"David Brin - Just a Hint" - читать интересную книгу автора (Brin David)

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Just a Hint
By

David Brin
It was exactly seven A.M. when Federman finished typing the last data entry. The
small console flashed a confirmation and, several miles away, the central processor
began correlating the results of the previous evening's observation run.
Federman winced as he stretched in the swivel chair, his spine cracking. Age
seemed to make every strain and pop a cruel reminder, as if decay were audibly
calling out its territoriality.
The classical music station playing on his desktop radio began an update of the
morning's headlines.
The weather would be beautiful over most of the country. The chance of rain in
the nearby area was less than twenty percent. The current probability estimate for the
likelihood of nuclear war this year still hovered around twenty percent, also.
Liz Browning backed in, pushing the door open with one foot as she balanced a
cardboard tray with coffee, doughnuts, and the morning newspaper.
"Good," she said, laying her load down on his desk. "I knew you could finish
without me. I don't know how you stay up all night reducing data without getting
hungry. I just had to get some food!"
As a matter of fact, Federman had started noticing a growling emptiness in his
stomach almost the moment the last figure had been typed. If his graduate student
had been glad to let him finish alone, he was just as happy she had brought back the
goodies.
"It's love, Liz. Anyone who stays up all night has to be in love... in this case with
astronomy. Either that or he's crazy or in the army."
Elizabeth Browning grinned ironically, leaving crinkled smile lines around her eyes.
Her straight brown hair was braided behind her back.
 "Or it means he wants to beat Tidbinbilla into print with that new pulsar analysis.
Come on, Sam. Outside it's already a beautiful day. Let's let some light in here." She
went to the window and pulled the heavy drapes aside. A bolt of brilliant sunshine
came crackling in. She didn't even wince as she leaned forward to open the window,
but Federman covered his eyes.
"Cruel youth," he moaned. "To bring these spotted hands and time-wracked
limbs before the searching gaze of day."
"Aw, come on, Sam. You and I both know there's no such quotation. Why do
you keep making up fake Shakespeare?"
"Perhaps I'm a poet at heart?"
"You're a scoundrel and a rogue at heart. That's why I'm so incredibly pleased
with myself for latching onto you as a research advisor. Everybody else may be
losing their grants as the military budget increases, but you know how to finagle
enough funding to keep the radio astronomy program here going. My biggest hope is