"Robert Reed - Lying to Dogs" - читать интересную книгу автора (Reed Robert)

*Lying to Dogs*
by Robert Reed
Robert Reed tells us that one inspiration for this story comes from a family legend
his mother swears is true. His second inspiration for this tale, unlike "Oracles"
(_Asimov's,_ January 2002), a story he wrote around the same time that assumed
intelligent life is common and relatively easy to find, comes from the assumption that
intelligent life occurs very rarely in the universe. Mr. Reed's next novel, _Sister Alice, _is
scheduled for publication in May of 2003.
--------
_When I was a boy, my family owned a black Labrador retriever. Our dog lived for
cold autumn mornings and long rides into the country and the intoxicating stink of fear
leaking from the hunted birds. But there were days when dogs weren't welcome. For
instance, there was this river-rat buddy of my father's with a goose blind hiding on an
isolated sandbar. The river was deep and relentless; it was no place to take your animal
swimming. That's why on the first day of goose season, Dad rose before dawn, dressed in
his warmest camouflage, then carried his gun to the car and drove off alone. And the way
my mother tells the story, the poor dog was devastated by this betrayal. He stood at our
front door all day long, howling and sobbing, outraged by what was obviously a horrible,
horrible crime._
_Dad came home happy, but his joy didn't last._
_Mom corralled him in their bedroom, and after a melodramatic replay of her day,
they hatched a simple plan. If my father wanted to hunt on the river, he had to slip his gun
and clothes out to the car the night before, preferably while our dog was busy terrorizing
the squirrels in the backyard. Then in the predawn blackness, he would dress for church:
A good suit, a crisp and conservative tie, and shiny black leather shoes. Dad looked
exceptionally pious as he drove away. And our Labrador, in delicious innocence, would
sleep untroubled at my mother's feet._
_It was a lie, but it was a compassionate and moral lie._
_About that, I haven't the faintest doubt._
--------
Imagine an enormous coincidence.
And now cube it.
By coincidence, Opal is using the entire array, building a comprehensive map of
the Virgo cluster. In the midst of measuring the soft glare of an enormous galaxy, she
notices something decidedly odd. Buried inside that wealth of natural light is a coherent
pulse. A structured glow. A luminous song born millions of years in the past. And because
Opal has a wealth of talents, she quickly teases the song into its assorted notes,
discovering oceans of data waiting to be found -- oceans created by a higher intelligence,
designed to be obvious and decipherable, as well as utterly compelling.
"I could have been looking anywhere else," Opal admits. "We should have missed
the signal. A fantastic amount of energy was utilized, but the signal was propagated in all
directions. 'For every imaginable ear,' they claim."
"Who claims?" asks Aisha.
Opal emits a high-pitched squawk. "It's their name for themselves," she admits.
"From what they tell me, it means the Blessed."
"A pleasant name," Sue remarks.
 The rest of us say "The Blessed" aloud, as if it helps us understand our new
neighbors in the cosmos.
Aisha glances at me, but she's speaking to Opal, asking, "So what do the Blessed
look like?"