Self-discovery

“I don't see that. If the computer, without any biological preparation, can re — create an entire person, then why does it need information when it will be creating parts of a person? Biological information won't help you construct a person or an arm. You crazy person, why can't you see that we can't delve into all the details of the human organism? We can't. We'll get bogged down. There are untold billions of them, and no two are the same. Nature didn't follow a few state plans, you know. That's why the question of correcting doubles must be reduced to tuning the computer — womb by external integral characteristics… in other words, so that we just have a few dials to spin!”

“Well, really!” He would spread his hands in shock and walk away.

This situation was getting on our nerves. We had wandered into a logistical dead end. A difference in opinion on future work is nothing so terrible; finally you can try it both ways and let the results be the judge. The unbearable part was that we did not understand each other! Us — two informationally identical people. Is there any truth in the world in that case?

I began reading his collection of biology opuses (when he was on duty at the lab). Maybe I just had an antibiology hangover from my school days and now I would read it, and be amazed, and start mumbling: “Now that's it!” I didn't. There was no question; it was an interesting science, and there were a lot of edifying details (but only details!) about the functions of the organism. It was good for one's general development, but it wasn't what we needed. It was a descriptive and approximate science, another form of geography. What did he see in it?

I'm an engineer — that says it all. After ten years of work, machines have entered my soul, and I feel confident working with them. In machines, everything is subject to reason and my hands; everything is definite. If it's yes, then it's yes; if it's no, then it's no. Not like with people: “Yes, but…” followed by a phrase that crosses out the “yes.” And yet the double was me….

We began avoiding our painful argument and worked in silence. Maybe everything would work out and we would understand each other. The information chamber was almost ready. Another day or two and we could let the rabbits in. And then what had to happen sooner or later finally happened: the phone rang in the laboratory.

It had rung before. “Valentin Vasilyevich, either produce a form requisitioning the reagents by June 1 or we'll close the supply department as far as you're concerned!” The call was from accounting. “Comrade Krivoshein, drop into department one,” said Johann Johannovich Kliapp. “Old man, can you lend me your silver — nickel battery for a week?” said good old Fenya Zagrebnyak. And so on. But this was an absolutely special call. As soon as my double had said “Krivoshein here,” he looked beatifically dumb.

“Yes, Lena,” he murmured, “yes… no, no, dearest. Don't be silly… every day and every hour!”

Pliers in hand, I froze by the chamber. My beloved was being taken away from me before my very eyes. My beloved! I knew that for sure now. I got hot. I coughed wheezily. My double looked up at me with eyes clouded with tender desire and came to. He was grim and sad.

“Just a second, Lena, ” and he handed me the phone. “It's basically for you.”

I grabbed the phone and shouted: “I'm listening, darling. Go on!”

Actually, there's no need to describe what we talked about. She, it turned out, was away on a business trip and had only returned yesterday. Of course, she was mad about the May 1 holidays. She had expected a call from me.

When I hung up, the double was gone from the lab. I didn't feel like working any more either. I locked up the lodge and headed off for home, whistling, to shave and change for that evening.

My double was packing.

“Going far?”

“To the village to visit my aunt, to the sticks, to Saratov! To Vladivostok to lick salt spray from my lips. It's none of your business.”

“No, drop the jokes. Where are you going? What's up?”

He looked up at me:

“You really don't understand? Well, that makes sense. You're not me.”

“No, why not? You are me, and I am you. That, anyway, was always our starting point.”

'That's the point — it's not so.” He lit up a cigarette and took a book from the shelf. “I'll take Introduction to Systemology. You can use the library. You are number one, and I'm the second. You were born, grew up, developed, took on a certain position in society. Every man has some place in life. Whether it's good or bad, it's his own. I have no place. It's taken! Everything's taken, from girl friend to civil position, from the bed to the apartment.”

“You can sleep on the bed, for God's sake, I don't have any objections.”

“Don't talk nonsense. The bed isn't the point.”

“Listen, if you're leaving over Lena, then. maybe we can experiment a little more, and… maybe we can try it?”