Trantor, the capital world-city of the Galactic Empire, had changed considerably¹ since the day Hari first stepped off the hypership from his native Helicon thirty-eight years ago. Was it the pearly haze² of an old man's memory that made the Trantor of old shine so brightly in his mind's eye, Hari wondered. Or perhaps it had been the exuberance³ of youth-how could a young man from a provincial⁴ Outer World such as Helicon not be impressed by the gleaming towers, sparkling domes⁵, the colorful, rushing masses of people that had seemed to swirl⁶ through Trantor, day and night.
    Now, Hari thought sadly, the walkways are nearly deserted⁷, even in the full light of day. Roving gangs of thugs controlled various areas of the city, competing among themselves for territory. The security establishment had dwindled⁸; those who were left had their hands full processing complaints at the central office. Of course, security officers were dispatched as emergency calls came through, but they made it to the scene only after a crime was committed-they no longer made even a pretense⁹ of protecting the citizens of Trantor. A person went out at his own risk-and a great risk it was. And yet Hari Seldon still took that risk, in the form of a daily walk, as if defying the forces that were destroying his beloved Empire to destroy him as well.
    And so Hari Seldon walked along, limping-and thoughtful.
    Nothing worked. Nothing. He had been unable to isolate¹⁰ the

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