"Gleb Andorin," said Hari Seldon wearily, rubbing his eyes.
    "And who is he?" asked Dors Venabili, her mood as cold as it had teen every day since Raych had left.
    "Until a few days ago I never heard of him," said Seldon. "That's the trouble with trying to run a world of forty billion people. You never hear of anyone, except for the few who obtrude¹ themselves on your notice. With all the computerized information in the world, Trantor remains² a planet of anonymities. We can drag up people with their reference numbers and their statistics, but whom do we drag up? Add twenty-five million Outer Worlds and the wonder is that the Galactic Empire has remained a working phenomenon for all these millennia³. Frankly⁴ I think it has existed only because it very largely runs itself. And now it is finally running down."
    "So much for philosophizing, Hari," said Dors. "Who is this Andorin?"
    "Someone I admit I ought to have known about. I managed to cajole the security establishment into calling up some files on him. He's a member of the Wyan Mayoralty family-the most prominent member, in fact -so the security people have kept tabs on him. They think he has ambitions but is too much of a playboy to do anything about them."
    "And is he involved with the Joranumites?"
    Seldon made an uncertain gesture. "I'm under the impression that the security establishment knows nothing about the Joranumites. That may mean that the Joranumites no longer exist or that, if they do, they are of no importance. It may also mean that the security establishment just isn't interested. Nor is there any way in which I can force it to be interested. I'm only thankful the officers give me any information at all. And I am the First Minister."
    "Is it possible that you're not a very good First Minister?" said Dors, dryly.
    "That's more than possible. It's probably been generations since there's been an appointee less suited to the job than myself. But that has nothing to do with the security establishment. It's a totally independent arm of the government. I doubt that Cleon himself knows much about it, though, in theory, the security officers are supposed to report to him through their director. Believe me, if we only knew more about the security establishment, we'd be trying to stick its actions into our psychohistorical equations, such as they are."

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