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.