Self-discovery

by Vladimir Savchenko

  “It’s more like it, but how much more? It doesn’t occur to you that if biology had made giant strides in this business, then it would be biologists and not us who are synthesizing man?”

  “But on the basis of this knowledge we’ll be able to make an analysis of man.”

  “An analysis!” I remembered the “streptocidal striptease with trembling….” my near breakdown, the punchtape bonfire — and I got mad. “All right, let’s drop our work, memorize all the textbooks and pharmacology manuals, master a mass of terms, acquire degrees and baldspots, and thirty years or so from now let’s return to our work so that we can label it all properly. This is phosphocreatine, and this is gluten… a hundred billion labels. I’ve already tried to analyze your appearance. I’ve had it. The analytic path will take us the devil knows where.”

  In a word, we didn’t reach an agreement. This was the first instance when each of us retained his opinion. I still don’t understand why he, a systems technologist, engineer, electronics man… well, the same as I… why he turned to biology. We have an experimental setup the likes of which he’ll never find in any other lab. We have to run experiments, systemize the results and observations, establish general laws — I mean general ones, informational ones! Biological laws are a step backward in comparison. That’s the way it’s done. And that’s the only way to study the best way to control the computer — womb — after all, it’s a computer first and foremost.

  The arguments continued during the next few days. We got angry, attacking one another. Each one used arguments in his favor.

  ‘Technology shouldn’t be copying nature; it should be complementing it. We plan to double good people. And what if the good man is limp? Or lost an arm in the war? Or is in lousy health? After all, a man’s worth is usually known when he has reached a ripe old age; and then his health isn’t what it used to be, and maybe senility is creeping up… and we should re — create all that, too?”

  “No. We have to find a way to iron out the wrinkles in the doubles. Let them be healthy, attractive.”

  ‘There, you see!”

  “What see?”

  “In order to correct the doubles you need biological information on a good constitution and attractive looks. Biological!”

  “I don’t see that. If the computer, without any biological preparation, can re — create an entire person, then why does it need information when it will be creating parts of a person? Biological information won’t help you construct a person or an arm. You crazy person, why can’t you see that we can’t delve into all the details of the human organism? We can’t. We’ll get bogged down. There are untold billions of them, and no two are the same. Nature didn’t follow a few state plans, you know. That’s why the question of correcting doubles must be reduced to tuning the computer — womb by external integral characteristics… in other words, so that we just have a few dials to spin!”

  “Well, really!” He would spread his hands in shock and walk away.

  This situation was getting on our nerves. We had wandered into a logistical dead end. A difference in opinion on future work is nothing so terrible; finally you can try it both ways and let the results be the judge. The unbearable part was that we did not understand each other! Us — two informationally identical people. Is there any truth in the world in that case?

  I began reading his collection of biology opuses (when he was on duty at the lab). Maybe I just had an antibiology hangover from my school days and now I would read it, and be amazed, and start mumbling: “Now that’s it!” I didn’t. There was no question; it was an interesting science, and there were a lot of edifying details (but only details!) about the functions of the organism. It was good for one’s general development, but it wasn’t what we needed. It was a descriptive and approximate science, another form of geography. What did he see in it?

  I’m an engineer — that says it all. After ten years of work, machines have entered my soul, and I feel confident working with them. In machines, everything is subject to reason and my hands; everything is definite. If it’s yes, then it’s yes; if it’s no, then it’s no. Not like with people: “Yes, but…” followed by a phrase that crosses out the “yes.” And yet the double was me….

  We began avoiding our painful argument and worked in silence. Maybe everything would work out and we would understand each other. The information chamber was almost ready. Another day or two and we could let the rabbits in. And then what had to happen sooner or later finally happened: the phone rang in the laboratory.

  It had rung before. “Valentin Vasilyevich, either produce a form requisitioning the reagents by June 1 or we’ll close the supply department as far as you’re concerned!” The call was from accounting. “Comrade Krivoshein, drop into department one,” said Johann Johannovich Kliapp. “Old man, can you lend me your silver — nickel battery for a week?” said good old Fenya Zagrebnyak. And so on. But this was an absolutely special call. As soon as my double had said “Krivoshein here,” he looked beatifically dumb.

  “Yes, Lena,” he murmured, “yes… no, no, dearest. Don’t be silly… every day and every hour!”

  Pliers in hand, I froze by the chamber. My beloved was being taken away from me before my very eyes. My beloved! I knew that for sure now. I got hot. I coughed wheezily. My double looked up at me with eyes clouded with tender desire and came to. He was grim and sad.

  “Just a second, Lena, ” and he handed me the phone. “It’s basically for you.”

  I grabbed the phone and shouted: “I’m listening, darling. Go on!”

  Actually, there’s no need to describe what we talked about. She, it turned out, was away on a business trip and had only returned yesterday. Of course, she was mad about the May 1 holidays. She had expected a call from me.

  When I hung up, the double was gone from the lab. I didn’t feel like working any more either. I locked up the lodge and headed off for home, whistling, to shave and change for that evening.

  My double was packing.

  “Going far?”

  “To the village to visit my aunt, to the sticks, to Saratov! To Vladivostok to lick salt spray from my lips. It’s none of your business.”

  “No, drop the jokes. Where are you going? What’s up?”

  He looked up at me:

  “You really don’t understand? Well, that makes sense. You’re not me.”

  “No, why not? You are me, and I am you. That, anyway, was always our starting point.”

  ‘That’s the point — it’s not so.” He lit up a cigarette and took a book from the shelf. “I’ll take Introduction to Systemology. You can use the library. You are number one, and I’m the second. You were born, grew up, developed, took on a certain position in society. Every man has some place in life. Whether it’s good or bad, it’s his own. I have no place. It’s taken! Everything’s taken, from girl friend to civil position, from the bed to the apartment.”

  “You can sleep on the bed, for God’s sake, I don’t have any objections.”

  “Don’t talk nonsense. The bed isn’t the point.”

  “Listen, if you’re leaving over Lena, then. maybe we can experiment a little more, and… maybe we can try it?”

  “Re — create a second Lena, an artificial one?” He laughed darkly. “So that she can hang around life like a ticketless passenger. A reward for a good life… what a stupid idea that was! The best pupils, they’re a bunch of spoiled privileged people. Imagine Arkady Arkadievich’s double: Academician A. A. Azarov, but without an institute to run, without a framework, without membership in the academy, without a car and apartment — without anything except his personal qualities and pleasant memories. What would his life be like?” He put a towel, toothbrush, and toothpaste into the suitcase. “In a word, I’ve had it. I can’t lead a double entendre life any more — worrying about being seen together, looking around in the cafeteria, taking money from you. Yes, I’m taking your money from you, being jealous of you and Lena. Why should I suffer like that — for what sins? I�
��m a man, not an experimental subject and not somebody’s double!”

  “How about the work?”

  “And who says I’m planning to drop the work? The chamber is almost ready, and you can run the experiments yourself. There’s little for me to do here. I’ll go away and study the problem of man and machine from the other end.”

  He told me his plan. He was going to Moscow to enter the graduate biology department of MSU. The work was dividing up into two streams: I would study the computer — womb and determine its possibilities; he would study man and his possibilities. Then — different by then, with different experiences and ideas — we’d put the work together.

  “But why biology? Why not philosophy, sociology, psychology, or life studies, or fine arts? They all deal with man and human society. Why?”

  He looked at me thoughtfully.

  “Do you believe in intuition?”

  “Well, maybe.”

  “My intuition tells me that if we overlook biological research, we will lose something very important. I don’t know yet just what. I’ll try to explain in a year.”

  “But why doesn’t my intuition say any such thing?”

  “Damned if I know!” he sighed with his old expressiveness. His good mood was returning. “Maybe you’re just a dumb jackass.”

  “Sure, sure. And you’re brilliant and sensitive — like the dog that can feel everything but can’t express any of it!”

  In a word, we had a talk.

  Everything was clear: he had to gather individual information, to become his own person. And I accepted the fact that in order to do that he had to be away from me, somewhere on his own. To tell the truth, our “double” situation was beginning to wear on me, too. But that biology stuff — I really didn’t understand that at all….

  The graduate student leaned back in his chair and stretched. “And couldn’t understand it.” he said aloud. In those days he didn’t understand himself.

  Chapter 13

  In Lieu of an Epigraph

  “The theme of today’s lecture is: why does the student sweat at exams? Quiet, comrades! I suggest you take notes — the material is on the subject…. Thus, let us examine the physiological aspects of the situation that all of you present have had to experience. The oral exam is on. The student through various contractions of the lungs, thorax, and tongue is creating air vibrations — answering his question. His visual analyzers control the accuracy of his response by the notes in his hand and by the nods of the examiners. Let us sketch the reflex chain: the executive apparatus of the second signal system utters a phrase — the visual organs register a reinforcing stimulus, a nod — and the signal is passed to the brain and supports the stimulation of nerve cells in the proper part of the cortex. A new phrase… a nod… and so on. This is often accompanied by a secondary reflex reaction: the student gesticulates, which makes his answer all the more convincing.

  Meanwhile the unconditioned reflex chains operate on their own, inexorably and unconstrainedly. The trapezoid bone and broad muscles of the back support the student’s body in an upright sitting position — as natural for us as the position of walking was for our predecessors. The chest and intercostal muscles maintain rhythmic breathing. Other muscles are tensed just enough to counteract gravity. The heart beats evenly; the sympathetic nervous system has stopped the digestive process so as not to distract the student. and everything is in order.

  But now the student registers a new aural stimulus through his eardrums and membranes of the ears: the examiner has asked him a question. I never tire of observing what follows — and I assure you, there is no sadism in this. It’s simply pleasant to watch how quickly and clearly, taking the millions of years experience of our ancestors into account, our nervous system reacts to the slightest hint of danger! Look: new air vibrations first bring on the end of the previous activity of the unconditioned reflexes — the student stops talking, often in mid — word. Then the signals from the hearing cells reach the medulla, excite the nerve cells of the rear tubers of the lamina tecti which commands the unconditioned reflex of caution: the student turns his head in the direction of the examiner! Simultaneously the signals of the aural stimulus branch off into the diencephalon, and from there into the temporal lobes of the cortex, where a hurried meaning analysis is undertaken of the air vibrations.

  I want to direct your attention to the high expediency level of the location of the analyzers of aural stimuli in the cortex — right next to theears. Evolution naturally took into account that a sound in the air moves very slowly: some 300 meters a second, almost the same as the speed of signals traveling along nerve fiber. Yet a sound could be the rustle of a lurking tiger, the hissing of a snake, or — in our times — the noise of a car careening around the corner. You can’t lose even a fraction of a second to transmit the sound through the brain!

  But in the present situation the student recognized not the rustle of a tiger but a question posed in a quiet, polite voice. Hah, I think some would prefer the tiger! I assume that I don’t have to explain that a question asked during an oral exam is taken as a signal of danger. After all, broadly speaking, danger is an obstacle in the path toward a given goal. In ourwell — ordered times there are few dangers that threaten the basic goals of a living being which are protection of life and health, propagation of the species, and satisfaction of hunger and thirst. That’s why secondary dangers — the protection of dignity, respect, scholarships, the opportunity to study and then have an interesting job and so on — take on primary prominence. Thus, the student’s unconditioned reflex reaction to danger worked beautifully. Let’s see how he reflects it.

  In biochemistry lectures you have been familiarized with the properties of ribonucleic acid, which is found in all the brain cells. Under the action of electrical nervous signals RNA changes the continous distribution of its bases: thymine, uracil, cytosine, and guanine. These bases are the letters of our memory; we can write down any information in the cortex of the brain using combinations of them. And so, this is the picture: the question, understood in the temporal sites of the cortex leads to the excitation of nerve cells that take care of abstract knowledge in the student’s brain. Weak response impulses arise in neighboring areas of the cortex: “Aha, I read something about that!” So the stimulation concentrates in the most hopeful of these areas, takes it over, and — oh horrors! — there with the help of thymine, uracil, cytosine, and guanine there is recorded God only knows what in long molecules of RNA, for instance: “Drop your studying, Alex! We need a fourth!” Quiet down, comrades, don’t be distracted.

  And then a quiet panic in the brain sets in — or, less colorfully speaking, a total irradiation of stimulation. The nerve impulses arouse the areas of logical analysis (maybe I’ll figure something out!) and the cells of visual memory (maybe I’ve seen it?). Vision, hearing, and sense of smell sharpen. The student sees with amazing acuity the ink spot on the edge of the desk and a bunch of scribbles, hears the leaves rustling outside the window, someone’s footsteps in the hall, and even the whisper: “Guys, Alex is in trouble!” But that’s not it. And so stimulation passes to greater and newer parts of the brain — danger, danger — spilling over the motor centers in the frontal convolution, penetrating into the midbrain, the medulla, and finally, into the spinal cord. And here I want to move away from the dramatic situation to sing the praises of the soft grayish white growth about a half meter in length that penetrates our spine to the waist — the spinal cord.

  The spinal cord…oh, we are greatly mistaken if we think that it is nothing more than an intermediary between the brain and the body’s nerves, that it is subjugated to the brain and can only control a few simple reflexes of natural functions! It’s still a moot point as to which is subordinate to which! The spinal cord is an older and more venerable process than the brain. It saved man in those days when his brain wasn’t developed enough, when in fact he wasn’t yet man. Our spinal cord guards memories of the Paleozoic, when our distant ancestors, the lizards,
wandered, crawled, and flew among giant ferns; of the Cenozoic, the period when the first apes appeared. It has sorted and stored synapses and reflexes proven over millions of years to be effective in the struggle for survival. The spinal cord, if you will, is our inner seat of rational conservatism.

  Of course nowadays, that old cord of man, which can react to the complex stimulation of contemporary reality in only two positions — saving life and propagating the species — can’t help us out all the time, as it did in the Mesozoic Era. But it still has influence on many things! For example, I would posit that it is the spinal cord that often determines our literary and cinematic tastes. What? No, the spinal cord is not literate and does not contain any special reflexes for viewing film. But, tell me, why do we soften prefer detective movies and novels, no matter how poorly they are made or written? Why do so many of us like love stories — everything from jokes and gossip to the Decameron? Because it’s interesting? Interesting? Why is it interesting? Because the firmly engrained instincts for survival and propagation encoded in our spinal cords force us to gather information — what can you die of? — so that we can save ourselves in that situation. How and why does happy and true love come about, the kind that results in offspring? What destroys it? — so that you don’t blow it yourself. And it doesn’t matter that such a dangerous situation may never come up in your safe, comfortable lives. And it doesn’t matter that there is love and more descendants than you know what to do with — the spinal cord tows its line. I’m not going to call these desires in the viewer and reader base, as so many critics do. Why? These are healthy, natural desires, admirable desires. If cows in their evolution ever learn to read, then they’ll also begin with mysteries and romances.