There was an atmosphere about the Time Vault¹ that just missed definition in several directions at once. It was not one of decay, for it was well-lit and well-conditioned, with the color scheme of the walls lively, and the rows of fixed² chairs comfortable and apparently³ designed for eternal use. It was not even ancient, for three centuries had left no obvious mark. There was certainly no effort at the creation of awe⁴ or reverence⁵, for the appointments were simple and everyday ?next door to bareness, in fact.

Yet after all the negatives were added and the sum disposed of, something was left ?and that something centered about the glass cubicle⁶ that dominated half the room with its clear emptiness. Four times in three centuries, the living simulacrum of Hari Seldon himself had sat there and spoken. Twice he had spoken to no audience.

Through three centuries and nine generations, the old man who had seen the great days of universal empire projected himself ?and still he understood more of the Galaxy⁸ of his great-ultra-great-grandchildren, than did those grandchildren themselves.

Patiently that empty cubicle waited.

The first to arrive was Mayor Indbur III, driving his ceremonial ground car through the hushed and anxious streets. Arriving with him was his own chair, higher than those that belonged there, and wider. It was placed before all the others, and Indbur dominated all but the empty glassiness before him.

The solemn official at his left bowed a reverent⁹ head. "Excellence¹⁰, arrangements are completed for the widest possible sub-etheric spread for the official announcement by your excellence tonight."

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