"James E. Gunn - The Listeners" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gunn James E)

done, the Project might inherit time on the Big Ear.
If they could endure until then, MacDonald thought, if they could steer
their fragile vessel of faith between the Scylla of self-doubt and the
Charybdis of Congressional appropriations.
The images were not all favorable. There were others that went boomp in
the night. There was the image, for instance, of man listening, listening,
listening to the silent stars, listening for an eternity, listening for
signals that would never come, because -- the ultimate horror -- man was alone
in the universe, a cosmic accident of self-awareness that needed and would
never receive the comfort of companionship. To be alone, to be all alone,
would be like being all alone on earth, with no one to talk to, ever -- like
being alone inside a bone prison, with no way to get out, no way to
communicate with anyone outside, no way to know if anyone was outside....
Perhaps that, in the end, was what kept them going -- to stave off the
terrors of the night. While they listened there was hope; to give up now would
be to admit final defeat. Some said they should never have started; then they
never would have the problem of surrender. Some of the new religions said
that. The Solitarians, for one. There is nobody there; we are the one, the
only created intelligence in the universe. Let us glory in our uniqueness. But
the older religions encouraged the Project to continue. Why would God have
created the myriads of other stars and other planets if He had not intended
them for living creatures; why should man only be created in His image? Let us
find out, they said. Let us communicate with them. What revelations have they
had? What saviors have redeemed them?
_These are the words which I spake unto you, while I was yet with you,
that all things must be fulfilled, which were written in the law of Moses, and
in the prophets, and in the psalms, concerning me.... Thus it is written, and
thus it behooved Christ to suffer, and to rise from the dead the third day:
and that repentance and remission of sins should be preached in his name among
all nations, beginning at Jerusalem. And we are witnesses of these things._
 _And, behold, I send the promise of my Father upon you: but tarry ye in
the city of Jerusalem, until ye be endued with power from on high._
Dusk had turned to night. The sky had turned to black. The stars had
been born again. The listening had begun. MacDonald made his way to his car in
the parking lot behind the building, coasted until he was behind the hill, and
turned on the motor for the long drive home.
The hacienda was dark. It had that empty feeling about it that
MacDonald knew so well, the feeling it had for him when Maria went to visit
friends in Mexico City. But it was not empty now. Maria was here.
He opened the door and flicked on the hall light. "Maria?" He walked
down the tiled hall, not too fast, not too slow. _"Querida?" He_ turned on the
living room light as he passed. He continued down the hall, past the dining
room, the guest room, the study, the kitchen. He reached the dark doorway to
the bedroom. "Maria Chavez?"
He turned on the bedroom light, low. She was asleep, her face peaceful,
her dark hair scattered across the pillow. She lay on her side, her legs drawn
up under the covers.
_ Men che dramma_
_Di sangue m'e rimaso, che no tremi;_
_Conosco i segni dell' antica fiamma._