Quantification for the Foundation [Foundation quotes]

[NecronLord]

Posted: 2006 05 10, Wed 15
http://bbs.stardestroyer.net/viewtopic. ... 6#p2078046

Cut to
Posted: 2012 10 13, Sat 17
Six years and then some?
That's some serious time travel right there.

Yes, but posts with content are not necromancy, so he may continue.

[Spoonist]

Yes, but posts with content are not necromancy, so he may continue.

Who said anything about a necro? Im just amazed that anyone would come back to something like this after six years!!!

[Murazor]

Trantor might be relatively small.

Size is given. 75.000.000 square miles of land area, which is 30% more than Earth. All urbanized. 40 billions (and even 400 billions we get from a typo in Second Foundation) don't make much sense with the parameters given.

Trantor's ecosystem might be pretty well crashed out, meaning that much of the volume of the 'megacities' is actually the facilities needed to process air, water, and food, to vent excess heat into space, and so on.

This could explain a part, but we know that the planet can sustain life without machinery as we see after the place is finally devastated during the fall of the last Emperor and the survivors turn it into an agriworld.

[Note: "half again" does not mean "half." It means the Imperial battlecruiser's volume is 1.5 times that of the combined volume of the Anacreonian Navy...

Is that so?

Oh well, that changes the figures for the Anacreontian militarization some, but not all THAT much.

Effects of "blasters". It is unclear whether the "blown" matter is turned into neutrinos or sent to another dimension (such as hyperspace), but the lack of collateral effects makes it essentially impossible for this to be DET.

Why not? "Blown into nothingness" could just as well mean "blown to bits as if shot with a large handgun." Asimov, as a writer, wasn't really into gory details.[/quote]

Thing is that by all indications we have at least two different kind of "blasters". There are the ones in early Foundation novels which behave like phasers according to the description and there are the ones in the Robot novels and late Foundation novels which are DET. Golan Trevize in Foundation and Earth, for example, uses a microwave blaster that does fairly horrific things to flesh in great detail.

[Murazor]

IV- THE TRADERS (circa 135 F.E.)

1.

The tiny, gleaming sphere changed hands, and Gorm added, "It's confidential. Super-secret. Can't be trusted to the sub-ether and all that. Or so I gather. At least, it's a Personal Capsule, and won't open for anyone but you."
[...]
It opened in his hand and the thin, transparent tape unrolled stiffly. His eyes swept the message quickly, for when the last of the tape had emerged, the first was already brown and crinkled. In a minute and a half it had turned black and, molecule by molecule, fallen apart.

Devices used to transmit sensitive information include biometric ID as safeguards and self-destruction of the message itself shortly after opening. The statement about sub-ether communications being unsafe, tells us that sub-ethereal radio (~=ultrawave) can be intercepted, probably even by the "barbarian" kingdoms of this time.

2.

One week to reach Askone, at the extreme borders of which the vigilant warships speared out to meet him in converging numbers. Whatever their detection system was, it worked - and well.
They sidled him in slowly, without a signal, maintaining their cold distance, and pointing him harshly towards the central sun of Askone.

Askone is a star kingdom that probably controls several star systems. It isn't entirely clear whether the ship was detected upon reaching the kingdom's borders or the outer boundaries of the Askone system.

If it is the second, we are dealing with sensors with a likely effective range of billions of kilometers, plus the capability to intercept intruders relatively soon. Also, supposing that the "extreme borders" are equivalent to the orbit of Pluto, a seven day approach would demand at least three gravities (31 m/s^2) both for the Foundation tradeship and Askone's more primitive starships.

Ponyets could have handled them at a pinch. Those ships were holdovers from the dead-and-gone Galactic Empire - but they were sports cruisers, not warships; and without nuclear weapons, they were so many picturesque and impotent ellipsoids.

Askone's "warships" are by all appearances civilian leftovers and it is stated that without "nuclear weapons" of unknown power, the ships are impotent against a light Foundation ship. This is probably the norm at this point of time for the Foundation and the average "barbarian" kingdom.

"Deplorable, certainly," squeaked the Grand Master. "But mistake? Your people on Glyptal IV have been bombarding me with pleas for negotiation since two hours after the sacrilegious wretch was seized. I have been warned by them of your own coming many times over. It seems a well-organized rescue campaign. Much seems to have been anticipated - a little too much for mistakes, deplorable or otherwise."
The Askonian's black eyes were scornful. He raced on, "And are you traders, flitting from world to world like mad little butterflies, so mad in your own right that you can land on Askone's largest world, in the center of its system, and consider it an unwitting boundary mixup? Come, surely not."

A largely isolated and backwater world, even for post-Fall standards, has still the technology to communicate with neighbouring star systems. It is still unclear if Askone is a multi-system state or a single system with several settled worlds.

[Murazor]

3.

"Pure chance," said Ponyets, bitterly, "or the work of my own personal
malevolent demon. Item one, you get into a mess on Askone. Item two, my
sales route, as known to the Board of Trade, carries me within fifty
parsecs of the system at just the time of item one. Item three, we've
worked together before and the Board knows it. Isn't that a sweet,
inevitable set-up? The answer just pops out of a slot."

Traders might seem at first free-spirited pioneers, but it is clear that they are actually pawns used by the Foundation to further its foreign policy and don't even reap the benefits of their trade. This will be a matter of considerable internal strife for the foundation later on.

In a more technical note, the week used to reach Askone and the distance implied here suggests low end FTL speeds in the order of 8,500 c. This ignores the unknown length of time used in the sublight approach to the planet.

"Be careful," said Gorov, tautly. "There'll be someone listening. Are you
wearing a Field Distorter?"
Ponyets indicated the ornamented bracelet that hugged his wrist and Gorov
relaxed.

This "Field Distorter" (probably a technology derived from Imperial anti-spy devices, like those seen used by Seldon's group in Section 1) must be relatively common in the Foundation if any Trader is expected to have one of them.

"Gold!" Ponyets frowned. "The metal itself? What for?"
"It's their medium of exchange."
"Is it? And where do I get gold from?"

The startled reaction suggests that this is highly unusual in the Milky Way, even in such a time of decadence.

"It's simple enough," said Gorov. "The only way we can increase the
security of the Foundation here in the Periphery is to form a
religion-controlled commercial empire. We're still too weak to be able to
force political control. It's all we can do to hold the Four Kingdoms."
Ponyets was nodding. "This I realize. And any system that doesn't accept
nuclear gadgets can never be placed under our religious control-"
"And can therefore become a focal point for independence and hostility.
Yes."

Political situation and strategical weakness of the Foundation in the years before the Third Crisis.

"All right, then," said Ponyets, "so much for theory. Now what exactly
prevents the sale. Religion? The Grand Master implied as much."
"It's a form of ancestor worship. Their traditions tell of an evil past
from which they were saved by the simple and virtuous heroes of the past
generations. It amounts to a distortion of the anarchic period a century
ago, when the imperial troops were driven out and an independent government
was set up. Advanced science and nuclear power in particular became
identified with the old imperial regime they remember with horror."

Askone's cultural oddities, that has fallen even lower than the Four Kingdoms. While Salvor Hardin managed to restore technology dressing it as holy magic, Askone has chosen to demonize science. It is possible that this was actually what the rebel leaders intended after breaking away from the Empire, in order to avoid unrest when they realized that they lacked the ability to keep Imperial technology in working condition.

"That so? But they have nice little ships which spotted me very handily two
parsecs away. That smells of nucleics to me."

The ability of these ships to detect Ponyet's from a distance of several light years suggests either FTL detection systems, a massively unlikely coincidence or an enormous number of patrol ships.

Gorov shrugged. "Those ships are holdovers of the Empire, no doubt.
Probably with nuclear drive. What they have, they keep. The point is that
they will not innovate and their internal economy is entirely non-nuclear.
That is what we must change."

It is stated that starships "probably" have nuclear drive. However, we don't know what other system they could have used. Moreover, considering that we don't actually know what this oft-mentioned "nuclear" energy actually is, this passage does not prove the existence of starships with chemical drive.

"By breaking the resistance at one point. To put it simply, if I could sell
a penknife with a force-field blade to a nobleman, it would be to his
interest to force laws that would allow him to use it. Put that baldly, it
sounds silly, but it is sound, psychologically. To make strategic sales, at
strategic points, would be to create a pro-nucleics faction at court."

Some common tactics used to open new markets and, more interesting, "force-field blades" are mentioned, although we don't get a description of their capabilities.

4.

He made the final adjustments on the clumsy monstrosity that had cost him a
week of ingenuity, and prayed once again that the lead-lined quartz would
stand the strain.
"What is it?" asked the Grand Master.
"This," said Ponyets, stepping back, "is a small device I have constructed
myself."

In addition to several other things, Traders (or at least this Trader) has non-negligible knowledge about nuclear technology. The ability to build a highly complex machine using devices with completely different functions for spare parts, in a week's time, is rather impressive.

"With this machine," began Ponyets, as his hand dropped softly onto the
central chamber and caressed its hard, round flanks, "I can turn the iron
you discard into gold of the finest quality. It is the only device known to
man that will take iron - the ugly iron, your Veneration, that props up the
chair you sit in and the walls of this building - and change it to shining,
heavy, yellow gold."
[...]
The buckles passed down the line, hand to hand. The Grand Master weighed
them thoughtfully.
"Here," he said, and threw them to the floor.
Ponyets picked them up. He tugged hard before the cylinder opened, and his
eyes blinked and squinted with effort as he centered the buckles carefully
on the anode screen. Later, it would be easier but there must be no
failures the first time.
The homemade transmuter crackled malevolently for ten minutes while the
odor of ozone became faintly present. The Askonians backed away, muttering,
and again Pherl whispered urgently into his ruler's ear. The Grand Master's
expression was stony. He did not budge.
And the buckles were gold.
[...]
Ponyets said rapidly, "Gentlemen, this is pure gold. Gold through and
through. You may subject it to every known physical and chemical test, if
you wish to prove the point. It cannot be identified from
naturally-occurring gold in any way. Any iron can be so treated. Rust will
not interfere, not will a moderate amount of alloying metals-"

Operation of the homemade transmuter. Using this information, we can make some interesting power generation calculations: Calculations here.

[Murazor]

5.

"Well," Ponyets grew cautious. "I ask a price and a handsome one. It is my living. Let us say,-- for it its a valuable machine -- the equivalent of a cubic foot of gold in wrought iron." Pherl laughed, and Ponyets grew red. "I point out, sir," he added, stiffly, "that you can get your price back in two hours."

Going by this, the transmuter can change up to half a cubic feet of iron per hour (roughly one hundred kilos).

6.

He was saying, "But it isn't what's wanted, Ponyets. A transmuter won't do. Where did you get one, anyway?"
"I didn't," Ponyets answer was patient. "I juiced it up out of a food irradiation chamber. It isn't any good, really. The power consumption is prohibitive on any large scale or the Foundation would use transmutation instead of chasing all over the Galaxy for heavy metals. It's one of the standard tricks every trader uses, except that I never saw an iron-to-gold one before. But it's impressive, and it works -- very temporarily."

The reasons that make transmutation economically unfeasible are outlined and it is hinted that such devices are relatively common among Traders. Considering that this homemade device can change hundreds of kilograms of metal in a matter of days, using as power source what seems to have been a glorified microwave oven, this begs the question of what they consider the "large scale" in Terminus.

Ponyets gestured automatically and uselessly, "You see that escort?"
"I do," said Gorov shortly. "Tell me about those gadgets."
"I will, --if you'll listen. That's Pherl's private navy escorting us; a special honor to him from the Grand Master. He managed to squeeze that out."
"So?"
"And where do you think he's taking us? To his mining estates on the outskirts of Askone, that's where. Listen!" Ponyets was suddenly fiery, "I told you I was in this to make money, not to save worlds. All right. I sold that transmuter for nothing. Nothing except the risk of the gas chamber and that doesn't count towards the quota."

The existence of mining states on the "outskirts" of Askone could mean border worlds, beyond the central star system, or the outer worlds of the Askone system itself. If it is the later, that would mean that a particularly backwater "barbarian" kingdom has the technology to make mining in extremely adverse conditions economically worthwhile.

"With the profits. We're stacking up on tin, Gorov. Tin to fill every last cubic foot this old scow can scrape up, and then some more for yours. I'm going down with Pherl to collect, old man, and you're going to cover me from upstairs with every gun you've got -- just in case Pherl isn't as sporting about the matter as he lets on to be. That tin's my profit."

Foundation trade-ships have several guns of an unspecified nature and while the colloquial way this is being said makes it difficult to say for sure, it is possible that some of them have enough range for orbital bombardment.

"That's right," said Ponyets. "He had the upper hand. I was properly chastened. But when I set up the transmuter for him in my whipped-dog fashion, I incorporated the recorder into the device and removed it in the next day's overhaul. I had a perfect record of his sanctum sanctorum, his holy-of-holies, with he himself, poor Pherl, operating the transmuter for all the ergs it had and crowing over his first piece of gold as if it were an egg he had just laid."
"You showed him the results?"
"Two days later. The poor sap had never seen three-dimensional color-sound images in his life. He claims he isn't superstitious, but if I ever saw an adult look as scared as he did then, call me rookie. When I told him I had a recorder planted in the city square, set to go off at midday with a million fanatical Askonians to watch, and to tear him to pieces subsequently, he was gibbering at my knees in half a second. He was ready to make any deal I wanted."

Holographic image recorders are rather small and quite common technology(Ponyets seem sincerely surprised by the fact that Ponyets had never seen one of them). Also, the size of the holograms generated may be alterable, if one million Askonians were supposed to see the delatory images at the same time.

[Simon_Jester]

Trantor might be relatively small.

Size is given. 75.000.000 square miles of land area, which is 30% more than Earth. All urbanized. 40 billions (and even 400 billions we get from a typo in Second Foundation) don't make much sense with the parameters given.

Another possibility- lots and lots of automated industry? Trantor might be a manufacturing center. If I ran an empire I'd probably want my capital to be a first-rate production center, to maximize its ability to resist treachery and to ensure a high local standard of living for its citizens. Compare to Paris, or Moscow, or London- lots of factories as well as lots of people.

Trantor's ecosystem might be pretty well crashed out, meaning that much of the volume of the 'megacities' is actually the facilities needed to process air, water, and food, to vent excess heat into space, and so on.

This could explain a part, but we know that the planet can sustain life without machinery as we see after the place is finally devastated during the fall of the last Emperor and the survivors turn it into an agriworld.

Agreed, but that's centuries later. Honestly I'm a bit skeptical of the whole idea; you can't just encase a world in steel and concrete skyscrapers and have a layer of fertile topsoil underneath it to grow crops on. Asimov was writing before ecology as we know it really took off.

Effects of "blasters". It is unclear whether the "blown" matter is turned into neutrinos or sent to another dimension (such as hyperspace), but the lack of collateral effects makes it essentially impossible for this to be DET.

Why not? "Blown into nothingness" could just as well mean "blown to bits as if shot with a large handgun." Asimov, as a writer, wasn't really into gory details.

Thing is that by all indications we have at least two different kind of "blasters". There are the ones in early Foundation novels which behave like phasers according to the description and there are the ones in the Robot novels and late Foundation novels which are DET. Golan Trevize in Foundation and Earth, for example, uses a microwave blaster that does fairly horrific things to flesh in great detail.[/quote]Point- but until I see less ambiguous descriptions of the nuclear blaster than "blew into nothingness," which I myself might use to describe "head blown to mist" if I were trying to spare someone the gory details...

I think I'll reserve judgment on them being disintegrators instead of beam weapons.

[Murazor]

V- THE MERCHANT PRINCES (154-160 F.E.)

1.

Sutt indicated the trimensional star-map on the table. He adjusted the controls and a cluster of some half-dozen stellar systems blazed red. 'That," he said quietly, "is the Korellian Republic."

Considering that the Korellian case doesn't appear to be unusual and that Askone might have been a single-system state, it is possible that the kingdom of Anacreon was unusually large and powerful for a post-Imperial nation.

"But you've come back, which hasn't always happened. Three trade ships, inviolate under the Conventions, have disappeared within the territory of the Republic in the last year. And those ships were armed with all the usual nuclear explosives and force-field defenses."
"What was the last word heard from the ships?"
"Routine reports. Nothing else."
"What did Korell say?"
Sutt's eyes gleamed sardonically, "There was no way of asking. The Foundation's greatest asset throughout the Periphery is its reputation of power. Do you think we can lose three ships and ask for them?"

All Foundation trade-ships carry nuclear weapons and energy shields, which probably makes them rather fearsome in the post-Fall scenario. Nonetheless, it is clear that losing their reputation of invincibility worries the Foundation leadership.

He said methodically, "In a moment. You see, three ships lost in the same sector in the same year can't be accident, and nuclear power can be conquered only by more nuclear power. The question automatically arises: if Korell has nuclear weapons, where is it getting them?"
"And where does it?"
"Two alternatives. Either the Korellians have constructed them themselves--"
"Far-fetched!"
"Very! But the other possibility is that we are being afflicted with a case of treason."
"You think so?" Mallow's voice was cold.
The secretary said calmly, "There's nothing miraculous about the possibility. Since the Four Kingdoms accepted the Foundation Convention, we have had to deal with considerable groups of dissident populations in each nation. Each former kingdom has its pretenders and its former noblemen, who can't very well pretend to love the Foundation. Some of them are becoming active, perhaps." Mallow was a dull red. "I see. Is there anything you want to say to me? I'm a Smyrnian."
"I know. You're a Smyrnian -- born in Smyrno, one of the former Four Kingdoms. You're a Foundation man by education only. By birth, you're an Outlander and a foreigner. No doubt your grandfather was a baron at the time of the wars with Anacreon and Loris, and no doubt your family estates were taken away when Sef Sermak redistributed the land."

The Four Kingdoms no longer exist at this point. Sermak (who probably became Mayor after Salvor Hardin) seems to have destroyed very carefully the entire feudal society, which probably consolidated the control of the Foundation-sponsored religion over the masses. Still, the full integration hasn't happened yet and there is clear scorn for foreigners.

In a more technical note, Sutt states that only nuclear energy can fight against nuclear energy... which unfortunately doesn't tell much about the nature of the technology used by the Foundation. At the same time, the fact that both speakers doubt Korellian ability to develop nuclear technology is surprising. For all their peculiarities, even at their lowest point the Four Kingdoms, Askone and Korell managed to preserve a semblance of industrial technology and remained functional multi-world societies.

It stands to reason that these nations should have at least the potential ability to develop primitive nuclear technology... but they don't appear to have done it and well informed Foundation citizens don't believe it likely at all.

2.

It was evening of the same day, and in Jorane Sutt's bachelor apartment on the twenty-first floor of the Hardin Building, Publis Manlio was sipping wine slowly. It was Publis Manlio in whose slight, aging body were fulfilled two great offices of the Foundation. He was Foreign Secretary in the mayor's cabinet, and to all the outer suns, barring only the Foundation itself, he was, in addition, Primate of the Church, Purveyor of the Holy Food, Master of the Temples, and so forth almost indefinitely in confusing but sonorous syllables.

As pointed before, the Foundation is still a theocracy ruled from Terminus. The Church of Science still exists and it seems that its head is the man that controls technological exports to the devout worlds.

"Ah!" The primate stiffened, and his eyes grew sharp.
"That's right. These traders. They are useful, but they are too strong -- and too uncontrolled. They are Outlanders, educated apart from religion. On the one hand, we put knowledge into their hands, and on the other, we remove our strongest hold upon them."

Technological knowledge is still a state secret, save for those that become secular Traders, a rising faction that worries the old guard of purebreed Foundationeers (descendants of the original Encyclopedists).

"Leave that to me. Who knows, Manlio? Since Salvor Hardin's time, the primacy and the mayoralty have never been combined in a single person. But it might happen now -- if your job were well done."

It is significative that both offices haven't been combined in many years. Those who followed Hardin probably understood that they granted nearly dictatorial power over the entire Foundation and the vassal kingdoms.

[Murazor]

3.

And at the other end of town, in homelier surroundings, Hober Mallow kept a second appointment. He had listened long, and now he said cautiously, "Yes, I've heard of your campaigns to get trader representation in the council. But why me, Twer?"

Despite their critical role in Foundation economics and foreign policy, the Traders still have no political sway in the government of Terminus as of the Third Seldon Crisis.

4.

Materially, its prosperity was low. The day of the Galactic Empire had departed, with nothing but silent memorials and broken structures to testify to it. The day of the Foundation had not yet come - and in the fierce determination of its ruler, the Commdor Asper Argo, with his strict regulation of the traders and his stricter prohibition of the missionaries, it was never coming.
The spaceport itself was decrepit and decayed, and the crew of the Far Star were drearily aware of that. The moldering hangars made for a moldering atmosphere and Jaim Twer itched and fretted over a game of solitaire.
Hober Mallow said thoughtfully, "Good trading material here." He was staring quietly out the viewport. So far, there was little else to be said about Korell. The trip here was uneventful. The squadron of Korellian ships that had shot out to intercept the Far Star had been tiny, limping relics of ancient glory or battered, clumsy hulks. They had maintained their distance fearfully, and still maintained it, and for a week now, Mallow's requests for an audience with the local go government had been unanswered.

Self-explanatory. A brief description of the post-Imperial nation of Korell, in a situation that is not far from those of Anacreon and Askone before Foundation influence. The "limping relics of ancient glory" suggests that some Imperial ships are still working well over a century after the secession of the Periphery, while the mention of the "clumsy hulks" would suggest that Korell can actually build some crude spacecraft of its own design.

The old trader snorted and grew red. He growled, "You're going it blind, Mallow. There's a guard around the field and there are ships overhead. Suppose they're getting ready to blow us into a hole in the ground."
"They've had a week."
"Maybe they're waiting for reinforcements." Twer's eyes were sharp and hard.
Mallow sat down abruptly, "Yes, I'd thought of that You see, it poses a pretty problem. First, we got here without trouble. That may mean nothing, however, for only three ships out of better than three hundred went a-glimmer last year. The percentage is low. But that may mean also that the number of their ships equipped with nuclear power is small, and that they dare not expose them needlessly, until that number grows.
"But it could mean, on the other hand, that they haven't nuclear power after all. Or maybe they have and are keeping undercover, for fear we know something. It's one thing, after all, to piratize blundering, light-armed merchant ships. It's another to fool around with an accredited envoy of the Foundation when the mere fact of his presence may mean the Foundation is growing suspicious.

Although Korell is a highly isolated star nation with very limited trade with the Foundation, three hundred Foundation ships visited its territory in a single year. It is also interesting to note that Mallow remarks that those ships that have been lost (with nuclear explosives and energy shields) were "light-armed" for Foundation standards.

"I don't- Who's that, now?"
Mallow looked up patiently, and tuned the receiver. The visiplate glowed into the craggy face of the watch sergeant.
"Speak, sergeant."
The sergeant said, "Pardon, sir. The men have given entry to a Foundation missionary."
"A what?" Mallow's face grew livid.
"A missionary, sir. He's in need of hospitalization, sir-"
"There'll be more than one in need of that, sergeant, for this piece of work. Order the men to battle stations."
Crew's lounge was almost empty. Five minutes after the order, even the men on the off-shift were at their guns. It was speed that was the great virtue in the anarchic regions of the interstellar space of the Periphery, and it was in speed above all that the crew of a master trader excelled.

The existence of an internal communications system and an apparently rather big crew suggests that Mallow's ship is a good deal bigger than the unipersonal craft seen in Section IV. Also, Foundation crews are apparently well known for their efficiency (at least in comparison with whatever rabble is usual in the post-Fall rim worlds of the Milky Way).

Mallow flipped his blaster and put it away. "Disperse," he said, evenly, "to respective stations. Maintain full vigil for six hours after dispersion of crowd. Double stations for forty-eight hours thereafter. Further instructions at that time. Twer, come with me."
They were alone in Mallow's private quarters. Mallow indicated a chair and Twer sat down. His stocky figure looked shrunken.
Mallow stared him down, sardonically. "Twer," he said, "I'm disappointed. Your three years in politics seem to have gotten you out of trader habits. Remember, I may be a democrat back at the Foundation, but there's nothing short of tyranny that can run my ship the way I want it run. I never had to pull a blaster on my men before, and I wouldn't have had to now, if you hadn't gone out of line.

Although Mallow didn't have to carry out his threats, the fact that he had to pull his weapon at all against his crew (although the crew believed that they were damning a compatriot to certain death), suggests that discipline is far from excellent.

The speaker blared and forestalled Mallow's answer: "Sir, official communication received."
"Submit immediately!"
The gleaming cylinder arrived in its slot with a click. Mallow opened it and shook out the silver-impregnated sheet it held. He rubbed it appreciatively between thumb and finger and said, "Teleported direct from the capital. Commdor's own stationery."

Bolding and underlined for emphasis. Some of the Spacer era non-Asimov books (Robot City, chiefly) introduced alien technology for interstellar hyperspace teleport without usage of spacecraft, but this brief passage is the only thing that suggests that lesser forms of this technology were still in use ten thousand years later.

This begs the question of why teleport technology is not used or shown more in the late Empire/Foundation books. It could be that the power requirements are too high, that the procedure is hazardous for humans or, using a completist perspective, that Daneel or other robotic factions discouraged the research of this particular technology for reasons unknown.

[Murazor]

5.

Mallow went on smoothly, "Up to now, trade between our two nations has suffered because of the restrictions placed upon our traders by your government. Surely, it has long been evident to you that unlimited trade-"

Self-explanatory. As mentioned before, three hundred ships a year are a low level of trade between the Foundation and a post-Imperial state that spans six stellar systems.

Mallow drew himself up, "A compulsory religion?"
"So it has always been in effect. Surely you remember the case of Askone twenty years ago. First they were sold some of your goods and then your people asked for complete freedom of missionary effort in order that the goods might be run properly; that Temples of Health be set up. There was then the establishment of religious schools; autonomous rights for all officers of the religion and with what result? Askone is now an integral member of the Foundation's system and the Grand Master cannot call his underwear his own. Oh, no! Oh, no! The dignity of an independent people could never suffer it."

The fate of Askone after Section IV. Although it is likely that all these changes improved substantially the standard of living of the average Askonian, it sucks if you happen to be the resident power-hungry tinpot dictator of the nation the Foundation now all but owns.

"Will you draw the curtain, Commdor. Young lady, there's a little knob just near the snap. Will you move it upward, please? Go ahead, it won't hurt you."
The girl did so, drew a sharp breath, looked at her hands, and gasped, "Oh!"
From her waist as a source she was drowned in a pale, streaming luminescence of shifting color that drew itself over her head in a flashing coronet of liquid fire. It was as if someone had tom the aurora borealis out of the sky and molded it into a cloak.
The girl stepped to the mirror and stared, fascinated.
"Here, take this." Mallow handed her a necklace of dull pebbles. "Put it around your neck."
The girl did so, and each pebble, as it entered the luminescent field became an individual flame that leaped and sparkled in crimson and gold.
"What do you think of it?" Mallow asked her. The girl didn't answer but there was adoration in her eyes. The Commdor gestured and reluctantly, she pushed the knob down, and the glory died. She left - with a memory.

An holographic (?) ornament that apparently creates fairly impressive effects. This technology could be conceivably be used to make SW style holo-shrouds, although no such device is actually observed in the Foundation novels.

"Well, it's only feminine frippery after all. What could you do with it? Where would the money come in?"
"You have balls, receptions, banquets - that sort of thing?"
"Oh, yes."
"Do you realize what women will pay for that sort of jewelry? Ten thousand credits, at least."
The Commdor seemed struck in a heap, "Ah!"
"And since the power unit of this particular item will not last longer than six months, there will be the necessity of frequent replacements. Now we can sell as many of these as you want for the equivalent in wrought iron of one thousand credits. There's nine hundred percent profit for you."

The credit seems to be the standard for interstellar trade, although who sets the standard value isn't specified. Probably the Foundation itself, considering the timeframe.

In a different note, ten thousand credits (that probably DON'T have the same value of the old Imperial credit), is not considered excessive for members of the nobility to waste in a single extravagant luxury item.

Mallow said, "We can explain the workings of dummy corporations, if you would like. -Then, working further at random, take our complete line of household gadgets. We have collapsible stoves that will roast the toughest meats to the desired tenderness in two minutes. We've got knives that won't require sharpening. We've got the equivalent of a complete laundry that can be packed in a small closet and will work entirely automatically. Ditto dish-washers. Ditto-ditto floor-scrubbers, furniture polishers, dust-precipitators, lighting fixtures - oh, anything you like. Think of your increased popularity, if you make them available to the public. Think of your increased quantity of, uh, worldly goods, if they're available as a government monopoly at nine hundred percent profit. It will be worth many times the money to them, and they needn't know what you pay for it. And, mind you, none of it will require priestly supervision. Everybody will be happy."
"Except you, it seems. What do you get out of it?"
"Just what every trader gets by Foundation law. My men and I will collect half of whatever profits we take in. Just you buy all I want to sell you, and we'll both make out quite well. Quite well."
The Commdor was enjoying his thoughts, "What did you say you wanted to be paid with? Iron?"
"That, and coal, and bauxite. Also tobacco, pepper, magnesium, hardwood. Nothing you haven't got enough of."

Korell, despite having operative industry left, doesn't appear to have much in the way of consumer goods production, considering the Commdor's reaction. In the other hand, the inclusion of tobacco and pepper in Mallow's list is puzzling, considering that Terminus' while lacking metals was not lacking in plenty of highly fertile farmland.

"I think so. Oh, and still another item at random, Commdor. I could retool your factories."
"Eh? How's that?"
"Well, take your steel foundries. I have handy little gadgets that could do tricks with steel that would cut production costs to one percent of previous marks. You could cut prices by half, and still split extremely fat profits with the manufacturers. I tell you, I could show you exactly what I mean, if you allowed me a demonstration. Do you have a steel foundry in this city? It wouldn't take long."

It isn't clear if the one percent figure is something that Mallow pulls out of his ass or some kind of value already calculated in other worlds after the introduction of Foundation technology. If so, Foundation industry is likely to be at least two orders of magnitude more productive than its modern conterparts per cost unit.

6.

"You wouldn't dare, you little pug-dog. My father would pulverize your toy nation to meteoric dust. In fact, he might do it in any case, if I told him you were treating with these barbarians."
"Hm-m-m. Well, there's no need for threats. You are free to question the man yourself tonight. Meanwhile, madam, keep your wagging tongue still."

Although this quote (that comes from a woman with no knowledge of the military and no relevant qualifications whatsoever) does hardly make a perfect argument supporting the existence of planet-destroying levels of firepower in the Foundation setting, I still feel that it is worth including in this thread. Those biggatons aren't gonna find themselves, after all.

[Murazor]

7.

"Nuclear power, huh?" Twer ruminated. "I'll tell you. There's just about no evidence of any nuclear power economy here in Korell. And it would be pretty hard to mask all signs of the widespread effects a fundamental technology such as nucleics would have on everything."
"Not if it was just starting up, Twer, and being applied to a war economy. You'd find it in the shipyards and the steel foundries only."

Nucleic is a "fundamental technology" that would have "widespread effects" after being re-introduced. My knowledge of modern history is rather good and I don't remember that many widespread changes after the development of atomic power in the real world, but if someone can correct me in this, please do so.

Also, the character's inability to ascertain the presence of nuclear power suggests that either Mallow's Far Star has really poor sensors (for sci-fi and real life standards), that they didn't bother to scan the planet for reasons unknown or that the use of nuclear power can be very thoroughly hidden with relatively primitive technology (given Korell's state of development).

8.

"The instrument," he said, "is dangerous, but so is a buzz saw. You just have to keep your fingers away."
And as he spoke, he drew the muzzle-slit swiftly down the length of the steel sheet, which quietly and instantly fell in two.
There was a unanimous jump, and Mallow laughed. He picked up one of the halves and propped it against his knee, "You can adjust the cutting-length accurately to a hundredth of an inch, and a two-inch sheet will slit down the middle as easily as this thing did. If you've got the thickness exactly judged, you can place steel on a wooden table, and split the metal without scratching the wood."
And at each phrase, the nuclear shear moved and a gouged chunk of steel flew across the room.
"That," he said, "is whittling - with steel."
He passed back the shear. "Or else you have the plane. Do you want to decrease the thickness of a sheet, smooth out an irregularity, remove corrosion? Watch!"
Thin, transparent foil flew off the other half of the original sheet in six-inch swarths, then eight-inch, then twelve.
"Or drills? It's all the same principle."
They were crowded around now. It might have been a sleight-of-hand show, a comer magician, a vaudeville act made into high-pressure salesmanship. Commdor Asper fingered scraps of steel. High officials of the government tiptoed over each other's shoulders, and whispered, while Mallow punched clean, beautiful round holes through an inch of hard steel at every touch of his nuclear drill.
"Just one more demonstration. Bring two short lengths of pipe, somebody."
An Honorable Chamberlain of something-or-other sprang to obedience in the general excitement and thought-absorption, and stained his hands like any laborer.
Mallow stood them upright and shaved the ends off with a single stroke of the shear, and then joined the pipes, fresh cut to fresh cut.
And there was a single pipe! The new ends, with even atomic irregularities missing, formed one piece upon joining.

Lightsaber, eat your heart out.

Seriously, this is one helluva cool industrial tool and a weaponized form of this thing ought to be at least as deadly as a lightsaber. With the added advantage that blade length can be regulated and that it doesn't actually melt metal, making it possible for normal humans to use it without the energy resistance Jedi need to pull stunts like Qui Gonn's attempt to burn through those blast-doors in the TradeFed battleship.

The Commdor's own bodyguard, in the confusion, had struggled to the front line, and Mallow, for the first time, was near enough to see their unfamiliar hand-weapons in detail.
They were nuclear! There was no mistaking it; an explosive projectile weapon with a barrel like that was impossible. But that wasn't the big point. That wasn't the point at all.
The butts of those weapons had, deeply etched upon them, in worn gold plating, the Spaceship-and-Sun!
The same Spaceship-and-Sun that was stamped on every. one of the great volumes of the original Encyclopedia that the Foundation had begun and not yet finished. The same Spaceship-and-Sun that had blazoned the banner of the Galactic Empire through millennia.
Mallow talked through and around his thoughts, "Test that pipe! It's one piece. Not perfect; naturally, the joining shouldn't be done by hand."
There was no need of further legerdemain. It had gone over. Mallow was through. He had what he wanted. There was only one thing in his mind. The golden globe with its conventionalized rays, and the oblique cigar shape that was a space vessel.
The Spaceship-and-Sun of the Empire!
The Empire! The words drilled! A century and a half had passed but there was still the-Empire, somewhere deeper in the Galaxy. And it was emerging again, out into the Periphery.

Nuclear hand-held weapons have a characteristic barrel design, slugthrowers are still known and in use in the post-Imperial galaxy (actually seem to be prevalent over the high-tech nuclear guns) and somehow the Foundation had not even considered the possibility of the Empire still existing somewhere in the galaxy. How this is possible with the Empire still using hyperwave transmissions is anyone's guess.

[Batman]

Or it could be that teleportation merely is another way of referring to hyperspace travel when talking about mail, given that Foundationverse stardrive is of the common jumpdrive variety, which essentially is interstellar teleportation.

[Murazor]

9.

"Quiet, and listen. The envelope contains the exact location of the planet to which you're to proceed. There you will wait for me for two months. If, before the two months are up, the Foundation locates you, the microfilm is my report of the trip.

Microfilm? Maybe I'm missing a potential advantage, but it sounds awfully primitive for a spacefaring civilization to use something like this.

Also, Mallow thinks that it is possible for his ship to stay in a planet without being detected by the Foundation.

The interview ended, and fifty minutes later, a lifeboat kicked lightly off the side of the Far Star.

The Far Star uses "lifeboats" capable of faster-than-light travel, considering that Mallow goes looking for the rests of the Galactic Empire with this vessel.

10.

His accent was clipped and harsh, and Barr did not fail to notice the strange blue-steel hand-weapon at his hip. In the half gloom of the small room, Barr saw the glow of a force-shield surrounding the man.

One of several mentions of force-fields being visible to the naked eye.

"That is easily enough done, and poor though I am, deprives me of nothing. Do you mean the capital of the planet, or of the Imperial Sector?"
The younger man's eyes narrowed, "Aren't the two identical? Isn't this Siwenna?"
The old patrician nodded slowly, "Siwenna, yes. But Siwenna is no longer capital of the Normannic Sector. Your old map has misled you after all. The stars may not change even in centuries, but political boundaries are all too fluid."
"That's too bad. In fact, that's very bad. Is the new capital far off?"
"It's on Orsha II. Twenty parsecs off. Your map will direct you. How old is it?"
"A hundred and fifty years."

Oddly enough, that means that the most recent star charts that Mallow was able to locate were published roughly ten years after Seldon's death and a good fourty years before the communications between the Foundation and the rest of the galaxy were cut for good.

Mallow said with sudden sharpness, "Ruin, eh? You sound as if the province were impoverished."
"Perhaps not on an absolute scale. The physical resources of twenty-five first-rank planets take a long time to use up. Compared to the wealth of the last century, though, we have gone a long way downhill – and there is no sign of turning, not yet. Why are you so interested in all this, young man? You are all alive and your eyes shine!"

Although this is highly speculative, these twenty-five "first rank" worlds that form a province might be prefects as detailed in the Imperial administrative division that is explained by Hardin in chapter 1 of the Mayors.

Mallow jerked his head, "There isn't much law out there where I come from. Fighting and scars are part of a trader's overhead. But fighting is only useful when there's money at the end, and if I can get it without, so much the sweeter. Now will I find enough money here to make it worth the fighting? I take it I can find the fighting easily enough."
"Easily enough," agreed Barr. "You could join Wiscard's remnants in the Red Stars. I don't know, though, if you'd call that fighting or piracy. Or you could join our present gracious viceroy – gracious by right of murder, pillage, rapine, and the word of a boy Emperor, since rightfully assassinated." The patrician's thin cheeks reddened. His eyes closed and then opened, bird-bright.

Although the whole concept of space piracy is rather silly to begin with, it is nonetheless somewhat interesting that even in the decadence of the Empire, there is enough interstellar trade in an apparently limited region of a border province to sustain a pirate group.

Barr's face darkened. "Civil wars are chronic in these degenerate days, but Siwenna had kept apart. Under Stannell VI, it had almost achieved its ancient prosperity. But weak emperors followed, and weak emperors mean strong viceroys, and our last viceroy – the same Wiscard, whose remnants still prey on the commerce among the Red Stars – aimed at the Imperial Purple. He wasn't the first to aim. And if he had succeeded, he wouldn't have been the first to succeed.
"But he failed. For when the Emperor's Admiral approached the province at the head of a fleet, Siwenna itself rebelled against its rebel viceroy." He stopped, sadly.
Mallow found himself tense on the edge of his seat, and relaxed slowly, "Please continue, sir."
"Thank you," said Barr, wearily. "It's kind of you to humor an old man. They rebelled; or I should say, we rebelled, for I was one of the minor leaders. Wiscard left Siwenna, barely ahead of us, and the planet, and with it the province, were thrown open to the admiral with every gesture of loyalty to the Emperor. Why we did this, –I'm not sure. Maybe we felt loyal to the symbol, if not the person, of the Emperor, –a cruel and vicious child. Maybe we feared the horrors of a siege."
"Well?" urged Mallow, gently.
"Well, came the grim retort, "that didn't suit the admiral. He wanted the glory of conquering a rebellious province and his men wanted the loot such conquest would involve. So while the people were still gathered in every large city, cheering the Emperor and his admiral, he occupied all armed centers, and then ordered the population put to the nuclear blast."
"On what pretext?"
"On the pretext that they had rebelled against their viceroy, the Emperor's anointed. And the admiral became the new viceroy, by virtue of one month of massacre, pillage and complete horror. I had six sons. Five died –variously. I had a daughter. I hope she died, eventually. I escaped because I was old. I came here, too old to cause even our viceroy worry." He bent his gray head, "They left me nothing, because I had helped drive out a rebellious governor and deprived an admiral of his glory."

Pretty self-explanatory about the state of the Trantorian Empire in the times of decadence. Still, it is interesting the mention of "the horrors of a siege". Obviously, this implies that Siwenna had something (planetary defenses, a shield or a fleet of its own, perhaps) that would have allowed it to resist for a time the attacking Imperial fleet.

"Eh?" Barr smiled acidly. "He is safe, for he has joined the admiral as a common soldier under an assumed name. He is a gunner in the viceroy's personal fleet. Oh, no, I see your eyes. He is not an unnatural son. He visits me when he can and gives me what he can. He keeps me alive. And some day, our great and glorious viceroy will grovel to his death, and it will be my son who will be his executioner."

The viceroy of Siwenna (uncertain if he is the viceroy of the province or just the planet, although he definitely doesn't rule the entire sector) has a private fleet of unknown size and composition. We can, however, suppose that it is larger than the forces that he donated to the Republic of Korell (five capital ships) more or less in secret.

"No. I help him, by introducing a new enemy. And were I a friend of the viceroy, as I am his enemy, I would tell him to string outer space with ships, clear to the rim of the Galaxy."
"There are no ships there?"
"Did you find any? Did any space-guards question your entry? With ships few enough, and the bordering provinces filled with their share of intrigue and iniquity, none can be spared to guard the barbarian outer suns. No danger ever threatened us from the broken edge of the Galaxy, until you came."

Self-explanatory. At this point, the fleet of the galactic empire is too busy with the internal matters of the Empire to worry about external threats.

"Good. That was a flaw, but you didn't know that. There are some things I know. It's out of fashion in these decaying times to be a scholar. Events race and flash past and who cannot fight the tide with nuclear-blast in hand is swept away, as I was. But I was a scholar, and I know that in all the history of nucleics, no portable force-shield was ever invented. We have force-shields – huge, lumbering powerhouses that will protect a city, or even a ship, but not one, single man."

Self-explanatory, again. This is, however, the opinion of a nobleman who apparently doesn't have formal training in engineering or physics AND we have direct evidence of semi-portable personal shields being in use in Seldon's time, according to the Second Foundation trilogy.

The trader considered, "I say nothing. But I'd like to ask something. Does Siwenna have nuclear power? Now, wait, I know that it possesses the knowledge of nucleics. I mean, do they have power generators intact, or did the recent sack destroy them?"
"Destroy them? Oh, no. Half a planet would be wiped out before the smallest power station would be touched. They are irreplaceable and the suppliers of the strength of the fleet." Almost proudly, "We have the largest and best on this side of Trantor itself."

It is interesting to consider how exactly planet-bound facilities can "supply the strength of the fleet". As far as I see, they might simply be glorified refueling stations that somehow refill the power reserves of the ships or there is some technology that allows the Empire to remotely send energy from the power stations to the warships.

"No. There are the small city stations, the ones supplying power for heating and lighting homes, powering vehicles and so forth. Those are almost as bad. They're controlled by the tech-men."
"Who are they?"
"A specialized group which supervises the power plants. The honor is hereditary, the young ones being brought up in the profession as apprentices. Strict sense of duty, honor, and all that. No one but a tech-man could enter a station."

All the evils of the Adeptus Mechanicus (excluding worship of star devouring monstruosities), with none of the coolness. Nuff said.

"I don't say, though," added Barr, "that there aren't cases where tech-men haven't been bribed. In days when we have nine emperors in fifty years and seven of these are assassinated, –when every space-captain aspires to the usurpation of a viceroyship, and every viceroy to the Imperium, I suppose even a tech-man can fall prey to money. But it would require a good deal, and I have none. Have you?"

Self-explanatory. If an emperor lasts six years in the throne at this stage, they are already above the mean.

"Wait!" Barr held out his thin hands. "Where do you rush? You come here, but I ask no questions. In the city, where the inhabitants are still called rebels, you would be challenged by the first soldier or guard who heard your accent and saw your clothes."
He rose and from an obscure comer of an old chest brought out a booklet.
"My passport, forged. I escaped with it."
He placed it in Mallow's hand and folded the fingers over it. "The description doesn't fit, but if you flourish it, the chances are many to one they will not look closely."

By all indications, the occupation forces either don't try very hard or lack the technology to make a true police state in Siwenna, seeing as how a forged passport is enough to allow one of the "rebel" leaders to escape with his life.

[Murazor]

Or it could be that teleportation merely is another way of referring to hyperspace travel when talking about mail, given that Foundationverse stardrive is of the common jumpdrive variety, which essentially is interstellar teleportation.

Thing is that Mallow is already in the same planet as the capital the message comes from and there is no mention or implication of some kind of courier hyper-ship being involved in the message delivery. It could well be that it involves the same technology as hyperdrive, but it is not quite the same (or actually the same, applied in such a small scale that it might as well be a different technology altogether).

[Murazor]

11.

The tech-man was short, and his skin glistened with well-kept plumpness. His hair was a fringe and his skull shone through pinkly. The rings on his fingers were thick and heavy, his clothes were scented, and he was the first man Mallow had met on the planet who hadn't looked hungry.

An apparently average tech-man, the Adeptus Mechanicus equivalent of the Trantorian Empire in its decadence.

"Oh-h?" The tech-man's voice lingered thoughtfully over the monosyllable. "I think I already see the course of the interview; it has happened before. You are going to give me some trifle or other. A few credits, perhaps a cloak, second-rate jewelry; anything your little soul may think sufficient to corrupt a tech-man." His lower lip puffed out belligerently, "And I know what you wish in exchange. There have been others and to spare with the same bright idea. You wish to be adopted into our clan. You wish to be taught the mysteries of nucleics and the care of the machines. You think because you dogs of Siwenna -and probably your strangerhood is assumed for safety's sake- are being daily punished for your rebellion that you can escape what you deserve by throwing over yourselves the privileges and protections of the tech-man's guild."

The status of this group is actually rather intriguing, since it is described as both clan and guild. Considering comments in previous chapters about membership being passed from father to sons, it might be a matter of things being kept mostly in the family. In a quasi-galactic scale.

Mallow rose and pushed the chair aside, "I have waited three days to see you, Your Wisdom, but the display will take only three seconds. If you will just draw that blaster whose butt I see very near your hand?
"Eh?"
"And shoot me, I will be obliged."
"What?"
"If I am killed, you can tell the police I tried to bribe you into betraying guild secrets. You'll receive high praise. If I am not killed, you may have my shield."
For the first time, the tech-man became aware of the dimly-white illumination that hovered closely about his visitor, as though he had been dipped in pearl-dust. His blaster raised to the level and with eyes a-squint in wonder and suspicion, he closed contact.
The molecules of air caught in the sudden surge of atomic disruption, tore into glowing, burning ions, and marked out the blinding thin line that struck at Mallow's heart -and splashed!
While Mallow's look of patience never changed, the nuclear forces that tore at him consumed themselves against that fragile, pearly illumination, and crashed back to die in mid-air.

Besides the obvious fact that personal scale shielding is something unheard of in the Empire during its decadence, this section is interesting because I THINK this is the closest we get to an explanation about how nuclear blasters work. There is mention of "atomic disruption" (which would suggest some exotic, possibly non-DET component) and that molecules affected by this disruption turn into ions.

"What do you care?" Mallow was coolly contemptuous. "Do you want it?" A thin, knobbed chain fell upon the desk, "There it is."
The tech-man snatched it up and fingered it nervously, "Is this complete?"
"Complete."
"Where's the power?"
Mallow's finger fell upon the largest knob, dull in its leaden case.
The tech-man looked up, and his face was congested with blood, "Sir, I am a tech-man, senior grade. I have twenty years behind me as supervisor and I studied under the great Bier at the University of Trantor. If you have the infernal charlatanry to tell me that a small container the size of a ?of a walnut, blast it, holds a nuclear generator, I'll have you before the Protector in three seconds."
"Explain it yourself then, if you can. I say it's complete."
The tech-man's flush faded slowly as he bound the chain about his waist, and, following Mallow's gesture, pushed the knob. The radiance that surrounded him shone into dim relief. His blaster lifted, then hesitated. Slowly, he adjusted it to an almost burnless minimum.
And then, convulsively, he closed circuit and the nuclear fire dashed against his hand, harmlessly.
He whirled, "And what if I shoot you now, and keep the shield."
"Try!" said Mallow. "Do you think I gave you my only sample?" And he, too, was solidly incased in light.
[...]
"I want to see your generators."
"You realize that that is forbidden. It would mean ejection into space for both of us?
"I don't want to touch them or have anything to do with them. I want to see them from a distance."
"If not?"
"If not, you have your shield, but I have other things. For one thing, a blaster especially designed to pierce that shield."
"Hm-mmm." The tech-man's eyes shifted. "Come with me."

A number of interesting factoids are provided in this scene.
First, the "average tech-man" apparently isn't, since he claims being of high rank, long experience and high level education in Trantor, which presumably is still one of the Empire's cultural centers even this late into the Fall.
Second, handheld atomic blasters have explicitly variable yields, which is helpful to smooth over a number of inconsistencies later in the series.
Third, Mallow claims to have shield-piercing blasters. How the shield-piercing effect works we aren't told, but the claim rings true nevertheless.
Fourth, the Foundation can make nuclear engines of some kind that are the size of a walnut. Still unclear what they mean when they say "nuclear" and "nucleics". Might be fusion, might be fission, might be something else entirely.

12.

The tech-man's home was a small two-story affair on the Outskirts of the huge, cubiform, windowless affair that dominated the center of the city. Mallow passed from one to the other through an underground passage, and found himself in the silent, ozone-tinged atmosphere of the powerhouse.

It really sounds like a rather modest dwelling for a character who makes such lofty claims of self-importance. Of course, seeing that the planet seems to be in-the-shit that's what passes for local luxury, but...

They were back in the office and Mallow said, thoughtfully, "And all those generators are in your hands?"
"Every one," said the tech-man, with more than a touch of complacency.
"And you keep them running and in order?"
"Right!"
"And if they break down?"
The tech-man shook his head indignantly, "They don't break down. They never break down. They were built for eternity."
"Eternity is a long time. Just suppose?
"It is unscientific to suppose meaningless cases."
"All right. Suppose I were to blast a vital part into nothingness? I suppose the machines aren't immune to nuclear forces? Suppose I fuse a vital connection, or smash a quartz D-tube?"
"Well, then," shouted the tech-man, furiously, "you would be killed."
"Yes, I know that," Mallow was shouting, too, "but what about the generator? Could you repair it?"
"Sir," the tech-man howled his words, "you have had a fair return. You've had what you asked for. Now get out! I owe you nothing more!"

It is pretty clear that this guy has no clue about what to do if the machine breaks down, much less what to do to repair it. Though extrapolating absolutes about the Galactic Empire with just this evidence is probably not the way to go, this certainly shows that the Trantorian Empire is scientifically and technologically stagnant or in open decadence.

Mallow bowed with a satiric respect and left.
Two days later he was back where the Far Star waited to return with him to the planet, Terminus.
And two days later, the tech-man's shield went dead, and for all his puzzling and cursing never glowed again.

I am uncertain of whether this is remote self-destruct or an extreme case of built-in obsolescence (the Foundation is certainly cutthroat enough in its comercial dealings to pull stunts like this).

What it definitely shows is that Mallow was able to travel with a "lifeboat" from Siwenna to the unspecified planet outside imperial space in which he arranged for rendezvous with the Far Star.

[Murazor]

13.

Mallow relaxed for almost the first time in six months. He was on his back in the sunroom of his new house, stripped to the skin. His great, brown arms were thrown up and out, and the muscles tautened into a stretch, then faded into repose.

...

Well, I just realized that apparently Hober Mallow is supposed to be a colored character, unless his arms are brown because of a tan.

Supposing that my interpretation is right, though, that's... mighty forward-thinking of Asimov, seeing that the novel was first published in 1951. Not that it surprises me too much, seeing what he did later in The Currents of Space, but props to Asimov for not being a racist.

"You wish to be coaxed? Well, then, what, for instance, did you do at Korell? Your report was incomplete."
"I gave it to you months ago. You were satisfied then."
"Yes," Sutt rubbed his forehead thoughtfully with one finger, "but since then your activities have been significant. We know a good deal of what you're doing, Mallow. We know, exactly, how many factories you're putting up; in what a hurry you're doing it; and how much it's costing you. And there's this palace you have," he gazed about him with a cold lack of appreciation, "which set you back considerably more than my annual salary; and a swathe you've been cutting -a very considerable and expensive swathe- through the upper layers of Foundation society."
"So? Beyond proving that you employ capable spies, what does it show?"
"It shows you have money you didn't have a year ago. And that can show anything -for instance, that a good deal went on at Korell that we know nothing of. Where are you getting your money?"
"My dear Sutt, you can't really expect me to tell you."
"I don't."
"I didn't think you did. That's why I'm going to tell you. It's straight from the treasure-chests of the Commdor of Korell."
Sutt blinked.
Mallow smiled and continued. "Unfortunately for you, the money is quite legitimate. I'm a Master Trader and the money I received was a quantity of wrought iron and chromite in exchange for a number of trinkets I was able to supply him with. Fifty per cent of the profit is mine by hidebound contract with the Foundation. The other half goes to the government at the end of the year when all good citizens pay their income tax."
"There was no mention of any trade agreement in your report."
"Nor was there any mention of what I had for breakfast that day, or the name of my current mistress, or any other irrelevant detail." Mallow's smile was fading into a sneer. "I was sent -to quote yourself- to keep my eyes open. They were never shut. You wanted to find out what happened to the captured Foundation merchant ships. I never saw or heard of them. You wanted to find out if Korell had nuclear power. My report tells of nuclear blasters in the possession of the Commdor's private bodyguard. I saw no other signs. And the blasters I did see are relics of the old Empire, and may be show-pieces that do not work, for all my knowledge.
"So far, I followed orders, but beyond that I was, and still am, a free agent. According to the laws of the Foundation, a Master Trader may open whatever new markets he can, and receive therefrom his due half of the profits. What are your objections? I don't see them."

The trade agreement detailed in chapter 5 turns out to be surprisingly lucrative for Mallow, who uses the benefits to build himself a bunch of factories, a palace and gain legitimacy through generous bribery with money to spare.

Also, the Foundation has an income tax of 50%, at least in Mallow's high income bracket, though the commentary suggests that half-and-half is actually the usual and he just enjoys the benefits of a much better than normal contract.

"The primary reason for the development of trade and traders was to introduce and spread this religion more quickly, and to insure that the introduction of new techniques and a new economy would be subject to our thorough and intimate control."
He paused for breath, and Mallow interjected quietly, "I know the theory. I understand it entirely."
"Do you? It is more than I expected. Then you see, of course, that your attempt at trade for its own sake; at mass production of worthless gadgets, which can only affect a world's economy superficially; at the subversion of interstellar policy to the god of profits; at the divorce of nuclear power from our controlling religion: can only end with the overthrow and complete negation of the policy that has worked successfully for a century."
"And time enough, too," said Mallow, indifferently, "for a policy outdated, dangerous and impossible. However well your religion has succeeded in the Four Kingdoms, scarcely another world in the Periphery has accepted it. At the time we seized control of the Kingdoms, there were a sufficient number of exiles, Galaxy knows, to spread the story of how Salvor Hardin used the priesthood and the superstition of the people to overthrow the independence and power of the secular monarchs. And if that wasn't enough, the case of Askone two decades back made it plain enough. There isn't a ruler in the Periphery now that wouldn't sooner cut his own throat than let a priest of the Foundation enter the territory.
"I don't propose to force Korell or any other world to accept something I know they don't want. No, Sutt. If nuclear power makes them dangerous, a sincere friendship through trade will be many times better than an insecure overlordship, based on the hated supremacy of a foreign spiritual power, which, once it weakens ever so slightly, can only fall entirely and leave nothing substantial behind except an immortal fear and hate."

Self-explanatory. The two currents of political thought that define the internal component of this Seldon Crisis.

"All right. What do you make of it?"
"Well, I'll tell you. A foreign policy of domination through spiritual means is his idee fixe, but it's my notion that his ultimate aims aren't spiritual. I was fired out of the Cabinet for arguing on the same issue, as I needn't tell you."
"You needn't. And what are those unspiritual aims according to your notion?"
Jael grew serious, "Well, he's not stupid, so he must see the bankruptcy of our religious policy, which has hardly made a single conquest for us in seventy years. He's obviously using it for purposes of his own.
"Now any dogma primarily based on faith and emotionalism, is a dangerous weapon to use on others, since it is almost impossible to guarantee that the weapon will never be turned on the user. For a hundred years now, we've supported a ritual and mythology that is becoming more and more venerable, traditional and immovable. In some ways, it isn't under our control any more."
"In what ways?" demanded Mallow. "Don't stop. I want your thoughts."
"Well, suppose one man, one ambitious man, uses the force of religion against us, rather than for us."
"You mean Sutt?
"You're right. I mean Sutt. Listen, man, if he could mobilize the various hierarchies on the subject planets against the Foundation in the name of orthodoxy, what chance would we stand? By planting himself at the head of the standards of the pious, he could make war on heresy, as represented by you, for instance, and make himself king eventually. After all, it was Hardin who said: 'A nuclear blaster is a good weapon, but it can point both ways.'"

And here we have some very insightful exposition about the dangers inherent to a theocracy such as the Church of Science with its potential for the rise of strongmen.

14.

"There's lynch talk. And Publis Manlio's men on the outer planets..."
"I wanted to ask you about that, Jael. He's stirring up the Hierarchy against me, is he?"
"Is he? It's the sweetest setup you ever saw, As Foreign Secretary, he handles the prosecution in a case of interstellar law. As High Priest and Primate of the Church, he rouses the fanatic hordes?
"Well, forget it. Do you remember that Hardin quotation you threw at me last month? We'll show them that the nuclear blaster can point both ways."
The mayor was taking his seat now and the council members were rising in respect.
Mallow whispered, "It's my turn today. Sit here and watch the fun."
The day's proceedings began and fifteen minutes later, Hober Mallow stepped through a hostile whisper to the empty space before the mayor's bench. A lone beam of light centered upon him and in the public 'visors of the city, as well as on the myriads of private 'visors in almost every home of the Foundation's planets, the lonely giant figure of a man stared out defiantly.

This early Foundation is not big in separation of powers.

The Council of Terminus is what seems to be the legislative branch, but it is lead by the Mayor who is also head of the executive and -apparently- also head of the judiciary. Considering the near-dictatorial power that Salvor Hardin enjoyed during parts of his administration, this is not too great a surprise.

Also, the Foundation has real time broadcast of 3D video throughout its territory, with a majority of homes having a television equivalent.

The mayor pounded monotonously for order, as the chamber lost its equilibrium and the gallery roared. In five million homes on Terminus, excited observers crowded their receiving sets more closely, and at the prosecutor's own bench, Jorane Sutt shook his head coldly at the nervous high priest, while his eyes blazed fixedly on Mallow's face.

There are apparently in the order of five million homes on Terminus at this point, suggesting a population somewhere in the double digits of millions for the planet. And probably low double digits, at that.

"There was one thing I could do. I got rid of Twer for five minutes by sending him after my officers. In his absence, I set up a Visual Record receiver, so that whatever happened might be preserved for future study. This was in the hope, the wild but earnest hope, that what confused me at the time might become plain upon review.
"I have gone over that Visual Record some fifty times since. I have it here with me now, and will repeat the job a fifty-first time in your presence right now."
[...]
The center of the chamber was cleared, and the lights burnt low. Ankor Jael, from his bench on the left, made the adjustments, and with a preliminary click, a holographic scene sprang to view; in color, in three-dimensions, in every attribute of life but life itself.
There was the missionary, confused and battered, standing between the lieutenant and the sergeant. Mallow's image waited silently, and then men filed in, Twer bringing up the rear.
The conversation played itself out, word for word. The sergeant was disciplined, and the missionary was questioned. The mob appeared, their growl could be heard, and the Revered Jord Parma made his wild appeal. Mallow drew his gun, and the missionary, as he was dragged away, lifted his arms in a mad, final curse and a tiny flash of light came and went.
The scene ended, with the officers frozen at the horror of the situation, while Twer clamped shaking hands over his ears, and Mallow calmly put his gun away.
[...]
"I'm going to show you the enlargement of a single still from the Visual Record. It will speak for itself. Lights again, Jael."
The chamber dimmed, and the empty air filled again with frozen figures in ghostly, waxen illusion. The officers of the Far Star struck their stiff, impossible attitudes. A gun pointed from Mallow's rigid hand. At his left, the Revered Jord Parma, caught in mid-shriek, stretched his claws upward, while the failing sleeves hung halfway.
And from the missionary's hand there was that little gleam that in the previous showing had flashed and gone. It was a permanent glow now.
"Keep your eye on that light on his hand," called Mallow from the shadows. "Enlarge that scene, Jael!"
The tableau bloated quickly. Outer portions fell away as the missionary drew towards the center and became a giant. Then there was only a hand and an arm, and then only a hand, which filled everything and remained there in immense, hazy tautness.
The light had become a set of fuzzy, glowing letters: K S P.
"That," Mallow's voice boomed out, "is a sample of tatooing, gentlemen. Under ordinary light it is invisible, but under ultraviolet light -with which I flooded the room in taking this Visual Record, it stands out in high relief. I'll admit it is a naive method of secret identification, but it works on Korell, where UV light is not to be found on street comers. Even in our ship, detection was accidental.
"Perhaps some of you have already guessed what K S P stands for. Jord Parma knew his priestly lingo well and did his job magnificently. Where he had learned it, and how, I cannot say, but K S P stands for 'Korellian Secret Police.'"
Mallow shouted over the tumult, roaring against the noise, "I have collateral proof in the form of documents brought from Korell, which I can present to the council if required."

As seen previously with Seldon's holographic recordings and the trick used by the Traders in Askone, hologram technology in the Foundationverse is really good. Of very minor interest, holographic recording apparently involves ultra-violet light in some manner.

[Simon_Jester]

Operation of the homemade transmuter. Using this information, we can make some interesting power generation calculations: Calculations here.

I wouldn't trust those figures. Is that power ever used for anything but transmutation?

Although Korell is a highly isolated star nation with very limited trade with the Foundation, three hundred Foundation ships visited its territory in a single year. It is also interesting to note that Mallow remarks that those ships that have been lost (with nuclear explosives and energy shields) were "light-armed" for Foundation standards.

Mallow may also consider the possibility of treachery. Since the merchant ships have to land, the locals could smuggle men onto the ship, or introduce some kind of poison or disease to incapacitate the crew. That would make the Foundation's "superior" weapons irrelevant- and explain why only 1% of the ships were ever caught; they were the ones that could be conveniently snatched that way.

The speaker blared and forestalled Mallow's answer: "Sir, official communication received."
"Submit immediately!"
The gleaming cylinder arrived in its slot with a click. Mallow opened it and shook out the silver-impregnated sheet it held. He rubbed it appreciatively between thumb and finger and said, "Teleported direct from the capital. Commdor's own stationery."

Bolding and underlined for emphasis. Some of the Spacer era non-Asimov books (Robot City, chiefly) introduced alien technology for interstellar hyperspace teleport without usage of spacecraft, but this brief passage is the only thing that suggests that lesser forms of this technology were still in use ten thousand years later.

This begs the question of why teleport technology is not used or shown more in the late Empire/Foundation books. It could be that the power requirements are too high, that the procedure is hazardous for humans or, using a completist perspective, that Daneel or other robotic factions discouraged the research of this particular technology for reasons unknown.

Out-of-setting possibility: are we sure Asimov, writing in 1944, meant by 'teleport' what we mean?

That aside, the other obvious concern is one of scale- teleporting a small physical package may be easy, while teleporting a human being is hard.

The credit seems to be the standard for interstellar trade, although who sets the standard value isn't specified. Probably the Foundation itself, considering the timeframe.

In a different note, ten thousand credits (that probably DON'T have the same value of the old Imperial credit), is not considered excessive for members of the nobility to waste in a single extravagant luxury item.

It may still be a legacy, though- the Foundation credit might have essentially the same value as the old Imperial, just recalibrated to an economy where advanced technology and luxury goods are tough to come by.

Korell, despite having operative industry left, doesn't appear to have much in the way of consumer goods production, considering the Commdor's reaction. In the other hand, the inclusion of tobacco and pepper in Mallow's list is puzzling, considering that Terminus' while lacking metals was not lacking in plenty of highly fertile farmland.

They have a limited population, and probably have to devote much of their economy to maintaining the industrial and educational systems that give them an edge.

Also, lack of consumer goods production wouldn't be a surprise if Korell's economy has been tightly controlled to maintain some kind of industry. Look at the USSR: heavy industry and military production made out all right in a command economy because the state deliberately tried to maintain those capacities. But consumer goods output and quality lagged, because the state was under no strict obligation to keep them up.

(This also ties into your quote seven)

Nucleic is a "fundamental technology" that would have "widespread effects" after being re-introduced. My knowledge of modern history is rather good and I don't remember that many widespread changes after the development of atomic power in the real world, but if someone can correct me in this, please do so.

Nope. Again, Asimov's "nucleics" includes a wide variety of technologies we don't have: the creation of force fields, the disintegration and transmutation of matter, and very small, stable, high-density power storage. If we had those things it would be really obvious to an alien visitor, too...

Think of "nucleics" as a whole category of advances equivalent in importance to "electricity" or "machine tools." You can definitely tell, even from orbit, whether a civilization has electricity in its cities- just look out the window. And a quick glance at manufactured goods in stores tells you if they were made by large machines in factories, or by individual craftsmen.

But either technology could be hidden, if it were kept from the general public.

Also, the character's inability to ascertain the presence of nuclear power suggests that either Mallow's Far Star has really poor sensors (for sci-fi and real life standards), that they didn't bother to scan the planet for reasons unknown or that the use of nuclear power can be very thoroughly hidden with relatively primitive technology (given Korell's state of development).

Like a pile of lead bricks?

Nuclear hand-held weapons have a characteristic barrel design, slugthrowers are still known and in use in the post-Imperial galaxy (actually seem to be prevalent over the high-tech nuclear guns)...

Seems likely- much, much easier to replicate using basic industrial technology at the 19th/20th century level.

...and somehow the Foundation had not even considered the possibility of the Empire still existing somewhere in the galaxy. How this is possible with the Empire still using hyperwave transmissions is anyone's guess.

Transmissions may damp out over long distances unless relayed.

As to the rest- I think you're reading a bit too much into Mallow's reaction. He may know, intellectually, that a rump-state version of the Empire still exists... and yet the mystique the Empire has for any galactic citizen of this era is still powerful.

"Quiet, and listen. The envelope contains the exact location of the planet to which you're to proceed. There you will wait for me for two months. If, before the two months are up, the Foundation locates you, the microfilm is my report of the trip.

Microfilm? Maybe I'm missing a potential advantage, but it sounds awfully primitive for a spacefaring civilization to use something like this.

State of the art in 1944...

Although the whole concept of space piracy is rather silly to begin with, it is nonetheless somewhat interesting that even in the decadence of the Empire, there is enough interstellar trade in an apparently limited region of a border province to sustain a pirate group.

Historical pirates made a lot of their loot by raiding on land. I imagine space pirates in this setting would do the same- find a world that lacks concentrated, well-organized defenses, sweep in and plunder like so many Vikings. Exactly like Vikings...

By all indications, the occupation forces either don't try very hard or lack the technology to make a true police state in Siwenna, seeing as how a forged passport is enough to allow one of the "rebel" leaders to escape with his life.

They may be more concerned with living like kings (or like the Spanish conquistadors in 1530s Mexico) than anything else. Given the size of Foundation ships, you'd only have thousands of men, a few millions at most, to occupy whole worlds. That's not enough to be really effective at creating a police state, but it IS enough to extract tribute and servitude from an unarmed and cowed populace.

Not all tyrannies are police states.

[I can't keep up with you anymore, let me just stop here]

[Batman]

Or it could be that teleportation merely is another way of referring to hyperspace travel when talking about mail, given that Foundationverse stardrive is of the common jumpdrive variety, which essentially is interstellar teleportation.

Thing is that Mallow is already in the same planet as the capital the message comes from and there is no mention or implication of some kind of courier hyper-ship being involved in the message delivery. It could well be that it involves the same technology as hyperdrive, but it is not quite the same (or actually the same, applied in such a small scale that it might as well be a different technology altogether).

Well there goes that theory then. I seemed to recall this happening at stardrive distances. I can still think of 19 million ways why teleportation isn't used more widely (outside the out-of-universe probable 'Asimov just plain forgot about it') but yeah, it's apparently not just local lingo for mail arriving by hyperspacial courier.

[Murazor]

16.

"Well, you'll have your own way, as always." The Commdor shrugged and turned away. "And as for your father's displeasure: I much fear me it extends to a niggardly refusal to supply more ships."
"More ships!" She blazed away, hotly, "And haven't you five? Don't deny it. I know you have five; and a sixth is promised."
"Promised for the last year."
"But one -just one- can blast that Foundation into stinking rubble. Just one! One, to sweep their little pygmy boats out of space."
"I couldn't attack their planet, even with a dozen."

The Viceroy of Siwenna apparently could spare five warships to give away to an untrusted barbarian cat's paw. Considering the state of things in his territory, including an ongoing piracy crisis and large scale civil unrest, it is likely that these giveaways don't represent the bulk of his naval assets.

Interestingly, these ships aren't mentioned after the Korell-Foundation war ends and instead vanish, just like the Wienis did previously.

17.

The senior lieutenant of the Dark Nebula stared in horror at the visiplate.
"Great Galloping Galaxies!" It should have been a howl, but it was a whisper instead, "What's that?"
It was a ship, but a whale to the Dark Nebula's minnow; and on its side was the Spaceship-and-Sun of the Empire. Every alarm on the ship yammered hysterically.
The orders went out, and the Dark Nebula prepared to run if it could, and fight if it must, while down in the hyperwave room, a message stormed its way through hyperspace to the Foundation.

If we take the "minnow to whale" size comparison at face value, rather than a colorful metaphor, it'd suggest a volumetric difference of five or so orders of magnitude.

In comparison, the Millennium Falcon is four OOM smaller than a Star Destroyer and six than an Executor-class Super Star Destroyer, so depending on the (unknown) size of the Dark Nebula, the size comparison might be actually accurate, since the Wienis (the one Imperial warship of which we have hard data) is known to be longer than a Star Destroyer, but shorter than a SSD.

18.

"How many ships did they get?" asked Jael.
"Four trapped on the ground. Two unreported. All others accounted for and safe." Mallow grunted, "We should have done better, but it's just a scratch."

Self-explanatory. Loss of six ships is a very minor concern for the Foundation in this stage.

"No," said Jael, violently, "not the way you did it. You claim to have foreseen everything, and don't explain why you traded with Korell to their exclusive benefit for three years. Your only plan of battle is to retire without a battle. You abandon all trade with the sectors of space near Korell. You openly proclaim a stalemate. You promise no offensive, even in the future. Galaxy, Mallow, what am I supposed to do with such a mess?"
[...]
"A strong offensive is indicated. The stalemate you seem to be satisfied with is fatal. It would be a confession of weakness to all the worlds of the Periphery, where the appearance of strength is all-important, and there's not one vulture among them that wouldn't join the assault for its share of the corpse. You ought to understand that. You're from Smyrno, aren't you?"
Mallow passed over the significance of the remark. He said, "And if you beat Korell, what of the Empire? That is the real enemy."
Sutt's narrow smile tugged at the comers of his mouth, "Oh, no, your records of your visit to Siwenna were complete. The viceroy of the Normannic Sector is interested in creating dissension in the Periphery for his own benefit, but only as a side issue. He isn't going to stake everything on an expedition to the Galaxy's rim when he has fifty hostile neighbors and an emperor to rebel against. I paraphrase your own words."
"Oh, yes he might, Sutt, if he thinks we're strong enough to be dangerous. And he might think so, if we destroy Korell by the main force of frontal attack. We'd have to be considerably more subtle."

Some more elaboration about why "nothing" is just the right answer for this Seldon Crisis. And a mention of Korell's benefactor being Viceroy of the Normannic Sector, rather than just of Siwenna.

"When I first landed on Korell," he began, "I bribed the Commdor with the trinkets and gadgets that form the trader's usual stock. At the start, that. was meant only to get us entrance into a steel foundry. I had no plan further than that, but in that I succeeded. I got what I wanted. But it was only after my visit to the Empire that I first realized exactly what a weapon I could build that trade into.
"This is a Seldon crisis we're facing, Sutt, and Seldon crises are not solved by individuals but by historic forces. Hari Seldon, when he planned our course of future history, did not count on brilliant heroics but on the broad sweeps of economics and sociology. So the solutions to the various crises must be achieved by the forces that become available to us at the time.
"In this case, trade!"
Sutt raised his eyebrows skeptically and took advantage of the pause, "I hope I am not of subnormal intelligence, but the fact is that your vague lecture isn't very illuminating."
"It will become so," said Mallow. "Consider that until now the power of trade has been underestimated. It has been thought that it took a priesthood under our control to make it a powerful weapon. That is not so, and this is my contribution to the Galactic situation. Trade without priests! Trade alone! It is strong enough. Let us become very simple and specific. Korell is now at war with us. Consequently our trade with her has stopped. But, notice that I am making this as simple as a problem in addition, in the past three years she has based her economy more and more upon the nuclear techniques which we have introduced and which only we can continue to supply. Now what do you suppose will happen once the tiny nuclear generators begin failing, and one gadget after another goes out of commission?
"The small household appliances go first. After a half a year of this stalemate that you abhor, a woman's nuclear knife won't work any more. Her stove begins failing. Her washer doesn't do a good job. The temperature-humidity control in her house dies on a hot summer day. What happens?"
He paused for an answer, and Sutt said calmly, "Nothing. People endure a good deal in war."
"Very true. They do. They'll send their sons out in unlimited numbers to die horribly on broken spaceships. They'll bear up under enemy bombardment, if it means they have to live on stale bread and foul water in caves half a mile deep. But it's very hard to bear up under little things when the patriotic uplift of imminent danger is not present. It's going to, be a stalemate. There will be no casualties, no bombardments, no battles.
"There will just be a knife that won't cut, and a stove that won't cook, and a house that freezes in the winter. It will be annoying, and people will grumble."
Sutt said slowly, wonderingly, "Is that what you're setting your hopes on, man? What do you expect? A housewives' rebellion? A Jacquerie? A sudden uprising of butchers and grocers with their cleavers and bread-knives shouting 'Give us back our Automatic Super-Kleeno Nuclear Washing Machines.'"
"No, sir," said Mallow, impatiently, "I do not. I expect, however, a general background of grumbling and dissatisfaction which will be seized on by more important figures later on."
"And what more important figures are these?"
"The manufacturers, the factory owners, the industrialists of Korell. When two years of the stalemate have gone, the machines in the factories will, one by one, begin to fail. Those industries which we have changed from first to last with our new nuclear gadgets will find themselves very suddenly ruined. The heavy industries will find themselves, en masse and at a stroke, the owners of nothing but scrap machinery that won't work."
"The factories ran well enough before you came there, Mallow."
"Yes, Sutt, so they did -at about one-twentieth the profits, even if you leave out of consideration the cost of reconversion to the original pre-nuclear state. With the industrialist and financier and the average man all against him, how long will the Commdor hold out?"

Detailed explanation of the external form of Mallow's economic warfare methods, as well as the fact that the Foundation puts nuclear engines in everything, even knives.

"With all their nuclear shields, large enough to protect a ship, a city, an entire world; they could never build one to protect a single man. To supply light and heat to a city, they have motors six stories high, –I saw them – where ours could fit into this room. And when I told one of their nuclear specialists that a lead container the size of a walnut contained a nuclear generator, he almost choked with indignation on the spot.

Besides the statement about the Empire's ability to build force-fields of planetary scale, the description of the energy plant doesn't really speak too highly of Imperial technology considering that a city doesn't really require THAT much power, unless energy consumption per capita is actually orders of magnitude higher than in modern Earth.

And it really doesn't look like it.

"I'm sure of the Seldon crisis and the historical validity of their solutions, externally and internally. There are some things I didn't tell Suit right now. He tried to control the Foundation itself by religious forces as he controlled the outer worlds, and he failed, which is the surest sign that in the Seldon scheme, religion is played out.
"Economic control worked differently. And to paraphrase that famous Salvor Hardin quotation of yours, it's a poor nuclear blaster that won't point both ways. If Korell prospered with our trade, so did we. If Korellian factories fail without our trade; and if the prosperity of the outer worlds vanishes with commercial isolation; so will our factories fail and our prosperity vanish.
"And there isn't a factory, not a trading center. not a shipping line that isn't under my control; that I couldn't squeeze to nothing if Sutt attempts revolutionary propaganda. Where his propaganda succeeds, or even looks as though it might succeed, I will make certain that prosperity dies. Where it fails, prosperity will continue, because my factories will remain fully staffed.
"So by the same reasoning which makes me sure that the Korellians will revolt in favor of prosperity, I am sure we will not revolt against it. The game will be played out to its end."

And the internal form of the same, oppression through economic control which leads to the rise of the economic cartels that gain control of the Foundation in its next stage of social development.

Next, a summary of the book and some specific analysis of the most interesting contents, before heading into Foundation and Empire.

[Simon_Jester]

Besides the obvious fact that personal scale shielding is something unheard of in the Empire during its decadence, this section is interesting because I THINK this is the closest we get to an explanation about how nuclear blasters work. There is mention of "atomic disruption" (which would suggest some exotic, possibly non-DET component) and that molecules affected by this disruption turn into ions.

Er... it actually totally makes sense that when you "disrupt" atoms you are directly pushing energy into them, and that this energy ionizes the atoms by stripping off their electrons.

I think you're looking harder for evidence that these things aren't beam weapons than you need to.

Third, Mallow claims to have shield-piercing blasters. How the shield-piercing effect works we aren't told, but the claim rings true nevertheless.

Alternatively, Mallow has export-model shields specifically designed not to work against a certain type of blaster- which he happens to possess. Would you sell your customer a defense that made all your weapons useless against him?

It really sounds like a rather modest dwelling for a character who makes such lofty claims of self-importance. Of course, seeing that the planet seems to be in-the-shit that's what passes for local luxury, but...

Its location may be more prestigious than its size. Or the tech-men may be the equivalent of a priestly caste, where part of their tradition is to live with some degree of asceticism. Or at least, y'know, not amass huge palaces with servants and all...

I am uncertain of whether this is remote self-destruct or an extreme case of built-in obsolescence (the Foundation is certainly cutthroat enough in its comercial dealings to pull stunts like this).

Or he kept his personal shield turned on until the fuel in that little walnut-sized generator ran out. A personal shield might be designed for use only when the user was in danger; if you ran it for 48 hours it might run out of juice, because understandably the manufacturer wouldn't expect any normal person to get into a 48-hour long gunfight.

Well, I just realized that apparently Hober Mallow is supposed to be a colored character, unless his arms are brown because of a tan.

Supposing that my interpretation is right, though, that's... mighty forward-thinking of Asimov, seeing that the novel was first published in 1951. Not that it surprises me too much, seeing what he did later in The Currents of Space, but props to Asimov for not being a racist.

Writing in August of '44 originally, but note that his idea of "brown" might be more like, say, "Mexican" than "African-American."

[Murazor]

I wouldn't trust those figures. Is that power ever used for anything but transmutation?

You mean the same kind of energy density?

Not as far as I remember, there is an arguably multi-gigajoule explosive device only a few cubic centimeters in size in Foundation and Empire, but even that's a far cry from the transmuter extrapolations.

Mallow may also consider the possibility of treachery. Since the merchant ships have to land, the locals could smuggle men onto the ship, or introduce some kind of poison or disease to incapacitate the crew. That would make the Foundation's "superior" weapons irrelevant- and explain why only 1% of the ships were ever caught; they were the ones that could be conveniently snatched that way.

The implication from the initial conversation and such is of ships lost in space.

Out-of-setting possibility: are we sure Asimov, writing in 1944, meant by 'teleport' what we mean?

Not at all sure, personally, but I looked up teleportation. Apparently, the term was coined in the early thirties and from the very beginning its meaning concerned the instantaneous transference of matter from point to point without crossing the distance in between.

They have a limited population, and probably have to devote much of their economy to maintaining the industrial and educational systems that give them an edge.

Also, lack of consumer goods production wouldn't be a surprise if Korell's economy has been tightly controlled to maintain some kind of industry. Look at the USSR: heavy industry and military production made out all right in a command economy because the state deliberately tried to maintain those capacities. But consumer goods output and quality lagged, because the state was under no strict obligation to keep them up.

This is all true and probably right in part or in whole. Same for the commentary concerning nucleics vs just nuclear power generation.

State of the art in 1944...

Still funny.

Er... it actually totally makes sense that when you "disrupt" atoms you are directly pushing energy into them, and that this energy ionizes the atoms by stripping off their electrons.

I think you're looking harder for evidence that these things aren't beam weapons than you need to.

This... might be so. Though I've no personal investment in blasters being phasers or whatever, the notion of them being "exotic" is sufficiently prevalent that I might be suffering from confirmation bias.

Alternatively, Mallow has export-model shields specifically designed not to work against a certain type of blaster- which he happens to possess. Would you sell your customer a defense that made all your weapons useless against him?

An admittedly possible scenario I hadn't even considered.

Writing in August of '44 originally, but note that his idea of "brown" might be more like, say, "Mexican" than "African-American."

*shrugs*

Still better that I'd have expected for a writer in the 40s-50s, even if that's the case, and something I was very surprised to find, since I've read those novels half a dozen times.

[Batman]

I've grown up on a SciFi universe that had ships that could give a Star Destroyer a run for its money firepower-wise, match if not outrun it FTL, and absolutely give it the finger where STL acceleration is concerned...yet would have the main computer spit out its results on punched paper tape. Microfilm doesn't seem so bad to me.

[ryacko]

Trantor's population estimate always bothered me. Forty billion people over 75 million square miles is only 533 people per square mile. That's not very dense, certainly not on the order of population density of planet that is completely urbanized (unless significant parts of Trantor aren't complete cityscape).

Those 40 billion were those that lived on Trantor, billions other came to Trantor to get there education.

Scale is very hard to imagine. Asimov probably didn't much math, and assumed either 16x current population would blanket the Earth or that anything more then that would be unbelievable to the reader.

As well, perhaps only temperate continental areas are inhabited.


Foundation is an odd science fiction novel since it doesn't really deal with physical science, more with social science, as does Dune.

[Batman]

Um-if memory serves the Foundation series is pretty explicit about all of Trantor's surface being city (as well as a lot of subsurface areas). You want to argue there's areas of Trantor that are industry/agricultural instead of being residential, sure, but I'm afraid all of Trantor's surface is inhabited.

[Simon_Jester]

The implication from the initial conversation and such is of ships lost in space.

If they have no idea what happened to the ships, how can they know? "Lost in space" is possible, but so is "captured on the ground." Mallow's confidence may come partly from his ship being ready to repel an attempt at infiltration. As I recall, they were alert and only Foundation people were aboard, which would give him a pretty good chance.