Self-discovery

Chapter 18

November 1. And so, without wanting to, I’ve proven that in controlling synthesis, you can create a psychopath and a slave on the basis of information on, say, an average person. It happened because the introduction of auxiliary information was done through crude violence (oh, I just can’t couch this “result” in academic phrases!). Now as a minimum goal, I must prove the opposite possibility.

The positive aspect of the experiment with Adam was that he came out physically unharmed. And he looked the way I wanted him to look. Now I have experience in transforming the form of the human body. The negative aspects? The “convenient” method of many transformations and dissolutions is ruled out categorically; everything has to be done in one session. And the “it — not it” method of correction must only be used in those situations when I know for sure what “it” is and can control the changes, simply, by changing only minor external flaws.

In a word, I have to start from scratch yet a third time.

I want to create an improved version of myself, handsomer and smarter. The only possible way is to record my wishes along with my information in the computer. It can either react to them or not. The worst that can happen is there’ll be another exact copy of Krivoshein — and that’s it. As long as he’s not worse.

The physical part seems rather simple. I’ll put on Monomakh’s Crown and picture myself to the point of hallucinations in a better form — without facial defects (get rid of the freckles and the scar over my eyebrow, fix the nose, reduce the jaw, etc.) and body flaws (get rid of the fat, fix the knee). And the hair should be darker.

But as for increasing his mental capacity. How? Just wish that my new double be smarter than me? The computer — womb won’t register that. It deals only with constructive information. I have to think about it.

November 2. I have an idea. It’s primitive, but it’s an idea. I’m not equally bright at different times of the day. You get dull after a meal — there is even a biological reason for it (the blood is drained from the brain). Therefore, I’ll record information on me when I’ve not eaten for a while. Or smoked.

And here’s one more aspect of my mental ability to take into account: the closer it is to night, the more my sober and rational thoughts are crowded out by dreams, imagination, and feelings. That can be gotten rid of, too. My dreaming has already gotten me into enough hot water. Therefore, as soon as evening comes on — out of the chamber. Let my new double be somber — minded, reasonable, and well — balanced!

November 17. It’s been three weeks that I’ve been getting the computer — womb to perfect me. I keep wanting to say “You may!” through the crown, to see what will happen. But no, there’s a man in there! Let the computer absorb my thoughts, ideas, and desires some more. Let it understand what I want.

November 25, evening. The snow is falling on the white lamp post, falling and falling, as if it’s determined to overfulfill the plan. There goes that girl on crutches past our house again, coming home from school. She probably had polio and lost the use of her legs.

Everytime that I see her — with a big knapsack on her sharp shoulders, limping uncomfortably with the crutches, her body hanging loosely between them — I feel ashamed. Ashamed that I’m healthy as a horse; ashamed that I, a smart and educated man, can’t help her. Ashamed by a feeling of a great impotence that exists in life.

Children should not be on crutches. What’s the point of all the science and technology in the world, if children use crutches!

Could it be that I’m still doing something wrong? Not what people really need? This method of mine won’t help the girl in any way.

It’ll soon be a month that I’ve been planning what I’ll think about and entering the information chamber, affixing the sensors to my body, putting on Monomakh’s Crown, and thinking aloud. Sometimes I’m gripped by doubts. What if the computer — womb is doing something wrong again? There’s no control, Goddamn it! And I get scared, so scared that I’m afraid it might have an effect on the personality of the future double.

The next entry was made in pencil.

December 4 Well… in principle, I should be exulting. It worked. But I don’t have the strength, the energy, the thoughts, the emotions for it. I’m tired. Oh, how tired I am! I’m too tired to look for my pen.

The computer took all my desires into account in the physical aspect. I fixed a few things up in the synthesis process. As the double was appearing, I didn’t have to measure or guess — my practiced eye immediately picked up on the “not its” in his construction and controlled the computer as it corrected them.

I set up a ladder in the tank and helped him get out. He stood before me, naked, well — built, muscular, handsome, dark — haired — still resembling me but not resembling me. Puddles of the liquid spread at his feet.

“Well?” I asked, my voice hoarse.

“Everything’s in order,” he smiled.

And then… then my lips trembled. My face trembled. My hands shook. I couldn’t even light a cigarette. He lit one for me, poured me some alcohol, muttering: “It’s all right, everything’s fine, don’t….” He comforted me. That was funny.

I’m going to try to sleep now.

December 5. Today I tested the logical capabilities of double number 3.

First round (playing crosswits): 5–3 in his favor. Round two (playing words): in ten minutes he built eight more words than I did from “abbreviation” and twelve more than me from “retrogression.” Round three: we solved logic puzzles from the college text by Azarov, beginning with number 223. I only reached number 235 in two hours of work; he got up to 240.

I wasn’t faking — I was really caught up in the contest. That means that he thinks 25–30 percent faster than I do — and that’s from a simple — minded clumsy attempt at improvement. Just think what could have been done scientifically!

We’ll see how he is at work.

December 7. Our work so far isn’t intellectual. We’re cleaning up the lab. And not only because of the intertwined wires and living hoses. We’re dusting and vacuuming and removing mildew from flasks, and equipment and panels.

“Tell me, how do you feel about biology?”

“Biology?” he looked at me in surprise, then remembered. “Oh, I see where you’re leading. You know, I don’t understand him either. I think it was some kind of fixation coming from trying to prove himself.”

“Wow!” said student Krivoshein and even bounced on his chair. “Now that’s something!”

But how… after all, double number 3 was also a continuation of the computer — womb! That meant… that meant that the computer had learned how to construct the human organism? Well, of course. He was the first. That’s why all that complex searching and retrieval had been necessary. And now the computer remembered all the attempts and picked from among them those that led directly to the goal, constructing a program for synthesizing man.

That meant that his discovery of inner transformations was truly unique. It had to be saved. The best thing would be to re — record himself in the computer — womb, not with a vague memory of the search, but with precise and proven knowledge on transforming himself. But why?

“Ah, how much can you think about that!” He frowned and went back to the diary.

December 18. I don’t remember. Are these frosts the ones called Epiphany frosts or the ones in January? The northeast wind had brought us a real Siberian winter and the steam heat can barely hold its own. The grounds are all white and the lab is brighter.

I don’t know if all the biblical rules were followed but the new double has been christened. And the godfather was none other than Harry Hilobok.

This is how it happened. Students from Kharkov U. came for their year of probation work. The day before yesterday I dropped by the dorms for the young specialists and borrowed “for psychological experimentation” a student card and a directive to work here. The students gaped at me with awe and their eyes were aglow with a readiness to give not only their cards but their shoes for the good of science. I borrowed a passport from Pasha Fartkin.

Then we familiarized the computer — womb with the appearance and contents of the documents. We manipulated them in front of the objectives, rustled the pages…. When the passport, the student card, and the form appeared in the tank, I put on the crown and with the “it — not it” method corrected all the information.

Double number 3 is now called Victor Vitalyevich Kravets. He is twenty — three, Russian, subject to military service, a fifth — year student in the physics department at Kharkov State U, lives in Kharkov, 17 Kholodnaya Gora. Pleased to meet you.

Am I? During the operation the newly hatched Kravets and I talked in whispers and felt like counterfeiters who were about to be caught. The engrained respect for the law in intellectuals showed itself again.

We also felt strange the next day when we went to see Hilobok: Kravets, to report in, and me, to ask that he be assigned to my lab. My biggest worry was that Hilobok would assign him to another lab. But it worked out. There were more students that year than snow. When Hilobok heard that I would guarantee the material needed for student Kravets’s diploma thesis, he tried to foist another two on me.

Harry, naturally, noted the resemblance between us.

“He’s not a relative of yours, is he, Valentin Vasilyevich?”

“Well, sort of. A nephew three times removed.”

“Well, then it’s understandable! Of course, of course…..” His face expressed understanding of my familial feelings and his tolerance of them. “And will be be living with you?”

“No, why? Let him stay in the dorms.”

“Oh, of course.” Harry’s face made it clear that my relationship with Lena was no secret to him either. “I understand you, Valentin Vasileyvich. Oh, how I understand!”

God, how disgusting it is when Hilobok “oh, understands” you.

“And how are things with your doctoral dissertation, Harry Har — itonovich?” I asked, to change the subject.

“The doctoral?” He looked at me very carefully. “It’s all right. Why do you ask, Valentin Vasilyevich? You’re in discrete phenomena; analog electronics isn’t in your field.”

“Right now I don’t know what’s in my field and what isn’t, Harry Haritonovich,” I replied honestly.

“Ah, so? Well, that’s laudable. But I won’t be up for a defense for a while. My work keeps pulling me away. Current events don’t give me time for creative work. You’ll do your defense before I do, Valentin Vasilyevich, both your candidate and doctoral dissertations, he — he….”

We walked back to the lab in lousy humor. There was a creepy duality in our work: in the lab we were gods, but when we had to come into contact with the environment, we had to politic, sneak, wheedle. What was it — a characteristic of research? Or of reality? Or, perhaps, of our personality?

“After all, it wasn’t I who invented a system of ticketing humanity: passports, passes, requisitions, reports, and so on,” I said. “Without papers you’re a gnat; with papers you’re a man.”

Victor Kravets said nothing.

December 20. Well, our work together is beginning!

“Don’t you think that we went overboard with our vow?”

“?!”

“Well, not the whole vow, but that sacred part.”

“To use the discovery for the benefit of mankind with absolute dependability?”

“Precisely. We’ve realized four methods: synthesis of information about man into man; synthesis of rabbits with improvements and without; synthesis of electronic circuits; and synthesis of man with improvements. Does even one of them have an absolute guarantee of benefits?”

“Hmmmm. No. But the last method at least in principle — “

“ — can create ‘knights without fear or flaw, cavaliers of Saint George, and fiery warriors?”

“Let’s just say good people. Any objections?”

“We’re not voting yet. We’re discussing. And I think that that idea is based — please forgive me — on very jejune ideas of so — called good people. There are no abstractly good and bad people. Every man is good for some and bad for others. That’s why the real knights without fear and flaw had more enemies than anyone else. The only one who’s good for everyone is a smart and sneaky egotist, who tries to get along with everyone in order to achieve his ends. There is, however, a quasi — objective criterion: he is good who is supported by the majority. Are you willing to use that criterion as the basis for this method?”

“Hmm… let me think.”

“What for? If I’ve already thought about it, after all, you’ll come to the same conclusion — that the criterion is no good. The majority has supported God knows who since time immemorial. But there are two other criteria: good is what I think is good (or who I think is good) and good is what is good for me. Like all people who care professionally about the welfare of mankind, we operated on the basis of both — only in our simplicity we thought that we were only using the first one, and considered it objective at that.”

“Now you’re exaggerating!”

“Not a bit! I won’t remind you about poor Adam, but even when you were synthesizing me you were worried that it should be good for me (rather, what you thought was good) and that it should be good for you, too. Right? But that’s a subjective criterion and other people — “

“ — with this method could do what they thought was good for them?”

“Precisely.”

“Hmmm. All right, let’s say you’re right. Then we have to look for another method of synthesizing and transforming information in man.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll tell you what method is needed. We have to convert our computer — womb into an apparatus that continually turns out ‘good’ at the rate of… say, a million and a half good deeds a second. And at the same time, it should do away with bad deeds at the same rate. Actually, a million and a half — that’s just a drop in the ocean. There are three and a half billion people on earth and every one of them performs several dozen acts a day that can never be construed as neutral. And we still have to figure out a method of equal distribution of this production across the surface of the earth. In a word, it had to be something like an ensilage harrow on magnetrons of unfired brick.”

“You’re mocking me, right?”

“Yes. I’m trampling your dream — otherwise it will lead us into God knows where.”

“You think that I…?”

“No. I don’t think that you were working wrong. It would be very strange if I thought so. But understand: subjectively you dreamed and thought, but objectively you did only what the possibilities of the discovery permitted you to do. And that’s the point! You have to coordinate your plans with the possibilities of the work. And you were hoping to counterbalance a hundred billion varied acts of humanity a day with your little machine. And it’s those hundred billion, plus uncounted past actions, that determine the social processes on earth, their goodness and evil. All of science is incapable of counterbalancing those mighty processes, that avalanche of acts and deeds, first of all because science makes up a small part of life on earth, and secondly because that is not its specialty. Science doesn’t develop good or evil — it develops new information and gives new opportunities. And that’s all. Now the application of that information and the use of the opportunities determine the above — mentioned social processes and powers. We will give people nothing more than new opportunities to produce people in their own image, and it’s up to them to use these opportunities to their benefit or harm or not at all.”

“You mean we should publish the discovery and wash our hands of it? Well, I never! If we don’t give a damn what happens to it, certainly no one else will!”

“Don’t be angry. I don’t think we should publish and wash our hands of it. We have to go on working, studying the possibilities the way everyone does. But in the research, and the ideas, even in the dreams on project 154, you must keep in mind that what happens to this project in real life depends primarily on life itself, or to put it in a more cultured way, on the socio — political situation in the world. If the situation develops in a safe, good direction, then we can publish. If not — we’ll have to hold off or destroy the project, as foreseen by the vow. It’s not in our power to save humanity, but it is in our power not to inflict any harm on it.”

“Hm. that’s very modest. I think you’re underestimating the possibilities of modern science. We now have the capability of destroying humanity by pushing a button — or several buttons. Why shouldn’t there be an alternative method to save or at least protect humanity by pushing a button? And why, damn it, shouldn’t that method be in our field of research?”

“It doesn’t lie there. Our direction is constructive. It’s much, much harder to build a bridge than to blow it up.”

“I agree. But they do build bridges.”

“But no one’s built a bridge that can’t be blown up.”

We found ourselves at a dead end.

But he’s okay. He essentially laid out all my vague doubts in a clear — cut fashion; they had been bothering me for a long time. I don’t know whether to be happy or sad.

December 28. So, it’s been a year since I sat in the new lab on an unpacked impulse generator and thought about an indefinite experiment. Just a year? No, time is measured by events and not by the rotation of the earth. I think at least a decade has passed. And not only because so much was done — there was so much experienced. I’ve started thinking about life more, understanding myself and others better, I’ve even changed a little — pray God, for the better.

And still there is a dissatisfaction — too much dreaming, I suppose. Everything that I’ve thought of has happened, but the wrong way somehow: with difficulties, with horrible complications, with disillusionment. That’s the way it is in life. Man never dreams about where he could fall flat on his face or find disillusionment; that happens on its own. I understand that perfectly well with my mind, but I still can’t resign myself to it.

When I was synthesizing double number 3 (Kravets in civilian life), I hoped vaguely that something would click in the computer — womb and I would get a knight without fear or flaw! Nothing clicked. He’s fine, can’t argue with that, but he’s no knight. He’s sober — minded, reasonable, and careful. And where was the knight supposed to come from — me?

Jerk, dreamy jerk! You keep hoping that nature will find and hand you the absolutely dependable method — it never will. It doesn’t have that information.

Damn, is it really impossible? Is the perfected Krivoshein — Kravets really right?

There is one method of saving the world by pushing a button; it can be used in case of thermonuclear war. You hide several computer — wombs that have been fed information on people (men and women) deep in a mine shaft with a large supply of reagents. And if there are no people left in the ashes of the earth, the computers will save and resurrect humanity. That’s one way out of the situation.

But even then it won’t work like that. If you give the world a method like that, it will destroy the balance that exists and push the world into nuclear war. “People will still live. Atom bombs aren’t so terrible — let’s set them off!” some idiot politician will think. “The problem of the Near East? There is no Near East! The Vietnam problem? What Vietnam? Buy personal bomb shelters for your soul!”

Then that’s “not it” either. What is “it?” Is there an “it?”