exist.
I'm dividing my time now between the information chamber and the library. I've gone through a ton of books — and nothing.
I could increase the volume of the double's brain. That wouldn't be hard. I can watch the brain appear. But there is no correlation between brain weight and the mind: Anatole France's brain weighed a kilogram; Turgenev's brain, two kilos; and one cretin's brain almost made three kilos: 2 kilos 850 grams.
I could increase the surface of the cortex or the number of ridges. That's just as easy. But there is no correlation between the number of ridges and intellect: a woodpecker has many more ridges than our close relative the orangutan. So much for birdbrains!
I know what man's mind is related to: the quick action of our nerve cells. This is perfectly clear, and for electronic machines the quickness is the most important thing. If the computer doesn't solve the problem in the short time it takes for the fuel to burn in the launching rocket — the rocket, instead of going into orbit, will fall on the ground.
Most mistakes we make are analogous: we don't solve the problem in the given time; we don't have time to figure things out. The problems in life are no simpler than bringing a rocket into orbit. And time is always critical. It's terrifying to think how many mistakes are made in the world just because we can only process two dozen bits of information in a second instead of two hundred bits!
And so what? There are zillions of articles, reports, and monographs on the perfection of logic and the speeding up of work of computers (even though they can already do close to ten million operations a second) — and nothing about improving the logic and speed of human thought. The dobbler goes around without boots.
In a word, how sad that this idea will have to be left for better times….
Graduate student Krivoshein rubbed his neck thoughtfully. “Yes, he's right….” He hadn't thought about that; it never occurred to him. Maybe because on a fellowship you don't go around lending money very often. The only thing that occupied him was improving his memory, and that came about on its own. There was too much to remember at once to transform oneself. And when the experiment was over, unnecessary information cluttered up his mind and interfered with the new work. So he mastered the chemistry of directed forgetting: he erased from his cortex those little details of new knowledge that were easier to figure out again than to remember.
But that was something else. He hadn't thought about speed of the brain's logic. He felt funny. He was so engrossed in biology that he had forgotten he came there as a systems engineer to probe new possibilities in man. Did that mean that he didn't direct the work, that the work had taken him astray? He did what fell into his hands. “Humanity could perish if everyone did only what he could handle,” Androsiashvili had said. And that was no joke.
But it's easy to approach this problem. In humans, information is transported by ions, and you can't make them go any faster, the way computers can. Oh, oh, I seem to be justifying myself! Man can solve complex problems very easily: move, work, talk, but when it comes to logic he just doesn't have the biological experience. Animals in evolution didn't have to think, they had to take action — bite, howl, leap, crawl — and the faster the better. Now if animals had had to solve systems of equations, carry on diplomatic talks, do business, and make sense of the world in order to survive — then what wonderful logic they would have developed! I have to think about this, look around….
August 4. The blinking lights on the control panel of the TsVM — 12 have stopped. That means that all the information about me is recorded in the computer — womb. Where are they now, my dreams, my character flaws, the construction of my intestines, thoughts, and average looks — in the cubes of magnetic memory? In the cells of the crystal unit? Or are they dissolved in the golden liquid of the tank? I don't know, and it doesn't matter.
Tomorrow, a trial re — creation. Only a trial, and nothing more.
August 5. 2:05 P.M. “You may!” A new, spectral me began appearing in the sunny liquid of the vat. The picture is the same as a rabbit appearing, but at the same moment as the circulatory system appears so does a fuzzy gray mass at the top of the vat; that becomes the brain. The brain that I can't improve upon with new information. The eye sees but the tooth can't bite.
But by four in the afternoon the new double has reached the opaque stage; there are intimations of underwear….
If six months ago someone had told me that questions of life and death and morality and criminal law would enter my methodology, I doubt that I would have been able to appreciate the depth of the wit. And now I stood in front of the tank and thought: “He's going to come to life now, climb out of the liquid. Why? What will I do with him?”
“I existed before I appeared in the computer,” my first double said to me. “I was you.”
And he was unhappy with his situation. But we'll learn all the joys of communal living with this one: arguments over Lena, worries that we'll be caught, the problems of the bed versus the cot…. And most important: this is not what I had expected from the new experiment. The experiment is a success. The computer is re — creating me. But I have to move beyond that.
And if I dissolve him with the command “No!” — isn't that death? But, forgive me, whose death is it? Mine? No, I'm still alive. The double's in the vat? But he doesn't exist yet.
Is this all subject to the rule of law — my experiments? And on the other hand, is this abuse of my work? My double was right: there is really strange work.
And it all stems, I guess, from faintheartedness. In our modern world people in the name of ideals and political goals go forth and send others to kill and die. There are ideas and goals that justify it. And I have a great idea and a great goal: to create a method that improves man and human society. I won't spare myself, if need be. Then why am I afraid to give the command “No!” for the sake of my work? I have to be firmer, if I'm undertaking this work.
Especially since this isn't death. Death is the disappearance of information about a man, but the information is not lost in the computer — womb; it merely changes form, from electrical impulses and potentials to man. And I can always give them another double if they want….
I pondered until the hoses leaving the tank began contracting rhythmically, emptying out the excess liquid. Then I put on the Crown and gave the command.
It's not a pleasant sight: there was a man — and he dissolved. I still feel bad…. All right, pal, don't rush. I'll make you fine and dandy. Of course, I can't give you more brains than what I've got myself, but at least I'll give you looks that will make you reel. After all, you have lots of flaws, as I do: slightly bowed legs, hips too wide and fat, rounded shoulders, a stumpy torso, masses of excess hair on the legs, chest, and back. And protruding ears, and a jaw that makes me look like a complete dolt. And my forehead, and my nose. no, let's be self — critical. It just won't do!
August 6. Experiment number 2 — things get harder by the hour! Today I decided to improve on the looks of a new double and got so messed up that I don't even want to think about it.
I began knowing exactly what was “not it” in my looks. (Actually, it's all “not it,” if it can be changed.) But what was “it?” In my experiments with the rabbits the criterion for “it” was whatever I felt like. But a man is no rabbit; even though they say one head is good, and two are better, no one ever thought that in a biological sense.
After my command of “You may!” the image of the new double appeared and the semitransparent lilac muscles of the stomach had started disappearing under a layer of yellow fat, I gave the signal “That's not it!” The computer, obeying my imagination, dissolved the fat tissue where I saw it: on the stomach and near the neck, leaving it on the back and sides.
I hadn't noticed that right away, because I was working on the face. Mentally I gave the double a noble brow, but when I looked at the profile, I was aghast: the skull had been flattened! And the shape of the brow contradicted the rest of the face.
In a word, I was lost. The computer took that for a total “not it” and dissolved the double.
I was at dead — end. “It was obviously the beauty of the human body. There are classical examples of it. But… turning my double into a pleasant — looking man with classic features in the course of two hours of synthesis was something that was beyond the powers of not only me, but of the most qualified member of the Artists' Union of the USSR! My only hope was that the computer was remembering all the changes made on the double.
Then I gave the order “You may!” once more. Yes, the computer — womb remembered everything: the double retained all my clumsy changes. That was better, I could work as many sessions as was necessary.
