“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?”
PART THREE
AWAKENING
Chapter 19
Sleep is the best weapon against sleepiness.
— K. Prutkov — engineer. A Sketch for an Encyclopedia
A quick — flowing June night: the purple sunset had gone out in the west a short time ago and now in the southeast, beyond the Dneiper, the sky was growing light again. But even a short night is a night; it has the same effect on people. The inhabitants of the shaded parts of the planet sleep. The citizens of Dneprovsk were sleeping. Many of the participants in the described events were sleeping.
Matvei Apollonovich Onisimov was sleeping fitfully. He had a lot of trouble falling asleep: he smoked, tossed and turned, and bothered his wife while he thought about what had happened. When he did fall asleep, exhausted, his overstimulated mind offered a terrible dream. It seemed three bodies killed by fire throwers were found in three city parks. Medical Examiner Zubato, too lazy to examine all three bodies, came up with the theory that all three were killed with one shot. To probe the veracity of his theory, he sat the bodies down on a marble bench in the autopsy room, arms around one another; their wounds matched up.
Matvei Apollonovich, who usually had black and murky dreams that looked as if they were an old, used film, experienced this picture in 3 — D, with color and smell; there were three Krivosheins in a row — huge, naked, pink ones smelling of meat — and they were staring at him with photogenic smiles. Onisimov woke up in protest. But (the dream had helped) he had the beginnings of a good theory when he woke up: they were boiling the murdered Krivoshein's body in that lab! After all — a body is the most important clue and it's risky to hide it or bury it; it could be found. And so they were boiling or disintegrating the body in a special liquid, and since this wasn't an easy matter, they miscalculated and the tank turned over. And that's why the body seemed warm when Prakhov the technician found it in the tank! That's why it melted so fast, soaked as it was in their chemicals, leaving only a skeleton. The lab assistant had been knocked out by the tank, and the other conspirator — the one who was pulling all those tricks in front of him yesterday — ran off. (It was clear that the mystifier or circus performer was either using masks or else was well trained in mimicry.) And then he arranged for an alibi — he could have fooled that Moscow professor with his masks and mime. And his papers were just very good fakes.