“Krivosheins, of course,” my double countered.

“Cut it out! But I know something else: the role of an intellectual monster on a world scale does not appeal to me.”

“Me neither. But just a small question: do you have a plan?”

“For what?”

“A method for using the computer — womb so that it only gives benefit to mankind. You see this would be an unprecedented method in the history of science. Nothing that has been invented and is being invented has that magical quality. You can poison yourself with medicine. You can use electricity for lighting homes or for torturing people. Or for launching a rocket with a warhead. And that holds for everything.”

“No, I don't have a concrete plan as yet. We don't know enough. Let's study the computer — womb and look for that method. It must exist. It's not important that there is no precedent for it in science — there is no precedent for our discovery either. We will be synthesizing precisely that system that does good and evil, and miracles, and nonsense — man!”

“That's all true,” my double agreed after some thought. “Whether we find that great method or not, there's no point in undertaking work like that without a goal like it. They manage to make people without us, somehow or other….”

“So, let's end the session properly, all right?” I suggested. “Let's make up a work project like in a contract: we the undersigned: humanity, called the client, and the party of the first part; and the heads of the New Systems Laboratory of the Institute of Systemology, V. V. Krivoshein and V. V. Krivoshein, called the Executors, and the party of the second part, agree to the following….”

“Why so much about a contract and a technical task — after all in this work we represent the interests of the client ourselves. Do it straight and simple!”

He got up, took down the Astra — 2 cassette recorder from the closet, put it on the table, and turned on the microphone. And we — that is, I, Valentin Vasilyevich Krivoshein, thirty — four years old, and my artificial double, who appeared on this earth a week ago — two unsentimental, rather ironic people — swore a vow.

I guess it might have seemed high — flown and ridiculous. There was no fanfare, no flags, no rows of students at ease. The morning sky was pale, and we stood before the mike in our underwear, and the draft from the balcony chilled our feet… but we made the vow in dead earnest.

And so it will be. No other way.

The next day we started building an information chamber in the laboratory. We marked off an area of two meters square, covered it with laminated insulation panels and dumped into it all the microphones, analyzers, feelers, and objectives — all the sensors that had been strewn colorfully all over the place by the computer — womb. This was our idea: a living object would get into the chamber, and would gambol, feed, fight with one of its own kind, or just ramble, surrounded by sensors, and the computer would receive information for synthesis.

The “living objects” are calmly chewing their cabbage to this day in their cages in the hall. My double and I were always getting into fights about who would tend them. They were rabbits. I traded the bionics lab a loop oscillograph and a GI — 250 generator lamp for them. One rabbit (Albino Vaska) had something like a bronze crown on his head made out of electrodes implanted for encephalograms.

On May 7 we had a minor but unpleasant occurrence. Usually my double and I coordinated all our work fairly well, so that we would not appear in public simultaneously or repeat ourselves. But that damned lab of experimental apparatus could drive anyone to distraction.

Back in the winter I had ordered a universal system of biosensors from the lab. I prepared the blueprints, a mounting diagram, ordered all the necessary materials and parts — they only had to put it together. And it still wasn't finished! I needed to install the system in the chamber, and I didn't have it. The trouble was that the lab was chronically changing directors. One guy turns over the work; the other accepts it — naturally there's no one to do the work. Then the new director has to acquaint himself with the situation, introduce reforms and changes (a new broom sweeps clean), and no work gets done. Meanwhile the people who have placed orders scream and fume, go to Azarov with their complaints, and a new director is put on the job. See above. I even tried influencing the workers directly, slipping them some booze, getting P657 transistors for their radios — and to no avail. Eventually the reserve of people willing to head that lab dried out, and H. H. Hilobok took over, while continuing his other duties, at half pay — Harry is like this: he'll take on any job. He'll organize anything, reorganize, so long as he is not left one on one with nature, with those horrible pieces of equipment that can't be bossed and bullied but which show things as they really are and what needs to be done.

That day I had called Gavryushenko at the lab. And I heard the same vague muttering about a lack of mounting wire. I freaked out and rushed over to have it out with Harry.

I was so mad that I didn't notice that Harry seemed a little confused, and I told him off. I promised to turn the work over to schoolchildren and shame the lab completely.

And when I got back to the lodge, I encountered my sweet double, pacing and cooling off. It seems he had just seen Hilobok five minutes earlier and had the exact same conversation with him.

Damn… at least we hadn't bumped into each other.

In our first experiments we decided to make do without the universal system. The sensors we had were enough for the rabbits. And when we moved on to homo sapiens… by then maybe the lab of experimental apparatus might even have an efficient director.

The scientific council took place on May 16. The might before, we went over what should be said and what should be omitted. We decided to introduce the original idea, that a computer with elements of random transmission might and must construct itself under the influence of random information. The work would be an experimental test of that idea. In order to determine the limits that the computer can reach in constructing itself, the following equipment, material and apparatus would be necessary — see appended list.

“To prepare their minds, just like the supply department, this will be just right,” I said. “So, that's what I'll report.”

“But, why, does it have to be you?” my double asked, militantly raising his eyebrows. “When the rabbits need cleaning it's me; when it's the scientific council, it's you, huh? What kind of discrimination against artificial people is this? I demand we do it by lot!”

And that's how I innocently earned a talking to for “tactless behavior at the scientific council of the institute and for rudeness toward Doctor of Technical Sciences Professor 1.1. Voltampernov.”

No, it really hurt. If it had been to me that the former hotshot of lamp electronics, honored worker of the republic in science and technology, doctor of technical sciences, and professor, Ippolit Illarionovich Voltampernov (oh, why wasn't I a master of ceremonies?) had let loose his: “And does engineer Krivoshein know, since he bids us to give a computer its head, so to speak, without rudder or wheel, what it will want to do in building itself, and how much thought — out, I dare add, work our qualified specialists here at the institute put into the planning and projecting of computer systems? Into the development of blocks of these systems? And the elements of these systems? Does he have any idea, this engineer who's vulgarizing principles here before us, of at least the methodology, so to speak, of the optimal projection of flip — flops on the 6N5 bulb? And doesn't it seem to engineer Krivoshein that his ideas — regarding the fact the computer, so to speak, will manage the optimal construction better than the specialists — are an insult to the majority of the workers of this institute who are fulfilling, I dare say, work that is important for our country's economy? I would ask the engineer what this would give the….” And each time the word “engineer” sounded like a cross between “student” and “son of a bitch.”