The sky was quickly turning dark blue over the houses. The neon signs announcing the names of stores, theaters, and cafes went on with a slight hiss. The graduate student’s thoughts returned to Moscow business.
“Vano Aleksandrovich passed with flying colors; he didn’t even ask why I was being held. He identified me and that’s all. I understand it: ‘If Krivoshein is hiding his affairs from me then I don’t want to know about them. The proud old man is hurt. And he’s right. It was in conversation with him that I zeroed in on my goals in the experiments. Actually, it had been no conversation — it was an agreement. But it isn’t everyone with whom you can argue and come out with enriched ideas.”
Vano Aleksandrovich kept circling him, watching with ironic expectation: what earth — shattering ideas will the dilettante biologist come up with? Once on a December evening, Krivoshein found him in his department office and told him everything that he felt about life in general and about man in particular. It was a good evening: they sat and smoked and talked, while a pre — New Year’s storm howled and whistled outside, pounding snow against the window.
“Any machine is constructed somehow and does something,” Krivoshein was expounding. “The biological machine called Man also has these two parts to it: the basic one and the operative. The operative part — organs of sensation, the brain, motor nerves, and skeletal muscles — is for the most part subservient to man. The eyes, ears, the binding parts of the skin, the nerve endings in the nose and the tongue, and the pain and temperature receptors react to external stimulation, turn it into electrical impulses (just like the mechanism for information input in a computer), while the brain and the spinal column analyze and combine the impulses according to the ‘stimulation — braking’ principle (similar to the impulse cells of a machine). The synapses join and separate, sending commands to the skeletal muscles, which perform various actions — just like the executive mechanisms of a machine.
“Man controls the operative side of his organisms — he can even master reflexes, like pain, by will power. But with the basic side, which takes care of the fundamental process of life — metabolism — it isn’t like that. That lungs suck in air; the heart forces blood into the dark crannies of the body; the gullet contracts and pushes pieces of food into the stomach; the pancreas secretes hormones and enzymes to reduce food to elements that the intestines can absorb; the liver excretes glucose into the blood. The thyroid and parathyroid produce wild things, thyroxin and parathyreodine, which determine whether a person will grow and mature or remain a cretinous dwarf, whether he will develop a sturdy skeletal system or whether his bones can be bent like pretzels. An inconsequential — looking growth by the base of the brain — the pituitary body — with the help of its secretions commands the entire mysterious kitchen of internal secretions as well as the functioning of the kidneys, blood pressure, and safe delivery in childbirth. And this part of the organism, which constructs man — his build, skull shape, psychology, health, and power — this part is not subject to the conscious mind!”
“Correct,” smiled Vano Aleksandrovich. “In your operative side I easily recognize the activity of the ‘animal’ or somatic nervous system and in the basic one, the realm of the ‘vegetative’ or sympathetic nervous system. These terms appeared in the eighteenth century; they used the Latin for animal and for plant. Personally, I don’t think they’re very apt. Perhaps your engineering terms will have greater success in the twentieth century. Well, continue, please.”
“Machines, even electronic ones, are constructed and made by man. Soon the machines will do it themselves; the principle is clear. But why can’t man construct himself? Metabolism is subordinate to the central nervous system. The glands, blood vessels, and intestines are connected to the brain by the same kind of nerves as the muscles and sensory organs are. Why can’t man control these processes the way he can wiggle his fingers? Why is man’s conscious participation in this process limited to satisfying his appetite and thirst and several opposite needs? It’s ridiculous. Homo sapiens, the king of nature, the crown of evolution, the creator of complex technology and art, is distinguished in the basic life process from cows and earthworms only in the use of knives and forks and alcohol!”
“Why is it so important to be able to bring sugar, enzymes, and hormones into the blood through will power?” Androsiashvili’s bushy eyebrows arched. “Please be so kind as to tell me why, on top of all my worries in the department, I have to also think every hour about how much adrenaline and insulin I should produce in the pancreas and where I should direct it? The sympathetic system takes care of it for me, without bothering man — and that’s fine!”
“Is it fine, Vano Aleksandrovich? What about disease?”
“Disease… so that’s your angle: disease as an error in the workings of the basic construction system.” The professor’s eyebrows turned into sinusoids. “The mistakes that we try to rectify with pills, compresses, vaccinations, and other operative interference, and usually without much success. But… disease is the result of those effects of the environment that the organism can’t handle.”
“And why can’t it? After all, we know in most cases what is harmful — that’s the basis of disease prevention, epidemic control. We try, simply, to keep away from danger. But the environment keeps spewing out new mysteries: X — ray radiation, welding arcs, isotopes — “
“Enough!” The professor raised both hands in surrender. “I have the feeling that you have a secret answer on the tip of your tongue and you just can’t wait for your interlocutor to bulge his eyes and ask with timid hope: ‘But why? All right! Look: my eyes are open wide.” The whites of his eyes, shot with red, sparkled. “And I am asking the long — awaited question. Why can’t people control their metabolism?”
“Because they’ve forgotten how it’s done!” Krivoshein thundered.
“Bah!” the professor slapped his knee in glee. “They used to know and forgot? Like a phone number? Interesting!”
“Let’s remember that the human brain contains a huge number of unactivated cells: ninety — nine percent, and in some, ninety — nine point something. It’s unlikely that they exist just like that, for a backup reserve; nature doesn’t allow excess. It’s only natural to posit that those cells contained information that is now lost. Not necessarily verbal information — there is little of that in our organisms now because it’s too crude and approximate — but biological information, expressed in images, feelings, sensations — “
“Stop! I know the rest!” Androsiashvili shouted exultantly. “Martians! No, better than Martians. After all, they’re going to get to Mars sooner or later, and then it could be checked. Let’s say inhabitants of a planet that used to exist somewhere between Mars and Jupiter that has since disintegrated into asteroids. Highly intelligent creatures lived there. They had an artificial, varied environment, and they knew how to control their organisms to adapt to the environment and also for fun. And these inhabitants, sensing that their planet was about to die, moved to Earth.”
“Perhaps it was that way,” Krivoshein agreed calmly. “In any case, we must assume that man had highly organized ancestors wherever they came from. And they went wild, finding themselves in a wild, primitive environment with harsh living conditions — in the Cenozoic Era. Heat, jungles, swamps, animals — and no conveniences. Life was reduced to the struggle for survival and all their refinements were wasted. Then over many generations it was all lost, from literacy to the ability to control metabolism. Really, Vano Aleksandrovich, put a city dweller in the jungle now, and see what happens to him!”
“Very effective!” Androsiashvili smacked his lips in pleasure. “And the excess brain cells remained in the organism along with the appendix and hairy underarms? Now I understand why my dear colleague Professor Valerno calls science fiction ‘intellectual decadence. “
“Why? And what does that have to do with this?”
“Because it replaces sober discussion with effective games of the imagination
.”
“Well, you know,” Krivoshein countered, getting angry, “in systemology we don’t put down working hypotheses with references to the ban mots of friends. Any idea is usable if it is profitable.”
“And in biology, comrade graduate student,” Androsiashvili shouted, rolling his eyes, “we only use ideas that are based on a sober, materialistic approach! And not on the ruins of a fantasy planet! We deal with something more important than technology — we deal with life! And since you are now working in our field, I suggest you remember that! Any dilettante comes along. and, phahh!” He immediately cooled off and changed to a peaceful tone. “All right. Let’s make believe that each of us has smashed a plate. Now back to the serious things: why is your hypothesis, to put it mildly, dubious? First of all, the ‘unactivated’ brain cell — technological terminology is not applicable to biological concepts. The cells are alive — therefore they are already activated. Secondly, why not assume that these billions of cells are there as a reserve?”
Vano Aleksandrovich got up and looked down at Krivoshein.
“My dear comrade graduate student, I do have a little knowledge of technology — after all, I am an evening student at MEI! — and I know that you, hmm, in systemology, you have the concept and problem of reliability. The reliability of electronic systems is guaranteed by a reserve of parts, cells, and even units. Then why not assume that nature has created in man the same kind of reserve for reliability in the brain? After all, nerve cells do not regenerate.”
“It’s an awfully big reserve!” The graduate student shook his head. “The average man uses a million cells out of a possible billion.”
“And talented people use tens of millions! And geniuses. actually, no one’s measured their cells yet — maybe they use hundreds of millions. Perhaps the brain of each of us is reserved for genius potential? I tend to feel that genius and not mediocrity is man’s natural state.”
“Very effectively put, Vano Aleksandrovich.”
“I see you are a cruel man. but, think what you will, my reservations have as much value as your hypothesis about Martians gone wild. Hah, and if you take into account the fact that I am your advisor and you are my student, then they are even more valuable!” He sat down. “But let’s get back to the major issue: why is present — day man incapable of controlling the autonomous nervous system and metabolism? You know why? Because it hasn’t come to that yet.”
“So that’s it!”
“Yes. The environment teaches man in only one way: through conditioning drills. You know that in order to form a conditioned reflex the situation and stimulus must be repeated frequently. And that’s just how life experience develops. And in order to form an unconditioned reflex that is inherited the drill must be repeated for many generations for thousands of years. You were right about the biological information in the organism; it is not expressed verbally, but by the reflexes, both conditioned and unconditioned. And it is man’s will that controls reflexes, of course, in a limited way. You don’t think through from beginning to end which muscle must contract how much when you light a cigarette, and you don’t think through the chemical reactions of the muscle contraction. The consciousness gives the order to light up and the reflexes take over. Both the specific one that you acquired from practicing that filthy habit — crumple the cigarette, inhale the smoke — as well as the general ones passed on to you from your distant ancestors: grabbing, breathing, and so on…” Vano Aleksandrovich — it wasn’t clear whether it was intended to be an illustration or not — lit a cigarette and exhaled a stream of smoke toward the ceiling.
“I’m leading up to the fact that the consciousness controls when there is something to control. In the operative part of the organism, when the final action, as Sechenov noted long ago, is a muscular one… remember?” Androsiashvili sat back in his chair and quoted:” ‘A child laughing at a toy, Garibaldi smiling at the accusation of excessive love for his country, a young girl trembling at the first thoughts of love, Newton creating universal laws and writing them down — the final fact in all these instances is muscular action. Ah, how brilliantly Ivan Mikhailovich wrote! So the operative part gives the mind something to control and lets it choose among its vast store of conditioned and unconditioned reflexes for each unique situation. And in the constructive part, where the body’s chemistry takes place, there is nothing for the mind to do. Just think for a moment about what conditioned reflexes are involved in metabolism?”
“Drink or not, give me a little more horseradish, can’t abide pork, smoking, and….” Krivoshein got confused. “And well, I guess washing, brushing your teeth….”
“There’s a dozen more like that,” nodded the professor, “but they are all minor, semichemical, semimuscular, superficial reflexes. And deeper in the organism there are definite reflex processes that are connected so unilaterally that there is nothing to control: oxygen leaves the bloodstream, breathe; not enough protein for the muscles, eat; excreted water, drink; poisoned yourself with things forbidden for the organism, be sick or die. And there are no variations. You can’t say that life did not teach people about metabolic reactions — it taught them cruelly. Epidemics — how nice it would be to figure out through the use of your mind and your reflexes just which bacillus was destroying you and purge it from your body like fleas! Famines — just hibernate like a bear instead of puffing up and dying! Wounds and mutilations in fighting — regenerate your torn — off limb or gouged eye! And that’s not enough. It would all be done at high speed. Muscular reaction happens in tenths and hundredths of a second, and the fastest of the metabolic actions — secretion of adrenaline into the bloodstream — takes seconds. The secretion of hormones by the glands and the pituitary is discovered only after years, and maybe only once in a lifetime. Thus,” he smiled wanly, “this knowledge is not lost by the organism; it simply has not yet been acquired. It’s too difficult for man to learn such a lesson.”
“And therefore mastery of metabolism could drag on for millions of years?”
“I’m afraid that it could take dozens of millions of years,” sighed Vano Aleksandrovich. “We mammals are very recent inhabitants of earth. Thirty million years — is that an age? Everything is still ahead of us.
“There will be nothing ahead of us, Vano Aleksandrovich!” exclaimed Krivoshein. “The present environment changes from year to year — what kind of million — year learning process can there be, what kind of repetition of lessons? Man has stepped off the path of natural evolution, and now he must figure things out for himself.”
“And we are.”
“What? Pills, powders, hemorrhoidal suppositories, enemas, and bed rest? Are you sure that we are improving man’s breed this way? Maybe we’re ruining it?”
‘ I’m not trying to talk you into involving yourself with pills and powders if those are the terms you choose to use for the antibiotics our department is developing,” Vano Aleksandrovich said, his face taking on a cold and haughty look. “If you want to study your idea — go ahead, dare. But explaining the unrealistic and unplanned aspects of this decision in graduate work and for a future dissertation is my right and my duty.”
He stood up and tossed the butts from the ashtray into the wastebasket.
“Forgive me, Vano Aleksandrovich. I certainly didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Krivoshein also stood, realizing that the conversation was over, and ending on an unpleasant note. “But. Vano Aleksandrovich, there are very interesting facts.”
“What facts?”
“Well… in the last century in India there was a man — god, Ramakrishna. And, if someone was being beaten nearby, he had welts on his body. Or take ‘burns by suggestion’: a sensitive subject is touched with a pencil and told that it was a lit cigarette. In these cases metabolism is controlled without a ‘learning process, is it not?”
“Listen, you nagging student,” Androsiashvili wheeled on him, “how many window bolts can you eat in a sitting?”
“Hmmmm,” Krivoshein said in con
fusion. “I don’t think any at all. How about you?”
“Me neither. But a patient I had in the dim past when I worked in the Pavlov Psychiatric Clinic swallowed, without any particular harm to himself, ” the professor leaned back, remembering, “five window bolts, twelve aluminum teaspoons, three tablespoons, two pairs of surgical scissors, 240 grams of broken glass, one fork, and 400 grams of various nails. Now these are not the results of an autopsy, mind you, but the history of a disease — I cut him open myself. The patient was cured of suicidal tendencies and is probably still alive today.” The professor glanced down at Krivoshein from the heights of his erudition. “So in scientific matters it is better not to orient yourself by religious fanatics or secular psychopaths. No, no!” He raised his hand to stave off the obvious look of disagreement in Krivoshein’s eyes. “Enough arguing. Go ahead, I won’t stop you. I’m sure that you will try to regulate metabolism with some kind of machine or electronic method.”
Vano Aleksandrovich gave the student a thoughtful and tired look and smiled.
“Catching the Firebird with your bare hands! What could be better? And you have a holy goal: man without diseases, without old age — age is a result of a breakdown in metabolism, too. Twenty years or so ago, I would have allowed myself to be fired up by this idea. But now… now I must do what can definitely be done. Even if it’s only a pill.”
Krivoshein turned down a cross street toward the Institute of Systemology and almost bumped into a man in a dark blue cloak, much too warm for the season. The unexpectedness of the encounter produced further problems: Krivoshein stepped to the left to let the man past, while the man did the same to the right. Then both of them, letting the other go first, finally set off in opposite directions. The man stared at Krivoshein in amazement and stopped.
“I beg your pardon,” he muttered and went on.
The street was dark and empty. Krivoshein soon heard footsteps behind him and looked back: the man in the cloak was following at a short distance. “That Onisimov!” thought the graduate student. “He’s got a detective tailing me!” He experimented by going faster and heard the man’s pace increase. “Ah, the hell with him! I’m certainly not going to cover my tracks.” Krivoshein went on slowly, rambling. However, his back felt uncomfortable and his thoughts returned to reality.
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