Semmant

by Vadim Babenko

  I wasn’t very upset at first; rather, I was surprised by these patriarchal mores. But then, after a couple of days, I felt a relentless yearning, and did not recover for a long time, totally ignoring other women. I could see her body standing before me – slender, obedient, ready for anything. She had a weakness for perfumery, and I, as if to poke fun, would make her wash off the creams and deodorants to the last drop every evening. For her this was like throwing off another layer of clothes. She snuggled up so adorably, grew aroused so abundantly, and became ever more submissive… I was now climbing the walls as I remembered her; I hurled the furniture to the floor and ripped the sheets to pieces. Then I calmed down and just hated – her father, Siberia, injustice.

  I don’t know what cry she shouted at the sky over the frost-covered Taiga; whether she wished her father’s death, where she is now, or what became of her. I will never reveal her name, but this, the last of my losses, seemed to say to me: It’s time. After spending an awful month in solitude and somehow regaining my senses, I set to work without delay.

  I got sick of the coast, and relocated to Madrid – a dirty city, stinking of pork cocido, permeated with the smells of dust, soft asphalt, and the acerbic juice of South American whores. I found an apartment on the Paseo de Recoletos, furnished it carelessly – and forgot about the city, focusing on what was most important. I had to figure out the matters that many before me had lost their minds over.

  First, I said to myself, no half measures. It was clear: any insincerity, any attempt to win with minor casualties would inevitably lead to failure. To get into another’s soul, one has to open one’s own all the way, and I did this without batting an eye. I started to invest real money – not yet knowing the laws or the rules. Lucco Mancini’s bonus, which I could have lived on for a couple of years, was nearly all put into the project – and, in the beginning, everything went well. For a week or two I was certain that from the very first attempt I had grasped the correct path – or at least that beginner’s luck was on my side. However, these illusions were quickly shattered. The market just did not notice me at the time. Then it took notice, lifted its little finger – and all my theories and schemes, all my strategies, which yesterday had seemed so clever, were scattered like a house of cards. The digits on the screen were painted bright red. That color later pursued me for a long time in my dreams. My capital began to melt away, and I plummeted into genuine terror.

  No, I wasn’t sorry about the money itself. I knew I could always earn more. I panicked before the blind force, before the power of the random, the inscrutable. The phantom of defeat loomed in the distance – and grew nearer each day. Stocks and bonds, currencies, metals, oil – nothing behaved as it was supposed to. It hadn’t been like this before; I studied the past down to the smallest details. But this was happening now, in front of my very eyes, and I understood that history teaches nothing. Retrospection and prior experience was all in vain. Only animal instinct, perhaps, might save you sometimes – the instinct and nothing else… I sat for hours in front of the monitor, grinding my teeth, holding my head in my hands, and thinking, thinking! Next I just looked indifferently, whistling something off-tune. And then I didn’t even look anymore; I lounged in my armchair with my chin on my chest, afraid to move lest it become even worse.

  Once again I realized: the aura of Indigo does not save and does not protect. It can become a magic carpet, turn into seven-league boots or a heavy cross – but it’s not a guardian angel to deflect troubles with its thin hand. A girl with a searching glance and her toy frog will not appear at the first call – or the second, or the third either. Nobody will come at all: with blind forces you’re always one-on-one.

  Having lost almost half of my investment, I finally believed the market was seriously rising against me. This, in a strange way, almost calmed me down; I regained the ability to reason soundly. Soon I got rid of the shaking in my hands and began to take the right steps.

  First of all, I shut myself off from outside opinions. The voices of all slackers, fool analysts, arrogant soothsayers of the hour – they did not exist for me any longer. I tossed dubious calculations and indicator charts into a far corner. I now only took in the main facts every day – just those, and the price fluctuations. I did not take my eyes away from the streaming quotes and blinking digits. My head was spinning; my concentration was extreme. I grew gaunt, slept little, wandered around the apartment like a sleepwalker without turning on the light. The telephone was silent. The whole house was silent. In the entire world, there was no sound for me. I remembered only that tomorrow would come, and the daily watch would commence anew: watching and listening to myself – listening, listening…

  Then, finally, something moved; my own vibrations began to resonate with the vibrations of the market. In the din of the exchanges, in the confused chorus from the innumerable multitude of strings I began to sense the obvious dominants. The abstruse voice pounded my ears, drawing its melody from the market’s bowels. At times it soared to the highest note – which was a cry of fear. Then, on the contrary, it would drop down – seething with human greed. Only those two forces reigned there – whimsically switching places with each other, snatching the palm branch of primacy and a laurel wreath from each other’s hands.

  I began to draw totally different schemes, of the sort that would not smooth out any peak. In my notebook appeared the strangest of mosaics – Peano Lines and Von Koch Islands, Sierpinski Arrows and Cantor Dust. Carefully, meticulously, I probed various scales – from minutes to months and years. I sought hints and traces of order, and I marked similarities, signs of symmetry. Soon I noticed that I was not surprised anymore by sudden jumps. They were not sudden; they were explainable. Not all of them, of course, and not always, but the vast majority, anyway. I realized a breakthrough had occurred, and the only thing keeping me from taking a decisive step was my memory of recent losses. This was my personal fear, and greed did not feed into it: I did not know greed, just as I don’t know it now. That’s why it was surmountable, and I overcame it, forcing myself to take risks again. I risked and won; then risked again and won again. After that, I shut down the computer and left for the sea – to wander along the shore, breathe in the salt air and get my nerves in order.

  The money came back to me quickly – during the next couple of weeks. I wanted to leave the market alone, but something pushed me to continue – a feeling of incompleteness, a desire for verification. The resonance of vibrations did not betray me; I was growing increasingly wealthy. Over the next half a year I earned a lot – enough for a comfortable, worry-free life. Only then did I allow myself to stop; the project could be considered finished. I got in a new car and drove to Tyrol – to Thomas, my roommate at the School, who had long been inviting me for off-piste skiing. It was there the fragments cohered into a whole, the component parts took their places…

  Listen! This was like an explosion. Like a dazzling lightning bolt that ices your blood. Thomas, a thirty-year-old youth with the face of an old man, noticed nothing, which wasn’t his fault. He did enough as it was, and I’m forever in his debt. I am a debtor to the glacier and the peaks of Tyrol, and to all the serene grandeur of the Alps!

  We met in the evening, took a seat in a bar, and got to reminiscing. I let him know about Anthony and the ill-fated syringe, while he told me of Dee Wilhelbaum, who had removed himself from the public eye, permanently. Then Thomas asked cautiously, “Well, you’ve heard about her, haven’t you?” And, seeing my bewilderment, he uttered with a sigh, “Little Sonya, she’s not with us anymore either.”

  This was a shock – greater than all the rest. The walls spun; there was a lump in my throat – I tried not to let it show. Soon we got drunk, and I cried in the lavatory. Then my tears dried, and we drank some more. I couldn’t shake the sense of terrible danger which we both had the luck to escape. An avalanche of time shuffled past, without touching Thomas or me. Some got unfortunate, but we were protected. He by the Tyrol mountains to which he returned af
ter leaving a banking career. I by my co-workers and partners – sea captains and cynical medics, lab assistants and bearded chemists, even rockers from Manchester and twins from Siberia: everyone who fed me currents of real life, pushing me away from abstractions. It’s to their credit that I, tied by a thin thread, did not fly off like an unfettered balloon.

  “What bothers me,” Thomas sneered, “is that things happen so fast, you don’t have time to even say good-bye.” This simple thought shifted some more elements in my brain. Like a few years ago, in the smoke and smog of the city scorched by the sun, I now recognized again how little time there is – for each and for all. But for some there is more. Me, for example – and I, it seems, don’t appreciate it as I should. Slices of time, they’re for making progress, not for complaining and griping. I must do my job – and it looks like I still haven’t started!

  In the morning we went up to the glacier and skied until midday on the untouched, virgin snow. Then we stopped to rest at Mount Wildspitze, on its south peak. To the left was Brochkogel – unreachable and formidable, it was gorgeous. And its younger brother, Brunnenkogel to the right, was striking just the same. The sun’s rays were blinding even through the mask. The snow was dry and utterly pure.

  I realized then: this is an eternity which denies the meaning of all goodbyes: there is no one to say it to. This is victory over chaos, the disarming of disorder, harmony of the utmost precision. The best things that could happen in life happen here; I could climb up and live this over and over again… I felt like loving the whole world – that real world, which had probably saved me. I wanted to bestow on it something precious in return.

  “A dream!” I thought, and I decided to give the world a dream. It was clear to me what it should be. “Semmant,” I thought. The name came of its own accord. And it never left.

  Chapter 6

  Afterward events developed rapidly. In my head, some kind of dam broke, thoughts flooded in as a raging torrent, pushing everything else into the background. I knew what I wanted – down to the most intricate details.

  A dream, its essence, it’s so complicated, but now it was in view, like an open book. A dream – that is what is worth aiming for, aspiring to with every ounce of strength. Let those who pretend to know furrow their brows in disbelief – I don’t have anything to prove. All knowledge is approximate; its quantity is only able to beget vanity – for nothing. The dream must be given not to those who are puffed up with pride. It should be available to each and every one.

  Available, but not simple. Not mindless from the start, like the daydream of those who brought us to the School. It should amaze and be accepted wholeheartedly by its followers. They should see it as a landmark, as the symbol of a new faith. And so, here, I’ll offer you a symbol. A brilliant artificial brain – nothing less. I’ll set an example, and, before long, the apologists will come in droves. Something must change; the old ways of existence are already unbearable, plain and simple. An incentive is needed for that, and tell me: where can you find a convincing one?

  I cannot offer a prescription for happiness, but I’ll open the door a bit. A new point of reference – how’s that for a start? And then: an alternate path, fresh horizons. Who said entropy is all-powerful, that it only grows, increasing confusion? Who came up with the notion that all is meaningless, that our fate is an endless, excruciating crawl?

  “Here it is, the limit,” we hear from every quarter. “You can’t go far or overextend yourself. After all, everything will be the same, only worse.” But if I show that there are no limits, might not many be encouraged? Could he, Semmant, put them head first, ever so tenderly, into a new dimension, in something above despair?

  This was so simple, although it sounded like a fantasy, like an impossible promise. To break through the obstacles of stagnation with a precisely applied blade, to give hope to those who still wanted it badly. The main thing was not to become misunderstood. The new concept would have to penetrate to the depths – to the stomach, gut, liver… What else do you usually use to feel and desire?

  And that’s why I chose guilders, doubloons, bills large and small. The smell of new banknotes – that’s more exciting than the scent of the most desirable woman. The market, that simulator of chaos where entropy works its tricks – here was my choice. It must be defeated, forced into submission. Let the robot named Semmant show everyone victory is right here, close by. Let’s dispense with the myth of omnipotence, of which only the “sanctified” have the right to speak aloud – in a hushed voice with their eyes rolled back.

  I wouldn’t settle for less than the naked truth. Let’s push the sanctified away; let’s see that the emperor has no clothes. Let us expose the greed of the cowardly and constrain those who sit in the judgment seats. Every novice will find his place, if he makes no bones and sees everything as it is. My Semmant will show the way – he will be a confirmation, a great one! He will become the most graphic of demonstrations, an indirect proof, an illustration of fortune. Let the rest lunge after him, fatigued from fighting their chains. It may not work out for everyone, but it will for quite a few, quite a few!

  I was overwhelmed by excitement and delight. I felt like screaming and laughing out loud. Lucco Mancini, you sly shyster, this is what you used as a bluff, only now it’s for real. My future robot would not be some sorry fake, good for nothing more than a smoke screen. He would be huge, a giant in soul, an iron-clad knight of logic and order…

  The prospects were indeed incredible. Showing Semmant to everyone – that would be something to make their jaws drop! He would make money out of thin air; that certainly could not be denied. No one would say this was boring or not worth seeing. They would give me the highest podium: “Tell us, enlighten us, reveal to us!” And I would not refuse; I would make myself known, just to say what was critically needed. That is really how to change the world – why not? And if it didn’t work out, then God help the world!

  “Your reality, as such, isn’t actually worth much,” I would say out loud, and let the blind resent it as angrily as they want.

  “It’s not hard to be certain,” I would say to them. “All you have to do is choose a plane, image reality onto it, and a projection, an abstract model will emerge.”

  “What’s that? You’ve already chosen?” I would say in feigned surprise. “This pastorale moderne, besmirched with golden calves – though they are all merely gold-plated, to tell the truth – is that it? Okay!” I would grin and clasp my hands. “Let’s add a stranger, a newcomer. We’ll put Semmant into the mix, let him sort it out with the head honchos. He will dominate the shepherds and the flock, establish his steel grip, and then – let him command in the manner of mighty Caesar!”

  And he will show them all, and they will see. That will surely be fun to watch. Fun, and maybe a bit sad – but more’s the pity, there’s no other way. Space is folded, turned in on itself – consumption, consumption, guilders, doubloons… Maybe even the plane, as an abstraction, is already overly complicated for you? Riemann and Lobachevsky would scribble a couple of formulas, deduce the metrics, show an example. As for me, I’ll just say to begin with: if the world collapses in on itself, it will suffocate, no doubt. Unfortunately, if you look closer, it seems to have done so already, almost. Might it be better, then, to take it beyond the rational, to astonish everyone while it’s not too late?

  Yes, it was taking me way too far, but I didn’t want to hold anything back. Brochkogel and Brunnenkogel are to blame – as is my personal freedom, which I seemed to have lost but found again. All the same, I wasn’t just indulging in dreams. My brain worked at full power – projecting, designing, altering. I sped south in my car from Tyrol, homeward, while in my head the most complicated schemes spun tirelessly, the contours of new life – life created ex nihilo.

  Somewhere on a serpentine mountain road at Bolzano I thought through the details for heuristic fine-tuning. The artificial mind would turn out impulsive – and quick and sharp. It was somewhat similar to my own, I
thought with a certain satisfaction and began to picture the most important thing: self-learning. Success depended to a large degree on this, and I was so absorbed in my musings that several times I turned the wrong way or strayed onto forks in the road, cursing through my teeth. Finally, somewhere around Brescia the key algorithm became clear to me, and I was so encouraged I laughed out the open window, then pulled into the very next village and drank late into the night with truckers from Verona.

  Driving through Marseille I had the taste of bile in my mouth, but at that very moment I visualized the most important of the objective functions – and I forgave the city everything, and afterward just whispered to myself: polynomial, polynomial. The curve, approximating key points, uncoiled before my eyes like a tamed snake. Then, finally, as I approached Barcelona, I understood how to make Semmant doubt and weigh all the odds, picking the best ones and then subjecting them to doubt again. At the back of my consciousness blinked his integral image, computationally strict, but touching and responsive. Maybe I should have stopped and written something down to keep from forgetting it later, but I was impatient to return to Madrid, so I relied on my memory and just drove as fast as I could.