Self-discovery

“All right. We will return your documents to you in a little while,” the investigator continued in an official voice. “Good day, citizen Kravets. Don't forget us. See him out, comrade Gayevoy.”

Matvei Apollonovich showed up at work with a headache after his difficult night. He was sitting at his desk, making out his plan for the day.

“1. Send the liquid for further analysis to see if there are any undissolved human tissues in it;

2. Inform the security organs (through Aleksei Ignatievich);

3. — “

“May I come in?” a voice asked softly, making Onisimov's skin crawl. “Good morning.”

Krivoshein was in his doorway.

“Did the man on duty send me to the right place? You are the investigator Onisimov, who's in charge of the incident in my lab? How do you do. May I?” He sat down, took out a handkerchief, and wiped his face. “It's only morning, but the heat is unbearable!”

The investigator sat in stunned silence.

“Well, I'm Valentin Vasilyevich Krivoshein, head of the New Systems Laboratory at the Institute of Systemology,” the visitor explained. “I only found out today, you see… that you're… that the police are interested in this sad affair, and I hurried right over. Naturally, I would have given you a thorough explanation yesterday or even the day before, but… [shrugs] it never even occurred to me that an unsuccessful experiment would lead to such a to — do, involving the police! I was resting in my apartment, rather unwell after the experiment. You see, comrade Onisimov… excuse me, what's your name and patronymic?”

“Apollon Matvei… I mean, Matvei Apollonovich,” Onisimov muttered hoarsely and coughed to clear his throat.

“You see, Matvei Apollonovich, it was like this: in the process of the experiment I had to immerse myself in the tank with the biological informational medium. Unfortunately, the tank was unsteady and turned over. I fell with it, hitting my head on the floor, and lost consciousness. I'm afraid that the tank must have hit my assistant too — I remember he tried to hold it up at the last second. I came to under an oilcloth on the floor. I heard voices in the lab….” Krivoshein gave a charming smile. “You'll admit, Matvei Apollonovich, that it would have been very embarrassing for me to stand up in my own laboratory in my birthday suit with a bashed — in head. And that liquid, it stings terribly, worse than soap suds! So I sneaked out from under the oilcloth and scurried into the shower room to wash up and change. I must admit that I don't know how long I was in the shower; my head was spinning and my mind was fuzzy. I probably didn't even know what I was doing. Anyway, when I came out there was no one in the lab. And I went home to rest up. That's it in a nutshell. If you like, I can give you a written explanation, and we can end all this —

“I see.” Onisimov was gathering his wits about him gradually. “And what experiments were you doing in the laboratory?”

“You see… I'm researching the biochemsitry of higher combinations in a systemological aspect with the addition of polymorphous anthropologism,” Krivoshein explained blandly. “Or the systemology of higher forms in a biochemical aspect with the addition of anthropological polymorphism, if you will.”

“I see. And where did the skeleton come from?” Matvei Apollonovich squinted at the box on the corner of his desk. “You just wait!” he thought.

“Skeleton? Oh, the skeleton!” Krivoshein smiled. “You see, we keep the skeleton in the lab for educational purposes. It's always in the same corner that I was put in when I was unconscious.”

“And what do you say to this?” Matvei Apollonovich removed the box that covered the sculpted head of Krivoshein. The pale — gray plastic eyes stared at the visitor who grew pale himself. “Do you recognize it?”

Graduate student Krivoshein lowered his head. Only now was he certain of what he had suspected, and what he didn't want to believe: Val had perished in the experiment.

“Your story doesn't make sense, citizen! I don't know your name or who you are.” Onisimov, controlling his feeling of triumph, leaned back in his chair. “Yesterday you managed to mystify me but you won't get away with it today. I'm going to arrange for a little meeting between you and your co — conspirator Kravets, and then what will you say?”

He reached for the phone. But Krivoshein put his hand on the receiver.

“Hey! What are you — “ Onisimov looked up angrily and saw himself… a broad face with narrow lips and a sharp chin, a thin nose, fine wrinkles around the mouth and small close — set eyes. Only now did Matvei Apollonovich notice the blue suit, just like his, and the Ukrainian shirt.

“Don't fool around, Onisimov! It won't be what you expect. You'll only succeed in making yourself look foolish. No more than twenty minutes ago investigator Onisimov released Kravets for lack of evidence.”