unbuttoned.
“Professor Markov!” she exclaimed, opening the car door and scrambling in beside him. “We were getting worried about you; you’re quite late.” She tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Go straight ahead and take the second left.”
Before Markov could say anything, she turned back to him. “I am Sonya Vlasov…I am only a graduate student here, doing my doctoral thesis work, but the director asked me to be your guide.” She was almost breathless with excitement.
Markov paid no attention to the row upon row of huge radio telescopes that glinted metallically in the lights from the road. He saw only that Sonya Vlasov was young, eager, a little plump, and had enormous breasts.
“My personal guide?” He smiled at her in a fatherly way.
“Oh yes. Whatever you want or need, it will be my pleasure to see that you get it.”
“How very thoughtful.”
She pushed back her long, light brown hair with one hand, a motion that made her coat open even more.
“Welcome to the Landau Radio Astronomy Institute, Professor Markov!” she said happily.
Markov nodded graciously. Exile might not be so bad after all, he thought.
----
I must now mention God—otherwise quite properly unmentioned in these scientific studies—and must go a step further and pose the question: Can a religious person, or even more, a theologian, possibly be legitimately involved in, even be excited by these discussions of the possibility of other intelligent creatures and free creatures out there?
As a theologian, I would say that this proposed search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI) is also a search of knowing and understanding God through His works—especially those works that most reflect Him. Finding others than ourselves would mean knowing Him better.
THEODORE M. HESBURGH, C.S.C.
President, University of Notre Dame
The Search for Extraterrestrial
Intelligence (SETI)
National Aeronautics and Space
Administration
NASA SP-419
1977
----
CHAPTER 8
Stoner looked up from his frozen dinner and saw Jo standing in the kitchen doorway, a thick manila folder clutched in her mittened hands.
For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Dark anger rushed through him; he could feel its heat in his face.
“What are you doing here?”
She stood her ground. “I brought the latest packet of photographs from Goddard Space Center.” Her voice was low but steady.
“Brought me my homework. Thanks a lot.”
Taking a step into the kitchen, Jo said, “Professor McDermott needed somebody to carry things from the observatory to you. He told me to do it.”
Stoner said nothing.
“I had to get special clearance from the Navy.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Look—I didn’t think they’d do this to you.” Jo’s voice didn’t tremble, but he could sense the tension in it. And there was something in her face, something in those dark eyes of hers: guilt, or fear, or…what?
“What did you think they’d do?” he asked.
She shrugged inside her heavy wool coat. “I don’t know. I tried to warn you…to tell you that McDermott was uptight about you going to Washington…”
“How’d he find out, Jo?”
Her face fell. In a voice so low he could barely hear it, she answered, “I told him.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“He pressured me. I’ve been cutting a lot of classes to be out at the observatory. He said he’d flunk me out if I didn’t tell him what you were up to.”
He studied her. If she’s lying, she’s good at it. Anger was seething inside him. Or was it something else, something more? Anger usually left Stoner cold, his mind became as unemotional and unfeeling as an electronic computer. But now his hands wanted to grab and tear, his insides were jumping, blood pounding. Jesus, Stoner realized, it’s been months since I’ve gotten laid.
“Come on in,” he said, trying to make it sound calm. “Take your coat off. Sit down. Have some coffee.”
Hesitantly Jo entered the kitchen. She put the thick manila folder on the
“Professor Markov!” she exclaimed, opening the car door and scrambling in beside him. “We were getting worried about you; you’re quite late.” She tapped the driver on the shoulder. “Go straight ahead and take the second left.”
Before Markov could say anything, she turned back to him. “I am Sonya Vlasov…I am only a graduate student here, doing my doctoral thesis work, but the director asked me to be your guide.” She was almost breathless with excitement.
Markov paid no attention to the row upon row of huge radio telescopes that glinted metallically in the lights from the road. He saw only that Sonya Vlasov was young, eager, a little plump, and had enormous breasts.
“My personal guide?” He smiled at her in a fatherly way.
“Oh yes. Whatever you want or need, it will be my pleasure to see that you get it.”
“How very thoughtful.”
She pushed back her long, light brown hair with one hand, a motion that made her coat open even more.
“Welcome to the Landau Radio Astronomy Institute, Professor Markov!” she said happily.
Markov nodded graciously. Exile might not be so bad after all, he thought.
----
I must now mention God—otherwise quite properly unmentioned in these scientific studies—and must go a step further and pose the question: Can a religious person, or even more, a theologian, possibly be legitimately involved in, even be excited by these discussions of the possibility of other intelligent creatures and free creatures out there?
As a theologian, I would say that this proposed search for extraterrestrial intelligence (SETI) is also a search of knowing and understanding God through His works—especially those works that most reflect Him. Finding others than ourselves would mean knowing Him better.
THEODORE M. HESBURGH, C.S.C.
President, University of Notre Dame
The Search for Extraterrestrial
Intelligence (SETI)
National Aeronautics and Space
Administration
NASA SP-419
1977
----
CHAPTER 8
Stoner looked up from his frozen dinner and saw Jo standing in the kitchen doorway, a thick manila folder clutched in her mittened hands.
For a moment he didn’t know what to say. Dark anger rushed through him; he could feel its heat in his face.
“What are you doing here?”
She stood her ground. “I brought the latest packet of photographs from Goddard Space Center.” Her voice was low but steady.
“Brought me my homework. Thanks a lot.”
Taking a step into the kitchen, Jo said, “Professor McDermott needed somebody to carry things from the observatory to you. He told me to do it.”
Stoner said nothing.
“I had to get special clearance from the Navy.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Look—I didn’t think they’d do this to you.” Jo’s voice didn’t tremble, but he could sense the tension in it. And there was something in her face, something in those dark eyes of hers: guilt, or fear, or…what?
“What did you think they’d do?” he asked.
She shrugged inside her heavy wool coat. “I don’t know. I tried to warn you…to tell you that McDermott was uptight about you going to Washington…”
“How’d he find out, Jo?”
Her face fell. In a voice so low he could barely hear it, she answered, “I told him.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“He pressured me. I’ve been cutting a lot of classes to be out at the observatory. He said he’d flunk me out if I didn’t tell him what you were up to.”
He studied her. If she’s lying, she’s good at it. Anger was seething inside him. Or was it something else, something more? Anger usually left Stoner cold, his mind became as unemotional and unfeeling as an electronic computer. But now his hands wanted to grab and tear, his insides were jumping, blood pounding. Jesus, Stoner realized, it’s been months since I’ve gotten laid.
“Come on in,” he said, trying to make it sound calm. “Take your coat off. Sit down. Have some coffee.”
Hesitantly Jo entered the kitchen. She put the thick manila folder on the
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