Read Prelude to Foundation for Free Online

He must have been there.”
    Seldon looked confused and Hummin said, “Well, you may not have seen him, but he was there. And if he thinks you can predict the future—”
    “I can’t predict the future,” said Seldon, shaking his head vigorously. “If you listened to my paper, you’ll know that I only spoke of a theoretical possibility.”
    “Just the same, if he
thinks
you can predict the future, he will not let you go.”
    “He must have. Here I am.”
    “That means nothing. He knows where you are and he’ll continue to know. And when he wants you, he’ll get you, wherever you are. And if he decides you’re useful, he’ll squeeze the use out of you. And if he decides you’re dangerous, he’ll squeeze the life out of you.”
    Seldon stared. “What are you trying to do. Frighten me?”
    “I’m trying to warn you.”
    “I don’t believe what you’re saying.”
    “Don’t you? A while ago you said something was a mistake. Were you thinking that presenting the paper was a mistake and that it was getting you into the kind of trouble you don’t want to be in?”
    Seldon bit his lower lip uneasily. That was a guess that came entirely too close to the truth—and it was at this moment that Seldon felt the presence of intruders.
    They did not cast a shadow, for the light was too soft and widespread. It was simply a movement that caught the corner of his eye—and then it stopped.

FLIGHT
    TRANTOR—
 … The capital of the First Galactic
Empire … Under Cleon I, it had its “twilight glow.” To all appearances, it was then at its peak. Its land surface of 200 million square kilometers was entirely domed (except for the Imperial Palace area) and underlaid with an endless city that extended beneath the continental shelves. The population was 40 billion and although the signs were plentiful (and clearly visible in hindsight) that there were gathering problems, those who lived on Trantor undoubtedly found it still the Eternal World of legend and did not expect it would ever …
    ENCYCLOPEDIA GALACTICA

6
    Seldon looked up. A young man was standing before him, looking down at him with an expression of amused contempt. Next to him was another young man—a bit younger, perhaps. Both were large and appeared to be strong.
    They were dressed in an extreme of Trantorian fashion, Seldon judged—boldly clashing colors, broad fringed belts, round hats with wide brims all about and the two ends of a bright pink ribbon extending from the brim to the back of the neck.
    In Seldon’s eyes, it was amusing and he smiled.
    The young man before him snapped, “What’re you grinning at, misfit?”
    Seldon ignored the manner of address and said gently, “Please pardon my smile. I was merely enjoying your costume.”
    “My costume? So? And what are you wearing? What’s that awful offal you call clothes?” His hand went out and his finger flicked at the lapel of Seldon’s jacket—disgracefully heavy and dull, Seldon himself thought, in comparison to the other’s lighthearted colors.
    Seldon said, “I’m afraid it’s my Outworlder clothes. They’re all I have.”
    He couldn’t help notice that the few others who were sitting in the small park were rising to their feet and walking off. It was as though they were expecting trouble and had no desire to remain in the vicinity. Seldon wondered if his new friend, Hummin, was leaving too, but he felt it injudicious to take his eyes away from the young man who was confronting him. He teetered back on his chair slightly.
    The young man said, “You an Outworlder?”
    “That’s right. Hence my clothes.”
    “Hence? What kind of word’s that? Outworld word?”
    “What I meant was, that was why my clothes seem peculiar to you. I’m a visitor here.”
    “From what planet?”
    “Helicon.”
    The young man’s eyebrows drew together. “Never heard of it.”
    “It’s not a large planet.”
    “Why don’t you go back there?”
    “I intend to. I’m leaving