– We can! – Ruthra shouted reflexively, and then realized he was looking at the strange man's words from a different angle.
– Can you do it already? – He asked with genuine interest.
– Yes, we can clone and grow quickly using technology that, by the way, has long been used in animal husbandry. And then we can load into the clone pre-recorded algorithms of combinations of tactile-verbal code signals, causing chemical reactions in the brain. But for now, it's our secret technology. What's going on?
– That's great. It turns out your world is much simpler. Then for you, what's happening must be quite possible. And… so you're faced with the paradox of reality denial. Your world, I mean.
– What?
– The person you cloned will remember the world he lived in. The world is like the time of his life.
– Uh, uh," Ruthra hesitated, "does DNA retain conscious memory? We put a pre-recorded memory into the clone. We've experimentally cloned several people, and none of them retained any memory.
They looked at each other studyingly.
– What do you want? I don't understand," the Master asked with a slight indignation. – Are you a director? Actor? Why are you on a first-name basis with me? And what is my role?
– Think of me as a psychologist testing actors for mental compatibility. Here in this world, I play the role of rabbi. And yet I ask you to answer my question.
– Which one? What world?
– About the state of suddenly acquiring memory. The world afterward. Just don't contradict your theory, please.
– So?
– What is happening would not be surprising and unreal if a child was born with basic knowledge, adopted from mom, or dad, or both. After all, we are not surprised by the rest, – adopted by the child – character, predisposition to diseases, appearance.
– That's ridiculous. How can a child acquire memory? So he must be a prodigy…and could be out of school.
– That makes sense. So you're learning about the universe. This is one of the steps.
Ruthra looked around.
– Okay, it didn't work out, it didn't work out. God bless you, goldfish. What's all the drama for?
– Now, let's be clear. How did you expect to see the result of your experiment?
Ruthra looked around again, scrutinizing the distance, turned sharply on the Bedouin, studied him.
– And now imagine what we got this time," he suggested or stated.
– How am I supposed to visualize if it didn't work out in real life?
– And how did you in real life, as you put it, have to realize whether it worked or not? Do you remember the moment you fell asleep? You wouldn't have realized in the dream that you were in it.
– Okay.
– So imagine it like you're sleeping right now.
– Why?
– You did it. This is the real world.
– Ha.
– There's an anesthesia procedure. After all, a person may not come out of this state, which happens from time to time. Those subjected to such a procedure are not surprised by their "waking up" in the intensive care unit. If copying information, for example, your videotape, can move through time and space, why can't you record and move human consciousness? Although, as you said, you already have that technology. So why can't consciousness move from one world to another? Or do you not believe in worlds, but you do believe in transference? Yet, however, it is your own assertion that there is everything in infinity. You invented this technology yourself. Why do not you believe in the reality of realization of other worlds and your stay in them?
– Hmm," Ruthra looked around.
The surroundings were the same, or almost the same. And then he caught himself thinking… "It was exactly the same situation last time, and not just exactly the same, but… everything was almost exactly the same: the situation, and the Bedouin, but the dialog… The dialog was not the same. Could it be… deja vu?" – Ruthra thought. What the stranger said almost made him stutter.
– Agree, if you were transported to an unfamiliar place, to an unfamiliar country, to an unfamiliar society and environment while sleepy or in a coma state, say unconsciousness, you would have the same state of distrust of reality.
– Why are you repeating my thoughts all of a sudden? – Ruthra remembered that it had occurred to him to say the same thing last time.
– That's what you think," was the reply from the interlocutor, the same as last time.
– First of all, I haven't interacted with anyone here yet, except for you here, I see the same environment as I have a few times before, and....
"And I thought I answered the same way that time," Ruthra thought, "or…? Maybe there was no last time? Hell, no, there was…"
He was distracted from his thoughts by otherworldly noises. He turned, noticing the anxious, intense, beastly look of horror in his companion's eyes.
– So much for politicians," the rabbi's voice sounded depressed, just like last time.
"A master of the stage," Ruthra thought, only his doubts grew stronger.
And, trying again to tear his gaze away from the madness in the Jew's eyes, he looked at the scorched branding – the six-pointed star (magendavid) looked a little different, bigger and… it was a real scar from the scorched branding. Ruthra, feeling unconsciously anxious, turned around. What he saw gave him an answer, but it was from a different area, though Ruthra still doubted whether it was the right one: the same horde of Selekwid warriors were coming at them. He wasn't surprised by the director's idea, but the horror in his gaze… something instinctive… that spoke of reality.
"It's all very real," Ruthra reasoned with himself, "but it's still a production. Or…"
Everything repeated itself: a group of men approached the oasis with shouts and yells, pursued by another group, mostly horsemen.
Apparently our brains have senses other than sight and hearing, which were necessary to understand what we were seeing, so with some sixth sense Ruthra realized the reality of what was happening. Doubts or belief in the scene already played out remained, even when the riders caught up with the pursuers at the tree. Doubts remained even as scarlet hot blood hissed from the severed necks. Doubts still remained when the screams, the cries of the dying began to fade. Doubts remained when the mahaira, a variant of the xiphos, a short light sword for horsemen, glittered over the rabbi who had convinced him. Doubts remained when the rabbi was not quite a rabbi, for he drew his sicarius and fended off the blows of three opponents one after another.
"Sicarius," Ruthra said excitedly to himself, "he is a sicarius[4 - Sicarii – "daggers" – a militant Jewish group, a splinter wing of the Zealot movement; they attacked both invaders and collaborators.] . The short curved sword of the sica no doubt speaks volumes." This public, though from the pages of historiography, Rutra knew well. Knew, too, that "sicri" was the Latin nickname for secret assassins. It was not for nothing that the term had become entrenched in the vocabulary of the Latins as something derived from the word for assassin – sicarius in Latin. "And yet what is going on around here?" – Rutra wondered. Shrieks, screams, howls, cries, distraught moans, the wheeze of air escaping from their lungs through the shards of severed necks… it all sounded from one side or the other. And yet Ruthra still had doubts about the reality of what was happening. But suddenly those doubts were dispelled by the cold blade of a heavy akinak.
***
Perhaps in a moment, perhaps in a billion years, perhaps where he lay in the rig, perhaps in another universe… how do we know, since the existence of a parallel world identical to our own is real… Rutra "woke up".
– Your doubts are justified," Maimun said snidely above him, "perhaps we shouldn't get up now? Are you not too tired, your majesty?
– Back off," Ruthra replied gruffly and held out his hand to his assistant.
– That was reality," he said, "you woke up because of the death of the consciousness carrier in that world," he explained quite seriously.
Ruthra replied with a thoughtful look, weakly trying to hide his astonishment.
– It was real," Maimun said quietly, as if it were some kind of secret, patting his palms timidly.
Rutra paused, looking around at his colleagues and the laboratory staff. The staff took turns joining in the congratulations of the luminary of science – clapping softly, looking at Ruthra with admiration – and soon the room was filled with applause. Master Paschow was overcome with a look of amazement that turned to one of rapture.
Chapter 4: One of the worlds that has not fallen
"…and the other inhabitants of the universe have not fallen…"
(Book of Isaiah: chapter 26 verse 18)
After stretching his muscles and going through the hygiene and medical procedures, Ruthra returned to the room with the displacement units. This time he was curious to do a session himself. But he took his time, went over everything his mind had memorized with the analysts, and, trying not to show his concern, wondered if this was really some kind of world or if it was happening inside his brain. That it was no longer a staging – he knew – Rangit was an impartial arbiter, and yes the intuitive subconscious feeling we define as 'gut feeling' spoke of the reality of the event. "I wonder," thought Rutra, "in an actual logical line what the Indians of America had come to imagine the world to be like when they first saw the Europeans, Columbus and crew?" Another thought came next: how do we know what we dream in those dreams we don't remember? In fact, we don't remember at all what in our consciousness is going on in the dream. And is it in our consciousness? And is it in ours?
Ruthra lay down in the machine, and the process began: a bright beam, an indistinguishable sound, a slight but sharp reflex twitching of the body… and his consciousness was already seeing another reality. Whether it was a staging, a dream, hypnosis, trance, or an artificial coma, Ruthra didn't even want to find out. Everything that was happening around him felt real, natural. What made it real was that he was aware of his sensations in this state and remembered the events that had preceded his arrival here. "But how the hell how?" – he wondered, though he himself was proving the possibility of it. And yet, how could such a thing be believed, for everything around him was the same, well, almost the same, as it was there, in that world of his. And in that world? Is it yours? Is this world alien, is it different?
The same type as before was walking towards him again. As he approached, Ruthra pondered, "This type is a figment of my imagination, even if he is natural. After all, it was Rangit who pulled him out of my imagination, out of my mind, back when there were perception experiments. So it could very well be fictional now, too. It couldn't be the other way around. Then Rangit must have known about this world, about this Bedouin, to put his image into my consciousness… or the stage manager's perception." Ruthra grinned, saying to himself: "Yeah, right, all fictional, no matter how real it seemed last session. That's the trick – the identity of the man. Though… is he identical? And me… what am I like?" Rutra looked around himself… he was dressed the same way he was in the movie sessions and in the past… "God, is this really real? And the face…?" – he asked himself. Then he looked at the smoothness of the pond, walked towards it, not waiting for the Bedouin he thought the man walking towards him looked like. "One must take a look at oneself," he pondered.
– Your doubts are justified," he heard the familiar one. – There is no need to go there, you are not like yourself, can't you feel it by the sensations of your body?
– How am I supposed to feel, it's not that big of a difference.
– There you go. And yet there is a difference.
Ruthra ran toward the body of water, the stranger continued unperturbed:
– Consciousness takes up residence in the preferred body, which is more familiar. The law of subconscious logic is that this body should also be controlled by consciousness. You will choose a familiar vehicle than some unknown one if you are given a free choice. Moreover, you will not drive a locomotive if you are untrained.
– What the hell is going on? – Ruthra glanced at the water surface.
Oh, my God! It wasn't him.
– It's real, believe me. The politicians will be here soon. I hope you remember who they are.
– How…and how do you know that if it's not a production?
– And this is coming from the inventor of the method. Hmm. You think this is my first time here? You think this is your first time here? Or do you think you won't be in my role? You will be… come what may… in the future… your future, – everyone will be. It'll be as real as flying on an airplane to anywhere. Do you understand now?
Ruthra looked around:
– Let's say.
– So go ahead. At least even if it's a production, in your opinion, you have a chance to check out the reality around you anyway. Why go back to the lab over and over again?
– Who the hell are you?
– That's better. I'll tell you everything. I've gotten pretty good at these worlds.
– What?
– I am an unfamiliar person in reality, but very familiar to you, and in different hypostases, from historical – and not so historical – chronicles.
– What?" Ruthra was almost indignant.
– In fact, I am as much a researcher as you are. I understand what state of doubt you are in now, all the more I can imagine what will be in the minds of those who will read it, because the whole chronicle of events will be unloaded from your brain, and from mine as well, written down in ordinary letters and analyzed. Naturally, it is hard to believe it. However, believe it… or rather, you believe it, but you doubt it. It was once mind breaking to believe in the magnitude of Earth's world – you are from Earth, aren't you?
Rutra gawked at the Bedouin, thinking not of the next production, but of the past scene, which… "Damn it, she was real!" – he resented to himself.
The mysterious interlocutor continued:
– Imagine what an explosion of perception of the surrounding reality it was. Later or sooner we, or rather you, will discover these worlds and visit them. I mean, what am I saying, you have already discovered and visited them. Believe me, everything is real. I'm here on the same mission. Or rather, I wander through the worlds to find out the reality of the past events of my world. Just like you. The worlds are parallel, Mr. Ruthra, and in our world there are you too… and I'm looking for the same thing you are. Accordingly, I found you for a reason. Believe me, I've been looking for a long time. We need to live in the real events of this world, and, as in your program, to see how they really developed, and then you know.
– What is this nonsense?
– I would like to remind you that you yourself justified this nonsense, developed the theory. And now about myself: I, like you, by the way, will be using Rangit… yes, yes, we also called it that, the worlds are identical. Almost identical. You gave it a name. His code name was GOB, remember? Then you wished to name him after your father's name, Rangit. Do you remember that?
Ruthra thought for a moment. At least Maimoun could know all this. He did, by the way. And yet…
– Probably, yeah. И?
– Is Rangit a familiar name to you? Of course it is!
– И?
– Consider me Rangit, your esteemed majesty Rutra Tigrovich, that's how your friend, the luminary of science, puts it, isn't it? And the ISKIN has adopted that manner from him. But I must confess, I am a kind of prototype of the universal Rangit. I am not your earthly Rangit, so don't get confused, because in your mind you will talk to him, not to me.
– What is this gibberish? – Ruthra hissed, looking at the stranger incredulously.
– Sorry, we discovered these worlds ourselves, developed this technology ourselves, and now… well, you have understood: in this world I have penetrated this body, just as your Rangit has penetrated your consciousness, by the way. And the most important thing is why I'm here: it's important for our world to have the influence of your world on us, hence, the world that will influence yours. And even more importantly – you still have this assumption, but a valid one, it's not for nothing that it took me so long to find the original thread – events in your world developed in a different history, that is different. So I would like to know your history of the events of interest.
– What's going on? – Excitement swept through Ruthra's insides, through the body that contained his consciousness, he had to admit it.
