Arkadievich, I'd give that Krivoshein plenty for what he did to manage, I mean managed to did, I mean, to do, damn it!” He leaned over the desk, his brown eyes flashing with intense hatred. “It's too bad that we award only honors posthumously, write pleasant obituaries and the like. De mortis aut bene aut nihil, you know! But that Krivoshein should be reprimanded posthumously, so that others would learn a lesson! And a severe reprimand! And it should be entered — “
“ — on the tombstone. That's an idea!” a voice added behind him. “What a viper you are, Hilobok.”
Harry Haritonovich straightened up so fast it looked as though someone had given him a shot of rock salt in the rear. Azarov looked up: Krivoshein stood in the doorway.
“Hello, Arkady Arkadievich, forgive me for showing up without an appointment. May I come in?”
“H — he… hello, Valentin Vasilyevich!” Azarov stood up. His heart was pounding wildly. “Hello… oof, I see you're not… I'm happy to see you in good health! Come in, please!”
Krivoshein shook the barely proffered hand (the academician was relieved to see the hand was warm) and turned to Hilobok. Harry's mouth opened and closed noiselessly.
“Harry Haritonovich, would you please leave us alone? I would be very grateful if you did.”
“Yes, Harry Haritonovich, go,” Azarov said.
Hilobok backed to the door, bumping his head soundly on the wall, felt for the doorknob, and rushed out.
Gathering his wits about him, Arkady Arkadievich took a deep breath to calm his heart, sat behind his desk, and suddenly felt irritated. “Was I the butt of a practical joke?” he thought.
“Would you be so kind, Valentin Vasilyevich, to explain what all this means? What is this business with your, forgive me, corpse, the skeleton, and so on?”
“Nothing criminal, Arkady Arkadievich — may I?” Krivoshein sank into the leather armchair by the desk. “The self — organizing computer, about which I spoke at the scientific council last summer, actually did develop… and it developed to the point that it tried to create a person. Me. And, as they say, the first pancake is a lump.”
“Why wasn't I kept informed?” Azarov asked angrily, remembering the humiliating conversation the day before yesterday with the investigator and the other experiences of the last two days. “Why?” Krivoshein flew into a rage.
“Damn it!” He leaped forward, banging his fist on the soft arm of the chair. “Why don't you ask how we did it? How we managed to do it? Why are you more concerned with personal prestige, subordination, the relationship of others to your directorial ego?”
Krivoshein's announcement had reached Azarov in its most general form: he had gotten some result. Heads of departments and labs were always telling Azarov about their results, sitting in that very leather chair. And it was only as a delayed reaction that Arkady Arkadievich began to realize just what kind of a result it was. The world shuddered and became unreal for a moment. “Impossible! No, that's just the point, it is possible! Now everything falls into place and I see.” The academician spoke in a different tone. “Of course, this is… monumental. My congratulations, Valentin Vasilyevich. And… my apologies. I jumped the gun; it didn't come out right. A thousand pardons! This is a major. invention, even though the idea of communicating and synthesizing the information in man has been expressed by the late Norbert Weiner. [Krivoshein chuckled.] Of course this doesn't diminish… I remember your idea, and the day before yesterday I saw a few… results of your work. Since I am quite well versed in systemology myself [Krivoshein chuckled again], I, naturally, am prepared to accept what you've told me. Naturally, I congratulate you from the bottom of my heart! But you must admit, Valentin Vasilyevich, that this happy event for science could have been less worrisome and even less scandalous if you had kept me informed of your progress over the past year.”
“It's hard to get in to see you, Arkady Arkadievich.”
“You'll understand if I don't find that a substantial excuse, Valentin Vasilyevich!” Azarov frowned. “I'll admit that the procedure of getting in to see me might be offensive to you (even though all the workers at the institute have to submit to it at one time or another). But you could have telephoned me, left me a note (not necessarily a form in triplicate, either), or visited me at my apartment, you know!”
Arkady Arkadievich couldn't repress the hurt. “So… you work and work…” kept spinning through his mind. For a long time, since the days when his unsuccessful experiment with helium turned into the discovery of superfluidity in the hands of a colleague, Arkady Arkadievich had secretly hoped to see, find, and understand something new in nature and the world. He dreamed about a discovery with anticipation and trepidation, like a boy about to lose his virginity! But he had no luck. Others did, but not him! He had high — level, needed, much — valued and honored work to his credit, but no discovery — the height of comprehension.
And now in the institute that had been entrusted to him a discovery had been made without his knowledge, a discovery so huge that it dwarfed all of his work and the work of the entire institute! They managed without him. More than that! It seemed that they avoided him. “How so? Did he think I was dishonorable? What have I done to make him think that?” Academician Azarov hadn't had to experience such strong feelings in a long time.
“Hmmm. while sharing your joy for this discovery, Valentin Vasilyevich,” he went on, “I still am worried and saddened by your attitude. This may shock you, but I'm concerned not as a scientist or as your director, but as a human being: why like this? Surely you could see that my knowing about the project would do it no harm, but could only help: you would have been guaranteed direction, consultations.
If I had felt that you needed more workers or equipment, you would have had that, too. Then why, Valentin Vasilyevich? I'm not even deigning to think that you were worried about your inventor's patents….”
“But that didn't keep you from expressing the thought,” Krivoshein laughed sadly. “Well, all right. In general, I'm glad that you're distressed primarily as a human being; that gives me hope. For a while, we debated whether we should tell you about the work or not; we tried to meet with you. We couldn't make contact. And then we decided that at that stage of the project it was just as well.” He looked up at Azarov. “We didn't have much faith in you, Arkady Arkadievich. Do you know why? If for no other reason than that even now, instead of finding out more about the work, you tried to put the discovery and its credit where you thought it belonged: Weiner said…. What does Weiner's 'television' idea have to do with this? We've done it completely differently. And you know there wouldn't have been any consultations: I can't see you, an academician, displaying your ignorance in front of subordinate engineers. Another thing also: while you know very well that a researcher's value is in no way determined by his degrees or title, you nevertheless have never missed a chance to promote degreed and titled people into positions that others might have filled better. You think I didn't know from the start what my part would be in creating the new laboratory? Do you think that your warning to me after the scandal with Hilobok didn't affect my last experiment? It did. That's why I was rushing, taking risks. Do you think that my attitude toward you isn't affected by the fact that in your institute orders for exhibitions and other public relations nonsense always take precedence over things that are necessary for our work?”
“Now you're getting awfully petty, Valentin Vasilyevich!” Azarov said in irritation.
“Those were the petty things that I had to judge you by; there was nothing else. Or such a petty thing as the fact that a… a… well, that Hilobok sets the tone for the institute — whether through your disinterest or active support, I don't know. Of course, it's easy to feel intellectually superior next to Hilobok, even in a steam bath!”
Color rushed to Azarov's face: it's one thing when you realize something for yourself, and another when a subordinate tells you about it. Krivoshein realized he had gone too far and modified his tone.
“Please understand me correctly, Arkady Arkadievich. We had wanted you to participate in our work — and that's why I'm telling you this, not to insult you. There's much that we still don't understand in this discovery: man is a complicated system, and the computer that creates him is even more so. There's work here for thousands of experiments and studies. And that's our dream, to attract wise, knowledgeable, talented men to the project. But, you see, it's not enough to be a scientist for this work.”
“I hope that you will familiarize me more thoroughly with this work.” Azarov was gradually getting himself under control, and his sense of humor and superiority was returning. “Perhaps I will be of some service, as a scientist and as a human being.”
“Please God! We'll familiarize you with it… probably. I'm not alone in this, and can't make decisions on my own. But we will. We need you.”
“Valentin Vasilyevich,” the academician said, raising his shoulders, “excuse me, but are you planning to decide with your lab assistant whether or not you will allow me near your work? As far as I know, there is no one else in your lab?”
“Yes, and him too. Oh, my God!” Krivoshein sighed. “You are willing to accept the possibility that a computer can create man, but you can't accept the possibility that a lab assistant might know more about it than you! By the
