Perhaps even on Friday

Based on the novel by A. and B. Strugatsky "Monday Begins on Saturday"

Chapter 1. No risk, no gain
- Privalov, you have a chance to redeem yourself.
- Vitka, you...
My eyes flashed. This time Korneev's sweater was definitely going to be incinerated, but he beat me to it again—he put up a Merlin shield with a cheeky pink rabbit in the center, whose fluffy backside deflected my lightning bolts onto the wall behind me. The rabbit rubbed its backside with its paw and vanished.
"You know my virus-eater has never made a mistake before. You're the one who always comes to me for the latest version. And you, Brutus... And a friend too! Hit the sore spot with an iron heel !"
"Well, first of all, I didn't say that I don't think your brilliant 'Dr. Priva ' is the best antivirus program in the world and beyond... Secondly, the fact that your brainchild devoured all the programs developed at various times by Professor Vybegallo 's employees from all the computers in the institute network is, in my opinion, just the best confirmation of that..."
- Tell this to the academic council!
"And I'll tell you. Christobal , by the way, also thinks the only flaw in your program is that it can't penetrate Vybegallov's safe, where the diskettes containing copies of his work are kept. But that's not the point now. You heard, of course, that three mummies were delivered to the institute yesterday for work under the Egypt program? But what you didn't hear is that they received some scrolls in an unknown language this morning, and your automatic translator could help us. And if your Lingvo Universal can't read this Chaldean nonsense , then I don't know what else..."
— Are these copies of the texts in your hands?
"Yes," Vitka casually tossed a stack of papers onto the table, "you see, old man, Janus attaches great importance to your participation in this work, and since Janus's opinion in this case..."
After that, I stopped listening and didn't hear. I began studying the copies of the strange texts. If I'd known how this would end, perhaps I would have been very, very careful. Or maybe not? However, as the switchman said, giving way to the locomotive, I won't get ahead of myself…
what my "Lingvo Universal " had produced, even though I'd seen all sorts of things in my 15 years at NIICHAVO. It felt like the translation had failed—like some kind of nonsense. I read it a second time, a third... If the "covering note" (as I dubbed the copies of the scrolls) were to be believed, these weren't just ordinary mummies that had been delivered to us, but preserved envoys from another world. Which world? That was what I had to find out. Now nothing could stop me.
If I'd known how far from the truth I was, I would have taken Vitka's mockery as a compliment. It's not the cerebellum, it's the lateral line! I was an ass, and I still am... But then, I wasn't that far from the truth; it's just that the truth turned out to be much more multifaceted than Hollywood fairy tales.
* * *
"How many fingers does the hand of a wise inhabitant of these places have, so many are counted when moving to the next level..." A decimal counting system, like ours, is clear. "How many times this sphere rotates as it passes around the sun, divide the rotation time so many times by so many times—that's the total duration of the castle's illumination with black light"—so, clearly, a day divided by 365 three times is approximately 1.77 milliseconds. Is black light infrared? Ultraviolet? X-ray? Okay, let's leave the question for now. "The brightness of the beam is equal to the sum of all the colors of light at the base of the tower , in which the containers are located directly from the top..." Yeah, we also need to take into account how much the pyramid has sunk into the ground over the years and recalculate.
- Privalov, what are you calculating at three o’clock in the morning?
- Vitka, you scared me! To hell with you!
"It's forbidden to disturb the devils now—you know, their breeding and spawning season is from midnight to 3:30. And since they're listed in the Red Book, given the dwindling devil population, and considering that their reproductive lifespan ends at 300 Earth years..."
“I can’t get used to the fact that with you sorcerers, even swearing properly is not really an option—you always give the most mundane meaning to interjections that are as ancient as the world.”
" Think because you have to, before you speak. Then you told lab assistant Vybegallov to go to hell, he started arranging the business trip, got his daily allowance at the ticket office, a round-trip ticket to Tmutarakansk , a hotel for three days, and was ready to fly away... Only when I came to clarify the assignment, it turned out that this was just Comrade Privalov's imaginative thinking, and not a scientific business trip at all."
"Not a lab assistant, but a backup. Do you really think twice when you give commands to backups?"
"It's precisely with them that you have to think especially clearly. They have just a drop of their own thinking—just enough for the task at hand. They're not like Stella." fairy . Aha, Privalov blushed up to his ears!
— What does... what does Stella have to do with this ? And anyway, don't distract me!
"It's precisely this: a distraction is absolutely necessary. You seem to have decided that the issue of activating the mumoids has already been resolved positively and your task is simply to overcome the technical difficulties. And we don't even want to discuss the possible consequences anymore? Is submitting a comprehensive program to the Academic Council just unnecessary red tape? Is Privalov now the one deciding who to activate and how? Have you forgotten Janus's favorite saying: "One lab technician can take the genie out of the bottle, but seven academicians won't put him back in"?"
— Me, a lab technician? Vitka, did you fall from the moon?!
"You may not be a lab technician, but what you're holding in your hands isn't just some dingy gin, it's something stronger... Anyway, go to sleep now, and tomorrow we'll simulate various scenarios on duplicates."
— He who doesn’t take risks, doesn’t drink champagne!
— Speaking of champagne, congratulations to the head of the computer center!
— I almost forgot! Thank you. We'll celebrate with champagne tomorrow. But that's not what I meant…
"Okay, about this or that. Don't sulk. But we'll still have to conduct a model experiment."
* * *
But the next day the model experiment did not take place, because Iona Karpych Chistovymyev , a retired colonel and now the head of the 1st department and the head of the Civil Defense Headquarters concurrently, organized scheduled training for the entire staff of the institute on “actions in extinguishing fires, as well as methods of pre-hospital resuscitation of victims.”
He invented some gas masks! The sorcerers at NIICHAVO need gas masks like a heron needs galoshes. If anyone should wear a gas mask, it's Vybegalle , and not for protection, but quite the opposite—to improve the overall environmental situation at the Institute.
The most disturbing aspect of this event was the order of February 14, which stated, "In order to prevent employees from substituting their own faces for those of laboratory biotechnical duplicates, the psi-emitter is to be set to a power level equal to the Tarantoga threshold for the duration of the training exercise , and the Makropoulos-Saint-Germain vector is to be closed as a M;bius loop ." This meant that any hope of sending duplicates to the training exercise as usual had to be abandoned.
The training took place on the square in front of the Institute building. Since I'd completely forgotten about the champagne I'd promised that evening, I had to buy it in the morning. I had to wait for the store to open, so I arrived when people had already gathered on the improvised "testing ground," and the string bag containing the celebratory drink had to be placed under a bush.
Carbon dioxide fire extinguishers of the OU-2 and OU-4 types are designed to extinguish fires by emitting a directed jet of carbon dioxide, released under pressure from a metal nozzle. For the purpose of a visual demonstration, this smoke bomb will now be activated and then extinguished using this extinguishing agent. The bomb is filled with acrid smoke, which, as it burns, will be released into the designated room. If placed "in the room," the smoke will be released into the surrounding environment.
— Ion Nakarkych , has the pollution of the environment with smoke been agreed upon with the sanitary supervision authorities ?
"I said the smoke is relatively acrid. This grenade is a training grenade, model USHA18. Or USHA19? Never mind. The grenade type is listed on the packaging. Okay... Let's see. " Zroblino near Trokhitsybulsk "... no, that's not it... Ah, here's USHA..." The paper is torn off further. Anyway, don't confuse me—this is a grenade for creating the appearance of fog or smoke—they're also used in movies.
— Let's get going already? Time is running out.
"Stop talking about time. We've got time for classes... Who has a watch? Mine's stopped? Okay, let's light it already. My assistant from the militia will start the fire now..."
Stella , a kind soul who couldn't lie about not being able to participate in the militia, was dressed in a military chemical protection suit. The tail—the belt that fastened her jacket—was passed, as expected, between her legs and fastened at navel level. The extra 40 cm of elastic waistband dangled suggestively, embarrassing her and everyone present, giving her an awkward, not quite feminine appearance. Blushing and embarrassed, Stella broke almost the entire box of matches, but failed to light the wick.
"Privalov, why don't you help? You're a seasoned tourist."
I was grateful to Vitka for the opportunity to save Stella , since I was terribly embarrassed to offer my help and at the same time was exhausted from sympathy.
- Come on, really, I...
Stella gratefully handed over the box and began pinning the ill-fated strap to her belt. The fuse lit , and we stepped back a respectful distance, giving our restless instructor a chance to demonstrate his courage in confronting fire.
The fire gradually began to flare up, and Iona Karpych decided it was time to use the "USHA-something" fire extinguisher. He began to turn the handle, but it wouldn't budge. Iona Karpych applied the athletic strength of a retired colonel, and the handle broke off, landing in the Civil Defense Chief of Staff's hand.
“Since carbon dioxide fire extinguishers are designed to extinguish fires in enclosed spaces, we should better use a foam fire extinguisher, which we have.”
The brave fire fighter picked up a foam fire extinguisher, angrily ripped the seal off, flipped the lever, and tipped the canister downwards. He then pointed the nozzle toward the fire plug. A polyphonic hiss erupted from the nozzle, beginning with high-pitched sounds and progressing to slurping and squelching, followed by a thin stream, reminiscent of a thrifty dog about to patrol the entire yard, leaving behind memorable marks of its walk. A few drops reached the fire plug but did not interrupt its smoke-generating activity. Iona Karpych shook the canister, and after three minutes, he shook out a few more drops. At this point, the canister's supply was apparently exhausted, and it became clear that the fire plug would not be extinguished anytime soon.
— Soldier Onuchkina . What actions should the crew take in this situation?
Stella blushed deeply and finally squeezed out:
- Boys, could someone bring some water?
I ran into the building without remembering it. I only realized the cleaning lady's buckets were probably stored in the women's restroom when I saw the sign with the letter "Æ." "There's got to be a fire stand somewhere? With a bucket? Where have I always seen one?... By the entrance, right?" I rushed back. The stand was there, but the bucket was gone. "We'll fill it with sand," I thought, grabbed a shovel, and ran outside.
Having covered the smoke bomb with earth, I earned a grateful look from Stella . However, the smoke bomb continued to smoke even from underground. The most surprising thing was that most of the smoke spread toward the institute building and had already filled part of the ground-floor corridor.
"This bomb will burn underwater, too. It's a USHA18. Or maybe even a USHA19," Jonah Karpych said thoughtfully . "It'll smoke until it burns out."
— Could it have been extinguished with foam?
— Foam puts out everything. Except for the USHA19.
- Comrades, it's time to disperse. I assume the training is over for today?
— Stop dispersing! After the fire is extinguished, a lookout must remain for up to four hours after the fire goes out!
— There hasn’t been a moment of extinction yet!
- So, it needs to be there, and then another 4 hours.
- Iona Karpych , maybe you should stay?
— Leave! The Civil Defense Chief of Staff must be at headquarters. Soldier Onuchkina , organize duty!
- Yon Na- Kartych , what about me, - Stella was ready to burst into tears, - they won’t listen to me!
Stella's tears had a magical effect on me—not in the mundane sense—the psi-emitter was muted, after all. I simply imagined Stella persuading someone to stand guard near the ill-fated saber, and I felt so sorry for her that something clicked in my mind, and I did something that, as it turned out, stunned the imagination of the Institute's fair sex, especially the planning department. As Roman told me later, in a kind of zombified state, I approached my string bag, pulled out a bottle of champagne, shook it vigorously, and, breaking the neck, directed the stream at the thrice-damned saber. Roman snatched the second bottle from my hands:
"Come to your senses, Sashka, everything's already been paid off. Save a little, think about your comrades..."
Stella kissed me right on the lips in front of everyone... I came to my senses. I don't think I've ever enjoyed champagne as much as I did that time.
"And I hope we won't be learning 'methods of pre-hospital resuscitation of victims' this time," Roman Oyra-Oyra summed up the incident : " Stella has already demonstrated artificial respiration to us."
Chapter 2. Foam
The corridor was full of smoke. Modest Matveyevich was scolding the chief of staff:
- Why don’t you, comrade Chistovyev , look after the equipment entrusted to you? It’s letting you down, you understand... You’ll stop this.
“ I’m Chistovymov , Modest Matveyevich,” Jonah Karpych coughed and pulled the boss into the fresh air.
"Yes, yes, excuse me, Chistovymenev . But what if, say, a fire breaks out in your vivarium—there are valuable exhibits there, rare chlorine samples, and especially, what do you call them... saunas. And these exhibits, especially item 1313 and 1314—they're accountable for non-removal as part of an internal, so-called markdown, according to the act! Surely we can't avoid a commission from Moscow! And you, Iyon Na -Na-Na-Skortochkakh, don't seem to care at all about the property entrusted to you!"
"Excuse me, Modest Matveyevich, how can you even say this? I'm dreaming about that very vivarium... But it's fully equipped—mind you, thanks to my efforts—I ordered, received, and, in accordance with my instructions, commissioned an automatic fire suppression system for the vivarium. This fire extinguisher—I admit, it's a flaw , but the main thing is—it's such a success! It's automatic, after all—not some kind of gimmick ! There are sensors on the ceiling... It automatically starts flooding the entire room with foam as soon as the slightest puff of smoke, like the one we're seeing now, hits the sensors..."
The chief of staff spoke his last words very slowly and quietly, and his face turned strangely pale. Suddenly, a furious roar, some screams and squeals, came from the end of the corridor, and the clatter of powerful hooves became clearly audible. A Unicorn, item 1313, was running down the corridor, covered in foam, its eyes blazing with fire. I had to act. I tried to create a screen of duplicates, but apparently the psi-emitter was still not working. The situation was becoming critical.
"Move aside!!! Clear the way!" I yelled, pushing the administrators out the side door, completely disregarding their high rank.
A powerful animal rushed past and galloped into the lobby. It's scary to imagine what might have happened next, but fortunately, Cristobal Junta was walking in from the street at that moment . Instantly assessing the situation, he snapped his fingers and transformed into a seasoned bullfighter, cape in hand. A real bullfight began, except that the animal had only one horn, but its length, according to the latest measurements, was 112 cm. Article 1313 was apparently enraged—he had thick foam on his lips and even on his back. Cristobal, however, was an accomplished bullfighter. Since he wasn't aiming to crush his opponent, he simply guided him in the right direction, carefully positioning and yanking back his cape. After about 10 minutes, the animal was brought to the guards' break room, where it spent its time on rolled-up mattresses. A ripped pillow completed the picture of devastation that appeared before the clear eyes of the vivarium attendant when the passions had subsided.
"The copy of 'Unicorn, Bull, Article 1313' has gone berserk, I'll have to call the write-off committee, my head is gone," Modest Matveyevich summed up the situation.
"Bull, item 13, as you call him, simply got scared. Someone doused him with foam. By the way, who did it and why?" Cristobal looked questioningly at the chief of staff.
— Apparently, the alarm went off—an automatic fire extinguisher that reacts to smoke.
— And where does the smoke come from, excuse me?
"What's going on in the vivarium now?" I asked, suddenly aware of the situation. This question deflected the storm from the hapless chief of staff, and we all rushed to save the "chlorine and sauna" of the living corner. Some ran, some flew, and a few even slipped through.
What happened in the vivarium, however, is a completely different story.
* * *
When the emergency rescue mission ended, I didn't yet hate Chistovymiev so fiercely , but I was quite angry. I wanted to be rude to him, but I remembered the need for self-control and began counting to a hundred. Counting was hard, and since the psi-generator had already been activated, I decided to create a hundred tiny lambs. The lambs were the size of peas, but even they didn't calm me down. I remembered Kivrin's words , "Nothing improves the mood like research," and decided to examine my behavior in a critical situation today. I had to simulate today's activities; tiny employees appeared on the table, and the entire morning's situation unfolded before my eyes once again. I was distracted by Chistovymiev's words :
"Why are you bringing this animal into the stall in violation of the instructions? It's clearly stated: 'If the animal exhibits strange behavior or other alarming symptoms, such as foaming on the muzzle, etc.,' isolate it and call a veterinary team to transfer it to quarantine." But your horned horse, item number 1313, is exhibiting both strange behavior and foaming... It's a good thing I've already called the team—they'll be here any minute.
- Listen, Yevonny. Kartych , that's not right... You yourself know that both the strange behavior and the foam are the result of your teachings.
"No, excuse me! This is the result of your disorganization. Militiawoman Onuchkina failed to cope with the firefighting demonstration, and you, by the way, weren't up to par either, although you eventually recovered, and I won't even mention the rest of them."
I was bursting with emotion. I was beside myself. And then my gaze fell on my model. The little figures had dispersed, and all that remained on the platform was an unused fire extinguisher. Workers approached it... and then... "Stop!" I restarted the chronodrive and watched the scene again.
— Ikonokartich , and the fire extinguisher that didn’t work is still there?
- Oh, really, he needs to be taken away! Can you help?
"What are we talking about? I'll send you a backup right now. Go ahead, he'll catch up..."
Chistovymov's backup mistook them for the junior technical staff, calling them all "young men," and he loved to lecture them. I pretended to be a backup and followed Chistovymov .
* * *
"Here, young man, you need to take this thing and bring it to the warehouse with me. Come on, young man."
- What kind of nail is that hanging on the forest?
"Where's the nail? What are you saying—it's a tool for clearing out the drain. Look at the vessels—before you start, hold this object like this, insert it into the vessel, and with a few movements..."
Foam gushed from the fire extinguisher onto the chief of staff, drenching him from head to toe. Cursing and squealing, he pushed the canister away, but it was no use—almost its entire contents had already covered him from head to toe.
at the building . I hurried to meet them.
"Hello, comrades, we've been waiting. You see, the little ghoul has gone berserk. Probably bitten by a rabid rat. It's a strange thing—he imagines himself the chief of staff of the Civil Defense, but he's kicking and screaming—well, you see."
"Don't worry, comrade, we'll take you into quarantine now, check you out, give you a course of injections, and return you healthy. In a week."
- That's wonderful. Well, I'm off.
The chief of staff was escorted to a place where he could rest from the vicissitudes of an eventful day. They kept him there only half a day, and I was deprived of my bonus. I was happy.
Chapter 3. The Monument Not Made by Hands
It all started when the lab assistant started looking at me strangely. I attributed it to the incident with Chistovyev and tried not to react. Then the brownie Panfnuty popped in, peered closely at my face, sighed, and said, "You look the same... And I, in three hundred years of impeccable service, haven't even earned a portrait," before sadly wandering off. But when Roman Oira-Oira called , my mind refused to comprehend what was happening.
"Hello, Privalov? Hi, old man. You're something else... You can't die of modesty. What are you—a two-time hero or a holder of three orders? Or maybe you're an Honored Artist, recognized in your lifetime? You've outdone Pushkin, my friend! Well done, Sasha, well done, son of a bitch!"
- Roman, stop teasing me, what’s gotten into you?
"Okay, if you think everything's fine, what business is it of mine? Just keep in mind—dispelling your statues will cost you a month's worth of your data center's electricity, I've already calculated it. So, you're the one who started this, now you figure out how to clean up the mess."
- Romka, come on, don’t keep me in suspense, tell me what happened?!
— Are you out of your mind? Don't you know anything? You're so busy working... Look out into the corridor.
I mentally pressed my ears to the back of my head and peered cautiously out into the corridor. Along the wall stood a jumble of strange, absurd figures. My subconscious overtook my conscious awareness, and I felt a chill down my spine before I realized what I was seeing. Along the wall stretched an endless gallery of stone statues, each one a portrait of me in various absurd poses—caricatures, it seemed to me. Institute staff were milling about the gallery, some snapping photos. The atmosphere resembled a cross between a toy art exhibit and a theatrical skit—primarily because, instead of the usual silent contemplation of the statues, as happens in a museum, in this case, colleagues were emotionally commenting on each individual image and the entire exhibition. My name was not always mentioned with due respect. Kamneedov's voice was the loudest : "You'll stop this!" I pinched myself and confirmed that, unfortunately, I wasn't dreaming. Suddenly, the chatter stopped… Janus Poluektovich was approaching down the corridor . At first, I couldn't tell whether it was A-Janus or U-Janus. Lately, the difference between them had become less and less.
"So, Alexander Ivanovich, what do you call a typical programmer's mistake? A hang in a loop, that's what you call it?"
And then it dawned on me!
— Exactly! But I didn't set any boundary conditions for exiting the loop! Oh, me, the idiot!
"Okay, that's clear, let's go our separate ways and think about how to dispose of this pile of monuments. You'll allow them to be removed from here, won't you?"
- Of course, Janus Poluektovich , but how can this be done?
- Well, my dear fellow, you'll figure that out yourself.
But the crowd had no intention of dispersing. When it became clear this was the result of a mistake, the wave of sarcasm gave way to a wave of curiosity. Roman was the first to express the general opinion:
- Come on, Sashka, spill the beans - what is this and where is it from?
— I think I can guess what it is and where it comes from, but how it ended up here...
- Let's go in order.
"Well, you see, back in the vivarium, the Gorgon's cage was filled with foam. Something had to be done. So I sent a double to save her. And since her gaze could petrify the double, I imbued the double with caution in my own image and magical powers. And out of caution, he sent a double in his place, imbued with caution, who sent a double in his place, and so on... I hadn't considered this possibility—the possibility of a cyclical repetition of the task. The doubles apparently multiplied and still disturbed the Gorgon, and as a result, everyone was petrified. But how did they end up here? Korneev must have placed them here."
My hypothesis turned out to be correct, both in terms of the origin of the statues and who delivered them to their public display site. At my suggestion, the statues were used to reinforce the banks of the Yeltsovka River, as the city council planned to purchase concrete debris for this purpose. When my statues were buried neck-deep in the ground, I felt as if I myself were being buried many times over.
I wonder what future archaeologists will think when they unearth six hundred images of the same person in various poses? And then I remembered the mystery of the Mayan Islands…
Chapter 4. Academic Council
The Academic Council began with Professor Vybegallo's report on "Presentation of the VVV." People slowly filled the hall. As always, everyone reasoned that the start of the meeting would be about fifteen minutes late anyway, so no one was in a hurry. Because of this, there was no quorum, and the meeting could not be opened. This happened again and again, and no one was ever in a hurry to get to the beginning. It was like a large family dinner.
"What is this BBB?" Roman asked.
"An outrageous act of vandalism ," Vitka said gloomily, and Roman nodded in agreement, sat down in the empty seat, pulled a folded notebook from his pocket, opened it somewhere in the middle, and began correcting something. He most likely didn't understand the meaning of Vitka's answer.
— H-hello everyone. Who knows what this abbreviation means?
Kivrin's mischievous voice, as always , appeared somewhat earlier than his owner. This habit of appearing gradually, starting with a smile, earned Kivrin the playful nickname "Cheshire Cat," which over time was shortened to the affectionate "Chesha."
“ Vybegallov’s Weighty Contribution,” apparently…” said Vitka.
"Then over-to four ' V' and a question mark at the end, right?" Kivrin winked at Vitka and signed the list of those present.
"What are they reporting on today?" Cristobal asked dryly , appearing on the wall as the main character in a poster titled "Wax Museum of the Human Body Catastrophe—Eyewitness Guide, Dr. C. Juntissimo ."
“K- Christo , you are two-dimensional,” Kivrin said softly .
“Oh, yes, excuse me,” Cristobal stepped off the poster and was dressed in a smart three-piece suit with a tie and a barrette with a malachite insert.
“It means Always Everywhere Everywhere,” answered Vitka.
— Then we should have called it ZBK — A Plug for Every Barrel.
“Vitka, he’s talking about you,” I said.
“There you go, come on…” Vitka snapped.
"Are you seething, Your Highness ?" Stella laughed.
“Here you all are,” Vitka prepared to show a fig, but his palm froze motionless and a characteristic “ beep-beep ” sounded.
“I’ll throw you out,” Cristobal said calmly , after which Vitka’s hand smoothly sank into his pocket, where it apparently completed the formation of the fig.
When everyone had gathered, Vybegallo hung a banner on the wall reading "The Repository of Universal Magic." The three letters "V" were highlighted in color and size. Vybegallo cast a condescending glance at the audience, scratched his beard, and addressed Janus Poluektovich in an ingratiating tone :
"We have these correspondents on duty there. We should probably let them through, then. Then, perhaps, we'll get started."
"Correspondents have no business at the Academic Council—invite them to presentations, exhibitions, symposiums. This is work , not a talk show. Please begin. The rules allow you fifteen minutes to present your report."
— This, then, is very, very little, but in the name of science, sacrificing the most important details, and getting to the heart of the matter, I would say...
- Yes, please, let's get to the heart of the matter.
- Voila.
Vybegallo cleared his throat and began to speak:
— The concept of the Receptacle of Universal Magic includes the most complex organizational options for participation...
The meeting gradually began to drift off... Suddenly, the letters on the poster began to change, and the inscription appeared: "The Harmful, Stinking Upstart." The meeting perked up, and Vybegallo rejoiced:
“I see that my report is of particular interest to those who correctly understand the goals of Russian science.
Cristobal glanced at the poster, raised his right eyebrow, and the caption read "Outrageously Blatant Permissiveness," after which the original title, " Vybegalla, " was restored . Vitka began to carefully examine the sky outside the window, while the caption transformed into "Always Possible Variations," then " Vybegalla's Harmful Tricks," then "However, You Know Best." Roman scratched his head, and the caption read "Vitka Is Probably Showing Off." Cristobal drummed his fingers on the table, and "You Are All to Blame" appeared, followed by the original "Receptacle of Universal Magic." Vitka looked down at his feet, and the last word changed to "Theft." Cristobal cupped his fingers , and the original caption was restored, appearing as if covered in a crust of ice. Vitka sighed and relaxed.
"It seems to me, Ambrosy Ambruazovich , that the theoretical foundations of your ideas are quite clear, since they are not new," Janus Poluektovich interjected . "Let's move on to the practical aspects of your, so to speak, successes."
— It is precisely this demonstration of the practical, invaluable value of our results, so to speak, that is the most important milestone in the development of our national and global science, achieved in a single laboratory under the leadership of your humble servant.
Four takes, straining and groaning, dragged a huge box with two pedals and a folding screen onto the stage.
"Before you is a universal remote control for our Receptacle of Universal Magic. It's easy to use and allows anyone to access the magic they desire, without limiting the dose or quality. As the saying goes, much wisdom equals much sorrow. The more buttons, and therefore the more thoughts, the more complex and sorrowful the experience."
An inscription appeared on the ceiling: "For a clumsy person, two hands are too much, for a fool, even one head is a burden." Cristobal didn't see it, so the inscription remains.
"Learning how to use the Umklaidet can be time-consuming and frustrating," Vybegallo continued. "Our remote control is incredibly simple, and therefore perfect. It has just two buttons for 'yes' and 'no,' a left pedal for scrolling through the options, and a right pedal for returning to the starting point, so to speak. This simplifies operating these marvels and makes the user happy and joyful. All the details are displayed on the demonstration board. Let me begin, so to speak."
Vybegallo pressed the green button, and the display read "Start?", after which he pressed it again. The new display read, "Choose the magic you need: use the right pedal to scroll, the green button to select, the red button to cancel, and the left pedal to return. Best of luck!"
Then Vybegallo pressed the green button again. The message "Here's a magic wand. Create it?" appeared. The professor pressed "Yes." A box appeared at the bottom of the screen with the message "Magic Wand Creation," and on the main screen, "Magic Carpet. Summon it?" — "Yes." Then this happened. More and more messages appeared on the screen. Each time Vybegallo pressed the green button, new boxes appeared, gradually filling the entire screen.
— Invisibility cloak?
- Yes.
— Seven-league boots?
- Yes.
— The sword-kladenets?
- Yes.
— A magic tablecloth?
- Yes!
— A magic lamp?
- Yes!!
— A magic ring?
- Yes!!!
— Genie in a bottle?
— YES!!!
— A self-playing gusli? A whistle- piper ? Shagreen leather? The Portrait of Dorian Gray?
— YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! YES! — Vybegallo pressed the green button, not having time to read the inscriptions. He needed everything, immediately, at once, faster.
— Are the sleeves from the vest?
— YES!!!!!!
"The program has encountered an unacceptable error and will be closed," everything vanished in a single breath, and a broken wooden trough appeared from somewhere.
Vybegallo wiped his bald head with a crumpled handkerchief and said:
— A minor hitch, irrelevant to the matter at hand. Shall we try again?
“Choose one miracle, Ambrosiy Ambruazovich , and refuse the rest,” advised Kivrin .
— Yes, of course, great things are known by small things. Let's choose one.
Vybegallo pressed the green button again and continued his unequal intellectual duel with the miracle box.
— Here is a magic wand. Create it?
"No. The control course, you know… I forgot a bit." Vybegalo chuckled and pressed the red button.
— A flying carpet?
"No. Where to fly? And then again, the control course. Here's what we're talking about, this... Genie, you see, out of the bottle." Vybegallo abandoned everything that had come before the genie and, when prompted, ordered one by pressing the green button.
— The genie is loading, wait, would you like some more powerful peri?
- No.
— Phoenix bird, predicts the future, knows the past — should I order one?
- No, no, no! No-no-no-no and no! NO!!!
— Wait, the gin is loading.
Soon, morocco slippers appeared. Janus Poluektovich sighed and suggested:
— Perhaps we should move on to the next question? Any objections, comrades? Thank you. The next speaker is Alexander Ivanovich Privalov, on a model experiment.
I briefly outlined the gist of my question. As I spoke, a frail old man gradually materialized next to me, wearing a worn Arab robe and with long hair growing not only from his ears but also from his nose. Perhaps he wasn't a genie, but an ifrit . Only a very old one, even by ifrit standards . And most likely, feeble. The audience didn't so much listen to me as watched, mesmerized, as the "genie" materialized. No one could have imagined that Professor Vybegallo's work could be crowned with any success. I expected questions, but when I finished, Janus Poluektovich said:
— Thank you, Alexander Ivanovich, questions for you will come after Ambrosiy Ambruazovich’s report is completed .
Vybegallo ran onto the stage and turned into a genie with the following words:
— How many wishes do I have? Three or more?
- Mukhmur bortabri bin "Vsibukl ," the old man replied.
" Darling , go ahead and make my wishes come true. Let's get you a magic tablecloth first, shall we?"
— Bukhtamdy Zamrek shvyzyan "Goodrakstas . Al- zahatagrat ," the dwarf ifrit answered respectfully , "Professor Vybegallo was wearing the same worn robe and greasy oriental turban.
" So there are some linguistic difficulties here," the professor explained, ripping off his turban. "We'll work this out in working order, so to speak. But now this genie will finally show us what he's capable of. You, my dear fellow, go ahead and show us your demo version. Go ahead, guest tour. Silva ple —ale gop!"
— Sakzukrab al mogji istamznah . Il Allah illa illah , Muhammad Rasul Allah, - with these words the old man pressed the red button and disappeared.
At this point, the academic council meeting ended. For some reason, everyone forgot about me. The most surprising thing is that I, too, forgot that my report was unfinished and that no decision had been made on my issue.
Chapter 5: Somebody Has to Do It
The goal of any modeling experiment is to expand information about the object. This method is successful if the model is adequate to the object. A model is adequate if the information about it is complete. And to expand this information, a modeling experiment should be used… A vicious circle.
Comrades, what should we do? This is why no one likes modeling experiments, and this is why everyone does them…
Sofa thief, discipline violator, and malicious extortionist of computer time, Vitka Korneev demands a model experiment on duplicates and persuades us not to rush into activating the mumoids !
What exactly could happen that a third-degree mage would fear the consequences of? Mutant orchids enslaving humanity? A sentient biomass consuming all life on the planet? An incurable disease? A nuclear or thermonuclear explosion? The annihilation of matter and antimatter? A global genetic catastrophe? Global climate change? Finally, our planet would suddenly become a counter-rotor, moving backward along the time axis. After all, we already knew that Janus U is a counter-rotor...
Pictures were drawn in Hollywood style. And Arnie Schwartz, the one who dots the i's, with his trademark lumps on his square jaw and phrases like, "It's a dirty job, but somebody's gotta do it..." and "Welcome to hell!", will save us from destruction. A universal catastrophe, no less—that's what could have turned Vitka into a cautious and prudent, disciplined and responsible scientist.
Janus placed great importance on my participation. For some reason, they gave me all the information and were in no hurry to take the results, even though my "Lingvo Universal " had already completed the translation, and it would seem I should have handed it over to a more experienced magician , Cristobal Junta or F.S. Kivrin . At worst, to Vitka or Edik... Apparently, what's needed is a programmer's knowledge, or rather, a way of thinking—prognostic algorithms, modeling—that's what it is! Vitka is right; I need to seriously engage in modeling this situation, not out of fear of the consequences, but because, apparently, no one can do it better than me. Or maybe my specific errors (I remembered the multiplying duplicates) will lead me to the right solution—after all, a programmer is no stranger to recognizing a cyclical failure.
I remembered how the fire extinguisher canister on my desk had sprayed foam onto the duplicate workers who had come to pick it up. The model had been accurate, and it had depicted what would have actually happened if no one had been doing any predictions. But since I'd seen the consequences, I'd arranged for Chistovymiev to be there by then . Knowing the future negated that knowledge. I remembered how no one believed Cassandra while she was accurately predicting the future, but as soon as they started taking a serious interest in her (this was already at the Research Institute of the History of the Black Sea, in the forecasting department), her talent seemed to evaporate. Everyone decided it was time for the old woman to retire, that she'd run her course. But the point was something else entirely—people had started believing! What's the purpose of predictions? To prevent undesirable events. And if they're prevented, the predictions don't come true.
So, my mission is to figure out what will happen if I don't figure out what might happen. If I guess right, it won't happen, but to prevent it from happening, I have to guess right. So, the result is doomed to failure in any case, but it's necessary. So ... It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it!
Chapter 6. Let's go!
The figures were the size of chess pieces. A chalk circle had been drawn on the floor, and spells had been recited. I reminded myself of Khoma Brutus in my youth, the only difference being that Khoma was inside the circle, and the undead were outside, while for me it was the other way around. Among the undead was a duplicate of myself, who, with the help of a laser, spells, and magic, could, if necessary, unpack the mummy models. But the mummy models themselves were a complete mystery. How could you model something unknown?
Since there was no information about the mummy's contents, I initially didn't know what to do. But I consoled myself with the thought that any experiment, even a mistaken one, adds to knowledge, so where I begin isn't so important. This thought somehow deeply ingrained itself in my subconscious and haunted me all day, and by evening the reason for my anxiety finally dawned on me. Brilliant! After all, this is a pure search algorithm—if the procedure converges, then it doesn't matter where you start. But if the procedure doesn't converge, then no matter where you start, it won't lead to the correct solution. The only condition for the procedure to lead to the correct solution is negative feedback and its stability according to Lyapunov-Cagliostro. That is, a deviation from the equilibrium point must cause forces acting in the direction opposite to the cause that caused the deviation.
There was, however, a problem with creating this force. Of course, what we initially take for a solution actually turns out to be a new, more complex problem. Let's think about it. If the simulated mumoids turn out to be harmless, then Janus, returned from the past, doesn't attach much importance to the problem and the simulated experiment, which means that in my model, Janus will behave differently than in real life, and I will notice. If these mumoids turn out to be too dangerous, then Janus, understanding the danger of the experiment, will not entrust it to me, since I won't be able to handle it... There you have the solution. And who said I can't handle it? Well, if I can handle it, then the mumoids aren't all that dangerous. So, if the simulated Janus behaves the same as the real one, then the model is adequate, or its errors are insignificant for the outcome. Maybe I'm wrong, but at least I see a way. In any case, wandering in the dark is better than doing nothing.
First and foremost, I needed to formalize the criteria for increasing or decreasing the magical malignancy of objects. Of course, it could spontaneously increase, as happened, for example, with Vybegallov's genius consumer. In other words, the creation could prove more powerful than the creator. I understood this perfectly well. Therefore, I'll use the cursed circle: I'll localize the experiment on a scale of one to fifty. I'll simulate not only the mummies themselves, but the entire NIICHAVO on a smaller scale. If the mummies are safe, the situation will develop without catastrophe. In this case, nothing bad threatens us. This scenario is far from reality, since I know that U-Janus takes the problem very seriously. So, I'll increase the mummies' malignancy by a certain amount and repeat the simulation. If the situation is dangerous, I'll see a minor catastrophe.
No, I won't see anything—after all, in the event of a catastrophe, Janus-U won't exist at the start of the modeling experiment! If I exceed the model's magical malice, then I won't be able to adequately simulate Janus-U... This begs the question of what adequately means.
I still haven't had an answer to this question. Was our Chief of Staff modeled accurately or inadequately? This needs to be clarified. I'll pose him a problem—him and his backup—and establish the margin of error. It's easy to say, pose a problem to the real Chistovyev . He never does anything. All he knows is how to assemble and disassemble his beloved service pistol.
Stop! That's what I'll puzzle him with.
Chistomoviev's room was next to mine—a convenient object of study. I'd made the wall one-way transparent. Chistomoviev had just disassembled his black friend, greased every part, and begun reassembling it.
I created a miniature Chistovymiev doing the same thing and removed one of the small black screws from both of them. Both, unsuspecting, continued assembling the pistol. Upon completion, discovering the missing screw, the real Karpych scratched his head with his right hand, the duplicate with his left. Then they both reached under the table. Unable to find the screw , they began patting themselves, then took off their shoes and shook their contents onto the floor. "Deviations within normal limits," I thought.
After that, everyone began to disassemble the pistol again and lay out the parts on a white cloth. I gave each of them two screws instead of one.
When the assembly process was complete, they each discovered an extra screw. Ionych tugged at his nose with his right hand, and the other with his left. "The other is left-handed," I noted and made the correction.
They both started the disassembly process all over again. I removed the extra screw, but on the last remaining screw, I replaced the left-hand thread with a right-hand thread. The screw wouldn't fit. Karpych swore, the other one cursed, but with a slightly longer slur. They both started the disassembly process all over again. When both had their iron friend disassembled and almost reassembled, the last screw wouldn't fit again (obviously!). Karpych began disassembling the pistol again, while the other one began unscrewing one screw at a time and trying to screw the "wrong" screw into the vacated space. I dialed down the other one's intelligence and decided to have some coffee...
Three hours later, both were disassembling the pistol and reassembling it again. The incorrect screw had occurred at different times, and they were at different stages of the process, but the essence of the result remained unchanged, except for the test subjects' level of irritation. I thought the second take was more restrained. I added some emotion and took another hour off.
An hour later, Karpych stared blankly at his black friend, while the duplicate quietly whined and banged its head against the wall. I toned down the duplicate's emotional intensity and rebooted it from the previous point, running it at high speed. The duplicate also fell into a stupor, mimicking the prototype's behavior. Outpacing the living Karpych , the duplicate stood up at an accelerated pace and began tugging at the door to my room... I recreated my office and my own duplicate, turning up the volume. The duplicate entered and said:
"Privalov, I think you received the laser system last week? But it still hasn't been delivered to the firefighter."
— What kind of installation is that? It's a low-power laser…
"According to the documentation, the laser system must be commissioned in accordance with current regulations. Where do you keep it? In this safe? Excellent! Don't turn it on until the fire department clears it."
The duplicate sealed the copy of my safe with a replica of the Seal of Sabaoth . Afterward, his composure was completely restored , and he was about to go home with a sense of accomplishment, when I suddenly realized what had happened and froze time during the experiment. Then I quickly unwrapped the real safe before it was sealed, dispelled the back panel, and created a holographic image of it. Even a trainee magician could understand that I wouldn't have been able to perform this operation with a safe sealed with the genuine Seal of Sabaoth . I had barely unwrapped the safe when the real Karpych walked in .
"Privalov, you received the laser system last week! Has it been delivered to the firefighter?"
— Yes, Ionokarbych , I confess... The laser system hasn't been delivered. Even though the laser is low-power...
"According to the documentation, the laser unit is subject to commissioning in accordance with current regulations. Where do you keep it? In this safe? Excellent! Don't turn it on until the fire department clears it."
The real Karpych sealed my real safe with the Seal of Sabaoth , after which his peace of mind was completely restored and he went home with a sense of duty fulfilled.
Well, there's the answer. Create a model, find the criteria for inconsistency, make adjustments, restart—and so on until complete identity between the model and its implementation is achieved. But it's clear that if you check the criteria manually, you'll never have time to restart the model. This algorithm needs to be formalized, connected to a computer so it can check the criteria, make adjustments, and restart the model.
The door creaked and Janus entered.
— Alexander Ivanovich, good evening. So, what's emerging here?
"Well, Janus Poluektovich , the idea is to gradually refine the rough model based on control events, make adjustments, and restart. The control panel will be here—for complicating or simplifying the problem conditions, for changing the model's time scale, for restarting the entire model from a given time point."
— The conditional point is the moment of mummification?
— Yes. Next, a high-speed scroll through forty centuries, then a simulation from the moment the mummies arrived at the Research Institute of the History of the Earth.
— And a careful analysis of what is happening?
— Absolutely right! If the model is wrong, we won't be able to recreate the situation that occurred before the mumoids' activation . Therefore, we will always be able to distinguish between a correct model and an incorrect one.
"Wait, Viktor Ivanovich, I can't follow your train of thought. You're saying you can always distinguish a false model from the true one? By what criteria?"
— Well, how so? After all, Janus Poluektovich , you entrusted me with working on this model!
- So what?
- So, it means you believe that I won’t let you down!
- Of course, how can I doubt you?
"That's the whole point!!! How can you doubt it? And if you don't doubt it, that means I can handle it, that means the model is right. If the model is wrong, you won't trust me with the activation process, knowing in advance that I won't be able to handle it."
- My dear, what are you saying? How can you know this in advance?
“But you came from there, from the future…” I stopped short here.
We all thought that the question of Janus-U's movement backwards with Janus-U or Janus-A shouldn't be discussed out of delicacy. We all believed that Janus, of all people, knew about his dual state. In any case, Janus-U had even recently discussed certain aspects of this state with us. But no one considered whether Janus-A knew that he would soon be traveling backwards through time. And yet, I hadn't even considered which Janus I was talking to. They had become so similar. And this meant that the moment of his being sent back in time was approaching. Could I have imagined that Janus-A himself was unaware of such a turning point in his destiny?! And yet, belatedly, I realized that this was indeed the case. However, before I had time to explain anything, Janus figured it out himself.
"Alexander Ivanovich, what you said is extremely important. Just recently, I discovered that it's possible to travel backwards through time. True, only in leaps and bounds, but you won't believe it—it's possible!"
- Why shouldn't I believe it? After all, you...
"It's unbelievable, and yet it's true! I've even considered traveling back in time myself, but I still need to test it thoroughly. Experiment on an animal or a bird, at least. I have everything ready. And yet, one thing bothers me—humanity shouldn't take such a serious step out of idle curiosity. There's no need to travel back in time, and not every opportunity should be realized. However, I find it so interesting that even without the need, I 'd probably go for it."
- Janus Poluektovich , but you...
- What?
- Sorry, nothing.
- No, go on, my dear... You said here that I came from the future?.. Should I understand you in such a way that you think that I have already made a countermotion ?
“Well, yes, that is, of course not yet – you haven’t done it, but he, the other one…” Here I fell silent, because I was completely confused.
"Someone else beat me to it? That can't be, I know the state of the art in this matter... You know what, Alexander Ivanovich?" Janus's eyes suddenly lit up with a mischievous youthful light. "After talking with you, I've finally made up my mind—I'll travel back in time, I'll become a countermove, I'll thus be an object for your criteria, and together we'll solve this difficult problem. So, we just need to set a time for my return, and that time must be no earlier than we activate the mumoids , and the activation will take place no earlier than the completion of your model experiments! So, it's decided! Wait, but if we've decided so, then he must be somewhere, somewhere right now, that is, I am! Surely I'll have to go somewhere?! You should find me and discuss the results of the experiment with me, that is, with him. My God, what am I saying—how are you going to discuss the future? Nothing will work!"
"Yanus Poluektovich , but there's no need to look for you! You're already here in two copies," for some reason that's the word that came to mind.
“So you’re saying…” A-Janus took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead, “you’re saying that you know me, the one who returned from the future, that you’ve seen me many times, and even talked to me, and I don’t suspect anything about it?”
- Well, yes... It never occurred to us that you had never crossed paths.
"And yet it is so. Well, I have two consolations in this life. The first is that the experiment will be successful, and the second is that my colleagues, my friends—that is, all of you—my dear institute—will remain with me."
“We will always be with you, Janus Poluektovich ,” I said and felt my eyes stinging, but I didn’t dare rub them in the presence of A-Janus.
Chapter 7. The Economy Must Be…
Every misfortune happens not just anytime, but when it's least expected. Naturally, the power engineers cut our quarterly quota due to overspending, forcing the institute to switch to a lower psi-field level. To conserve the field, we had to reduce the size of the duplicates to a ridiculously small size: half a millimeter became the average height of each duplicate in my model experiment. This meant that observing the model's implementation became very difficult. Without a microscope, you can't make out facial expressions, without an acoustoscope , you can't hear conversations. All hope rested on electronic observers. Of course, we could have postponed the experiment until next quarter, waiting for the psi-field restrictions to be lifted... Monday, gentlemen, starts on Saturday, or even Friday! Who would wait when they have to solve a mystery that's forty centuries old?! So what if I can't observe the process of trying out options, trial and error? Should I give up the fight because of this? Postpone it indefinitely? I'll still carefully review the final version—I don't care about the limits! I'll sign up for duty, break the seals, and... What can I say—winners are not judged; I just need to get closer to the solution. But for now, I just need to collect statistics, correct them, and collect more. And, by the way, it's actually quite fortunate that the duplicate sizes have been reduced—then, without any additional energy expenditure (I tried very hard to be convincing here, because it's not easy to deceive myself), I'll be able to speed up the experiment by a billion times. And how much do I need?
Okay, wait a minute, I need to rewind forty centuries a few million times before the procedure finally leads to the right solution. So... I felt sad.
Ah, whatever, if we're going to scale it down, we'll scale it down. What's the difference—half a millimeter, half a micrometer , or a full nanometer? Of course, simple devices can't keep track of nanometer duplicates, but we could create a 100-nanometer-sized guard with the right to restart it 100 times, which would report on what's happening to a 10-micrometer-sized guard, which would then relay the information to a 1-millimeter-sized guard, which would then communicate with a 5-centimeter-sized observer, who would report the situation directly to me, A.I. Privalov. Each guard would restart the experiment 100 times within their own authority, and on the 101st, consult with a higher-level authority.
If I've overlooked anything, I'll correct it as the play progresses. The most important thing is to correctly model Janus Poluektovich and keep his model in the view of the lower-level observer.
Chapter 8. Truth is born not only in disputes
"Janus Poluektovich , I'm plagued by a nagging doubt. May I ask, how is it that you haven't met yourself, while we all communicate without a problem with both the present you and the you... fading into... the past?"
"Don't be embarrassed, Alexander Ivanovich, call a spade a spade. For the sake of simplicity, let's call me object "A," and the other one object "Y," or something. Well, yes, the departing one. So what? Go on."
"Well, how can I put it... Is object Y deliberately hiding from object A, or is this a law of nature? And one more thing—why don't we ask object Y directly what's lurking in those mummies ? Why all this modeling? After all, it already knows everything; let it tell us what to do, and we'll do it. As the saying goes, 'The giraffe is taller, it knows better!'"
"You see, Alexander Ivanovich, you think you've asked too many questions, but in reality, it's all the same problem, like many doors in one room. But let's take things in order, and let me start from afar. You know about the inviolability of the law of conservation of energy. Creating a perpetual motion machine is impossible because energy can't come from nowhere. An engine can't feed on the energy it generates itself, since it can't produce more than it consumes, and some of that energy is lost. The same can be said about information."
— Information cannot arise on its own?
— Exactly. Information cannot be transmitted from the future to the past in such a way that the past influences the future. That is, there is no strict prohibition, but it is impossible to lock the flow of information into a cycle that has no beginning. Information must first arise as a result of research, experimentation, and mental work, and only then can it be passed on to others and used for creative purposes. A person from the future cannot help people from the past make a discovery, because in that case, cause and effect are reversed, and the original cause ceases to exist. A descendant cannot be the father of their ancestor, no matter how much they might want to, do you understand? Because of this, countermotion was long considered fundamentally impossible. But my research has shown that some prohibitions can still be circumvented. Imagine a piece of butter. (When Janus Poluektovich was carried away by a discussion, he himself did not notice how he switched to the informal "you," but unlike Vybegallo , for him this did not humiliate, but rather elevated his interlocutor, as if bringing the lecturer and the listener closer together. As in Gogol, "you look, and you don’t know whether his majestic breadth suits you or not.")
If the oil is heated, not only a knife but also the feather of our Photonchik can pass through it . If it's cooled, it becomes an obstacle for the feather, but a knife can still cut it. But oil frozen to cryogenic temperatures won't cut even a knife—it will break. A person moving forward in time is free to act, but when moving backward, they encounter obstacles that arise due to the inviolability of the laws of nature. And the greater the deviation from the natural course of events, the more insurmountable the obstacle. A person can move freely on the surface of the earth; the air doesn't impede their movements, but a counter-rotor will encounter insurmountable obstacles. Essentially on the surface, they will feel like a speleologist in a cave—they can see everything, but they won't be able to go everywhere. They can hear anything, but they won't be able to say everything. What isn't an obstacle for an ordinary person will become an obstacle for a counter-rotor. An ordinary person cuts through space with their body, as easily as a hot knife cuts butter, but a counter-rotor, in this sense, is like a cold knife. A most intriguing phenomenon! Object Y will be able to observe object A, but will not be able to explicitly reveal its existence to object A, since this violates the law of information generation. I was able to learn from you that the experiment took place only after I had firmly decided that it would happen, no matter what.
- And now that you know for sure that it will take place, what prevents you from seeing object U?
"Honestly, I don't know... It could be nothing. In any case, don't expect to get any positive information from Object Y about what will happen in the future. That's why modeling is absolutely necessary. And also—the work of thought."
— And how can object Y know whether the information will influence the future or not?
"He can't know anything like that. He simply won't be able to influence the future. The further he is from the point of departure, the more time must pass between his current moment and that point, the more avenues of influence there are, the more prohibitions there are. His options become fewer and fewer, as if the cave were narrowing."
"What if it closes completely? What if object Y is left without any options for action that wouldn't affect the future? What will happen to it then?"
"Well, why so gloomy? Firstly, the cave comparison isn't entirely accurate. And then, there aren't many restrictions. The countermote must be someone who has a real-life double, as it were, whom they've never met. Considering a possible change of residence, this isn't such an impossible condition. In our case, as you can see, we don't even require that. Secondly, this twin mustn't make any scientific discoveries or other actions that have future consequences. I did some calculations here—remember the 'personality' program you created for me? I was looking for people whose lives had no impact on their future. Paradoxical results. No chance for educators and teachers, writers, lab technicians, and research fellows, especially junior ones—they all have a significant impact on the future. But among those who don't have an impact, the leading ones are politicians, seasonal street cleaners (who clear snow in winter), athletes, journalists, prostitutes, and, imagine, the heads of research institutes." The last one simply shocked me, but on the other hand, it suits me best. No positive information comes from these people. They live without creating anything. They can be counter-productive. True, there is a hitch with the energy at the starting point, but it seems that it can be overcome.
- What's the catch?
— Here's the thing. Simple movement into the past is out of the question simply because such a person wouldn't be perceived as a person—all their actions and bodily processes would be reversed. They would be strange to others, meaning they would be a phenomenon to which they would pay attention, and therefore impossible. Discrete countermotion is a different matter . Object Y goes back, say, two days and experiences one day just like everyone else. Then everyone moves on to the next day, and he goes back two days again. True, during this time the Earth will have deviated by approximately two degrees from its previous state, but this only means that the person must make a leap not only in time but also in space. This leap, in fact, requires no energy expenditure, since at the very moment when Object Y appears at the transgression point, its "tomorrow's" body disappears from this point into the day before yesterday. There is no significant change in mass, and no significant energy is required. Of course, every day is different, and the day's events have an impact on us, but this discrepancy remains within the limits of acceptable deviations. So the boundary conditions of the Rummer-Humperding equation ensure a nearly spontaneous jump—provided these conditions were satisfied at the start. Do you understand?
— Quite. But what about this condition for the moment of launch? In this case, object A turns into object Y, and at the moment of transgression, both objects are perceived as having disappeared, which means the law of conservation of mass is violated? After all, the equation Rummer-Humperding all coefficients are positive?
— This is in its scalar form. But we need to use a vector equation.
- Negative energy?
"No, negative mass. There must be an object of negative mass that existed for a long time in the past and ceased to exist at the moment of the transgression. Moreover, the absolute value of this mass must be strictly equal to the sum of the masses of objects A and Y. Otherwise, catastrophes are possible. If the negative mass exceeds Y, then it must be absorbed by something . If it is less, then not all of object A, but only part of it, will transition to state Y, while the rest will continue to exist normally..."
— Wait! You said that if the mass is greater, it should be compensated for by something? Well, you can take some things with you.
"What do I care about things? I'd at least take some living creature. I don't think he'd mind our little photon ."
"Well, yes, Photonchik , of course, Photonchik . So, an object with negative mass will have exactly the same mass as you and Photonchik , your suit, your shoes... And if, well, your suit and shoes aren't enough, you'll have to leave them at the place where you'll be jumping."
"I've already decided this will be my office. I've never entered it at night, so when I'm Subject Y, it will be at my disposal every night. But wait, Alexander Ivanovich, you're talking as if you already know what kind of negative-mass object it will be. Do you mean..."
"Of course, Janus Poluektovich . Now, even without a model experiment, it's clear that the object with negative mass is inside the mummies. Although... There are three mummies, which means three objects... And there are two of you. No, perhaps a model experiment should still clarify something for us, right?"
"I should clarify one thing, you're right. What's hidden in the third mummy?"
“Even I don’t know the answer to that question,” said a familiar voice behind us.
We looked around and were stunned... There stood a second Janus Poluektovich U-Janus in the room...
Chapter 9. Lack of results is also a result
I visited my observers. The entire time I was talking, eating, sleeping, and living, the model experiment was proceeding at breakneck speed. I hoped the solution had already been reached, yet I dreaded it. I was about to peer into the future, to lift the veil of a mystery unknown even to seasoned magicians. Of course, I should have invited them all, but the fear of making a fool of myself outweighed the fear of responsibility, so I decided to make the first observation myself. The result was discouraging.
“The problem has no non-zero solutions” – this inscription flashed purple and then yellow, irritating both the eyes and the mind.
"What do you mean it has no solution? There it is—it does exist! We are all a clear illustration of the existence of a solution. Apparently, something is wrong with the boundary conditions of the test."
And I dove deeper into the analysis. Less than an hour had passed (slow!!!) when I realized: the test condition included the continued relatively undisturbed existence of all NIICHAVO employees associated with the experiment. But for Janus Poluektovich, this condition meant: A-Janus and U-Janus at the input, A-Janus and U-Janus at the output—meaning both Januses had to safely survive the activation of the mumoids . Now, however, the theory has changed—we associate the activation process with the process of transgression. At the moment of activation, a source of negative mass is revealed (meaning the sarcophagi themselves are quite heavy). At this moment, both Januses seem to cease to exist (hard to think about). This doesn't mean they die—it only means that A-Janus transforms into U-Janus and travels back in time. I changed the test condition and restarted the task. So, we can now definitively assert that A-Janus is not destined to pass the activation point, meaning the sarcophagi do indeed contain objects with negative mass. Two objects—most likely, two copies of the counter-replica from the anti-world, accidentally brought to our world, desiring to return. Forty centuries ago, he came to us and had no other way to return to his time except the one he chose—he taught someone to mummify him alive using some unknown recipe and place him in a sarcophagus, knowing that four thousand years from now, on this planet, some scientist would decide to travel back in time, and this would require the participation of negative mass in this experiment. This would enable him to travel back. This means that the first sarcophagus contains this cosmonaut, and the second contains his "Y" counterpart. This means that at the moment of its mummification, the Y-object was already present, meaning they succeeded. And this cosmonaut was safely sent back to his past, which for him meant forward to the future. But what was in the third sarcophagus? How agonizing to wait—just wait and do nothing! Wait for the simulation experiment to end.
He'd like to talk to A-Janus again. It won't work. Ever since he learned of U-Janus's existence, the ban on their meeting has been lifted, so now they talk about something alone. They talk about anything but what will happen in the coming days, and not because they don't want to, but because they can't.
* * *
The next day, I rushed to work like a shot and immediately peered into the eyepiece. What I saw completely disconcerted me. The same hated message, "The problem has no nonzero solutions," was flashing purple and yellow, evoking a subconscious fury and a fusion of shame and anger on the conscious level.
What should I do? What other boundary conditions have I failed to consider? Oh, what a miss! I simply cannot afford to miss a third time! What do artillerymen say about their golden rule? The first one is too short, the second one is too long, the third one is spot on. Wait! What do I have? Two Januses is too much, no Januses is too short, should I try just one Januse? Nonsense, nonsense, it can't happen, stupidity, madness!!! What nonsense!!! So I have to try. Without realizing what I was doing, I changed the boundary conditions and restarted the task. I didn't believe in success at all, but I had to do something. Better to swim in a guess than to drown.
Chapter 10. Emergency
The next day, I slept soundly. What was the rush? The yellow-violet flashing didn't inspire me; I wasn't eager to see it. On the way, I popped in to Edika, Vitka, and Roman... Arriving at my desk, I leisurely put the coffee pot on the stove and, scolding myself for my utter idiocy, peered through the eyepiece.
Privalov.mumoid.model1.tmp directory . Do you want to run a new task?"
I tried to open that directory, but there was a glitch and the entire system froze. And at that moment, Vitka materialized in the room.
"Privalov, where are you with your modeling experiment?! We need to get to Janus's office immediately. We have an emergency! Last night at midnight, Janus teleported two sarcophagi into his office and activated them. And today, all they found in his office were empty sarcophagi and this letter. And not a single Janus can be found anywhere. And the Photons have disappeared, too."
The envelope read: “Nevstruev Ya.P. – to Privalov I.A. personally.”
Something didn't add up. How could that be? The problem has no solutions. Could the model experiment have been wrong? It has no solutions. Yesterday's result, with the boundary conditions at the input, had two Januses, and at the output, none. It has no solutions? No, that's not right—it has no nonzero solutions, but a zero solution, then, does have one?
— Vitka, what is a zero solution to an information problem?
- This is this, what is it called... collapse.
— Information collapse? Exactly! We've arrived! Young people, congratulate each other.
- Sanya, what's wrong?
"Yeah, right! We need to activate the third sarcophagus immediately. Vitka, apparate the laser here, my psi-field limits have reached their limits."
— Just a moment, Comrade Privalov, your laser is sealed and cannot be turned on until it is accepted in accordance with current regulations…
— Yadrenokartkych , what's the situation? What commissioning? It's an emergency, a critical situation! Vitka, come on!
"Listen, Sanya, he's sealed—did you hear what he said? I can't break the seal of Sabaoth ."
"What seal? The back of my safe is a complete mirage, a hologram. Vitka , come on, will you? Don't drag it out. Time is working against us."
"Sashka, wait, did you even read Janus's letter? Let's read what he says?"
"He can't communicate anything there—don't you understand, there's an information collapse. No positive information can be communicated. Until we radically change the situation. The future isn't written anywhere—we create the future ourselves."
— And w-what about your model experiment , Alexander Ivanovich?
"And it won't give you anything, Fyodor Simeonovich . The problem has been solved, but the solution is inaccessible. The systems are malfunctioning."
“Well then, fix it,” K. Junta intervened.
- Cristobal Khozevich , it's impossible. Information collapse. No one can communicate information relevant to the constructive creative process to anyone else. We're in the midst of a collapse, and until the boundary conditions of the Rummer-Humperding equation change, it will continue. Vitka, come on, get the laser!
"Who will answer for this arbitrary action?" Chistovyev was indignant .
"Exactly. Who's going to answer?" his comrade M. Kamneedov supported him .
- I will answer.
"On what basis are you assuming such authority? In Comrade Ya.P. Nevstruyev's absence, his duties automatically fall to Comrade F.S. Kivrin , and in his absence, to Comrade M.P. Kamneedov —that is, to me."
“In this case, it seems to me that the principle of ‘whoever knows best is in charge’ should apply,” I objected.
"Yes, Privalov. A clinical case," Vitka cackled. "An acute attack of megalomania, manifested in the creation of monuments during his lifetime, was merely a precursor to a severe chronic form..."
- Come on, Vitka, this is no time for jokes!
- Well, why don’t you open the letter?
— How can you not understand? There is nothing informative in it!
- What's in it?
"Something uninformative. Let's read it and activate the third mummy!"
- Excuse me , Alexander Ivanovich , but I still don’t understand either . " Why don't you want to open the envelope from Janusz P - polek - ktovich ?" Fyodor Simeonovich shrugged and looked around at those present with a cheerful but puzzled look. "What could he possibly write that's so uninformative to us, excuse me, to you, and why did he write it at all if it's not supposed to be read?"
"Uninformative?" I thought. "It's something like our current conversation. Completely uninformative. And then there are statements by politicians, articles by journalists, orders from major scientific administrators..." I trailed off.
"Orders?" Kamneedov perked up . "Now, open the envelope, immediately!"
- But it was addressed to Privalov personally...
— It doesn't matter. Give it here!
Kamneedov opened the envelope, took out a piece of paper, ran his eyes over it and somehow instantly became haggard, even shorter in stature.
- Well, read aloud what is written there.
— Excuse me, this is for Alexander Ivanovich personally. Allow me… Alexander Ivanovich, please take it.
I glanced at the sheet. It was an order on Institute letterhead. It read: "Order No.… dated… I am leaving on a business trip. During my absence, appoint Aleksandr Ivanovich Privalov as acting director of the Research Institute of Chemical and Atomic Energy. Director of the Institute, Academician Ya.P. Nevstruev. (signature)."
- Well, that's what I was saying - it's an order from the administrators.
- Sanya, you're amazing...
"And you, Comrade Korneev, don't be sarcastic, but follow the orders of Comrade Acting Director," Kamneedov fussed . "You were told to apparate the laser here, and quickly. And don't worry about the psi-field limits, Comrade Director, we'll restore yours."
"Sanya, maybe we should postpone the activation until Monday, okay? We'll weigh everything up and figure it out?"
"There's no need to weigh it. I already know that empty sarcophagi are about eighty kilograms heavier than when they were full. And the third sarcophagus is about one hundred and sixty kilograms heavier than either of the previous two were when they were full, and therefore eighty kilograms heavier than any empty one. Of course, Janus Poluektovich weighed the first, second, and third sarcophagi, divided the difference in half, determined that it was slightly more than his own weight, and when it turned out that this difference matched Photonchik's weight to the milligram , he realized he couldn't put it off for another hour.
— What are you talking about, Sashka? Are you raving again? Excuse me, Comrade Acting Director.
— Whether I'm delirious or not, what difference does it make, come on, turn it on.
- Sasha, well, just until Monday - to go over everything again...
— Monday starts on Saturday!
- And today is Friday.
— So, Friday. Come on, let's go!
Epilogue?
The reader, of course, knows from the newspapers how that crazy Friday ended. To everyone's surprise, Janus Poluektovich Nevstruev himself emerged from the sarcophagus—aged eighty years since we all last saw him. Since magicians live long lives, age hadn't affected his appearance as significantly as one might imagine. Whereas before he looked like an ordinary man of about fifty - five, now he looked a little over sixty. A kitten named Maison was perched on his shoulder, and I'm absolutely certain that his weight exactly corresponded to the required weight difference. Everything turned out pretty much as I expected. U-Janus, moving in reverse, survived until the early twentieth century, after which he set out well in advance for the impact site of the so-called Tunguska meteorite. He already knew that the counter-motor ship would land there. The aliens were part of a rescue team, tasked with sealing temporal rifts. They took U-Janus aboard and flew him to the place and time where their compatriot had suffered a temporal accident—to Egypt, in the twentieth century BC. As a result of the accident, he had become a countermotion by their standards, that is, a normal human by our standards. To save him, they needed to " ricochet " him off an appropriate living organism, which would also perform countermotion (or had it?). Since Janus Poluektovich had performed his experiment in our time, and no other similar experiments had been performed within the next hundred parsecs or five thousand years, their only solution was to send the astronaut, in a specially sedated form, back to our time. Two sarcophagi were needed for the A-object and the Y-object. But one problem remained: an information-energy loop had formed at the point of the accident, which needed to be sealed to prevent the formation of a so-called black hole over time. To seal the loop, the astronaut had to be " ricocheted " back to that location after the fact. Janus Poluektovich was taken there and, after performing a second countermotion , became an ordinary human again and took his place in the third sarcophagus. To ensure the exact weight, this time the kitten Meson was placed in Janus's sarcophagus, also performing a countermotion , but only once. He became a true countermotion, so the day after the sarcophagus was activated, he disappeared. He was forced to join the ranks of cats living in the basements of the Scientific Research Institute of Chemical Engineering. In this sense, there is no need to worry about his fate, as the house spirits treat cats like brothers, always feeding, warming, and petting them, and, most importantly, never counting them. No brownie will ever notice that a new kitten has appeared out of nowhere, and none of them cares whether the cat is getting older or younger.
As for the impressions shared by Janus Poluektovich , that’s a completely different story, and this story has come to an end.
END…
"Wait, Alexander Ivanovich, it's too early to put an end to this story. You haven't even looked at the solution to the model problem. What's the address, remember?"
"Yanus Poluektovich , of course I remember! The file 'Privalov. mumoid . model1.tmp'—just what can you see there, and how? I didn't look, not because I wasn't interested, but because it was impossible—at first, the file wouldn't open due to the information collapse..."
— Collapse loop?
"Yes, the loops... And then all this fuss and rush to get out of this loop. And now it seems like everything is clear..."
"Is everything clear to you, Alexander Ivanovich? Now, I believe access to the solution doesn't contradict the law of cause and effect, but let me remind you of the theorem you formulated about the impossibility of reliably predicted disasters. Remember? If a disaster is predicted and the predictor is believed, then..."
"Measures will be taken to neutralize it, and the prediction will be wrong, of course I remember, but I didn't receive information about the decision, so this law has nothing to do with it?"
— Do you think so? Remember carefully what answer you received?
— The decision is saved at…
— Be correct.
— Well, so — “the task was completed successfully, the task parameters were saved in the directory…”
— Exactly—successfully resolved. So, you received information that a solution existed, and this information prompted you to take further action?
— It turns out that way.
"Knowing that a solution exists is already positive knowledge in itself. And you've also received information that the input is two objects—A and Y—and the output is one object."
- But that's how it all turned out!
— It's both true and false. You've forgotten the Trurl-Klapaucius phenomenon .
- This is a fairy tale, fantasy!
— And this is said by an employee of the Research Institute of Chavo?
“Okay, so maybe that’s feasible, but Trurl is a literary image of an all-powerful designer…”
— And Privalov is, so to speak, the most modern version of a rather talented magician-programmer... Let's remember what is being claimed there?
— From what place?
— Journey Seven, "The Carelessness of Mastery..."
— “Carelessness in craftsmanship is our curse, which burdens any of our creations with unforeseen consequences…”
"For an inept imitator, thirsting for torture, would fashion himself a shapeless idol of wood or wax, and, having given it some outward resemblance to a rational being, would mock it in a surrogate and unnatural manner. But consider what the perfection of this design would lead to! Imagine a doll crying, bleeding, a doll that fears death! Can't you see how the imitator's skill leads to what becomes true, and the counterfeit becomes reality?"
- But this applies to a perfect master, and I am only an apprentice...
— An apprentice who has created a process of infinite approximation to perfection, an apprentice whose creation surpasses that of the master, an apprentice who does not know what he has created.
— Wait, does that mean my modeling experiment isn’t really an experiment anymore?
"And your model isn't really a model. You've created a new world, Alexander Ivanovich. I hope you haven't destroyed it?"
- No, I made a “pause”, that is, excuse me, a stop in time.
— But you intended to destroy it?
- Of course! I mean, oh, what should we do with him now?
"If you destroy it, it will be a catastrophe for those who exist within it. And those others—they're not just duplicates. They're so close in properties to humans that calling them duplicates is absurd. It's not a matter of size, but of consciousness. And these of yours... well, they're not duplicates—they possess a consciousness indistinguishable from ours."
- Indistinguishable?
"The model approached the object over many cycles, gradually becoming so faithful to it that the differences were negligible. What does that mean? Isn't it the same as saying there are practically no differences? Except for the size, of course."
- What should we do?
"Wait, that's not all. Are you sure you're not someone's cleverly used double? And aren't we all part of someone's model experiment? Can you guarantee that someone won't decide to destroy our world because it's no longer needed, because it served as a model for solving a problem, and once the problem is solved, the model is no longer needed? Can you be sure that someone more powerful won't press that, as you say, 'pause'?"
PAUSE
- I thought about that too.
"Alexander Ivanovich, when we get out of this loop, we'll need to thoroughly sort everything out. You can't do it alone. As you understand, I can't help you, since I'm a variable in your problem. Therefore, we need to involve Viktor Korneev and Roman Oyra-Oyra . "
— Let's at least be happy about this...
- Of course, we exist...
- But at least we exist.
- Yes... The connection of times has become mixed up.
— Like the tail wagging the dog?
"I don't know. I don't think it's for long. This can't go on for long. Just a temporary movement along the transcendental branch of the collapse loop..."
- And how long will this continue?
- I'm going to drop it now. Scientific experiment.
— Why did the glass break?
— Wrong number...
- Who was it?
- I'll pick up the phone... No, there are no such people here, you're mistaken.
— The bell…
— If it were in everything, we would cease to exist. Only in information.
— Does this only apply to information exchange or to everything?
"No, we're moving through time normally. Information moves in the opposite direction..."
— Have we become counter-movers?
— It wasn’t broken, but inverted, changed sign.
— Has the cause-and-effect relationship been broken?
— Do you understand what happened?
- Is it true…
- Well, you see?
- The twentieth of March.
— Let's try. What date is it today?
— Yes. There's some confusion in our dialogues. The answers come before the questions.
— Did you notice it too?
— Something strange is happening. I can't figure out what it is.
- Exactly.
— Was there a pause?
"You were silent for a long time too, Alexander Ivanovich. Everyone was silent for a very long time."
— It seemed to me that you were silent for a very long time, Janus Poluektovich .
PAUSE
- And now what?
— It was as if we'd returned to a normal part of the information continuum. Only there was another long pause.
"Janus Poluektovich , I need immediate information on the results of my modeling experiment. If I'd known what this could lead to... I don't know what, but I would have done something to prevent it. We all would have done something."
"Go ahead, Alexander Ivanovich. You don't have much time. Who knows what other mishaps could happen. You might not even have time to explain the situation to anyone... So for now, you'll have to rely only on yourself."
— That's pretty much what I thought.
- Break a leg.
— To Savaof Baalovich , Janus Poluektovich .
* * *
When I got to the file containing the solution to the problem, I was surprised to discover that there was more than one solution. The guard demons requested additional information about the specific solution I was interested in. The output object was "A, Y, M, or D"?
I was in mild shock. A is normal, Y is receding, a counter-motion, Z and D—I simply don't know what they are. I randomly typed in "output object = Y" and adjusted the magnification. A message appeared: "Warning: output object is a counter-motion with negative mass, possibly a complete mirror version of object A, a resident of a counter-motion world—continue, cancel, additional information?" I selected "additional information" and read: "additional information cannot be obtained without further modeling. Continue modeling? Cancel? Create a backup copy of the task?" I felt my palms sweat. To continue would mean continuing to mock a model world that might be no different from ours in any way except size. Responsibility to the entire world for the slightest mistake... To create a backup copy would mean creating another identical world. I don't yet know what fate awaits this little world, and already I'm creating another one? No way... So what should I do? Call Roman, Vitka? It's too long to explain. I pressed "cancel."
I entered: "output object = D." The response was: "Warning: Object D is a complete duplicate of its prototype, with a short-circuited cause-and-effect relationship! Other objects may be the same! There is a risk of losing control over the model. There is a risk of the model establishing control over reality. Warning: Continuing the task may result in data loss! Save current data and continue the task? Cancel? Create a backup copy of the task?" This time, it wasn't just my palms that were sweating. I frantically pressed "cancel." Object "D" doesn't suit us in any of the options! That means only "A"! And responsibility lies solely with object P, that is, Alexander Ivanovich Privalov. It's an unpleasant job, but someone has to do it!
So, I entered "output object = A" and launched the preview. "Attention! Two solution options. Solution 1: object age +80 years, Solution 2: object age +40 years. Enter the number of the solution you're interested in."
So, that means we're at solution 1. Janus's age has increased by 80 years, and he was moving in the opposite direction until the Tunguska meteorite impact... not a meteorite, but a ship, and not a fall, but a landing. Okay, let's not get distracted. So, that means there was a chance to see Janus when he wasn't aging so much. But Janus himself didn't say we saw each other 40 years ago, so that didn't happen in his life. So, as I suspected, different solutions don't spontaneously transition from one to another, and the forty-year difference option is probably no longer feasible. And whether that's the best option is still a question. A big question. For Janus, it's probably the best. No, Janus will never separate his own good from the good of others. So, this solution interests us purely theoretically, and the eighty-year solution is exactly where I should look.
Demons, get to work!
They show this kind of thing in sci-fi and popular science films. Planet Earth from afar. Gradually it approaches, now the outlines of the continents are visible, the contours of rivers, fields and forests have become visible, here it is, my native land, Kitezhgrad from a bird's eye view, the NIICHAVO building with a roof dotted with pigeons and traces of their activity, here is my third floor... Here I am, sitting and carefully studying something. What am I studying? Good grief, I'm looking at a screen. I see myself there. What a thing! I'm waiting for them to do something, and they've just set up their model experiment and are just waiting to see what comes of it. Aren't you ashamed? Come on, quick, act! Act, make mistakes, make mistakes so that I can learn from these mistakes... But I bit my tongue. Why did I give orders ? To whom, on what grounds, by what right? Why did I think someone should make mistakes and sacrifice themselves so I could learn something? How is our world any better than one created by chance? Or maybe it is. Are we ourselves someone's model? Suddenly, someone looks at me and says, hey, Privalov, come on , go pull chestnuts out of the fire for me. Go ahead, my dear, make mistakes and suffer with your whole pathetic little world, so that, having looked at you, I'll grow wiser and walk through life smoothly, as if written.
I felt ashamed. It's a good thing that little Privalov couldn't hear my thoughts.
The future isn't written anywhere. We create our own future. And the longer we live, the more it will depend on our successes and failures. To avoid information collapse, we must create it—new information—every day, every hour. Gain knowledge and don't be afraid to take mistakes. That's all, comrades. A solution exists, and that's good enough. A non-zero solution, dear comrades! Significantly non-zero. That's wonderful. Let's live and realize a significantly non-zero increase in the amount of information about the laws of nature.
2002