Semmant

Semmant Read Online Free PDF Page B

Book: Semmant Read Online Free PDF
Author: Vadim Babenko
all aptitude for using their brains in the process…
    Our hopes were dashed one after the other. Disconcerted, we tried to find a solution – working even harder and shouting at the ones lagging behind. It was bitter for everyone; time after time we had to resort to “grueling interrogation” to overcome laziness, stagnation, and elementary fear. As a result, the Specialists decided they had had enough. They united to organize a plot and inundated the administration with grievances and denouncements. It nearly turned into a general strike by the staff of the entire corporation. The scandal gathered steam, and they closed down the shop. Everything was blamed on the Austrian and not at all on Anthony, who, by the way, was more emotionally involved than anyone.
    My conscience was at peace, but the first doubts were beginning to worm their way in. I found out enough to be disappointed – in the human mind and in human nature. I saw how people inexcusably stop halfway. How the initial thirst for knowledge turns into an aspiration to show off. Just dig a little deeper and there you will find it: sketchy, desultory, tied together thoughtlessly, pasted with ambiguous words and topped with empty rhetoric. Each expert wanted more than anything to protect his elevated status, which, as a rule, had been undeservedly acquired. Everybody was concerned about getting a piece of the pie, but not about truth or the search for it. The world had no need for fulfillment. The world wanted to kick back, consume, and have a good time. In itself, this was not bad. The bad thing was that the world did not want anything more.
    I needed to be convinced of the opposite and was greatly confused. I looked desperately for a change, and soon an interesting opportunity turned up; I changed my field and went to another country without a second thought. I really wanted to take Anthony with me, but he declined. Then, a year later, he got too reckless shooting up a dose of junk in someone else’s bungalow on the isle of Crete. His list of complaints to the world all of a sudden became way too long.
    The new job was complicated and brimming with surprises. It really appealed to my tastes. The mystery of living molecules got hold of my head, and besides, autumn in Paris that year was soft and romantic. I thought the healing was right here, just a step away. I was surrounded by enthusiastic people; we again worked very hard, and we were happy because we were still young. I married a French artist and fell in love with Manet and Bonnard, steak tartare and red Bordeaux. But all the same, doubt kept gnawing like a worm. Everything was lovely, but it was all unstable – I felt it in my skin, recalled it in my sleep.
    The artist, fair-haired Natalie, became the first woman of my dreams. She was exactly as I had imagined in my youth. She even had a familiar smell – like a crisp autumn wind with yellow leaves. Here it is, harmony itself, I would tell myself, transported to seventh heaven. And Natalie adored me in turn.
    The work was exhausting. There was almost no one daring enough at the time to tackle those extremely complicated subjects. I was creating new worlds, making models of the “elementary blocks” that comprised the human body, building images of individual cells and colonies of them – fragile but well organized groups. Strange hybrids were born on my monitor screen, monstrosities called forth to produce new life, balls of protein chains, pieces of interwoven threads, “letters” upon “letters” composed in threes and containing the eternal code. It was the code of the universe – or so we thought at the time, and perhaps we were right. The mysteries of living matter were being revealed down to the fundamental level, arranging themselves row by row, exposed in one snapshot after another. It was magnificent, stunning, gorgeous. There was music and poetry there. I truly felt like a Creator.
    Natalie did not understand what was going on in my
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