Page 59 - Extraterrestrials, Foreign and Domestic
P. 59

SIFTING’s End
                             (Fantastic Transactions 3, 2006)


          “Norton: what is so damned important that you had to get me out
        of bed at midnight on Sunday?”
          Dorrance  Vyelle,  professor  emeritus  of  astrophysics,  ran  his
        gnarled fingers through uncombed white hair and glowered at Doctor
        South.  The  half-illuminated  departmental  office  echoed  with  his
        irritation.
          “SIFTING  got  a  hit,  Professor.  My  pager  went  off  about  nine
        o’clock. I rushed to campus and went through all our verification and
        security procedures before I called you and Sal. It is—well, look at
        it!”
          Norton South slid copies of a two-page printout to the older man
        and to a graduate student who apparently hadn’t needed to awaken
        and grope in the dark for clothing and matching socks.
          “Wait a minute,” said Sal Zorrillo, fastest to scan the pages. “How
        did you get this into plain text—and in fifteen languages—in such a
        short time?”
          South  blinked  and  shook  his  head.  “That’s  not  plain  text.  It’s
        verbatim.”
           Vyelle glanced at his watch.
          “Today is August eighth, not April Fools’ Day, Norton. Why have
        you bothered us with this hoax?”
          The assistant professor pounded the table.
          “I  tell  you  it’s  not.  The  dish  in  Arecibo  triangulated  with
        Aldermaston.  It  came  in  on  the  ‘water  hole’  frequency—1420
        gigahertz—as predicted. It’s not a signal bounced off the ionosphere;
        no network hackers spoofed  it. This message unquestionably came
        from Epsilon Eridani—but not from any of its known planets—ten
        and a half light years from Earth.”
          No one spoke as three men stared intently at the top page. The
        English read: You are not alone. We will send information tomorrow how to
        solve your problems.
           Professor Vyelle narrowed his eyes and looked at South. “I want to
        see the raw data.”

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