seat and then up against the webbing.
He said, “That didn’t feel like antigravity.”
“It wasn’t,” said Hummin. “That was a small jet reaction. Just enough to take us up to the tubes.”
What appeared before them now looked like a cliff patterned with cave openings, much like a checkerboard. Hummin maneuvered toward the D-7 opening, avoiding other air-taxis that were heading for other tunnels.
“You could crash easily,” said Seldon, clearing his throat.
“So I probably would if everything depended on my senses and reactions, but the taxi is computerized and the computer can overrule me without trouble. The same is true for the other taxis. —Here we go.”
They slid into D-7 as if they had been sucked in and the bright light of the open plaza outside mellowed, turning a warmer yellow hue.
Hummin released the controls and sat back. He drew a deep breath and said, “Well, that’s one stage successfully carried through. We might have been stopped at the station. In here, we’re fairly safe.”
The ride was smooth and the walls of the tunnel slipped by rapidly. There was almost no sound, just a steady velvety whirr as the taxi sped along.
“How fast are we going?” asked Seldon.
Hummin cast an eye briefly at the controls. “Three hundred and fifty kilometers per hour.”
“Magnetic propulsion?”
“Yes. You have it on Helicon, I imagine.”
“Yes. One line. I’ve never been on it myself, though I’ve always meant to. I don’t think it’s anything like this.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. Trantor has many thousands of kilometers of these tunnels honeycombing the land subsurface and a number that snake under the shallower extensions of the ocean. It’s the chief method of long-distance travel.”
“How long will it take us?”
“To reach our immediate destination? A little over five hours.”
“Five hours!” Seldon was dismayed.
“Don’t be disturbed. We pass rest areas every twenty minutes or so where we can stop, pull out of the tunnel, stretch our feet, eat, or relieve ourselves. I’d like to do that as few times as possible, of course.”
They continued on in silence for a while and then Seldon started when a blaze of light flared at their right for a few seconds and, in the flash, he thought he saw two air-taxis.
“That was a rest area,” said Hummin in answer to the unspoken question.
Seldon said, “Am I really going to be safe wherever it is you are taking me?”
Hummin said, “Quite safe from any open movement on the part of the Imperial forces. Of course, when it comes to the individual operator—the spy, the agent, the hired assassin—one must always be careful. Naturally, I will supply you with a bodyguard.”
Seldon felt uneasy. “The hired assassin? Are you serious? Would they really want to kill me?”
Hummin said, “I’m sure Demerzel doesn’t. I suspect he wants to use you rather than kill you. Still, other enemies may turn up or there may be unfortunate concatenations of events. You can’t go through life sleepwalking.”
Seldon shook his head and turned his face away. To think, only forty-eight hours ago he had been just an insignificant, virtually unknown Outworld mathematician, content only to spend his remaining time on Trantor sight-seeing, gazing at the enormity of the great world with his provincial eye. And now, it was finally sinking in: He was a wanted man, hunted by Imperial forces. The enormity of the situation seized him and he shuddered.
“And what about
you
and what you’re doing right now?”
Hummin said thoughtfully, “Well, they won’t feel kindly toward me, I suppose. I might have my head laid open or my chest exploded by some mysterious and never-found assailant.”
Hummin said it without a tremor in his voice or a change in his calm appearance, but Seldon winced.
Seldon said, “I rather thought you would assume that might be in store for you. You don’t seem to be … bothered by it.”
“I’m an old
He said, “That didn’t feel like antigravity.”
“It wasn’t,” said Hummin. “That was a small jet reaction. Just enough to take us up to the tubes.”
What appeared before them now looked like a cliff patterned with cave openings, much like a checkerboard. Hummin maneuvered toward the D-7 opening, avoiding other air-taxis that were heading for other tunnels.
“You could crash easily,” said Seldon, clearing his throat.
“So I probably would if everything depended on my senses and reactions, but the taxi is computerized and the computer can overrule me without trouble. The same is true for the other taxis. —Here we go.”
They slid into D-7 as if they had been sucked in and the bright light of the open plaza outside mellowed, turning a warmer yellow hue.
Hummin released the controls and sat back. He drew a deep breath and said, “Well, that’s one stage successfully carried through. We might have been stopped at the station. In here, we’re fairly safe.”
The ride was smooth and the walls of the tunnel slipped by rapidly. There was almost no sound, just a steady velvety whirr as the taxi sped along.
“How fast are we going?” asked Seldon.
Hummin cast an eye briefly at the controls. “Three hundred and fifty kilometers per hour.”
“Magnetic propulsion?”
“Yes. You have it on Helicon, I imagine.”
“Yes. One line. I’ve never been on it myself, though I’ve always meant to. I don’t think it’s anything like this.”
“I’m sure it isn’t. Trantor has many thousands of kilometers of these tunnels honeycombing the land subsurface and a number that snake under the shallower extensions of the ocean. It’s the chief method of long-distance travel.”
“How long will it take us?”
“To reach our immediate destination? A little over five hours.”
“Five hours!” Seldon was dismayed.
“Don’t be disturbed. We pass rest areas every twenty minutes or so where we can stop, pull out of the tunnel, stretch our feet, eat, or relieve ourselves. I’d like to do that as few times as possible, of course.”
They continued on in silence for a while and then Seldon started when a blaze of light flared at their right for a few seconds and, in the flash, he thought he saw two air-taxis.
“That was a rest area,” said Hummin in answer to the unspoken question.
Seldon said, “Am I really going to be safe wherever it is you are taking me?”
Hummin said, “Quite safe from any open movement on the part of the Imperial forces. Of course, when it comes to the individual operator—the spy, the agent, the hired assassin—one must always be careful. Naturally, I will supply you with a bodyguard.”
Seldon felt uneasy. “The hired assassin? Are you serious? Would they really want to kill me?”
Hummin said, “I’m sure Demerzel doesn’t. I suspect he wants to use you rather than kill you. Still, other enemies may turn up or there may be unfortunate concatenations of events. You can’t go through life sleepwalking.”
Seldon shook his head and turned his face away. To think, only forty-eight hours ago he had been just an insignificant, virtually unknown Outworld mathematician, content only to spend his remaining time on Trantor sight-seeing, gazing at the enormity of the great world with his provincial eye. And now, it was finally sinking in: He was a wanted man, hunted by Imperial forces. The enormity of the situation seized him and he shuddered.
“And what about
you
and what you’re doing right now?”
Hummin said thoughtfully, “Well, they won’t feel kindly toward me, I suppose. I might have my head laid open or my chest exploded by some mysterious and never-found assailant.”
Hummin said it without a tremor in his voice or a change in his calm appearance, but Seldon winced.
Seldon said, “I rather thought you would assume that might be in store for you. You don’t seem to be … bothered by it.”
“I’m an old
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