Self-discovery

First round (playing crosswits): 5–3 in his favor. Round two (playing words): in ten minutes he built eight more words than I did from “abbreviation” and twelve more than me from “retrogression.” Round three: we solved logic puzzles from the college text by Azarov, beginning with number 223. I only reached number 235 in two hours of work; he got up to 240.

I wasn't faking — I was really caught up in the contest. That means that he thinks 25–30 percent faster than I do — and that's from a simple — minded clumsy attempt at improvement. Just think what could have been done scientifically!

We'll see how he is at work.

December 7. Our work so far isn't intellectual. We're cleaning up the lab. And not only because of the intertwined wires and living hoses. We're dusting and vacuuming and removing mildew from flasks, and equipment and panels.

“Tell me, how do you feel about biology?”

“Biology?” he looked at me in surprise, then remembered. “Oh, I see where you're leading. You know, I don't understand him either. I think it was some kind of fixation coming from trying to prove himself.”

“Wow!” said student Krivoshein and even bounced on his chair. “Now that's something!”

But how… after all, double number 3 was also a continuation of the computer — womb! That meant… that meant that the computer had learned how to construct the human organism? Well, of course. He was the first. That's why all that complex searching and retrieval had been necessary. And now the computer remembered all the attempts and picked from among them those that led directly to the goal, constructing a program for synthesizing man.

That meant that his discovery of inner transformations was truly unique. It had to be saved. The best thing would be to re — record himself in the computer — womb, not with a vague memory of the search, but with precise and proven knowledge on transforming himself. But why?

“Ah, how much can you think about that!” He frowned and went back to the diary.

December 18. I don't remember. Are these frosts the ones called Epiphany frosts or the ones in January? The northeast wind had brought us a real Siberian winter and the steam heat can barely hold its own. The grounds are all white and the lab is brighter.

I don't know if all the biblical rules were followed but the new double has been christened. And the godfather was none other than Harry Hilobok.

This is how it happened. Students from Kharkov U. came for their year of probation work. The day before yesterday I dropped by the dorms for the young specialists and borrowed “for psychological experimentation” a student card and a directive to work here. The students gaped at me with awe and their eyes were aglow with a readiness to give not only their cards but their shoes for the good of science. I borrowed a passport from Pasha Fartkin.

Then we familiarized the computer — womb with the appearance and contents of the documents. We manipulated them in front of the objectives, rustled the pages…. When the passport, the student card, and the form appeared in the tank, I put on the crown and with the “it — not it” method corrected all the information.

Double number 3 is now called Victor Vitalyevich Kravets. He is twenty — three, Russian, subject to military service, a fifth — year student in the physics department at Kharkov State U, lives in Kharkov, 17 Kholodnaya Gora. Pleased to meet you.

Am I? During the operation the newly hatched Kravets and I talked in whispers and felt like counterfeiters who were about to be caught. The engrained respect for the law in intellectuals showed itself again.

We also felt strange the next day when we went to see Hilobok: Kravets, to report in, and me, to ask that he be assigned to my lab. My biggest worry was that Hilobok would assign him to another lab. But it worked out. There were more students that year than snow. When Hilobok heard that I would guarantee the material needed for student Kravets's diploma thesis, he tried to foist another two on me.

Harry, naturally, noted the resemblance between us.

“He's not a relative of yours, is he, Valentin Vasilyevich?”

“Well, sort of. A nephew three times removed.”

“Well, then it's understandable! Of course, of course…..” His face expressed understanding of my familial feelings and his tolerance of them. “And will be be living with you?”

“No, why? Let him stay in the dorms.”

“Oh, of course.” Harry's face made it clear that my relationship with Lena was no secret to him either. “I understand you, Valentin Vasileyvich. Oh, how I understand!”

God, how disgusting it is when Hilobok “oh, understands” you.

“And how are things with your doctoral dissertation, Harry Har — itonovich?” I asked, to change the subject.

“The doctoral?” He looked at me very carefully. “It's all right. Why do you ask, Valentin Vasilyevich? You're in discrete phenomena; analog electronics isn't in your field.”

“Right now I don't know what's in my field and what isn't, Harry Haritonovich,” I replied honestly.