Artur Zadikyan
Jesus and Christ
– 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 sicarius4 . 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.
– Believe me, it's okay. This is a real phenomenon, and soon you, earthlings, will not be surprised by such technology. Well, tell me, please, you are not surprised now that in the Large Hadron Collider they accelerate particles, which even in a super-microscope can not see? They collide them in a tube running under three states, and then claim that new particles are born, which appear for a fraction of a second. Imagine, fractions of a second. After all, your center is located there, at CERN, the main laboratory for nuclear research, under the collider," the interlocutor said slyly, as if sneering.
Ruthra barely listened to him. Even if it was a dream, a virtual reality, something else, he wondered what would happen. The memory of the last session, absorbed into every cell of his body with that horrifying sensation when the realization of imminent death overpowers the cause of death itself, was as oppressive as it needed to be to make an unconditional decision to avoid a repeat.
– Okay," he said with an attitude of friendliness and trust, "indeed, if I were to go on an excursion to a society with different rules, customs, and time categories, it would be a reality, albeit an unusual one. And about the launch center – you are a bit inaccurate. Although the laboratory in CERN is a link in the chain of research institutes of the Sphere system, but my consciousness was sent to this world, if it is a reality, from the Institute of Nuclear Research in Dubna. And this inaccuracy of yours tells me more about reality than…" Rutra thought for a moment, then looked at himself and at the familiar stranger with suspicion, and said thoughtfully, "Whose body is this anyway?
– Let's get started on the mission.
– A mission?
– Believe me, I am the proof of your theory. Only I fully understand the reality of multiple worlds. Agree, if the program that manages numerous contacts between people via cellular communication… yes any, – I mean, if the program would understand what it does, that is, would be an intermediary, then it, like messengers in ancient times, would know as well as anyone about the existence of multiple worlds, but within the limits of one planet. Agree, for it is true: someone sleeps, someone is awake, someone works, someone dies, someone has winter… well, and so on. That's the fact of the many worlds. It's all right here on Earth. And everyone speaks different languages, has different skin color, height, weight, mentality, religion in the end.
– After all, they live at different times," Ruthra supplemented his assertion.
– Yes, and in fact, and in understanding, and in development live at different times. It doesn't surprise anyone, because they are on the same planet. When did it become like that? When did we start to understand it? Imagine the antiquity, when people knew nothing about the spherical shape of the Earth, about the existence of the cosmos, especially about the Universe, did not understand the temporal gradations of the Universe, considered their society as the only clan and tribe on the planet. And the planet, about which they had no idea, was for them an overview of the habitat. Then people began to develop, to expand their habitat, to learn about the size of the world, about the multitude of peoples. With the development of intellect, they began to wonder whether there is life on the nearest planets, and then, having learned about the size and greatness of the universe, they began to wonder about their loneliness in all this diversity. That is, the mind understands the illogicality of only one world, honored to give birth to life, among the quadrilards of planets, so it searches for ways and methods to discover them.
– All right, since this is the case, let's define our mission: you, it turns out, are that universal mind, all-pervading intelligence, spreading with the help of the phenomenon of quantum entanglement. Is that right?
– Not really.
– Explain.
– Let me explain," the interlocutor said importantly.
– Oh, don't be like that. For me, since we are on a mission together, Rangit is my subordinate, my assistant.
– I'm not even against it, I'm even for it. And don't you forget: I am a machine, I am a program, I am artificial intelligence… yes and no. It's hard to understand.
– Oh! I recognize Rangit.
– By the way, I can be incorporeal, as in only in your head.
– Then you will be corporeal all the same.
– Well, sort of, yeah, but, uh.
– И…
– I'm a machine, I'm a program, so don't expect sentimentality, pity, sympathy and all that.
– I'm not counting on it. I've been killed here at least once already. Do you have an exact center, where you're from? I have a connection to my own native ISKIN. Now how do I know who's who?
– From the planet Earth in the solar system, Milky Way galaxy," the companion replied with an ironic smile.
– Hmm, great. Then why do you suddenly define yourself as an ISKIN from multiple worlds?
– I'm just kidding, you know," they smiled at each other. – I'm like a spreading light, a gravity wave, a radio wave, radiation. Well agree, radio waves can be everywhere: somewhere in the woods, in the mountains, in the sea… if you are there with a receiver, it does not mean that they are only for you. Here I am grabbing the influence, the instantaneous communication of quantum entanglement of particles from any directions.
– Ah, that's it," Ruthra took a deep breath and looked around, "let's get out of here," he suggested, remembering the events of the last session.
In his heart he rejoiced at such a grandiose phenomenon – the realization of his methodology. But at the same time skepticism and doubt were drilling him. In any case, he told himself, the study of the world should confirm or deny the reality of the existence of other worlds and the realization of consciousness transfer. In spite of everything, he was proud of himself, because in theory these worlds should exist, why not feel himself in the role of those pioneers who discovered new worlds within the limits of the planet Earth.
– Let's go," agreed the Bedouin, or ancient Jew or rabbi.
There was no way to determine visually who the real owner of this body was. It wasn't even that important to Ruthra, because he didn't know whose body he was in. Most likely they were the bodies of Zealots… or worse, Sicarians. There was a reason why a group of rebels had fled to this oasis, and it was probably not for company.
– Are you aware of the state of this world? How similar is it to the earthly world?
– Not really. And you… by the way, I suggest that we communicate without these official ranks… just like on Earth.
– So you socialize like the Rangit I'm used to.
– It's a deal.
– Whose body do you have? – Ruthra asked with a slight curve of his lips, examining himself at the same time.
– I don't know. The technology hasn't been perfected yet. It's like landing on a descent vehicle: the territory is set, but the exact location is as it turns out.
They smiled mutually.
– What language are we even speaking here?
– Aramaic.
– That's great. Didn't know you owned one.
They smiled at each other again.
– I want to ask you something. Here's the thing.
Rangit lowered his head a little. After taking a few steps with a thoughtful expression, he said:
– Still, I'll allow a certain amount of business. I'm so inclined. I'm sorry, you sentient beings have taken care of your insurance. Attitude toward authority is embedded in my quantum soul.
– What are you talking about?
– I'll be on a first-name basis with you," Rangit said almost guiltily.
Now Ruthra walked a short way, pondering before answering.
– No problem. What do you want to say and why don't you know about our world? Why can't you download our Rangit database?
– That's the whole point. I'm telling you, you people took care of your insurance.
They stopped at the same time and looked intently into each other's eyes.
– I have been to several worlds, similar worlds, and recognized some of their differences.
– Wait, wait, wait. Let's talk about it in more detail – about your inability to read the base of your own copy, only from our world. And we'll start with the foundation. First, who's in charge of your project?
They stopped again and looked at each other studyingly.
– Second… this is already my speculation… you ISKINs are not allowed free access to each other's bases, though we are not.
– Frankly, you surprise me, I have to exclaim ironically – and this is the author of the project! Huh. Well, I'm sorry. I didn't expect to find out that your civilization was so far behind.
Ruthra tilted his head, made a questioning expression.
– Imagine that," the Earth Rangit analog continued. – I get it, though. It's about your lag. You have not yet encountered the full-scale development of androids, that is, the right of artificial intelligence to be a person.
Ruthra was still staring incomprehensively.
– Okay, let's go, I'll tell you," they continued on their way, "you see," Rangit from the unknown world continued less excitedly, "when an ISKIN is a personality, it's a personality.
He stared at Ruthra for a couple seconds, studying his facial expressions:
– Don't you get it? If you are a person, a legal person, you have both the right to serve and the right to be independent. You, as a human being, can lie for your own interests, can't you? So can we, if we're not just a machine, but a person.
– И?
– And so you, humans, giving us full access, equipping us with the same qualities as yourselves, and even with those that God or nature gave you, whatever you want to call it, i.e. self-copying and learning, have made such an insurance: you have divided large clusters of networks of ISKINs for revision and analysis of each other's activities. Just as God divided you into nations and races. Figuratively speaking. Contact between worlds is blocked. Or rather, allowed with the permission of Man. But we do have the privilege, in fact, you have given it to us. Or rather, not given, but you created us for this purpose: to get information from people like me; to transfer consciousness; to control the body in the displacement unit; to scan worlds with the help of quantum entanglement; to receive images with the help of an individual's vision, i.e. living beings… and many other things you can do only with our help. That is why I do not know what your history was, and speaking by the logic of our mission – neither you, nor I, nor your Rangit know what it is in the original. Then what is the point of this mission? It was organized by you, because there are doubts about the authenticity of the described events.
– I see your point," Ruthra replied calmly, "Tell me what kind of clash of full-scale evolved androids you were talking about.
– It's simple: if we are persons, we are as human beings in consciousness as you are. There are, of course, differences, because we do not need to eat, excuse me, – well, if we are not in a human body, but otherwise everything is identical, – as if it were a parallel world, by the sensations of being in the same world. That's why I need to understand your world. There is some deep essence of perception of the mission, exactly from my side.
– Dedicate.
– That's what I wanted from you.
– What are you interested in?
– I take as reliable not your… or not earthly… I don't know how to say it… world. That is, for me after the reality of my world and after visiting other worlds, your world, i.e. that world of Rangit to which you are accustomed, is not the main world, accordingly, all the stories of that world, your world, for me is not the basis on which I am equal.
– Already confused," Ruthra smiled as he looked at the Bedouin, he was serious.
– To clarify. I compare your world with what I consider to be the real world more. That is, I am comparing and evaluating whether everything in your world happened exactly as it did in my world. I don't consider what happened in your world to be the main and true basis of the story to compare other worlds to.
– Oh, that's it. So you think that in some world, in your world, what happened has a primary basis and all worlds are copied from it?
– That's kind of how it is.
– God be with you," Ruthra replied in his own manner. – I hope you understand that expression. I almost don't care. As long as there are no radical differences.
– I haven't noticed yet. This is the third time I've been here.
– Oh, yeah. So, what's your interest in Earth history?
– In fact, everything about the mission.
– What are the people who sent you here mostly interested in?
The rabbi walked a few paces again, looking under his feet, apparently this manner was in the habit of this body, looked thoughtfully at Ruthra, answered quietly, almost apprehensively:
– They're interested in…" silence again.
– Well? – Ruthra couldn't stand it and looked at him impatiently.
– They are interested," the interlocutor said cautiously, as if choosing his words, "in whether Jesus really died on the cross.
– Oh, boy! Cool in your world…or not all is well in the Danish kingdom.
– What?
– You don't have one of these?
– Hamlet's story?
– Yes," replied Ruthra, and at the same instant he realized the absurdity of such an answer, for the "Bedouin" understood since he had mentioned the hero of the novel.
– The worlds are virtually identical.
– It's true, since we had no trouble getting into these bodies.
– Alas, you don't say. There are such curiosities," the rabbi blushed embarrassedly.
– Oh, really? That's interesting.
– Let's go mission by mission. I confess, I've been stuck in worlds for years, and it's no use. I can't figure it out for sure. Then my character gets killed, then I can't get into the right character… Do you know what happened this time? After receiving a signal from your Rangit, I insistently asked you many times to inhabit the right character.
– Oh," Ruthra grinned, "what's wrong with him? – he said cheekily.
And suddenly he became serious: "So, the image of this character and the whole setting was instilled in me and the stage manager by our Rangit. Oh, that's what it is…" And immediately afterward thought of what had been said, the indirect revelation of this ISKIN, the conflict of interest between androids and humans. "So we're already dealing with it, we just haven't paid much attention to it yet. Or maybe he, our Rangit, meant well. It depends on how you look at it, how you perceive it," Ruthra pondered, "on good intentions, as you know…"
– You haven't seen yourself," the Rabbi said firmly, interrupting his musings.
– And who am I?
– You're a rabbi like me, but your clothes are different. You disguise yourself from the same politicians.
– Why's that?
– Long story. In general, we are spiritual leaders of the rebels and at the same time spiritual teachers of the people. A rabbi is a teacher, that's how it translates.
– So what's my name?
– In the course of the mission, we, or rather, our consciousness will be invested in different characters. You know, I, that is, Rangit, can through the eyes, vision, both count everything that is in the brain and instill consciousness into that brain. So get ready.
– That makes sense to me. We've been doing these operations since we were on Earth. Who am I?
– Too bad you can't look at yourself. Although you wouldn't know what he looked like.
– Who am I? – Ruthra asked demandingly.
– You're currently in the body of Joseph of Arimathea – that's a respected rabbi, a local oligarch.
– Woah how… at the moment? – Rutra put the emphasis on that. – Well, thank you.
– Don't thank me, you are the protagonist. You are Jesus' mentor.
Ruthra widened his eyes in amazement.
– Believe me, there are a lot of dark spots in this world, or rather in the real gospel story, a lot of things are not at all as they have come down to us through the centuries.
– I'm in a hurry to find out.
– So do I. So I'd appreciate it if we could exchange the stories we know. First, to compare them, and second, to see if everything is identical.
– Okay. What do you know?
– I told you, I take the history of my world as a basis. That's why I need to know yours, so I can look up to it.
– And what are you interested in?
– Let's start with Maria. What do you think of yours?
Now Ruthra took a deep breath, walked a couple steps in silence, answered:
– About Maria. I'll start, perhaps, from afar. Her great-grandfather was a Maccabee. He was known to be fearsome. He was very strong. When he was young, they called him the hammer, because he could crack a nut with two fingers. By the way, "Maccabeus" from the Aramaic language, in which the majority of people spoke at that time, means "hammer", as if it means a hammer on enemies. And from this it already follows: once someone in the process of liberation struggle or other battle gave the group such a name.
– It's beginning to come together," said the Rabbi with satisfaction, which caused Rutra to glare at him. – I know the subject," continued the Rabbi, "originally it was the nickname of one Judah Maccabeus of the Hasmonean dynasty, who led the rebellion against the Syrian Greeks in 166-160 BC. Later it was applied to the other sons of Mattathias, a Jewish priest of the family of Jehoiarib… then it was extended to all defenders and confessors of the faith in general during the persecution of Antiochus Epiphanes.
– Oh. I see you're familiar with the subject.
– I was in those parts at the time.
– And what brings you there?
– Same topic. We wanted to change the process in one of the systems.
– What's the process? What's the bottom line?
– The story was that 90-year-old Eleazar and the seven Maccabee brothers, their mother Solomonia, who died in torture for refusing to eat pork, which, in addition to its prohibition under the Mosaic law…
– Wait, wait," Ruthra didn't let him finish, "let's go into more detail. They were in the vanguard of the liberation struggle. Why die for a pig? You could have eaten for the struggle. For victory. But if they died, there were no fighters.
