Self-discovery

“Again?” she smiled, came up behind his chair, and put his head on her bosom. “Why do you keep harping on Victor? I don't need him. I don't care how good — looking he is; he's not you, understand? That's it. And the others aren't you either. Now I know for sure.”

“Hm?” Krivoshein untangled himself.

“What, 'hm'? You're jealous, silly. I didn't sit at home every night like a nun. I went out. I was courted, even seriously by some. And still, they were all wrong!” Her voice caressed him. “They're not like you — and that's it! I came back to you anyway.”

Krivoshein felt the warmth of her body with the back of his neck, felt her soft hands on his eyes and experienced an incomparable bliss. “I could sit like this forever. I've just come back from work, and nothing has happened. and I'm tired and she's here. but something did happen! Something very serious happened, and I'm sitting here stealing her caresses!”

He got up.

“All right, Lena. You'll excuse me, but I'm not going to walk you home. I'll just sit a while or go to sleep. I don't feel very well after all that.”

“I'll stay?”

It was half question, half statement. For a second Krivoshein was overwhelmed with wild jealousy. “I'll stay?” she used to say and he would agree. Or maybe he suggested it himself: “Stay tonight, Lena.” And she stayed.

“No, Lena, you go home.” He laughed bitterly.

“That means you're still mad, right?” She looked at him and got mad. “You're a fool, Val, a real jerk! The hell with you!” And she turned for the door.

Krivoshein stood in the middle of the room, listening: the click of the lock, Lena's heels on the stairs, the downstairs door slamming, quick light steps on the pavement. He ran to the balcony to call to her — and the evening breeze sobered him up. “So, I see her, and fall back in just like that! I wonder what she said to him? All right, the hell with last year's romances!” He went back inside. “I have to find out what happened here. Wait! He must have a diary! Of course!”

Krivoshein pulled open all the drawers in the desk, tossing out magazines, folders, quickly glancing through notebooks. No, that's not it. On the bottom of the last drawer he found a cassette, a quarter filled, and for a minute he forgot about his search: he got the cassette player from the shelf, dusted it off, put in the cassette, and turned it on playback.

“With the rights of the discoverers,” a hoarse voice began, after some hissing, carelessly slurring the endings of words, “we are taking it upon ourselves to research and exploit the discovery to be called — “

“The artificial biological synthesis of information,” another voice (though remarkably like the first) added. “It's not particularly euphonious, but it's accurate.”

“Fine. The artificial biological synthesis of information. We understand that this discovery touches upon man's life like no other and is capable of becoming the greatest threat or the greatest boon for mankind. We swear to do everything in our power to use this discovery for the good of humanity.”

“We swear that until we have researched all the potentials of this discovery — “

“And until it is clear to us how to use it with absolute reliability for the good of humanity — “ “Not to turn it over into anyone else's hands — “

“And not to publish anything about it.”

Krivoshein stood with his eyes closed. He was transported to that May night when they made that vow.

“We vow not to give away our discovery for our well — being, or fame, or immortality until we are sure that it cannot be used to harm people. We will destroy our work rather than permit that.”

“We swear!” The two voices spoke in unison. The tape ended.

“We were hotheads then. So, the diary must be nearby.” Krivoshein dove into the desk once more, rummaged about, and a second later held a notebook with a yellow cardboard cover, as thick and heavy as a book. There was nothing written on the cover, but Krivoshein was certain that he had found what he was after: a year ago, when he got to Moscow, he had bought himself the exact same notebook in a yellow cover to keep his own diary.

He sat down at the desk, moved the lamp closer, lit a cigarette, and opened the notebook.

PART TWO SELF — DISCOVERY

Chapter 6