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

beer and bull. Those who have more to say can save it for then."
MacDonald did not feel as jovial as he tried to sound. He did not know
whether he could stand another Saturday-night session of drink and discussion
and dissension about the Project. This was one of his low periods when
everything seemed to pile up on top of him, and he could not get out from
under, or tell anybody how he felt. No matter how he felt, the Saturday nights
were good for the morale of the others.
_ Pues no es posible que este continuo el arco armado_
_ni la condicion y flaqueza humana se pueda sustenar_
_sin alguna licita recreacion_
Within the Project, morale was always a problem. Besides, it was good
for Maria. She did not get out enough. She needed to see people. And then...
And then maybe Adams was right. Maybe nobody was there. Maybe nobody
was sending signals because there was nobody to send signals. Maybe man was
alone in the universe. Alone with God. Or alone with himself, whichever was
worse.
Maybe all the money was being wasted, and the effort, and the
preparation -- all the intelligence and education and ideas being drained away
into an endlessly empty cavern.
_Habe nun, ach! Philosophie,_
_Juristerei und Medizin,_
_Und leider auch Theologie_
_Durchaus studiert, mit heissem Bemuehn._
_Da steh' ich nun, ich armer Tor!_
_Und bin so klug als wie zuvor;_
_Heisse Magister, heisse Doktor gar,_
_Und ziehe schon an die zehen Jahr_
_Herauf, herab und quer und krumm_
_Meine Schueler an der Nase herum -- _
_Und sehe, dass wir nichts wissen koennen!_
Poor fool. Why me? MacDonald thought. Could not some other lead them
better, not by the nose but by his real wisdom? Perhaps all he was good for
was the Saturday-night parties. Perhaps it was time for a change.
He shook himself. It was the endless waiting that wore him down, the
waiting for something that did not happen, and the Congressional hearings were
coming up again. What could he say that he had not said before? How could he
justify a project that already had gone on for nearly fifty years without
results and might go on for centuries more?
"Gentlemen," he said briskly, "to our listening posts."
By the time he had settled himself at his disordered desk, Lily was
standing beside him.
"Here's last night's computer analysis," she said, putting down in
front of him a thin folder. "Reynolds says there's nothing there, but you
always want to see it anyway. Here's the transcription of last year's
Congressional hearings." A thick binder went on top of the folder. "The
correspondence and the actual appropriation measure are in another file if you
want them."
MacDonald shook his head.
"There's a form letter from NASA establishing the ground rules for this
year's budget and a personal letter from Ted Wartinian saying that conditions