Madyarov had spoken extraordinarily well about all this – perhaps he really was a provocateur… Oh my God…!
Viktor took his pen and wrote: 'Esther Semyonovna Dashevskaya, my aunt on my mother's side, has lived since 1909 in Buenos Aires, working as a teacher of music.'
54
Viktor entered Shishakov's office determined to remain calm and composed, not to utter a single aggressive word. He knew very well how stupid it was to take offence simply because he and his work were held in such low esteem by a mere bureaucrat.
As soon as he saw Shishakov's face, however, he felt a sense of uncontrollable irritation.
'Aleksey Alekseyevich,' he began, 'one can't of course go against one's own nature, but you haven't once shown the least interest in the assembly of our new apparatus.'
In a conciliatory tone Shishakov answered: 'I shall certainly visit you in the immediate future.'
The boss had graciously promised to honour Viktor with a visit.
'I think that in general the administration has been sufficiently attentive to your needs,' Shishakov added.
'Especially the personnel department.'
'What difficulty has been occasioned you by the personnel department?' asked Shishakov in the same conciliatory tone. 'You're the first head of a laboratory to make any complaint.'
'Aleksey Alekseyevich, I've been trying in vain to have Weisspapier recalled from Kazan – in the field of nuclear photography she's quite irreplaceable. I protest categorically against the dismissal of Loshak-ova: she's an exceptional worker and an exceptional human being. I can't imagine how you can dismiss Loshakova – it's inhuman. And finally, I wish to have my nomination of Landesman confirmed; he's a very talented young man. You underestimate the importance of our laboratory. Otherwise I wouldn't be wasting my time on conversations of this nature.'
'I am wasting my own time too,' said Shishakov.
Viktor felt glad that Shishakov had abandoned his conciliatory tone; now he could give free rein to his anger.
'What strikes me as particularly unpleasant is that these conflicts have arisen principally around people with Jewish surnames.'
'Very well, Viktor Pavlovich,' said Shishakov, taking the offensive. 'The Institute is faced with a number of very important tasks. As you know, we have been entrusted with these tasks at a very difficult time. I consider your laboratory unable at present to assist us with these tasks. And your own work – as disputable as it is interesting – has received far too much attention.
'This is not merely a personal point of view,' he went on, a note of authority appearing in his voice. 'There are comrades who consider that the excessive attention paid to your work has disrupted scientific research. All this was discussed in considerable detail only yesterday. The view was put forward that your theories contradict the materialist view of the nature of matter and need to be reconsidered. You are to be asked to give a speech to that effect yourself. Certain people – for reasons that are obscure to me – would like to establish various doubtful theories as central tenets of our science – and at a time when we need to focus all our energies on the tasks imposed on us by the war. All this is extremely serious. And now here you are making terrible insinuations concerning a certain Loshakova. Excuse me, but I was unaware that Loshakova was a Jewish name.'
At this, Viktor lost his head. No one had ever spoken to him about his work with such undisguised hostility – least of all an Academician who was the director of his own Institute! No longer afraid of the consequences, Viktor blurted out everything that was on his mind.
He said that it was of no concern to physics whether or not it confirmed philosophy; that the logic of mathematical proof was more powerful than that of Engels and Lenin; that it was for Badin of the Scientific Section of the Central Committee to accommodate Lenin's views to mathematics and physics, not for mathematicians and physicists to accommodate their views to Lenin's. He said that an excessive pragmatism would always be the death of science – though it were commanded 'by the Lord himself: only a great theory could give birth to great practical achievements. He was confident that the principal technical problems – and not only technical problems – of the twentieth century would be resolved through the theory of nuclear reactions. He was only too willing to give a speech to that effect if this should be considered necessary by the comrades whose names Shishakov preferred not to reveal.
'As for the matter of people with Jewish surnames, that's not something you can laugh off quite so easily – not if you consider yourself a member of the intelligentsia. If my requests are denied, I shall be compelled to resign from the Institute immediately. I am unable to work under these conditions.'
Viktor took a breath, looked at Shishakov, thought for a moment and said: 'It's very difficult for me to work under these conditions. I am a human being as well as a physicist. I feel ashamed before people who expect my help, who count on my protection against injustice.'
This time, Viktor had only said: 'It's very difficult? He no longer had the nerve to repeat his threat of immediate resignation.
Shishakov obviously noticed this. Perhaps for this very reason he insisted: 'There's no point in continuing this conversation in the language of ultimata. It is my duty, of course, to take your requests into consideration.'
Throughout the rest of the day Viktor had a strange feeling of both joy and depression. The laboratory equipment, the new apparatus – already nearly assembled – seemed a part of his life, a part of his brain, a part of his body. How could he exist without them?
It was terrifying even to think what heresies he had uttered to the director. At the same time, however, Viktor felt strong. His very helplessness was a source of strength. How could he ever have guessed that on his return to Moscow, at the moment of his scientific triumph, he would be having a conversation like this?
Although no one could have heard about his confrontation with Shishakov, his colleagues seemed to be treating him with a particular warmth.
Anna Stepanovna took his hand, squeezed it and said:
'Viktor Pavlovich, I don't want to appear to be thanking you – but I do know that you've been true to yourself.'
Viktor stood beside her in silence. He felt very moved, almost joyful.
'Mother, mother,' he thought suddenly, 'cart you see?'
On the way home Viktor decided not to say anything to Lyudmila. However, his habit of sharing everything with her proved too strong; as he came through the door and began taking off his coat, he said:
'Well, Lyudmila, it's happened. I'm leaving the Institute.'
Lyudmila was very upset, but she still managed to say something wounding.
'You're behaving as though you were Lomonosov or Mendeleev. If you leave, then Sokolov or Markov will just take your place.'
She looked up from her sewing.
'Besides, why can't your Landesman go to the Front? Otherwise it really does look to a prejudiced observer as though one Jew's looking after another.'
'All right, all right,' said Viktor. 'That's enough. Do you remember that line of Nekrasov's? "He hoped to be admitted to the temple of fame – and then was glad to be admitted to hospital." I thought I had earned my daily bread – and now they're asking me to repent my sins and heresies. More than that – they want me to make a public confession! It's madness. And at a time when I've been nominated for a Stalin Prize, when students are seeking me out… It's all Badin's doing. No, it's nothing to do with Badin. Sadko doesn't love me!'
Lyudmila came up to him, straightened his tie and turned down the collar of his jacket.