Repeating Radio Signals Coming from Distant Galaxy Detected
One of my favorite Stanislaw Lem novels is &quot;His Master&#x27;s Voice&quot;, about a message from space (only accidentally discovered because it was recorded on mag tape that was recycled as a one-time random pad, which turned out to inexplicably repeat itself), which had multiple ambiguous conflicting interpretations.<p>It&#x27;s actually scathing social commentary and philosophical satire about how fucked up government and military sponsored science can be, and the divide between the social scientists (elves) and physical sciences (dwarves).<p><a href="https:&#x2F;&#x2F;en.wikipedia.org&#x2F;wiki&#x2F;His_Master's_Voice_(novel)" rel="nofollow">https:&#x2F;&#x2F;en.wikipedia.org&#x2F;wiki&#x2F;His_Master's_Voice_(novel)</a><p>Throughout the book Hogarth—or rather, Lem himself—exposes the reader to many debates merging cosmology and philosophy: from discussions of epistemology, systems theory, information theory and probability, through the idea of evolutionary biology and the possible form and motives of extraterrestrial intelligence, with digressions about ethics in military-sponsored research, to the limitations of human science constrained by the human nature subconsciously projecting itself into the analysis of any unknown subject. At some point one of the involved scientists (Rappaport), desperate for new ideas, even begins to read and discuss popular science-fiction stories, and Lem uses this opportunity to criticize the science fiction genre, as Rappaport soon becomes bored and disillusioned by monotonous plots and the unimaginative stories of pulp magazines.<p><a href="https:&#x2F;&#x2F;scifistandpoint.wordpress.com&#x2F;2008&#x2F;12&#x2F;13&#x2F;the-voice-of-that-sf-master-stanislaw-lem&#x2F;" rel="nofollow">https:&#x2F;&#x2F;scifistandpoint.wordpress.com&#x2F;2008&#x2F;12&#x2F;13&#x2F;the-voice-o...</a><p>The hypotheses popular before the existence of the Project seemed to me incredibly shallow; they ricocheted back and forth between the pole of pessimism, which called the silentium universi a natural state, and the pole of mindless optimism that expected announcements clearly and slowly spelled out, as if civilizations scattered among the stars would communicate with one another like children in kindergarten. Yet another myth has bitten the dust, I thought, and yet another truth has ascended overhead — and, as is usually the case with truths, it is too much for us.