And his small wise eyes, set under heavy brows, were surrounded with a sunburst of raylike wrinkles.
They were walking through Academic Town at midday: Adam on the right, Krivoshein in the middle, Kravets on the left. The asphalt, softened by the heat, was spongy under their feet.
“Now we'll be able to work with some knowledge,” Krivoshein was saying. “We've learned quite a bit and we'll learn a lot more. And we're getting a sense of direction, too. Victor Kravets, did Adam tell you his idea?”
“He did.”
“And why are you so indifferent to it?”
“Well, it's just one more method. So what?”
Adam glowered, but said nothing.
“Why do you say that! The computer — womb introduces information into man firmly and for a long time, for his whole life, not just for the time of the session. And art information could change the personality of a man, improve it — well, the way they improved your appearance compared to mine! Of course, this is serious business, not like going to a movie. We'll give them fair warning: after being processed by us you will permanently lose your ability to lie, be petty, bully, and fabricate. Not only will you be actively kept from doing evil, but you'll even lose the ability to hold back from doing good. We can't guarantee that you will be happy in the sense of having all your needs and wants satisfied. Life will be clearer and harder. But you will be Man!”
“A joke!” Kravets said. “A way of returning lost innocence!”
“Why do you say that?” Adam and Krivoshein exclaimed in unison.
“Because, basically you are planning to simplify and strictly program man with the help of art information. Even if it's programming for good, for honesty, for self — denial, for a beautiful soul — you won't have a man; you'll have a robot! If a man doesn't lie or bite others because he doesn't know how it's done, there's no merit in his behavior. He'll live, gather additional information and he'll learn — and he'll lie. It's not hard. But if he knows how to lie and be crafty and put the squeeze on people (and we all know how it's done; we just don't admit it) and he knows that applying these little procedures will make his life simpler, and he still doesn't behave that way — not because he's afraid of being caught but because he knows that would make life for him and others less desirable — then that's a real Man!”
“Well put,” Krivoshein said, “but complicated.”
“And people are complicated, and are becoming ever more complicated — and there's no way to simplify them. Why can't you see that? There's nothing you can do. People know that evil exists in the world and they take it into account in their thoughts, words, and deeds. No matter what noble — minded information you might introduce into them and no matter how you did it, it would only make them more complex. And that's all!”
“Wait,” Adam said angrily. “You don't have to simplify people to make them better. You're right: man is no robot, and you can't limit him with a strict program of good intentions. And it shouldn't be done. But art information could instill a clear understanding of what's good in the long run, not just profitable, and what's bad.”
“But his goals will remain the same and everything will be subordinate to them. And you can't inculcate goals in a person — even good ones — otherwise you're talking about good — natured robots.” Kravets looked at the doubles and laughed. “I'm afraid sheer technology isn't the answer. Hasn't it occurred to you that our search for an absolute method comes not from the mind but from a fierce engineering faith in the ability of science and technology to do everything? Yet they can't, you know, and this approach will get us nowhere. I see a different, clear direction. A new science will develop from our research — Experimental and Theoretical Humanology. A major and necessary science, but not only a science, it will be a whole field of knowledge. It will say: here's what you are, man. And humanotechnology will arise. It must sound horrible now — a technology of synthesis and introduction of information into man. It will include everything from medicine to mathematics and from electronics to the arts, but it will still only be technology. It will say: here's what you can do, man. This is how you can change yourself. And then let each and every person think and decide on his own: what do you want, man? what do you want from yourself?”
Victor's words had an effect. The three walked in silence for some time — thinking. Academic Town was left far behind. They could see the grounds and the buildings of the institute and beyond them the huge experimental hangar of the construction design bureau, shining glass and steel.
“Hey guys, what about Lena?” Adam asked and looked at Krivoshein. Kravets looked at him too.
“Just the way it was,” he insisted. “As far as she's concerned, nothing happened, understand?”
Adam and Kravets said nothing.
They stepped into a long, chestnut — lined alley. It was shady and cooler.
“ 'Here's what you are, man. Here's what you can do, man. What do you want from yourself, man? “ Krivoshein repeated. “Effectively put. Fantastically put! If I had a lot of money I'd put up an obelisk in every city with the sign: 'People! Beware of maxims — the bearers of half — truths! There is nothing more false and dangerous than maxims, because they are formulated to accommodate our minds, not life as it is/”
Kravets gave him a careful look.
“What does that mean?”
“It means that your flaws, Vitya, old boy, are merely an extension of your good qualities. I think that Krivoshein the Original overdid it with you. Personally I could never understand why people with a well — developed sense of logic are identified with smart people.”
“Why don't you get to the point.”
“I can get to the point, Vitya, boy. You began well: man is complicated and free, and he can't be reorganized and programmed. There will be Humanology and Humanotechnology. And you came to the conclusion that our business is to move the science and technology and drop everything else. Let people decide for themselves. A very convenient conclusion for us, absolutely marvelous. But let's apply your theory to another subject. Let's say there's a science and technology dealing with the atom. And there is you — full of the best intentions, an opponent of atomic weapons. You are given complete freedom to solve the problem: you have the keys to all the atomic arsenals, all the codes and ciphers, entrance to all atomic centers. Act!”
Adam laughed.
“How will you use this brilliant opportunity to save the world? I know how. You'll stand in the middle of an atomic arsenal and bawl with terror.”
“Why would I be bawling?”
“Because you don't know a thing about this stuff, just like other people don't know about our work. Yes, there will be a science called Humanology. And there'll be Humanotechnology. But we are the top specialists in that science and technology. And a specialist, besides his general humanitarian responsibilities, has his own as well: he's responsible for his science and its applications! Because in the final analysis he's doing it all, with his ideas, knowledge, and decisions. He and no one else! So, willy — nilly, it's up to us to determine the direction of the development of the synthesis of information in man.”
“Well, let's say that's true.” Kravets wasn't giving up. How will we direct it? There is no method to apply the discovery with absolute certainty for the benefit of mankind, as we had pledged a year ago!”
“Look, guys,” Adam said softly.
They all turned their heads to the left. A girl was sitting on a bench. A briefcase and crutches lay next to her. Her thin legs in black stockings were extended unnaturally. Spots of sunlight, breaking through the trees, played in her dark hair.
“Go ahead. I'll catch up.” Krivoshein went up to her and sat down on the edge of the bench. “Hello, little girl!”
She raised her big clear eyes, no longer a child's, at him in surprise.
“Hello.”
“Tell me, little girl,” Krivoshein smiled in his most kindly manner so that she wouldn't take him for a drunk and get scared, “but please don't be surprised by my question: at your school, do you spit in the ear of someone who hasn't kept a promise?”
“No… no,” the girl answered cautiously.
“In my day, that's what we did. That was the barbaric custom. And you know what? I give you my word: in less than a year, you will be healthy and beautiful. You'll run and jump and ride a bike and swim in the river. It will all come true. I promise. You can spit in my ear if it doesn't.”
The girl looked at him with full attention. An uncertain smile appeared on her lips.
“But… we don't spit. It's not like that at our school.”
