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Fresco Alastair Reynolds On the day that the blue ones stopped transmitting, the caretaker was doing its rounds of the Eye, humming and pottering among the other, duller maintenance robots. Then, when the news came in, it stopped humming. Near the heart of the Eye—the vast radio telescope floating beyond the orbit of Jupiter—was a gigantic spherical tank which had once been used to store the water the humans had needed during the construction. They had lived in it, too—dwelling in pressurized cabins surrounded by water, shielded from radiation. Now they were gone—long gone—but the midnight blue tank remained. Like, the caretaker had thought one day, a huge blank canvas. III Until the coming of the Eye, no radio telescope had been sensitive enough to pick out signals of intelligent origin from the mush of cosmic background noise. But then the feast had begun: a tsunami of knowledge almost beyond human comprehension. Yet the messages showed that humanity was still fundamentally alone. All the signals had originated |
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