Self-discovery

“Tell me, little girl,” Krivoshein smiled in his most kindly manner so that she wouldn't take him for a drunk and get scared, “but please don't be surprised by my question: at your school, do you spit in the ear of someone who hasn't kept a promise?”

“No… no,” the girl answered cautiously.

“In my day, that's what we did. That was the barbaric custom. And you know what? I give you my word: in less than a year, you will be healthy and beautiful. You'll run and jump and ride a bike and swim in the river. It will all come true. I promise. You can spit in my ear if it doesn't.”

The girl looked at him with full attention. An uncertain smile appeared on her lips.

“But… we don't spit. It's not like that at our school.”

“I see! And you won't go to a school like that either. You'll go to a regular school. You'll see. I promise.”

He had nothing else to say. But the girl was looking at him so that he couldn't possibly leave.

“My name is Sasha. What's yours?”

“Valya… Valentin Vasilyevich.”

“I know, you live in number thirty — three. I live in thirty — nine, two houses down.”

“Well, I have to go… to work.”

“Second shift?”

“Yes, the second shift. Good — bye, Sasha.”

“Good — bye.”

He got up. He smiled and threw his head back, squinting, meaning: don't give up now; look happy! It'll be! She threw back her head in reply, squinted, and smiled: don't worry, I won't give up. And still he left with the feeling that he had abandoned someone who needed his help.

The alley led out into the street. Cars sped around beyond the last chestnut trees. All three turned around: the girl was watching them. They waved. She smiled and waved a thin arm.

“You see, Vitya, lad,” Krivoshein put his arm around Kravets's shoulder/'you see, Vitya, I still love you, you bum, even though there's no reason to. You should be whipped with a belt, like father used to have when we were little, but you're too big and serious for that.”

“Drop it!” Kravets freed himself.

“You see, Vitya, our idea of a happiness button was an engineer's dream. In general people turn to technology for relief from demands on themselves. It's funny! It's easy enough to create a happiness button for rats: you implant an electrode in the pleasure center of the cortex and let the rat push a lever to make contact. But that kind of happiness probably won't do for people although there is a method that is mathematical and not with a button. And we're reaching it empirically, slowly but surely. The fact that we're beating our brains out to make sure it benefits people, and not just ourselves, and that we won't accept any other way — that's part of the method. And the fact that Adam could overcome his fears and come back with a good idea — that comes from the method, too. Of course, if the experiment had been more thoroughly prepared he might still be alive, but none of us is perfect or guaranteed everlasting life: that's the nature of the work. And the fact that he chose to synthesize people and not microelectronic machines, which would have been simpler and more lucrative — that's part of the method, too. And the fact that we have gathered knowledge about our discovery. We're not dilettantes or amateurs any more — and neither work nor arguments can throw us off the track. We can throw whomever we want off. And in an honest argument, knowledge is the best weapon.”

“How about in a dishonest one?”

“It works there, too. Harry got squeezed — with the method. We got out of a tight fix and saved the project — also part of it. We can do a lot: work, and fight, and politic. Of course, it would be better if we got along, but we can manage even if we don't. Adam, give me a cigarette, will you? I'm all out.”

Krivoshein lit up and continued:

“And in the future we should be guided by this empirical method in our work and in life. First and foremost, we work together. The most terrible thing in our work is being alone. Look what it led to. Let's gather smart, honest, strong, and knowledgeable men around the project. To make sure that the hand of a bastard, fool, or banality never touches our discovery at any point. So that there will be someone to raise the alarm! And we'll attract Azarov, and Vano Aleksandrovich Androsiashvili — he's someone I've been thinking about. We'll even try Valery Ivanov… and if we work this way everything will be 'it' including the method for duplicating people, duplicating them with alterations, and the informational transformation of regular people.”

“But this is still not an engineering solution. There is no one hundred percent guarantee,” Kravets said stubbornly. “We can try, of course. Do you think Azarov will join us?”