"Why arrogance?"
"The error in the first jump makes the second jump that much less certain, and the added error then makes the third jump pretty wobbly and untrustworthy, and so on. How do you calculate twenty-nine steps all at once? The twenty-ninth could end up anywhere in the Galaxy, anywhere at all. So I directed it to make the first step only. Then we could check that before proceeding."
"The cautious approach," said Pelorat warmly. "I approve!"
"Yes, but having made the first step, might the computer not feel wounded at my having mistrusted it? Would it then be forced to salve its pride by telling me there was no error at all when I asked it? Would it find it impossible to admit a mistake, to own up to imperfection? If that were so, we might as well not have a computer."
Pelorat's long and gentle face saddened. "What can we do in that case, Golan?"
"We can do what I did - waste a day. I checked the position of several of the surrounding stars by the most primitive possible methods: telescopic observation, photography, and manual measurement. I compared each actual position with the position expected if there had been no error. The work of it took me all day and wore me down to nothing."
"Yes, but what happened?"
"I found two whopping errors and checked them over and found them in my calculations. I had made the mistakes myself. I corrected the calculations, then ran them through the computer from scratch - just to see if it would come up with the same answers independently. Except that it worked them out to several more decimal places, it turned out that my figures were right and they showed that the computer had made no errors. The computer may be an arrogant son-of-the-Mule, but it's got something to be arrogant about."
Pelorat exhaled a long breath. "Well, that's good."
"Yes indeed! So I'm going to let it take the other twenty-eight steps."
"All at once? But..."
"Not all at once. Don't worry. I haven't become a daredevil just yet. It will do them one after the other - but after each step it will check the surroundings and, if that is where it is supposed to be within tolerable limits, it can take the next one. Any time it finds the error too great - and, believe me, I didn't set the limits generously at all - it will have to stop and recalculate the remaining steps."
"When are you going to do this?"
"When? Right now. - Look, you're working on indexing your Library..."
"Oh, but this is the chance to do it, Golan. I've been meaning to do it for years, but something always seemed to get in the way."
"I have no objections. You go on and do it and don't worry. Concentrate on the indexing. I'll take care of everything else."
Pelorat shook his head. "Don't be foolish. I can't relax till this is over. I'm scared stiff."
"I shouldn't have told you, then - but I had to tell someone and you're the only one here. Let me explain frankly. There's always the chance that we'll come to rest in a perfect position in interstellar space and that that will happen to be the precise position which a speeding meteoroid is occupying, or a mini-black hole, and the ship is wrecked, and ;we're dead. Such things could - in theory - happen.
"The chances are very small, however. After all, you could be at home, Janov - in your study and working on your films or in your bed sleeping - and a meteroid could be streaking toward you through Terminus's atmosphere and hit you right in the head and you'd be dead. But the chances are small.
"In fact, the chance of intersecting the path of something fatal, but too small for the computer to know about, in the course of a hyperspatial jump is far, far smaller than that of berg hit by a meteor in your home. I've never heard of a ship being lost that way in all the history of hyperspatial travel. Any other type of risk - like ending in the middle of a star - is even smaller."
Pelorat said, "Then why do you tell me all this, Golan?"
Trevize paused, then bent his head in thought, and finally said, "I don't know. - Yes, I do. What I suppose it is, is that however small the chance of catastrophe might be, if enough people take enough chances, the catastrophe must happen eventually. No matter how sure I am that nothing will go wrong, there's a small nagging voice inside me that says, 'Maybe it will happen this time.' And it makes me feel guilty. - I guess that's it. Janov, if something goes wrong, forgive me!"
"But Golan, my dear chap, if something goes wrong, we will both be dead instantly. I will not be able to forgive, nor you to receive forgiveness."
"I understand that, so forgive me now, will you?"
Pelorat smiled. "I don't know why, but this cheers me up. There's something pleasantly humorous about it. Of course, Golan, I'll forgive you. There are plenty of myths about some form of afterlife in world literature and if there should happen to be such a place - about the same chance as landing on a mini-black hole, I suppose, or less - and we both turn up in the same one, then I will bear witness that you did your honest best and that my death should not be laid at your door."
"Thank you! Now I'm relieved. I'm willing to take my chance, but I did not enjoy the thought of you taking my chance as well."
Pelorat wrung the other's hand. "You know, Golan, I've only known you less than a week and I suppose I shouldn't make hasty judgments in these matters, but I think you're an excellent chap. - And now let's do it and get it over with."
"Absolutely! All I have to do is touch that little contact. The computer has its instructions and it's just waiting for me to say: 'Starts' Would you like to..."
"Never! It's all yours? It's your computer."