We cannot assess a human for the work that he does. We need to evaluate him as a human being. If we insist on the use of machines everywhere, but do not go to the most fundamental consideration and not give people a proper place in the world, we are lost.
Norbert Wiener
Part I
Before DAWN
1
Layla opened repeatedly recording the meeting of the astronauts.
She was eagerly looking at an incredibly changed, old again Dan. At Eya, who all these years has been together with him. At their children.
Dan had come back. Dan!
But what? Nothing would change.
You thought about him all the time, even hoped for something: he had filled you completely. Just since that distant time when he lived out his last years before the renovation. All had resulted in a single meeting prior to their departure. Flashed as a single moment. The lightest in your life.
Why-could you not live like everyone else? To use absolute freedom, to weave your fingers and be on intimate terms with who you liked at this moment? Why not?
Why you were so excited once by Lal"s telling about love-a feeling unknown now, but in the old epochs considered almost the main sense of life? Then you began to read about it, of course, only works of bygone epochs-in the modern ones love was not even mentioned. And the thirst of the experience it appeared suddenly and turned into a conscious dream. Just then you met for the first time Dan, who was a legendary personality-especially after Lal"s telling.
You played a part in a book-movie that Lal produced. Dan came to a rehearsal. He was old and decrepit. It was useless to stretch out a hand towards him, waiting for a response touching of his fingers. Especially as strange it was found that you could not help but think about him and needed no other one else.
You listened even more eagerly to telling by Lal about him. As a great happiness awaited his appearance at rehearsals, shooting, performance. And you considered the highest award to hear his praise of your performance from Lal.
But, like everyone else, you hid your sense from others. About it even Lal did not know.
The hour was coming when he had to go for renovation: to get a new body-and with it a second life and youth. He invited you, along with Lal, on a farewell meeting. You hoped to meet him already renovated when you would be able to become necessary for him. However, the renovation might not work out, and that thought prevented you to remain restrained like always.
"Return being revived. My passion will wait for you," you used habitual expressions. He smiled slightly in response.
All years when his head was knitting with the new body, you waited for him. But returned, he had not remembered you. You were late, just a few hours: when you saw him being already young and beautiful, he had his eyes only for another woman sitting next to him.
And then-all the time he was together with her. Here and there. Together they flew away and returned.
That unexpected only meeting with him-all you"d got. And you were then like mad.
After their departure it seemed that you were left completely alone: along with them Lal departed, too. Only he could understand, just him you could decide to entrust your secret.
In some ways the ears during their absence did not passed in vain: she met those who maintain personal relations for a long time. It had not happened by chance, but she failed to meet them for a long time: they were rare pretty exception to the general rule. The only thing that was possible to see at first-they were unusually often together.
Not anyone could guess the nature of their relationship. Like everyone else, they did not like to talk about their personal life-it was possible to talk frankly with them about it too not immediately. She had to wait patiently, when she could ask questions without risking not get an answer, and before that-only to watch and to notice: fortunately, her professional skills helped that a lot.
As soon as she had learned these people, they attracted her more and more. Their warm treating and affection towards each other-all that she saw had made her to feel especially acutely what just she lacked the most.
Really, she had her friends-and very close ones. There was once Lal. But that was-after all-something quite different. Some nuances that were more appropriate to some needs of her own soul, not realized for a long time.
These people were increasingly appearing among the permanent acquaintances-she began gradually to spend most of the time together with them. They got used to her and sometimes on their own were talking about what she did not even guess. It became clearer and clearer that was in the old books and what Lal told: his words came to mind more and more often.
And watching their life together, she saw always next to her him-Dan. Sometimes she even let herself imagine that he would come back and still be together with her. And she would be like one of those rare women: the happiest ones-whether they realize it or not.
But hope died out immediately: he was far, far away, on another planet. Along with him Eya-for many years of the stay there he would have been even more accustomed to her.
But yet-their relationship, of Dan and Eya, differs from that was now familiar: they were not alone, along with them Lal was-Eya was intimate with both. So, why Dan could not be intimate with her? With her and Eya at the same time-like Eya with him and Lal? Why was it impossible to find for her a place next to them? This idea, having appeared, did not disappear: she had to believe in something. And she waited for his-no, their-having come back.
Each year at least once she came to the island, where her life had given a meeting with Dan. There, lying on the grass and looking at the night sky, she found the constellation of Tupac where they were. Mentally, she was then along with them.
No one knew what she needed. Neither the closest old friends for whom all this would be incomprehensible. Nor even the new ones, whose fortune she was jealous of but whom did not dare to talk about herself to.
Her success on the stage has even more grown over the years-and she is still considered the most beautiful woman of the planet. Many men longed to have sexual intimacy with her, but the thought of it with someone other else but Dan was impossible for her. Only very rarely-as the performance of the unpleasant, but, unfortunately, necessary physical need-she summoned home a men-houri, whom she then sent immediately out.
But Lal there was not-he had perished. A long time ago: in the very beginning. They were there just two together. For so many years.
And children! What meant this?
It was necessary to meet with them. But it would not be soon: after the arrival to Earth-a long quarantine had to have place; besides, they looked horrible-their treatment would be lengthy.
However, then she would try to meet with him-as soon as possible. If she saw that he did not completely need her, she would talk only about Lal: he had really been her close friend. And she would have gone forever and try no longer to see him. At any cost!
Because, she had accustomed. For so many years.
Nobody guessed what"s going on in her heart. The great Layla-the most beautiful women of Earth, a brilliant actress, shaking always by her amazing playing hundreds of millions sitting at screens and thousands of lucky people who had received by lot the right to attend directly the performance. Wide-opened eyed, tense silence, tears. The storm of applause. But even someone of them knew that one of the sources of such depth of her playing were pain and suffering?
They were already on Earth.
Their physical condition had required a long treatment, and while they communicated only with the doctors: for not disturbing them, a direct link with them was unavailable temporarily. To the house, which once started their training before leaving in, standing alone in the mountains far from the cities, only congratulatory telegrams came from those who could not wait to see them; a special duty told the astronauts about them.
Layla"s radiogram came just to the end of treatment.
"I would like to talk to her," Eya asked a duty.
"Senior, will you not get tired of talking?"
"Not at al. On the contrary!"
"By all means!" he turned on the connection.
Layla did not expect to see her on the screen: started at once.
"Oh, Eya!"
"Hello, Layla! I"m glad to see you."
"Hello, Eya! How is your health?"
"I think it is already in order. We are already tired here. So much we want to see all of our friends!"
"And I do you."
"You want to ask about Lal: I see."
"Yes," she looked sad.
"Do you know what? I"m going to ask for giving you a permission to visit us. Eventually, a few days do not matter. It"s time to finish our retreat." The screen went dark.
Layla sat without moving; she waited, believing and not believing that the incredible happens. And only when the screen lit up, and Eya said, "All right, I have persuaded them. Arrive: now!" she hurried, remembering that she is not dressed. She gave a command to the robot to get out of the storage necessary clothing and jewelry, ordered a cabin-and pinned hastily up hair, threw a cloak over the home tunic, she drove off to the airdrome.
She made her dress in a rocket plane-the autopilot drove it. But it took not much time-too little to distract slightly from the anxious waiting, which seemed it could suffocate with.
Eya from a balcony saw the rocket plane appeared in the sky. Making a U-turn, it sat down. A woman in a blowing about black dress moved slowly toward the house. Eya walked quickly toward her. She was happy to receive guests: their quarantine seemed to last an eternity.
Layla had been a friend of Lal: hence she was their friend, too. And one of her most favorite actresses. What a beautiful she was: not for nothing Son there, on Earth-2, recently almost was not breathing when she was on the screen. But her eyes are sad.
Eya took her hand:
"Everyone will be glad to see you. Dan along with the children went into the mountains. But they must come back soon: they have gone long ago-before I contacted with you. They do not know-well, let, I won"t inform them-your arrival will be a surprise for them. And we will still talk: I missed a communication so much."
"I was eagerly waiting for you."
"With Lal."
Layla nodded silently.
"I see," Eya also stopped talking, and Layla was glad of necessity to say nothing. "It"s a terrible loss. Not just for us. For all people. He was amazing. The only who knew what the people should be."
"Yes."
"He told us shortly before his death very important things."
Layla barely heard her, but, fortunately, Eya did not see it. They were sitting on rocks near the house.
"Here he comes!"
Layla looked up: on the trail leading from the mountains to the house, a man appeared. Dan!
Dan! She tensed entirely. He looked at them, putting his hand to his forehead: the sun was shining directly in his eyes.
"Dad! Da-ad!"
And when he started slowly toward them, Layla paled so much, that Eya could not fail to notice it. Something pushed painfully her heart. What . . .? She could not even think that a woman else existed in Dan"s life.
Sure, before she did not care it: like everyone. Just before! They had together been too many years and experienced too much. Together, all that time together. And their children . . .
"Hello, Layla!"
"Hello, Dan!"
She"s still beautiful, incredibly. Just like a goddess. The same one-like she was then, at the lake.
Eya seemed much older than her. Her figure, despite permanent exercises, was no longer like before-because she had given birth to three children. And her bust did not hold itself elastically-had become rounded heavily: she had fed with it his children. Some wrinkles in the corners of the mouth and eyes, a lock of gray hair: the treatment was still not put out tracks of the experienced during the return flight.
But then he left Layla without sadness-now without emotion met her. Eya . . .
No: Mom-she was his only woman of all them. On Earth, in the entire Universe. So close that it was difficult to understand where he ended, and she started. And without her he could neither live nor breathe: none intimacy with another woman, even just the most beautiful of all-Layla-was impossible for him.
So, it meant that he was no longer free? Was not able to do what before? Yes! Well, but what? He could not-just because he did not want to give up even a particle of what he had: his soft spot for Mom and her one of him, the unbreakable unity of them and their children-the children would feel unpleasant if someone else besides Mom existed for him. This his according the former conceptions lack of freedom-was inseparable from what he had become; it was true freedom in the highest human sense: the reluctance to dull in any way up that, because of which he was happy-happy for certain. He such as he was now could not and did not want to be different. He self. Mom maybe would not be, using the old expression, jealous . . .
But she was pale, silent. Well, yes-she now saw everything: she was now like he was, too-not like all others.
"Mom, they follow me," he said. She immediately became to breathe easier: everything was all right. They looked into each other"s eyes and smiled.
"Layla, you will now see our children," Eya said.
"I desire to see them," Layla replayed quietly.
It was too clear that she could not hope for something: they were like those-living together for many years. It was enough just to see how they look at each other, to hear how they call each other.
But at her he looked calmly. There was and could be no place next to him. And if it were possible, she would now fly immediately away.
"Here they are!"
Along the path a tall youth was walking, carrying on his back a girl hugging his neck. He carried her seemingly without any stress.
"Get down!" he said, coming up. The girl jumped to the ground.
They put together their hands in front of chest, welcoming Layla.
"Again, you spoil her?"
"Sister got tired, Mom. She was crawling barely."
"I wasn"t! He just wanted to show off his strength. I do not mind-let him carry, if he wants."
Eya was looking at them smiling:
"Our children."
"We actually know you, senior."
"Really?"
"Yes: we had movies with your participation. Brother loved those best of all."
Layla looked at the youth standing before her in silence, with his eyes casted down. Only from time to time he raised them, glanced at her, and in those moments, she noticed that they were open wide: he seemed stunned by what he saw. Thick paint blushed his face.
"How marvelously he looks like you, Eya."
"My son," Eya touched gently his hair. He looked again at Layla-and blushed yet hotter.
She could not help admiring him: she wanted for some reason suddenly, too, to stroke with her hand over his bright red curls. But she did not dare-and stroked the girl, who smiled at her all the time. The children aroused keen interest-there was no desire to fly away as quickly as possible any more, and the pain dulled a little bit.
"Come to supper!" Eya invited.
Everyone, including the duty, ate the same dishes-Eya ordered them. Layla did not want to separate from them-she did not order for herself something else and ate the same.
"Could we stay with you?" the girl asked when the supper was over.
"No, my daughter. Go: read some and lie down. And you, too," Eya said to the son. "We have a lot to talk about."
"I won"t interfere, Mommy."
"Sister, let"s go!" the boy said softly, and the girl rose obediently.
"Good night, Mom!" The son came to Eya; he bent and kissed her. "Good night, Dad!"
The girl kissed the father, too.
"Goodbye, senior!" they bade farewell to Layla. The youth finally openly, somehow greedy, looked at her. She replied him with a smile, and, emboldened, he smiled, too: it turned out, he could smile very well.
It was wonderful and incomprehensible-what she saw. And two feelings struggled in her: the heartache increasing again and the irresistible desire to know and understand as more as possible. A thousand questions were on the tip of her tongue-but the communication with living together couples had taught her to be cautious: they disclosed immediately never.
But this time it was quite different: Dan and Eya told her everything-a lot and in detail. There was in their telling almost none of what everyone already knew from the reports.
"It all happened because of Lal."
Listening to Dan, Layla found herself thinking that some of what he said about the terrible truth of the existing on Earth, but not noticed by anybody-the seen and comprehended just by Lal, she had long ago heard from Lal herself. But only a few statements that she was not always able to take deep enough and gradually almost forgot. Now, when Lal was no longer alive, his ideas united in a coherent system, coming from the mouth of Dan, found for her extraordinary persuasiveness, although much was still perceived with difficulty.
Lal had perished having carried out nothing, but that incredibly important, which he had revealed to them, they had remembered to tell all people. And they began to act: appearing their children was a direct consequence of the conclusions made by Lal.
About the children Eya told. Mainly about their firstborn-the son, and her telling had seemed to Layla not less staggering than the previous. About expecting the birth of a child, then his birth. About how he sucked her breasts, had smiled for the first time, first sat down, first walked. How started to speak. How he grew and developed. How he gave his sister his very first apple. How became independent and skilled. His fearlessness. About their, the parents, worries and joys.
Some unbelievable world was revealed to Layla in the telling of Eya about the children. Known neither by her, nor almost by anybody. The highest level of love, unknown even by those whom she envied until now: those who have for a long time, even a lifetime retained the exclusive soft spot for and affection towards each other. But this retired into just them selves and could not go further, did not rise, fueled by the love of its natural fruits-children, to such the fullness that she saw by these two, one of whom was the dearest of hers.
Especially since she had no place next to him. And the pain intensified, squeezed her. She felt that she could no longer stay here.
"It is already the middle of the night. Time for me to fly."
"Why? Spend the night here."
"Thank you: I cannot-I have in the morning a rehearsal. Not see me off."
"Come on! Dan will see you to the rocket plane," Eya said.
"All right,"-Layla agreed meekly: "She sees everything. And is not afraid of anything". Because of that it became even harder.
They both were silent all the way to the rocket plane. Layla was going ahead without turning round as if taking to flight.
Only just when they were saying goodbye, he said:
"You must think hard. I hope for you: in fact, you were his friend."
She looked at him sadly, parting with nodding her head, but said nothing.
. . . Returning, Dan noticed a figure on the upper veranda. "Son", he recognized. He was standing and looking toward where Layla left. Rocket plane took off, and while its outline was visible in the sky starting to dawn, Son was watching it.
Dan came into the bedroom. Eya had lain down but was not sleeping.
"Son also isn"t sleeping," Dan told her.
"?"
"He was standing on the balcony, watching the rocket plane to fly."
"He did not expect to see her in reality. I saw: he wanted very much to look at her but was shy. Well, what: our son will soon become a man. We are on Earth and have almost run out of quarantine."
They said nothing more to each other. Dan lay down side by side with her, embracing-today, more gently than any time after their return.
Come back on Earth, they continued to sleep together. But sexual intimacy of them there was since that time never. Dan did not afford it after their sex immediately after Eya"s getting out of suspended animation-as if just those few minutes of delay may have caused the death of Kid.
He held her hand with his one; they were lying sleepless. Not for the first time.
Layla wasn"t also sleeping that night.
She did not even go to bed: when got home, she sat in a chair on her terrace-garden. She had to think hard about everything, to make it out.
Thoughts swirled in her head replacing disorderly each other. During the flight, the heartache made her so terrible that she was unable to cope with their chaos. And just sitting on the terrace, she tried to pull herself together.
First of all, she must clarify: think again, in detail, everything that she has seen and learned. To try to do this quietly, orderly-or the despair will completely crush her.
So . . . He"s happy. As no one on Earth. Because Eya and their children were together with him. And he self belonged to them completely. Thus, she could hope for absolutely nothing. Previously, there was at least some spark of hope, though mad.
All this could be understood by the mind, by the heart-in no way. But-what could she do? Be patient and wait, as before? Useless. Dan was now completely different. Even more worthy of love-but quite inaccessible already.
"It all happened because of Lal". Lal had made him such. Him and Eya. He had changed radically their souls.
But he had caught her, too: he had awakened her need for love. It had not brought happiness, but she did not complain: it was dear that she had survived. She, too-had not already been able to be different.
But she did not know too much until now. It turns out old books and the communication with those who kept the need for long-term affection, still did not give a true idea about very love. What she saw only today. At the same time with irrevocably ruthless conclusion about her fate.
Did they understand themselves entirely the full measure of their own happiness? How they called each other-not by their names: Mom, Dad, Son, Daughter, Sister, Brother. Children kissed them before going to bed. You could suffocate! If to be, like they were. Like Eya!
She imagined herself in her place. The beloved person living nearby. The children. She would love them, too, and would be proud of them. Of the tall serious youth, the perky lively girl. If only, if only!
Although to be one of them. To be as intimate to them as they themselves. And, perhaps, it would have stopped her mental anguish, and she would resign to the inability to be intimate physically with Dan.
She smiled bitterly this unexpected turn of her thoughts. It was no more possible than her first desire. After all, just the role of a friend welcoming always would not suit her.
No: to live together with them. Always, every day. An insane absolutely, absurd desire. Thoughts rushed in the fevered brain in search of a way out. There was none.
She had to resign herself. And nevertheless, somehow to pull herself together. Otherwise, she could go crazy.
And it was imperative to stop! It was necessary to drink schisandra, to run to the pool, to make yourself breakfast and go to the studio. She had to work-the sun had risen already.
2
Nobody, of course, suspected what was going on with her; it seemed everything goes as usual. Only today she was even more exacting than ever.
Much, too, did not satisfy her. She made again and again to repeat pieces, turned endlessly on recordings of played ones and found in them more and more mistakes and bad elements.
"Yesterday it was just what you liked!"
"But what? Today it should be better than yesterday."
It seemed to the actors that she wants something almost impossible. But she felt unexpectedly that she did not like that play at all. After the seen yesterday she took the topic of it quite differently. Not what was needed. Let another producer stage it further: by her it won"t work out now.
Fortunately, the time was coming to lunch: the rehearsal was over. She could go home after lunch, relax: there would be at night a performance with her participation. Instead of that, she returned to the studio. Here, the usual working environment was that prevented to immerse her completely in the chaos of her thoughts.
Again, rehearsals began, and she passed from some a hall to another one, somewhere stopping briefly and disappearing quietly, as well as appearing. Almost nothing seemed interesting, pleased her. She went into the garden.
A small company of actors and producers settled on the lawn. They were arguing about something, sitting on the grass.
"Layla!" they called her. "Have you heard that news? Paul wants to produce an old play: "Brand" by Ibsen."
""Brand"? So what?"
"He is for some reason convinced that you will support him."
"Ah: maybe."
"What: you are familiar with its content?"
"In general outline. Paul has told me and showed a few passages. Apparently, six months ago."
"Well, and . . .?"
"He, as I understood, was not going to produce it then. And I began "The search"."
"How about it? Finished? When the première?"
"I thought that almost finished. Today, I"ve made sure it won"t work out by me."
"By you? Why?"
"I"ve lost interest. Will transfer to another producer."
"Do not hurry! Maybe, it just seems to you."
"No. It does not."
"Why? Has something happen?"
"Yes, it has."
"Today?"
"Yesterday. I was talking with Dan. And Eya."
"What? But . . .? You were allowed a direct connection with them?"
"I was to them."
"Oh! But the quarantine?"
"It"s almost over: Eya received permission immediately- I flew to them."
"Come on, tell us! How are they?"
"Some normal. Outwardly, at least."
"What have they told you? About Earth-2? About their flight? About the Contact?"
"No: they said about it almost all I can be learned from their reports."
"Then: what exactly?"
"Much. But most importantly, I saw yesterday their children."
"In my opinion, this is the only incomprehensible of all that has happened to them."
"Until yesterday-in mine one, too. It was necessary to see to understand: they are very happy people, though seem gloomy."
"Of course: after such!"
"They are happy people," Layla repeated. "Perhaps the happiest ones on Earth."
"Certainly! To be able to make so much: the flight into the Far Cosmos, the development of Earth-2, the access the Contact."
"No: best of all just because they have children. Their own children. Because they have on their own given birth to them and raised. Because they live together with them."
"Why do you think so?"
"Because I have seen. And because just they have told me everything. About how it gave them the opportunity even there to feel happy."
"So: happy, happy, and happy! You are endlessly repeating this."
"I can repeat it again. Instead of the usual our disunity-the warmth of relations, such as I have never seen. Just what we are deprived of."
"May you vouch for everyone?"
"For the vast majority, anyway."
"But all the astronauts are such: they"re forced to communicate constantly there-and got used to each other."
"No, this is different: better."
"Just what was called once love? What attracted you in ancient plays, right? But who needs it now? None of these plays that you tried to produce had been a success."
"It is the saddest. The feeling that was once considered the most beautiful has been forgotten."
"But this is an exceptional sense of men and women to each other according to the ideals of the past centuries was carried out in a marriage, that is, in living together until very death-with the observance of fidelity to each other and the birth of children. You saw something similar?" kept quiet so far, Rita, a graduate student-actress, the youngest of those present, asked.
"Yes. Exactly."
"You call love just that, don"t you? But it was just an ideal-not the rule. Marriages were developed not just on the base of love; fidelity violation was widespread. Is not that right?"
"But have not modern people matured for the realization of the ideal, for turning it into the norm?"
"I don"t understand what you regret. Well: we have forgotten the word "love", which is based, after all, on the mutual physical attraction of man and woman-passion giving the joy. We are completely free regarding it: we may intertwine fingers and be sexually intimate with whom you like right now. You have always the opportunity to do so without thinking about anything besides your desire. Is it not more wonderful than it was once?" Rita smiled triumphantly.
"No," Layla replied quietly. "It does not give those spiritual feelings that love does."
"But who feels the need for those?"
"There are such people."
"Nobody prevents to maintain a long-term communication with each other, even a lifetime. I do not know them: any. And they are extremely innumerous."