Self-discovery

“So….” Onisimov stared as Krivoshein's face relaxed and took on its former features: blood drained from his cheeks. He lost his breath. Matvei Apollonovich had been in quite a few fixes in the line of duty: he had been shot at and he had done some shooting — but he had never been this scared in his life. “Then you're… you?”

“That is it: I'm me.” Krivoshein stood up and walked over to the desk. Onisimov squirmed under his angry gaze. “Listen; end this nonsense! Everyone's alive, everything is in place. What more do you want? No sculpture or skeleton is going to prove that Krivoshein died. Here he is, Krivoshein, standing before you! Nothing happened, do you understand? It's just the project.”

“But. how?” Matvei Apollonovich muttered. “Couldn't you explain?”

Krivoshein frowned sadly.

“Ah, Matvei Apollonovich, what could I explain to you? You used all of detection's technology: televideophones, Gerasimov's system of reconstructing the face… and still… you couldn't even figure out a type like Hilobok. And that's a clear — cut case with him. There was no crime, you can be sure of that.”

“But… I'll have to report. I have to tell them something. What do I do?”

“Now we're talking business.” Krivoshein sat down again. “I'll give you an explanation. Remember this part about the skeleton resembling me. It's a family heirloom. My maternal grandfather, Andrei Stepanovich Kotlyar, a famous biologist in his day, willed that he not be buried but embalmed and his skeleton left to his descendants who went into science. An old scientist's eccentricity, understand? And apparently you discovered broken right ribs in the skeleton, which naturally raised some suspicion. Well, grandfather died in a road accident. The old man loved zooming around on a motorcycle over the speed limit. Understand?” “I see.” Onisimov nodded rapidly

“That's better. I hope that this… family heirloom will be returned to its owner after the case is closed. As well as the other 'clues' taken from the laboratory. The time will come,” Krivoshein's voice resounded dreamily, “the time will come, Matvei Apollonovich, when that head will grace not your desk but a memorial. Well, I'm off. I hope I've explained everything. Please give me Kravets's papers. Thank you. Oh yes, the guard you were so kind to leave at the lab has requested relief. Please let him go. Thanks.”

Krivoshein stuffed the papers in his pocket and headed for the door. But a thought struck him on the way. “Listen, Matvei Apollonovich,” he said, coming back to the desk, “please don't be hurt by my proposal, but would you like to be a little smarter? You'll grasp things quickly. You'll think broadly and profoundly. You'll see clues and delve into the essence of things and phenomena. You'll understand the human soul! And your mind will be visited by marvelous ideas — things that will make your cheeks cold with amazement. You see, life is complicated, and it will get more so. The only way to remain at a human being's top position in it is to understand everything. There is no other way. And that's possible, Matvei Apollonovich! Would you like it? I can arrange it!”

Onisimov's face, contorted in insult and injury, filled with blood.

“You're mocking me,” he said. “It's not enough that you've.. you're mocking me too. Go on, citizen, out.”

Krivoshein shrugged and turned to the door.

“Wait!”

“What now?”

“Just a second, citizen… Krivoshein. All right, I don't understand. Perhaps you really have the science for this. I'll accept your version of the story — I have no choice. And you can think what you want of me….” Matvei Apollonovich couldn't get over the insult. Krivoshein frowned: what is he leading up to? “But if we accept your version, a man perished. Who's guilty?”

The graduate student looked at him carefully.

“Everyone a little, Matvei Apollonovich. Himself, and me, and Azarov, and others… and even you are mixed up in it a little, even though you didn't know him, because, without really knowing, you suspected people. But according to the criminal code, no one. That happens.”

“I think that's taken care of,” the student said to himself as he got into the bus.

Tomorrow is the experiment. Actually, not even tomorrow, but tonight, in seven or eight hours. I'm never sleepy before I have an important thing to do, but I need the sleep. That's why I walked and rode around town for over four hours, to get worn out and distract myself.

I was everywhere: midtown, suburbs, by the train station. I looked at people, houses, trees, animals. I watched the parade of Life.

A desiccated old man hobbled toward me with a yellowed mustache and a red, wrinkly face. He had three Saint George crosses and a medal on a striped ribbon dangling from his gray sateen shirt. The old man stopped in the short shadows of the lindens to catch his breath.