Self-discovery

But even then it won't work like that. If you give the world a method like that, it will destroy the balance that exists and push the world into nuclear war. “People will still live. Atom bombs aren't so terrible — let's set them off!” some idiot politician will think. “The problem of the Near East? There is no Near East! The Vietnam problem? What Vietnam? Buy personal bomb shelters for your soul!”

Then that's “not it” either. What is “it?” Is there an “it?”

PART THREE AWAKENING

Chapter 19

Sleep is the best weapon against sleepiness.

— K. Prutkov — engineer. A Sketch for an Encyclopedia

A quick — flowing June night: the purple sunset had gone out in the west a short time ago and now in the southeast, beyond the Dneiper, the sky was growing light again. But even a short night is a night; it has the same effect on people. The inhabitants of the shaded parts of the planet sleep. The citizens of Dneprovsk were sleeping. Many of the participants in the described events were sleeping.

Matvei Apollonovich Onisimov was sleeping fitfully. He had a lot of trouble falling asleep: he smoked, tossed and turned, and bothered his wife while he thought about what had happened. When he did fall asleep, exhausted, his overstimulated mind offered a terrible dream. It seemed three bodies killed by fire throwers were found in three city parks. Medical Examiner Zubato, too lazy to examine all three bodies, came up with the theory that all three were killed with one shot. To probe the veracity of his theory, he sat the bodies down on a marble bench in the autopsy room, arms around one another; their wounds matched up.

Matvei Apollonovich, who usually had black and murky dreams that looked as if they were an old, used film, experienced this picture in 3 — D, with color and smell; there were three Krivosheins in a row — huge, naked, pink ones smelling of meat — and they were staring at him with photogenic smiles. Onisimov woke up in protest. But (the dream had helped) he had the beginnings of a good theory when he woke up: they were boiling the murdered Krivoshein's body in that lab! After all — a body is the most important clue and it's risky to hide it or bury it; it could be found. And so they were boiling or disintegrating the body in a special liquid, and since this wasn't an easy matter, they miscalculated and the tank turned over. And that's why the body seemed warm when Prakhov the technician found it in the tank! That's why it melted so fast, soaked as it was in their chemicals, leaving only a skeleton. The lab assistant had been knocked out by the tank, and the other conspirator — the one who was pulling all those tricks in front of him yesterday — ran off. (It was clear that the mystifier or circus performer was either using masks or else was well trained in mimicry.) And then he arranged for an alibi — he could have fooled that Moscow professor with his masks and mime. And his papers were just very good fakes.

Matvei Apollonovich lit another cigarette. And still this was no simple crime. If the perpetrators were working both here and in Moscow and there was no motive of greed, personal vendetta, or sex, then. probably Krivoshein had made a serious invention or discovery. No, tomorrow he would insist to his chief that they bring in the security organs on this case! (Although Onisimov will never know what happened, we must give credit to his detective ability. Really: not knowing anything about the essence of the case and using only the external accidental facts, he managed to build a logical, consistent theory — not everyone can do that!)

Having made the decision, Matvei Apollonovich slept soundly. Now he was having pleasant dreams: he'd been promoted for solving the case. But dreams are even less subject to our control than reality, and the investigator began groaning and tossing. His awakened wife asked: “Matvei, what's the matter?” Onisimov had dreamed that there was a fire in the department and the new promotion list had been destroyed.

Arkady Arkadievich Azarov had just fallen asleep, and only with the help of two sleeping pills. (He'll wake up in the morning with neurasthenia.) He was also tormented by thoughts of the events in the New Systems Lab. He had already gotten a phone call from the Party City Committee: “Another accident, Arkady Arkadievich? With a loss of human life?” How do they find out so fast? Now it would all begin: reports, commissions, explanations…. But that's why he was a director and got a fat salary, so that he could be driven crazy! These are the things, for which he's not responsible and couldn't possibly be responsible, that cast aspersions on his honest, productive, positive work! Arkady Arkadievich felt alone and miserable.