"Lem - Seventh Voyage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Lem Stanislaw)

Pinckenbachii, in which had been observed more than once the
duplication, even the triplication, of the present.
True, the controls were out, but I went down to the engine room and
fiddled with the instruments so long, that I actually managed to
produce a slight deflection of the rocket towards the Galactic Pole.
This took several hours. The results were beyond my expectations.
The ship fell into the center of the vortex at around midnight, its
girders shook and groaned until I began to fear for its safety; but
it emerged from this ordeal whole and once again was wrapped in the
lifeless arms of cosmic silence, whereupon I left the engine room,
only to see myself sound asleep in bed. I realized at once that this
was I of the previous day, that is, from Monday night. Without
reflecting on the philosophical side of this rather singular event,
I ran over and shook the sleeper by the shoulder, shouting for him
to get up, since I had no idea how long his Monday existence would
last in my Tuesday one, therefore it was imperative we go outside
and fix the rudder as quickly as possible, together.
But the sleeper merely opened one eye and told me that not only was
I rude, but didn't exist, being a figment of his dream and nothing
more. I tugged at him in vain, losing patience, and even attempted
to drag him bodily from the bed. He wouldn't budge, stubbornly
repeating that it was all a dream; I began to curse, but he pointed
out logically that bolts tightened in dreams wouldn't hold on
rudders in the sober light of day. I gave my word of honor that he
was mistaken, I pleaded and swore in turn, to no avail--even the
warts did not convince him. He turned his back to me and started
snoring.
I sat down in the armchair to collect my thoughts and take stock of
the situation. I'd lived through it twice now, first as that
sleeper, on Monday, and then as the one trying to wake him,
unsuccessfully, on Tuesday. The Monday me hadn't believed in the
reality of the duplication, while the Tuesday me already knew it to
be a fact. Here was a perfectly ordinary time loop. What then should
be done in order to get the rudder fixed? Since the Monday me slept
on--I remembered that on that night I had slept through to the
morning undisturbed--I saw the futility of any further efforts to
rouse him. The map indicated a number of other large gravitational
vortices up ahead, therefore I could count on the duplication of the
present within the next few days. I decided to write myself a letter
and pin it to the pillow, enabling the Monday me, when he awoke, to
see for himself that the dream had been no dream.



Part 3. The Wednesday Me
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But no sooner did I sit at the table with pen and paper than
something started rattling in the engines, so I hurried there and
poured water on the overheated atomic pile till dawn, while the
Monday me slept soundly, licking his lips from time to time, which