They were now racing rapidly through the tunnel once more. Seldon decided to give voice to the question that had been nagging at him for the last hour or so.

“Why do you say the Galactic Empire is dying?”

Hummin turned to look at Seldon again. “As a journalist, I have statistics poured into me from all sides till they’re squeezing out of my ears. And I’m allowed to publish very little of it. Trantor’s population is decreasing. Twenty-five years ago, it stood at almost forty-five billion.

“Partly, this decrease is because of a decline in the birthrate. To be sure, Trantor never has had a high birthrate. If you’ll look about you when you’re traveling on Trantor, you won’t encounter very many children, considering the enormous population. But just the same it’s declining. Then too there is emigration. People are leaving Trantor in greater numbers than are arriving.”

“Considering its large population,” said Seldon, “that’s not surprising.”

“But it’s unusual just the same because it hasn’t happened before. Again, all over the Galaxy trade is stagnating. People think that because there are no rebellions at the moment and because things are quiet that all is well and that the difficulties of the past few centuries are over. However, political infighting, rebellions, and unrest are all signs of a certain vitality too. But now there’s a general weariness. It’s quiet, not because people are satisfied and prosperous, but because they’re tired and have given up.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Seldon dubiously.

“I do. And the antigrav phenomenon we’ve talked about is another case in point. We have a few gravitic lifts in operation, but new ones aren’t being constructed. It’s an unprofitable venture and there seems no interest in trying to make it profitable. The rate of technological advance has been slowing for centuries and is down to a crawl now. In some cases, it has stopped altogether. Isn’t this something you’ve noticed? After all, you’re a mathematician.”

“I can’t say I’ve given the matter any thought.”

“No one does. It’s accepted. Scientists are very good these days at saying that things are impossible, impractical, useless. They condemn any speculation at once. You, for instance—What do you think of psychohistory? It is theoretically interesting, but it is useless in any practical sense. Am I right?”

“Yes and no,” said Seldon, annoyed. “It is useless in any practical sense, but not because my sense of adventure has decayed, I assure you. It really is useless.”

“That, at least,” said Hummin with a trace of sarcasm, “is your impression in this atmosphere of decay in which all the Empire lives.”

“This atmosphere of decay,” said Seldon angrily, “is your impression. Is it possible that you are wrong?”

Hummin stopped and for a moment appeared thoughtful. Then he said, “Yes, I might be wrong. I am speaking only from intuition, from guesses. What I need is a working technique of psychohistory.”

Seldon shrugged and did not take the bait. He said, “I