Part 35 (1/2)
”Still,” said Albert, ”I wonder why I do it. SETI.” He scowled. ”Search for Extra-Terrestrial Intelligence. It should be called SETIV. Spending Endless Time In Vain.” He swiveled toward Ralph. ”For that matter, why do you do it? I mean work as a radio engineer when you're a first-cla.s.s quantum physicist.”
”At uni I got typecast as an experimentalist by doing an experimental thesis.” A flicker of a grimace pa.s.sed over Ralph's face, to be replaced by a smile. ”Oz has made much progress of late, but it's still easier for the average Australian to think of an aboriginal as an engineer than as a theoretical physicist.”
Albert nodded. He was an American and didn't feel he knew enough to comment.
”And at any rate,” Ralph went on, ”I consider the existence of extraterrestrial intelligence the question of our era.”
”If we find evidence, you mean.”
”Too right!”
Just then, an alert buzz came from the astronomy console.
Albert spun around to the monitor.
Ralph laughed. ”Don't get your hopes up. Just another Signal Candidate.”
”You never know, though.” Albert stared at the monitor which showed a series of dots: .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. .. ..
He sighed. ”Nope.”
”Not prime numbers?”
Albert shook his head. It wasn't the series of prime numbers that the SETI community believed an extraterrestrial would send as a calling card.
”Another eclipsing pulsar?”
”Looks like it.” Albert pulled up the online astronomical map and entered the signal's coordinates. ”Star in the field,” he said without enthusiasm. ”No notations. Looks like we've discovered another one.”
”I'll log it.” Ralph made the entry, then idly looked out the window. ”Ah. Your ride's here. And I think your son's come along too.” He glanced up at the darkening sky. ”And it looks like we're in for a bit of weather.”
”They're early.” Albert glanced at the panel clock. ”It'll be an hour yet before another set of astronomers come in to do real astronomy.”
Ralph turned from the window. ”Oh, come on,” he said with a chuckle. ”You wouldn't be doing this if it you didn't want to.”
Albert gave a slow nod. ”I guess you're right. I do want to, but I don't want to want to.”
Ralph blew out a breath. ”Deep stuff, mate. Too deep for me.”
Albert stood as the door opened and his wife, Kimberly, stepped in. Along with her came their son, Liam, almost eight years old with a mop of rich red hair and a face sprinkled with matching freckles. Kimberly and Liam wore the same style khaki bush shorts and white top as did the astronomers, but hers were cut higher above the knee.
Ralph rolled to his feet as well.
Albert and family exchanged greetings. Then Albert said, ”You're early.”
”Not early enough, I'm afraid,” said Kimberly. ”There's a storm coming.”
Albert glanced away at the astronomy console. ”I need about another half hour.”
”We really should leave soon,” said Kimberly. ”The weather bureau says it's a very nasty storm.”
Albert gave a rea.s.suring laugh. ”A nasty storm? Here in the middle of Australia? Can't be.”
”The radio says maybe a once in a decade event.” Kimberly glanced out the window. ”It'll go through fast, but it will be ferocious.”
”Let me finish this last observing run, 'bout another fifteen minutes.”
As Albert turned his attention to the console, Ralph tousled Liam's flame-red hair. ”Hi, Bluey!”
”Hi, Dr. Kunmanara.”
”Hey,” said Ralph in mock annoyance. ”I've known you ever since you were a little ankle biter. By now, you should know to call me Ralph. Or Dingo. At home, everyone calls me Dingo.”
Liam laughed. ”Hi, Dr. Dingo.”
A crash of thunder exploded through the control room and Liam darted back to stand beside his mother.
”Nothing to be afraid about, Liam,” said Albert, turning to look.
”I'm not afraid,” said Liam, the tremor in his voice giving lie to his a.s.sertion.
Albert turned to Kimberly. ”I think we'd better wait out the storm here.”
Kimberly nodded, her face showing concern. ”I think that would be best.” She smiled. ”How's the work going?”
”Terrible!” Albert smiled as well, but it was forced. ”Sometimes I feel this is all futile-hopeless.”
”But what really bugs me,” Ralph interjected, ”is how much the cosmic isolation fanatics rejoice in our lack of success.”
Albert nodded, sadly. ”I must admit I'm beginning to wonder if they might actually be right.”
”Odd thing for a SETI researcher to say,” said Ralph.
”Oh, I don't know,” said Albert in a world-weary voice. ”Maybe cosmic isolation is just an excuse to myself to explain why we haven't found anything.”
”What's comic isolation?” came Liam's treble voice into the conversation.
”Cosmic isolation. It's the idea”-Albert, inadvertently, drifted into lecture mode-”that G.o.d or nature or the universe, or whatever has arranged that sentient species are placed at sufficiently great distances from each other so that one species can't contaminate another's cultures.”
Liam wrinkled his nose in a sign of not understanding.
”And it also explains,” Albert went on, ”why there is only one highly sentient species on Earth.”
Liam stood wide-eyed, clearly still in the dark.
”No worries, Liam,” said Ralph. ”I think cosmic isolation is nonsense.”
Liam seemed happy to be back in the game. ”Well, Rex Snoopy Biscuit doesn't believe in cosmic isolation, either.”
”Who?”