Fantastic Voyage II Destination Brain - By Isaac Asimov Page 0,1
Soviet citizens speaking Russian in the United States. These are not the bad old days."
"That's true. I was joking. But in that case, why do you want to speak Russian?"
"This is your country and that gives you a psychological advantage, does it not, Dr. Morrison? If we speak my language, it will balance the scales a bit."
Morrison sipped at his coffee. "As you wish."
"Tell me, Dr. Morrison. Do you know me?"
"No. I have never met you before."
"And my name? Natalya Boranova? Have you heard of me?"
"Forgive me. If you were in my field, I would have heard of you. Since I have not, I assume you are not in my field. Should I know you?"
"It might have helped, but we'll let it go. I know you, however. In fact, I know a great deal about you. When and where you were born. Your schooling. The fact that you are divorced and that you have two daughters that live with your ex-wife. I know about your university position and the research you do."
Morrison shrugged. "None of that would be hard to find out in our computer-ridden society. Should I be flattered or annoyed?"
"Why either?"
"It depends on whether you tell me that I am famous in the Soviet Union, which would be flattering, or that I have been the target of an investigation, which might be annoying."
"I have no intention of being anything but honest with you. I have investigated you - for reasons that are important to me."
Morrison said coldly, "What reasons?"
"To begin with, you are a neurophysicist."
Morrison had finished his coffee and had absently signaled for a refill. Boranova's cup was half-empty, but she had apparently lost interest in it.
"There are other neurophysicists," Morrison said.
"None like you."
"Clearly you are trying to flatter me. That can only be because you don't know anything about me after all. Not the crucial things."
"That you are not successful? That your methods of brain wave analysis are not generally accepted in the field?"
"But if you know that, then why are you after me?"
"Because we have a neurophysicist in our country who knows your work, and he thinks it is brilliant. You have rather jumped into the unknown, he says, and you may be wrong - but if you are, you are brilliantly wrong."
"Brilliantly wrong? How is that different from wrong?"
"It is his view that it is impossible to be brilliantly wrong without being not altogether wrong. Even if you are in some ways wrong, much of what you maintain will prove useful - and you may be entirely right."
"What is the name of this paragon who has this view of me? I'll mention him with favor in my next paper."
"He is Pyotor Leonovich Shapirov. Do you know him?"
Morrison sat back in his chair. He had not expected this. "Know him?" he said. "I've met him. Pete Shapiro I called him. Our people here in the United States think he's as crazy as I am. If it turns out that he's backing me, that's just one more nail in my coffin. - Listen, tell Pete I appreciate his faith in me, but if he really wants to help me, please ask him not to tell anyone he's on my side."
Boranova looked at him disapprovingly. "You are not a very serious man. Is everything a joke to you?"
"No. Just me. I'm the joke. I've got something really great and I can't convince anyone of it. Except Pete - I've now found out - and he doesn't count. I can't even get my papers published these days."
"Then come to the Soviet Union. We can use you - and your ideas."
"No no. I'm not emigrating."
"Who said emigrate? If you wish to be an American, be an American. But you have visited the Soviet Union in the past and you can visit it once again and stay a while. Then return to your own country."
"Why?"
"You have crazy ideas and we have crazy ideas. Perhaps yours can help ours."
"What crazy ideas? I mean, yours. I know what mine are."
"It's not something to discuss until I know if you are perhaps willing to help us."
Morrison, still sitting back in his chair, was vaguely aware of the buzz about him, of people drinking, eating, talking - most of them from the conference, he was sure. He stared at this intense Russian woman who admitted to crazy ideas and wondered what kind of-
He stiffened and cried out, "Boranova! I have heard of you. Of course. Pete Shapiro mentioned you. You're -"