And the wise and strong Valery is even weaker than I am. He doesn't pick his work; his work picks him.
(Come on, be honest — deep — down honest, Krivoshein. If you didn't have a method for creating man on your hands, wouldn't you espouse the point of view in favor of computers? Every one of us specialists is always trying to give our work an ideological base. You can't simply admit that you're doing the work only because you don't know how to do anything else! A confession like that for a creative worker is tantamount to bankruptcy.
By the way, do I know how to do what I'm planning to do?…)
Enough! Of course, all this is very intellectual and nice: putting myself down, bemoaning my imperfections, worrying about the discrepancy between my dreams and actions. But where is that knight of the spirit with a higher education and experience in the field to whom I could turn over the project with a clear conscience? Ivanov? No. Azarov? I never got a chance to find out. And the work is waiting.
So whatever I may be, my finger will rest on the button for now.
October 28, A phone call at the lab.
“Well, Val, have you decided to do it?”
“No, Valery.”
“Too bad. We would have done some fine work. But, I understand. Give her my regards. She's a nice woman; I'm happy for you.”
“Thanks. I'll tell her.”
“Well, so long. Drop in when you're in Leningrad.”
“Without fail! Have a good flight, Valery.”
You don't understand a damn thing, Valery. The hell with it. It's over! I think I've gotten my itch to work back. Thanks for that, Valery, at least for that!
Chapter 18
You never know what's good and what's bad. Stenography came about because of poor penmanship and the theory of reliability from breakdowns in machines.
— K. Prutkov — engineer, Thought 100
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.