“So, Arkady Arkadievich, I've prepared a draft of an order regarding the incident with Krivoshein, so that everything about him… and this incident would be formulated properly. There are only two points here: in regards to a commission and in regards to the closing of the laboratory. Please read it over, Arkady Arkadievich, and if you have no objections — “
Hilobok leaned over the polished desk and placed a typewritten page in front of the academician.
“I've entered the following as members of the commission to investigate the incident: comrade Bezmerny, safety engineer — it's just up his alley, heh — heh — Ippolit Illarionovich Voltampernov, as a specialist in electronic technology; Aglaya Mitrofanovna Garazh, as a member of the local committee on labor defense; Lyudmila Ivanova from the office as the technical secretary of the commission… and well, I'll head it myself if you don't mind, Arkady Arkadievich. I'll take this burden on, too, heh — heh!” He looked up carefully.
Arkady Arkadievich was examining his faithful scientific secretary. The man, as usual, was extremely well shaven and groomed, his narrow red tie streaming down a starched shirt front like blood from a throat slit by a collar, but for some reason the sight and the sound of Harry Haritonovich's mellow voice elicited deep revulsion in the academician. “That light trembling before me. that phony subordinate dumbness. You're transparent, Harry Haritonovich, through and through! Maybe that's why I keep you around, because you are transparent? Because I can't expect anything unexpected or great from you? Because your goals are obvious? When the goals of a functioning system are understood, it's a thousand times easier to foresee its behavior than when the goals are masked — there is a law like that in systemology. Or is it just that I enjoy a daily comparison with you? Maybe that's why I feel this loneliness — because I surround myself with people who are easy to tower over?”
“And the second point is on the ending, that is, the stopping of work in the New Systems Laboratory during the work of the commission And then after the commission we'll see more clearly what to do with the lab: to disband it or turn it over to another department.”
“The work there had stopped of its own accord, Harry Haritonovich,” Azarov laughed sadly. “There's no one to work there now. And there's no one to disband.” He pictured Krivoshein's corpse again with its bulging eyes and pained grin. The academician rubbed his temples and sighed. “In principle I accept your idea for a commission, but its staff has to be changed slightly.” He pulled the sheet of paper over and took out his pen. “We can leave Ippolit Illarionovich, and the engineer on safety procedures, and we need a technical secretary, too. But not the rest. I'll head the commission myself, taking on, as you put it, this burden myself, to spare you. I want to find out what Krivoshein has been doing.”
“And. what about me?” the scientific secretary asked in a crestfallen voice.
“And you take care of your own duties, Harry Haritonovich.” Hilobok felt very ilclass="underline" his fears were being justified. “He's estranging me!” He was afraid now and hating the dead Krivoshein much more than he had ever hated the live one.
“There! He's really making trouble again, isn't he?” Hilobok spoke, cocking his head to one side. “Look at all the troubles now! Ah, Arkady Arkadievich, don't you think I can see how you're taking this? Don't you think I understand? You shouldn't pull yourself away from your work and get all upset by this. The whole city will be talking, saying that Azarov had another one at the Institute… and that he's trying to cover it up — you know what people are like now. That Krivoshein, that Valentin Vasilyevich! Didn't I tell you, Arkady Arkadievich, didn't I foretell that he would be only trouble and danger! You shouldn't have supported his project, Arkady Arkadievich!”
Azarov listened, frowned, and felt his brain being overpowered by the usual hopeless numbness — like his neurasthenia coming back. This numbness always hit him after a prolonged conversation with Hilobok and forced him to agree with him. Now his head was buzzing with the thought that it probably takes more mental exertion to withstand babble like this than it does to do mathematical research.
“Why don't I fire him?” The idea popped into his mind. “Throw him out of the institute and that's that. This is humiliating. Yes, but with what cause? He manages his responsibilities. He's got eighteen works published, ten years' seniority. He passed the promotion test (of course, there was no one else taking it at the time) — there's nothing to complain about! And I gave him that favorable response on his dissertation like a fool. Should I fire him for stupidity and ineptness? Well… that would certainly be a new precedent in science.”
“He put in orders, used up materials and equipment, took up a whole building, worked for two years — and here you go, this calamity is all yours!” Hilobok was whipping himself up. “And at my defense… it wasn't just me that he shamed. I'm not that important. But he shamed you, Arkady Arkadievich, too! If I had my way, Arkady Arkadievich, I'd give that Krivoshein plenty for what he did to manage, I mean managed to did, I mean, to do, damn it!” He leaned over the desk, his brown eyes flashing with intense hatred. “It's too bad that we award only honors posthumously, write pleasant obituaries and the like. De mortis aut bene aut nihil, you know! But that Krivoshein should be reprimanded posthumously, so that others would learn a lesson! And a severe reprimand! And it should be entered — “
“ — on the tombstone. That's an idea!” a voice added behind him. “What a viper you are, Hilobok.”
Harry Haritonovich straightened up so fast it looked as though someone had given him a shot of rock salt in the rear. Azarov looked up: Krivoshein stood in the doorway.
“Hello, Arkady Arkadievich, forgive me for showing up without an appointment. May I come in?”
“H — he… hello, Valentin Vasilyevich!” Azarov stood up. His heart was pounding wildly. “Hello… oof, I see you're not… I'm happy to see you in good health! Come in, please!”
Krivoshein shook the barely proffered hand (the academician was relieved to see the hand was warm) and turned to Hilobok. Harry's mouth opened and closed noiselessly.
“Harry Haritonovich, would you please leave us alone? I would be very grateful if you did.”
“Yes, Harry Haritonovich, go,” Azarov said.
Hilobok backed to the door, bumping his head soundly on the wall, felt for the doorknob, and rushed out.
Gathering his wits about him, Arkady Arkadievich took a deep breath to calm his heart, sat behind his desk, and suddenly felt irritated. “Was I the butt of a practical joke?” he thought.
“Would you be so kind, Valentin Vasilyevich, to explain what all this means? What is this business with your, forgive me, corpse, the skeleton, and so on?”
“Nothing criminal, Arkady Arkadievich — may I?” Krivoshein sank into the leather armchair by the desk. “The self — organizing computer, about which I spoke at the scientific council last summer, actually did develop… and it developed to the point that it tried to create a person. Me. And, as they say, the first pancake is a lump.”
“Why wasn't I kept informed?” Azarov asked angrily, remembering the humiliating conversation the day before yesterday with the investigator and the other experiences of the last two days. “Why?” Krivoshein flew into a rage.
“Damn it!” He leaped forward, banging his fist on the soft arm of the chair. “Why don't you ask how we did it? How we managed to do it? Why are you more concerned with personal prestige, subordination, the relationship of others to your directorial ego?”
Krivoshein's announcement had reached Azarov in its most general form: he had gotten some result. Heads of departments and labs were always telling Azarov about their results, sitting in that very leather chair. And it was only as a delayed reaction that Arkady Arkadievich began to realize just what kind of a result it was. The world shuddered and became unreal for a moment. “Impossible! No, that's just the point, it is possible! Now everything falls into place and I see.” The academician spoke in a different tone. “Of course, this is… monumental. My congratulations, Valentin Vasilyevich. And… my apologies. I jumped the gun; it didn't come out right. A thousand pardons! This is a major. invention, even though the idea of communicating and synthesizing the information in man has been expressed by the late Norbert Weiner. [Krivoshein chuckled.] Of course this doesn't diminish… I remember your idea, and the day before yesterday I saw a few… results of your work. Since I am quite well versed in systemology myself [Krivoshein chuckled again], I, naturally, am prepared to accept what you've told me. Naturally, I congratulate you from the bottom of my heart! But you must admit, Valentin Vasilyevich, that this happy event for science could have been less worrisome and even less scandalous if you had kept me informed of your progress over the past year.”