Carbide Tipped Pens Part 35

"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?"

Albert felt embarra.s.sed for his son. "Rex Snoopy Biscuit is ... Liam's imaginary playmate." He's much too old for this.

Ralph laughed. "That boy needs a dog!" He turned to Liam who looked hurt. "I'm sorry. It's just that ... that I like the name."

Liam pulled a device from his pocket and turned to his mother. "Can I go into the lounge," he said in a small voice, "and play with my GamesMaster?"

Ralph persisted in making amends. "Do you and Rex have-"

"Rex Snoopy Biscuit!"

"Do you and Rex Snoopy Biscuit have adventures together?"

"It's lonely for Liam here in the outback," said Albert, absently. "No kids his age to play with."

"We have adventures all the time," Liam insisted. "And today, we saw the min-min lights."

"Liam's right," said Kimberly. "While driving here, we did see the min-min lights."

Albert canted his head. "Min-min?"

"A purely Australian phenomenon," said Kimberly. "Two distant blurry white lights. And they seem to follow you."

"Far-off car headlights, maybe?" said Albert.

"Not likely," said Ralph. "We've had min-min lights long before European colonization."

"Interesting," said Albert. "Probably a temperature inversion near the ground. Some kind of Fata Morgana."

Liam wrinkled his nose.

Ralph laughed. "I'll tell you, Liam, how my people explain it." He sat and pulled Liam close. "Long ago in the dreamtime," he said in a soft, mysterious voice, "there was a great storm like no other. So the women in the clan gathered all the kids together to keep them safe. There was a great noise from the sky." Ralph clapped his hands together. Liam started and jerked back. Ralph pulled him close again. "And when the women weren't looking, one little boy, Dhundi, crept away and went to where he thought the noise came from. He stopped there and shouted to the sky, 'I am not afraid. I am not afraid.' Then, as he watched, a giant round ball of fire came down."

"Gosh!" said Liam.

"The ball cracked open and a man came out. He was red and he glowed like burning embers. 'I am your brother,' he said." Ralph sat back in his chair.

"Then what happened?"

Ralph gave an "I don't know" shrug. "Dhundi was never seen again. My people say that the min-min lights are Dhundi and his brother come back to Earth for a visit."

"Wow," said Liam in wide-eyed appreciation. He wrinkled his nose with a sudden thought. "I wonder if Rex Snoopy Biscuit is really my brother?"

"Could be," said Ralph, laughing.

Thunder pealed again.

"I am not afraid," said Liam under his breath.

"All right." Kimberly gently pulled Liam away. "Let's get you to the lounge so your father and Dr. Kunmanara-"

"Dr. Dingo."

Kimberly flashed a "kids say cheeky things" smile at Ralph, then took Liam off to the lounge to play with his game machine.

"Liam has an ambiguous nature," said Albert when boy and mother were out of sight. "He acts way younger than he is when under his mother's eyes, and much older than his age when he's around me." He bit his lower lip. "I think his mother likes him young while I prefer him acting older."

Another alert buzz came from the monitor. Ralph froze for an instant, his eyes focusing past Albert and onto the observations monitor. "Another candidate signal!"

Albert swiveled to look. This time, the monitor displayed: After every quarter minute or so, another duplicate row of dots appeared.

"These aren't prime numbers, either." Albert peered close. "But what kind of natural phenomenon could produce these, I wonder." He slowly echoed the numbers on the monitor. "One, two, two, two, four, two, four, two, four, five, two, and six."

The two stared at the display.

"Hey, wait," said Ralph after a silent minute or so. "Add the numbers. One. One plus two is three. Three plus two is five, plus two is seven, and now plus four is eleven. Primes!"

"Two is missing," said Albert, scarcely daring to hope.

"Maybe they don't consider two prime."

Mentally, Albert continued the addition. Plus two is thirteen, plus four is seventeen. His excitement grew with each prime. "You're right. They are primes." He went on with the sequence. Plus two is nineteen. Yes! Plus four is twenty-three. Plus five is twenty-eight. Albert clenched a fist. "d.a.m.n! Twenty-eight. One of the results is twenty-eight."

"Here. Let me check." Ralph ran through the calculations. "You're right," he said, softly and sadly.

Albert doggedly continued the additions. "All right. Twenty-eight ... thirty, and ... thirty-six." He let out a sad sigh. "Off by one."

"Wait," said Ralph. "What if one of the signal blips got lost in transit? Then it would be twenty-nine, thirty-one, and thirty-seven. Primes!"

"But every row has the same error," said Albert.

"Then it must be a problem at the transmitter, or a counting convention, or something."

"You think?" said Albert.

"Yeah. All these primes can't happen by accident. It makes sense."

"It does, but I ... I almost can't believe it." Albert sensed his heart pounding, wildly. "But ... but I do think we may have done it."

Ralph looked hard at the monitor. "Yes! We have done it." He punched the air, then laughed. "It is hard to believe, though."

"It is," said Albert, doubts setting in. "Why would anyone transmit differences?"

"I don't know," said Ralph with a happy shrug. "An intelligence test, maybe." He paused. "No, wait! This way, there are fewer blips. Thirty-seven, or -six, blips would be hard to count. Maybe it's a bandwidth problem."

"Wish we could be sure." Albert glared at his monitor. "I mean that we're not reading too much into the data, that we're seeing what we want to see. Maybe there is some natural process that's generating the numbers."

"Ambiguity's the name of the game, mate." Ralph seemed giddy. "I declare this the first ever SETI positive."