Self-discovery

“Well,” Petersburgian Ivanov broke the silence, “Oink something, you old pig.”

“I see your mug is assymetrical.”

“Assymetry is a sign of the times. That's my teeth. I got a chill in the train,” he said touching his cheek.

“Let me give you a punch — it'll pass.”

“Thanks. I think I'll stick to cognac.”

That was our usual warm — up before a good talk.

They brought cognac and wine for the lady. We drank, satisfied our first hunger with sturgeon in aspic and then stared at each other expectantly again. There were parties going on around us. A tubby man standing at two joined tables was toasting “mother science.” (They were drinking to a completed dissertation.) A tipsy fellow all alone at a neighboring table was threatening a carafe of vodka, muttering:

“I'm quiet… I'm quiet!” He was bursting to tell some secret.

“Listen, Val!”

“Listen, Valery!”

We looked at each other.

“Well, you go first.” I nodded.

“Listen, Val,” his eyes glistening invitingly behind his glasses, “drop your systemology and come over to us. I'll arrange your transfer. We're working on such an interesting project now! A microelectric complex, a machine that makes machines. Do you get it?”

“Solid — state circuits?”

“Ah, what are solid — state circuits — obsolete now. Electronic and plasma rays plus electrophotography plus cathode spraying of film plus… in a word, here's the idea. The circuit of an electronic machine evolves in bundles of ions and electrons, like the image on a TV screen — and that's it. It's finished; it can work. A density of elements as in the human brain. See that?”

“And does that exist now?”

“Well, you see…” he raised his eyebrows. “If it did, then why would I call on you? We'll do it in the time allotted.”

(Well, of course, I had to drop systemology and follow him! Not him follow me; oh, no… of course not! That's the way it always was.)

“What about the Americans?”

“They're trying, too. The question is who'll be first. We're working at full blast. I've already made a dozen depositions. Do you get it?”

“Well, what's the goal?”

“Very simple: to make computers as easily mass produced and cheap as newspapers. Do you know the code name I gave to the project? 'Poem. And it really is a technological poem!” The booze made Valery's nose glow. He was putting in a big effort and was probably sure of success. I was always easy to talk into things. “A computer factory no bigger than a TV set, can you imagine that? A factory that's a machine! It receives a technical assignment by teletype for new computers, recalculates the assignment into circuits, encodes the result into electric impulses, which run the beams on the screen and print out the circuit. Twenty seconds — and the computer is finished. A thin plate that contains the same circuitry it now takes a whole room to house, understand? They send the thin plate in an envelope to the buyer, and he installs it in the unit. The command panel of a chemcial plant, a system for controlling traffic lights in a city, a car — wherever — everything that in the past had been done slowly, clumsily, and with mistakes by man can now be done with electronic precision by the wise microelectronic plate! So you see what I mean?”

Lena was watching Valery rapturously. Really, the picture he painted was so marvelous that I didn't realize right away that he was talking about the same film circuits that I created in the tank of the computer — womb. Of course, they were simpler ones, but in principle, more complex ones could be made, too.

“But why the vacuum and various rays? Why not chemistry? Probably, you could do it that way, too.”

“Chemistry. Personally, ever since Professor Varfolomeyev used to lecture us, I haven't been too hot on chemistry. [Lena giggled.] But if you have some ideas on chemical microelectronics — let's have them. I'm for it. You can handle that end of it. In the long run, it's not important how we do it, as long as it gets done. And then… and then we'll be able to do so much….” He leaned back dreamily. “Judge for yourself. Why should the computer — factory be assigned to create circuits? That's extra work. All it has to do is receive information on the problems. After all, we have computers working in production, in services, in transport, in defense. Why translate their impulses into human speech if they will only have to be retranslated back into impulses! Imagine: the computer — factories receive radioed information about other computers from industry, planning, production, shipping.. from everywhere, even on the weather, the crops, the needs of people. They work it out into the necessary circuits and send them out.”

“Microelectrical recommendations?”

“Directives, my good fellow! What recommendations? Mathematically based electronic circuits are the reflexes of production. You don't argue with mathematics.”

We drank.

“Valery,” I said, “if you do this, you'll be so famous that they'll even print your picture on bathroom paper!”

“Yours, too,” he added generously. “We'll be famous together.”