot

The Rest of the Robots

The Complete Robot

The Caves of Steel

The Naked Sun

The Robots of Dawn

Robots and Empire

THE GALACTIC EMPIRE SERIES

The Stars, Like Dust

The Currents of Space

Pebble in the Sky

THE FOUNDATION SAGA

Prelude to Foundation

Forward the Foundation

Foundation

Foundation and Empire

Second Foundation

Foundations Edge

Foundation and Earth

SHORT STORY COLLECTIONS

Gold

Magic

The End of Eternity

Isaac Asimov, world maestro of science fiction, was born in Russia near Smolensk in 1920 and was brought to the United States by his parents three years later. He grew up in Brooklyn where he went to grammar school and at the age of eight he gained his citizen papers. A remarkable memory helped him finish high school before he was sixteen. He then went on to Columbia University and resolved to become a chemist rather than follow the medical career his father had in mind for him. He graduated in chemistry and after a short spell in the Army he gained his doctorate in 1949 and qualified as an instructor in biochemistry at Boston University School of Medicine where he became Associate Professor in 1955, doing research in nucleic acid. Increasingly, however, the pressures of chemical research conflicted with his aspirations in the literary field, and in 1958 he retired to full-time authorship while retaining his connection with the University.

Asimovs fantastic career as a science fiction writer began in 1939 with the appearance of a short story, Marooned Off Vesta, in Amazing Stories. Thereafter he became a regular contributor to the leading SF magazines of the day including Astounding, Astonishing Stories, Super Science Stories and Galaxy. He won the Hugo Award four times and the Nebula Award once. With nearly five hundred books to his credit and several hundred articles, Asimovs output was prolific by any standards. Apart from his many world-famous science fiction works, Asimov also wrote highly successful detective mystery stories, a four-volume History of North America, a two-volume Guide to the Bible, a biographical dictionary, encyclopaedias, textbooks and an impressive list of books on many aspects of science, as well as two volumes of autobiography.

Isaac Asimov died in 1992 at the age of 72.

BEL RIOSE In his relatively short career, Riose earned the title of The Last of the Imperials and earned it well. A study of his campaigns reveals him to be the equal of Peurifoy in strategic ability and his superior perhaps in his ability to handle men. That he was born in the days of the decline of Empire made it all but impossible for him to equal Peurifoys record as a conqueror. Yet he had his chance when, the first of the Empires generals to do so, he faced the Foundation squarely

ENCYLOPEDIA GALACTICA

Bel Riose travelled without escort, which is not what court etiquette prescribes for the head of a fleet stationed in a yet-sullen stellar system on the Marches of the Galactic Empire.

But Bel Riose was young and energetic energetic enough to be sent as near the end of the universe as possible by an unemotional and calculating court and curious besides. Strange and improbable tales fancifully-repeated by hundreds and murkily-known to thousands intrigued the last faculty; the possibility of a military venture engaged the other two. The combination was overpowering.

He was out of the dowdy ground-car he had appropriated and at the door of the fading mansion that was his destination. He waited. The photonic eye that spanned the doorway was alive, but when the door opened it was by hand.

Bel Riose smiled at the old man. I am Riose

I recognize you. The old man remained stiffly and unsurprised in his place. Your business?

Riose withdrew a step in a gesture of submission. One of peace. If you are Ducem Barr, I ask the favour of conversation.

Ducem Barr stepped aside and in the interior of the house the walls glowed into life. The general entered into daylight.

He touched the wall of the study, then stared at his fingertips. You have this on Siwenna?

Barr smiled thinly. Not elsewhere, I believe. I keep this in repair myself as well as I can. I must apologize for your wait at the door. The automatic device registers the presence of a visitor but will no longer open the door.

Your repairs fall short? The generals voice was faintly mocking.

Parts are no longer available. If you will sit, sir. You drink tea?

On Siwenna? My good sir, it is socially impossible not to drink it here.

The old patrician retreated noiselessly with a slow bow that was part of the ceremonious legacy left by a ci-devant aristocracy of the last centurys better days.

Riose looked after his hosts departing figure, and his studied urbanity grew a bit uncertain at the edges. His education had been purely military; his experience likewise. He had, as the clich has it, faced death many times; but always death of a very familiar and tangible nature. Consequently, there is no inconsistency in the fact that the idolized lion of the Twentieth Fleet felt chilled in the suddenly musty atmosphere of an ancient room,

The general recognized the small black ivroid boxes that lined the shelves to be books. Their titles were unfamiliar. He guessed that the large structure at one end of the room was the receiver that transmuted the books into sight-and-sound on demand. He had never seen one in operation; but he had heard of them.

Once he had been told that long before, during the golden ages when the Empire had been co-extensive with the entire Galaxy, nine houses out of every ten had such receivers and such rows of books.

But there were borders to watch now; books were for old men. And half the stories told about the old days were mythical anyway. More than half.

The tea arrived, and Riose seated himself. Ducem Barr lifted his cup. To your honour.

Thank you. To yours.

Ducem Barr said deliberately, You are said to be young. Thirty-five?

Near enough. Thirty-four.

In that case, said Barr, with soft emphasis, I could not begin better than by informing you regretfully that I am not in the possession of love charms, potions, or philtres. Nor am I in the least capable of influencing the favours of any young lady as may appeal to you.

I have no need of artificial aids in that respect, sir. The complacency undeniably present in the generals voice was stirred with amusement. Do you receive many requests for such commodities?