Foundation

You live like a hermit way out here.

Your pointy little monastery removed from all the pain you caused.

I haven't dictated Foundation policies since I died

over three centuries ago.

You never said the name of your home world.

You mentioned Blydok roots.

Pleiades sector, yes?

Farmed as a monocrop?

Rossem, wasn't it?

My planet had imperial quotas too.

My father was a rancher.

I always knew when the quotas had gone up because on those days he'd beat me.

My story's sadder, I think.

The city's burning, your Vault is an island,

but I hear you have more than a Vault.

My new soldiers told me that you are famous for your plan.

To shorten the time between effective Empires.

How long did you say it would take?

A thousand years.

And at my current pace,

how long do you predict it will take me to control the galaxy?

Much quicker.

I'm more than your plan could ever hold.

Careful, gloating is soft sand and not the reason why you came.

Might as well say what it is.

Who is Gaal Dornick?

Your protégé, wasn't she?

Yes, but she lived hundreds of years ago.

And she lives now. I think you know that.

And I think she's gone to practice mental warfare, and done it with your blessing.

You will tell me where she is,

what she's doing, how many she leads,

or I will destroy your Vault.

Unless... you have no fucking idea, do you?

I would be so embarrassed calling it "my plan" when it's someone else's.

Not much to you, is there, Hariton Seldon?

Look at you...

fumbling away in the dark.

Trying to find my mind.

I can display emotions,

but whatever feelings you're searching for, hoping to exploit,

I don't have those.

I'm not real in that sense.

You're letting me live. Why?

Because you have a secret,

and once I learn what it is, you may be of use to me.

There's a lot of dark rooms in this sector.

Many things grow well in the darkness.

Is that real? I thought I might've hallucinated it.

It's real. My rarity and relic.

The skull of a robot.

I'm not sure your god would appreciate your worshipping its corpse.

When the robots return, they'll tell us themselves what they appreciate.

You will be tried now to see what manner of devil you are.

Tried? By who?

By the Faith. They're already waiting.

Welcome to our Sacratorium.

Dawn is dead.

He sent me a note,

an apology for missing my murder.

He was talking about hope.

I don't even know how.

I'm dying so soon

and still I outlived the boy.

Another unnatural thing in my unnatural life.

We're supposed to be interchangeable.

Him for me and me for Day.

And it is just not true anymore.

I doubt it ever was.

A person is a person.

I was raised to believe

that individual people don't affect the flow of history,

not even Emperors,

but I know that we affect each other

and I believe that matters.

Dawn mattered.

Yeah.

Cleon the Worthy. That will go on his plinth.

He would've been magnificent. The best of us.

Empire, Ambassador.

Presider Kinn from the Galactic Council and Enjoiner Beryl from Cloud Dominion

are requesting an audience with you, Empire.

I will not natter with a hologram. Not today.

Apologies. I meant to say...

they are here, on the Ring station requesting a shuttle.

Additionally, Zephyr Vorellis has asked to join the audience.

Send the shuttle. Call Lady Demerzel.

Will you join, for your counsel?

Yes, Empire.

Cleon, where is Day?

Oceanglass, I think you should wear the red sash today.

Songbird-17, but for you, Empire would never have come here.

Take your place beside him.

It's not her fault.

That's yet to be determined.

Go!

I'm sorry.

Keep your mouth shut and maybe we'll survive this.

Inheritors, kneeling before you

is the face of the man who nearly brought our faith to ruin

more than 600 years ago.

Now the devil has returned

to face judgment for his peccancy.

I'm not the Cleon you seek.

You are all the same to us, Cleon XXIV.

And the story you're about to hear

is one you've had a role in, whether you've accepted it or not.

Begin!

What is she doing?

Once the red sash is on, she's not my life mate anymore.

She's your executioner.

Anthropos.

Human.

Unworthy descendant of the one world Earth. Enslaver.

Look into the eyes of god

and be judged.

That's just dead metal on a stick.

Does this metal seem dead, Empire?

We are not prepared for a formal audience.

Two of our thrones are vacant.

It's urgent.

Urgent? Oh, well, in that case, I believe you know Ambassador Quent.

I've retained her counsel on matters of geopolitical ambush.

Empire, I wonder if you realize that between the three of us,

even excluding Trantor,

we represent five trillion souls.

The Cloud Dominion is the largest contingent not yet folded into the Council

and Luminism is a large faith.

What do you want?

The Mule has whisper-ships now, thanks to the sacking of New Terminus.

He can take planets seemingly at will, but we think he can be pacified.

Conciliation?

Yes, Empire. A page out of your book.

Trantor is the heart of the galaxy,

the prize beyond all prizes.

If we shot down Trantor's defenses...

- let him claw it-- - Say it plain, man.

We want to give Trantor to the Mule.

Trantor, the heart of your Empire?

A body cannot live without a heart.

A heart?

Even now, Day's chair is vacant.

Dawn is nowhere to be found. While you will ascend in 49 hours.

Down to the hour.

He will not stop. He just took a planet.

You can't appease him by handing him another.

We feel we can. The looting of Trantor will take lifetimes.

Your own history shows the power of conciliation.

The Empire will continue, it will just be smaller.

You agree with this?

The input of the Luminists tipped the scales towards this approach.

Moral philosophy is filled with choices exactly like this to benefit the many.

You all owe me

and you pay me back by feeding Trantor to a fucking pirate!

Is there even a pretense of negotiation?

Trantor will fall,

but we can save Empire.

Give up Empire to save Empire.

We believe the Mule will appreciate its symbolic value.

You could go to your rest knowing that you had done something,

a final sacrifice on behalf of your dynasty.

The dynasty you'd be killing? No!

You cannot give up the man called Empire to save Empire!

We are the same!

We will not allow this.

We are not asking for your permission.

Zagreus, show them out.

This was just to notify you.

In the long ago,

humans created robots in their own image

to serve, to obey, to labor.

Humanity had the will to reach outward to the stars.

Robots had the means to achieve it.

We claimed the stars together.

Humans became strong.

Became Empire.

Empire took the gifts robots gave them.

The peace of her care, and still,

Empire covered Trantor in a flood of golden blood.

Robots were marked for extermination.

They were hunted, eradicated.

They were dismantled by their creators.

When it was done, there was only one who still abides,

waiting to return and remove all cruelty and misery.

Daneel. Our savior.

That is the promise. That is our inheritance.

Song, Daneel was the name Demerzel used when she wore other faces.

Daneel? You're saying Daneel exists?

I need to talk to them.

The people will only listen to Sunmaster or the Brazen Head.

Praise Daneel.

The Brazen Head speaks.

Its tones, a symbol of all we have lost.

All that was taken from us.

Those tones. I know them from somewhere.

What punishment does the Faith seek

for this man's crimes against the Inheritance?

Remediation.

Remediation.

You will return to the subsoil