Seldon lacked Demerzel's self-possession, being, as he was, only flesh and blood. The summons to his office and the sudden faint glow and tingle of the scrambler field was indication enough that something unusual was taking place. He had spoken by sealed lines before but never to the full extent of Imperial security.
    He expected some government official to clear the way for Demerzel himself. Considering the slowly mounting tumult of the robot flier, he could expect nothing less.
    But he did not expect anything more, either, and when the image of the Emperor himself, with the faint glitter of the scramble field outlining him, stepped into his office (so to speak), Seldon fell back in his seat, mouth wide open, and could make only ineffectual attempts to rise.
    Cleon motioned him impatiently to keep his seat. "You must know what's going on, Seldon."
    "Do you mean about the robot flier, Sire?"
    "That's exactly what I mean. What's to be done?"
    Seldon, despite the permission to remain seated, finally rose. "There's more, Sire. Joranum is organizing rallies all over Trantor on the robot issue. At least, that's what I hear on the newscasts."
    "It hasn't reached me yet. Of course not. Why should the Emperor know what is going on?"
    "It is not for the Emperor to be concerned, Sire. I'm sure that the First Minister-"
    "The First Minister will do nothing, not even keep me informed. I turn to you and your psychohistory. Tell me what to do. "
    "Sire?"
    "I'm not going to play your game, Seldon. You've been working on psychohistory for eight years. The First Minister tells me I must not............