I lit a cigarette and started rethinking my observations of the computer — womb (as we finally decided to call the complex). “First of all, it's not a computer — oracle or a computer — thinker, because there is no winnowing of information in it, only combinations — sometimes meaningful, sometimes not. Secondly, it can be controlled not only by energy (clamping the hoses, turning off water and power — in other words, grabbing it by the throat), but also by information. Of course, for now it responds only to the command 'No! — but it's a beginning. I think the most convenient way to command it is through Monomakh's Crown with brain waves. Third, the computer — womb, while very complex, is still only a machine, an artificial creation without a goal. The striving for stability, informational equilibrium, is not a goal but a characteristic, just like that of an analytic scale. But it is expressed in a more complex way: through synthesis in the form of living matter via external information. A goal always lies in solving a problem. There was no problem — and so it fooled around from an excess of possibilities. But…”

“… man must set its goals,” my double picked up; I was no longer amazed by his ability to think with me. “As for all other machines. Therefore, as the bureaucrats say, all responsibility lies with us.”

I didn't feel like thinking about responsibility. You work and work unstintingly — and then you get stuck with responsibility, too. And people go off to enjoy themselves. We missed the holiday. What dopes! And my whole life will go by in a smelly lab.

We turned down a chestnut — lined avenue which led to Academic Town. A couple strolled ahead of us. My double and I felt a pang — we poor, sober, hungry, and lonely men. That couple fit in so beautifully in the gaslit avenue. Tall and elegant, he held her by the waist. She bent her full mane of hair toward him. We unthinkingly sped up, in order to pass them and be spared the lyrical sight.

“We'll play some music, now, Tanechka! I have records that'll make you salivate!” Hilobok's buzzing voice reached us, and we were knocked for a loop. The charm of the lovely picture faded. “Harry has another new one,” my double announced. As we got closer we recognized the girl, too. Just recently she had come to the institute in school uniform to do her probation work; now, I think, she worked as a lab assistant in the digital computer lab. I liked her looks: full lips, a soft nose, and big brown eyes that were dreamy and trusting.

“And when Arkady Arkadievich is on vacation or on a business trip abroad, I have to make many of his decisions,” Harry said, spreading his peacock tail. “And even when he's here… what? Of course, it's interesting, why not?”

There goes little Tanechka, her head bent forward towards Hilobok's shoulder, and assistant professor Harry seems like a shining knight of Soviet science to her. Maybe he even has radiation sickness like the hero of the movie Nine Days in One Year? Or maybe his health is completely undermined by his scientific work, like the hero of the movie Everything Will Remain for the People? And so she melts, imagining herself as his heroine, the little fool…. Your scientific boyfriend is in fine shape, don't you worry, Tanechka. He hasn't worn himself out with science. And he's leading you directly to your first major disillusionment in life. He's a pro in that department….

My double slowed down and said under his breath:

“Should we beat him up? It would be very easy; you go off to visit some friends and establish an alibi, and I'll….”

He beat me to it by a split second. He spoke hurriedly in general, to prove his individuality. He understood that we thought the same way. But since he spoke up so soon, I immediately developed the second mechanism of proving my individuality: opposition to someone else's idea.

“Over the girl, you mean? The hell with her; if not her, then he'll get someone else.”

“Over her, and everything in general. For the good of my soul. Remember the stink he made over our work?” His eyes narrowed. “Remember?”

I remembered. I was working in Valery Ivanov's lab then. We were developing storage blocks for defense computers. Serious things were going on in the world, and we were working hard, not observing days off or holidays, and turned in the work six months before the government's deadline. And soon the institute well — wishers related Hilobok's pronouncement on us: “In science people who turn in research before it's due are either careerists or brown — noses, or both!” His pronouncement became popular. We have quite a few who are in no danger of being called careerists or brown — noses from working the way we did. Sensitive and hotheaded, Valery kept wanting to have a heart — to — heart with Hilobok, then had a fight with Azarov and left the institute.

My fists grew heavy with the memory. Maybe my double could provide the alibi, and I'd…? And then I pictured it: a sober intelligent man beating another intelligent man to a pulp in front of a girl. What was that! I shook my head to chase out the image.

“No, that's not it. We can't succumb to such base feelings.”

“Then what is if?”

“Then we must at least protect those dreamy eyes from Harry's sweaty embrace.” My double bit his lip thoughtfully and pushed me under a tree (taking the initiative again). “Harry Haritonovich, could I see you privately for a moment?”

Hilobok and the girl turned around.

“Ah, Valentin Vasilyevich! Of course… Tanechka, I'll catch up with you.” The assistant professor turned toward my double.

“Aha!” I got his plan and raced through the trees' shadows. Everything worked perfectly. Tanechka got as far as the fork in the road, stopped, looked around and saw the same man who had called her boyfriend away just a few minutes before.

“Tanechka,” I said. “Harry Haritonovich asked me to convey his apologies. He won't be returning. You see, his wife is back and…. Where are you going? I'll walk you!”

But Tanechka was running away, hands over her face, straight for the bus stop. I headed home.

A few minutes later my double came in.

“Wait,” I said before he could open his mouth. “You told Harry that Tanechka is the fiancee of your friend, who's a boxing champion?”

“And a judo black belt. And you told her about his wife?”

“Right. Well, at least we've found one positive application of our study.”

We got undressed, washed, and got ready for bed. I took the bed and he took the folding bed.

“By the way, speaking of Hilobok,” my double said, sitting down on his bed. “We didn't mention that our retrieval topic will be discussed at the next scientific council? If Harry hadn't reminded me so nicely, I would never have known. 'It's time, Valentin Vasilyevich. After all you've been working six months now, and it hasn't been discussed yet. Of course, random retrieval is a good thing, but you've been requisitioning equipment and materiel, and I keep getting calls from accounting, wanting to know what to call the account. And there's talk in the institute that Krivoshein can do what he wants while everyone else has to fill out forms in triplicate. I, of course, understand that you must do all this for your dissertation, but you must give your topic form and bring it into the overall plan…. The creep brought up work as soon as I told him about the boxing and judo.”

“If Hilobok is to be believed, all science is done to keep accounting happy.”

I explained the situation to my double. When the computer was spewing out those crazy numbers, I had called Azarov in total despair and asked to see him for advice. As usual, he was too busy and suggested that it would be better to have a scientific council; he would ask Hilobok to arrange it.

“And by then, the little red egg had hatched,” my double finished. “So shall we report it? With the intention of writing a master's dissertation. Even Hilobok understands that it's important.”