Gaal said finally, "Surely that is not a complete representation."
"No, not complete," said Seldon.
"I am glad you do not accept my word blindly.
However, this is an approximation which will serve to demonstrate the proposition.
Will you accept that?"
"Subject to my later verification of the derivation of the function, yes."
Gaal was carefully avoiding a possible trap.
"Good. Add to this the known probability of Imperial assassination, viceregal revolt, the contemporary recurrence of periods of economic depression, the declining rate of planetary explorations, the…"
He proceeded.
As each item was mentioned, new symbols sprang to life at his touch, and melted into the basic function which expanded and changed.
Gaal stopped him only once.
"I don't see the validity of that set-transformation."
Seldon repeated it more slowly.
Gaal said, "But that is done by way of a forbidden sociooperation."
"Good.
You are quick, but not yet quick enough.
It is not forbidden in this connection.
Let me do it by expansions."
The procedure was much longer and at its end, Gaal said, humbly,
"Yes, I see now."
Finally, Seldon stopped.
"This is Trantor three centuries from now.
How do you interpret that? Eh?"
He put his head to one side and waited. Gaal said, unbelievingly,
"Total destruction!
But - but that is impossible.
Trantor has never been -"
Seldon was filled with the intense excitement of a man whose body only had grown old.
"Come, come.
You saw how the result was arrived at.
Put it into words.
Forget the symbolism for a moment."
Gaal said, "As Trantor becomes more specialized, it be comes more vulnerable, less able to defend itself.
Further, as it becomes more and more the administrative center of Empire, it becomes a greater prize.
As the Imperial succession becomes more and more uncertain, and the feuds among the great families more rampant, social responsibility disappears. "
"Enough.
And what of the numerical probability of total destruction within three centuries?"
"I couldn't tell."
"Surely you can perform a field-differentiation?"
Gaal felt himself under pressure.
He was not offered the calculator pad.
It was held a foot from his eyes. He calculated furiously and felt his forehead grow slick with sweat.
He said, "About 85%?"
"Not bad," said Seldon, thrusting out a lower lip, "but not good.
The actual figure is 92.5%."
Gaal said, "And so you are called Raven Seldon?
I have seen none of this in the journals."
"But of course not.
This is unprintable.
Do you suppose the Imperium could expose its shakiness in this manner.