Self-discovery

Chapter 15

July 29. I’m sitting in the information chamber, surrounded by sensors, the Monomakh’s Crown on my head. I’m keeping a diary because there’s absolutely nothing else to do. I’ll be sleeping here this week, too, on a cot.

So I’m sitting around, thinking wise thoughts.

Thus, man. The highest form of living matter.

A carcass of hollow bones, flexible clumps of protein, which contain what scientists and engineers are trying to analyze and re — create in logical circuits and electronic models — life, a complex, constantly functioning and constantly changing system. Millions of bits of information penetrate us every second through the nerve endings of our eyes, ears, skin, nose, and tongue and are turned into electrical impulses. If they are amplified, you can hear the characteristic “Drrrr… dr…” in their dynamics. The bionics people played it for me once. The machine — gun volleys of impulses spread along the nerves, increase or engulf one another, and stick in the molecular memory cells. A huge processing unit, the brain, sorts them, compares them with the chemical recording of the internal program that contains everything — dreams and wishes, duty and goal, survival instinct and hunger, love and hate, habits and knowledge, superstition and curiosity — and makes up the commands for the executive organs. And people talk, run, kiss, write poetry and denunciations, orbit in space, scratch their heads, shoot, push buttons, bring up children, meditate….

What’s the most important thing?

I’m getting a picture of method for the controlled synthesis of man. You can introduce additional information and thereby alter the form and content of man. This will come — we’re moving toward it. But what information should be introduced? What alterations should be made? Take me, for instance. Let’s say that a computer will be synthesizing me (especially since it already has): what would I like changed?

You can’t answer that off the bat. I’m used to myself. I’m much more interested in people around me than in myself. We all know what we want from other people: that they don’t interfere with our lives. But what do we want from ourselves?

Yesterday I had the following conversation:

“Tell me, Lena, what kind of a son would you like?”

“Why?”

“Well, I mean how would you like to see him as an adult?”

“Handsome, healthy, smart, and talented. honest and kind. About your height, say… no, maybe a little taller! He could become a violinist, and I would go to his concerts. He could look like… oh, God, why did you bring it up? Oh, I see. You’ve decided to propose! Right? How interesting! Do it right, according to all the traditions, and I might say yes. Well!”

“Hmmmmmm… no, I was just asking….”

“Oh, just asking! An abstract son, so to speak?”

“Precisely.”

“Then you should be discussing it with an abstract woman, not with me!”

Women take things very concretely.

However, from what she said, one quality can be singled out — to be smart. That’s what I know about.

Logical thought in humans works at a much lower level than it does in electronic systems. The speed of processing information is pathetic: fifteen to twenty bits per second. That’s why they always have to plug in “buffers.” Ask a person, unexpectedly, something very simple, like

“What time is it?” and you’ll get an answer like “huh?” or “what?” This doesn’t mean he is deaf — simply that in the time that you take to repeat the question he’s thinking furiously for an answer. Sometimes that time isn’t enough, and then you get “hmmm, well… let’s see… the best way to put it… is… hmmmm….”

Time for a smoke break. I’ve been here too long. Freedom!

The morning is like a violin melody. The greenery is fresh. The sky is blue. The air is pure.

There goes Pasha Fartkin on his way to the institute garage. He’s a lathe operator, a drunkard, and a sneak; he manfully bears the burden of his last name on his sloping shoulders. I’ll test it out on him!

“Tell me, Pasha, what do you want from life on a morning like this?”

“Valentin Vasilyevich!” He seemed to be waiting for the question, looking at me with joy and amazement. “I’ll be honest with you, like a brother: ten rubles until payday! I swear to God I’ll pay you back!”

In my confusion, I take out a ten, give it to him, and only then realize that Pasha never pays his debts to anyone, it’s never been recorded.

“Thanks, Valentin Vasilyevisch. I’ll never forget you for this!” Fartkin put away the money quickly. His puffy face expressed sadness that he hadn’t asked for more. “And what do you want from life on this beautiful morning?”

“Well… actually… you see… well… to get the money back at least.”

“Don’t you worry!” Pasha said and went on.

Hmmmmmm… what happened? Does that mean that my logical thinking is weak, too? Strange. My nervous system processes a veritable Niagara Falls of information, and with its help I make complex movements impossible for any machine (writing, for instance) and yet I can’t think fast enough to…. In a word I should prepare information on how to be smart and think fast for introduction into the computer — womb. If God didn’t give it to me, the least I can do is make sure my double has it. Let him be smarter than me.

August 3. Yes, but in order to introduce information into the computer, you have to have it. And it doesn’t exist.

I’m dividing my time now between the information chamber and the library. I’ve gone through a ton of books — and nothing.

I could increase the volume of the double’s brain. That wouldn’t be hard. I can watch the brain appear. But there is no correlation between brain weight and the mind: Anatole France’s brain weighed a kilogram; Turgenev’s brain, two kilos; and one cretin’s brain almost made three kilos: 2 kilos 850 grams.

I could increase the surface of the cortex or the number of ridges. That’s just as easy. But there is no correlation between the number of ridges and intellect: a woodpecker has many more ridges than our close relative the orangutan. So much for birdbrains!

I know what man’s mind is related to: the quick action of our nerve cells. This is perfectly clear, and for electronic machines the quickness is the most important thing. If the computer doesn’t solve the problem in the short time it takes for the fuel to burn in the launching rocket — the rocket, instead of going into orbit, will fall on the ground.

Most mistakes we make are analogous: we don’t solve the problem in the given time; we don’t have time to figure things out. The problems in life are no simpler than bringing a rocket into orbit. And time is always critical. It’s terrifying to think how many mistakes are made in the world just because we can only process two dozen bits of information in a second instead of two hundred bits!

And so what? There are zillions of articles, reports, and monographs on the perfection of logic and the speeding up of work of computers (even though they can already do close to ten million operations a second) — and nothing about improving the logic and speed of human thought. The dobbler goes around without boots.

In a word, how sad that this idea will have to be left for better times….

Graduate student Krivoshein rubbed his neck thoughtfully. “Yes, he’s right….” He hadn’t thought about that; it never occurred to him. Maybe because on a fellowship you don’t go around lending money very often. The only thing that occupied him was improving his memory, and that came about on its own. There was too much to remember at once to transform oneself. And when the experiment was over, unnecessary information cluttered up his mind and interfered with the new work. So he mastered the chemistry of directed forgetting: he erased from his cortex those little details of new knowledge that were easier to figure out again than to remember.

But that was something else. He hadn’t thought about speed of the brain’s logic. He felt funny. He was so engrossed in biology that he had forgotten he came there as a systems engineer to probe new possibilities in man. Did that mean that he didn’t direct the work, that the work had taken him astray? He did what fell into his hands. “Humanity could perish if everyone did only what he could handle,” Androsiashvili had said. And that was no joke.

But it’s easy to approach this problem. In humans, information is transported by ions, and you can’t make them go any faster, the way computers can. Oh, oh, I seem to be justifying myself! Man can solve complex problems very easily: move, work, talk, but when it comes to logic he just doesn’t have the biological experience. Animals in evolution didn’t have to think, they had to take action — bite, howl, leap, crawl — and the faster the better. Now if animals had had to solve systems of equations, carry on diplomatic talks, do business, and make sense of the world in order to survive — then what wonderful logic they would have developed! I have to think about this, look around….

August 4. The blinking lights on the control panel of the TsVM — 12 have stopped. That means that all the information about me is recorded in the computer — womb. Where are they now, my dreams, my character flaws, the construction of my intestines, thoughts, and average looks — in the cubes of magnetic memory? In the cells of the crystal unit? Or are they dissolved in the golden liquid of the tank? I don’t know, and it doesn’t matter.

Tomorrow, a trial re — creation. Only a trial, and nothing more.

August 5. 2:05 P.M. “You may!” A new, spectral me began appearing in the sunny liquid of the vat. The picture is the same as a rabbit appearing, but at the same moment as the circulatory system appears so does a fuzzy gray mass at the top of the vat; that becomes the brain. The brain that I can’t improve upon with new information. The eye sees but the tooth can’t bite.

But by four in the afternoon the new double has reached the opaque stage; there are intimations of underwear….

If six months ago someone had told me that questions of life and death and morality and criminal law would enter my methodology, I doubt that I would have been able to appreciate the depth of the wit. And now I stood in front of the tank and thought: “He’s going to come to life now, climb out of the liquid. Why? What will I do with him?”

“I existed before I appeared in the computer,” my first double said to me. “I was you.”

And he was unhappy with his situation. But we’ll learn all the joys of communal living with this one: arguments over Lena, worries that we’ll be caught, the problems of the bed versus the cot…. And most important: this is not what I had expected from the new experiment. The experiment is a success. The computer is re — creating me. But I have to move beyond that.

And if I dissolve him with the command “No!” — isn’t that death? But, forgive me, whose death is it? Mine? No, I’m still alive. The double’s in the vat? But he doesn’t exist yet.

Is this all subject to the rule of law — my experiments? And on the other hand, is this abuse of my work? My double was right: there is really strange work.

And it all stems, I guess, from faintheartedness. In our modern world people in the name of ideals and political goals go forth and send others to kill and die. There are ideas and goals that justify it. And I have a great idea and a great goal: to create a method that improves man and human society. I won’t spare myself, if need be. Then why am I afraid to give the command “No!” for the sake of my work? I have to be firmer, if I’m undertaking this work.

Especially since this isn’t death. Death is the disappearance of information about a man, but the information is not lost in the computer — womb; it merely changes form, from electrical impulses and potentials to man. And I can always give them another double if they want….

I pondered until the hoses leaving the tank began contracting rhythmically, emptying out the excess liquid. Then I put on the Crown and gave the command.

It’s not a pleasant sight: there was a man — and he dissolved. I still feel bad…. All right, pal, don’t rush. I’ll make you fine and dandy. Of course, I can’t give you more brains than what I’ve got myself, but at least I’ll give you looks that will make you reel. After all, you have lots of flaws, as I do: slightly bowed legs, hips too wide and fat, rounded shoulders, a stumpy torso, masses of excess hair on the legs, chest, and back. And protruding ears, and a jaw that makes me look like a complete dolt. And my forehead, and my nose. no, let’s be self — critical. It just won’t do!

August 6. Experiment number 2 — things get harder by the hour! Today I decided to improve on the looks of a new double and got so messed up that I don’t even want to think about it.

I began knowing exactly what was “not it” in my looks. (Actually, it’s all “not it,” if it can be changed.) But what was “it?” In my experiments with the rabbits the criterion for “it” was whatever I felt like. But a man is no rabbit; even though they say one head is good, and two are better, no one ever thought that in a biological sense.

After my command of “You may!” the image of the new double appeared and the semitransparent lilac muscles of the stomach had started disappearing under a layer of yellow fat, I gave the signal “That’s not it!” The computer, obeying my imagination, dissolved the fat tissue where I saw it: on the stomach and near the neck, leaving it on the back and sides.

I hadn’t noticed that right away, because I was working on the face. Mentally I gave the double a noble brow, but when I looked at the profile, I was aghast: the skull had been flattened! And the shape of the brow contradicted the rest of the face.

In a word, I was lost. The computer took that for a total “not it” and dissolved the double.

I was at dead — end. “It was obviously the beauty of the human body. There are classical examples of it. But… turning my double into a pleasant — looking man with classic features in the course of two hours of synthesis was something that was beyond the powers of not only me, but of the most qualified member of the Artists’ Union of the USSR! My only hope was that the computer was remembering all the changes made on the double.

Then I gave the order “You may!” once more. Yes, the computer — womb remembered everything: the double retained all my clumsy changes. That was better, I could work as many sessions as was necessary.

In that session I got rid of the excess fat from the double’s body. His pot belly disappeared. You could even see his waist. And his neck took on definite outline. That was enough for a start. “No!” Everything disappeared and I ran over to the city library.

I’m leafing through Professor G. Gicescusy Atlas of Plastic Anatomy (I also have four richly illustrated books on Renaissance art), learning about the proportions of the human body, picking out the double’s looks like a suit off the rack. The canons of Leonardo da Vinci, of Durer, the proportions of Schmidt — Friech…. It seems that in a proportionate man the buttocks are exactly at mid — height. Who would have thought!

God, what a poor engineer had to learn!

I’m taking Hercules as my basis since he is shown from all angles.

August 74. The twelfth experiment — and it’s still not right. Still lopsided and vulgar. First one leg is shorter than the other, then the arms don’t match. Now I’m going to try the proportions of Durer’s Adam.

August 20. The proportions are right. But the face… an eyeless, dead copy with Krivoshein’s features. Large rust — colored marble curlicues instead of hair. In a word, today was the twenty — first “No!”

Someone careful and suspicious inside me keeps asking “Is this it? The method you’re developing now, is this the method?”

I think so, yes. Anyway, it’s a step in the right direction. For now, in order to synthesize a man, I introduce only high — quality information about his body. But in the same manner we could (and in time we’ll work out how to do it) introduce any information gathered by humanity into the computer — womb on the best human qualities, and create not only externally beautiful and physically strong people, but ones who are beautiful and strong in mental and spiritual qualities as well. Usually the good is mixed with the bad in people: he’s smart but weak in spirit; he’s got a strong will but applies it to trifles either through stupidity or ignorance, or he’s firm, and kind, and smart, but sickly. and with this method we could get rid of all the bad and synthesize only the best qualities into a person.

“A synthetic knight without fear or flaw” — that must sound terrible. But what’s the difference in the end: whether they’re synthetic or natural? As long as there are plenty of them. There are so few “knights” — personally I only know them from movies and books. And yet we need them so much in real life. There’ll be room and work for all of them. And each will be able to influence the world to be a better place.

August 28. It’s working! Pathetic daubers with their brushes who try to capture the beauty and power of living person in a dead medium. Here it is, my “brush,” an electrochemical machine, a continuation of my brain. And I’m an engineer, not an artist. Without using my hands, through the power of my mind, I am creating beauty in life with life.

The delicate and precise proportions of Durer’s Adam with the rippling muscles of Hercules. And the face is handsome. Two or three more tries… and I’m done.

September 1. The first day on the calendar! I’m on my way to the lab. I have pants, shirt, and shoes for him. Into the suitcase. And don’t forget the movie camera — I’m going to film the appearance of the magnificent double. I’m anticipating what an effect that home movie will have someday when I show it!

I’m going over there, put on Monomakh’s Crown, and mentally I’ll give the order. no, I’ll say it out loud, damn it, in a strong and beautiful voice, the way the Lord had spoken in a similar situation:

“You may! Appear into this world, double Adam — Hercules — Krivoshein!”

“And the Lord saw that it was good….”

Of course, I’m not God. I spent a month creating a man, and He managed on a shortened workday, Saturday. But was that work?