"Robert L. Forward - Rocheworld 02 - Return to Rocheworld" - читать интересную книгу автора (Forward Robert L)

"Astronomers can't calculate the exact motions of two gravitating
bodies except under special conditions. Aerodynamicists can't calculate the
exact flow of air over anything except a few simple wing shapes. Weather
forecasters can't predict more than a few days ahead. Atomic scientist can't
exactly calculate anything more complicated than an hydrogen atom.
"The human race needs that math and the beauty about math is that
unlike being given the secrets to advanced technology, being given advanced
mathematics will not stifle the technological creativity of the human race,
since _we_ will have to figure out how to apply the mathematics."
"OK," said Jinjur. "But how are we going to get the information out of
them? This crew may be pretty smart, but none of us are theoretical
mathematicians. We may be able to understand some of the simpler stuff, but
after the second and third infinity I know that _I_ would be lost."
"What we should do is set up an interstellar laser communicator in the
Hawaiian Islands on the Eau Lobe where their older thinkers stay," said
George. "That way the long-lived flouwen could communicate their advanced
mathematical knowledge directly back to Earth -- even long after you and I and
the rest of the crew have fluttered out the last of our mayflylike lives."
"You're getting poetic, George," said Jinjur. "I never knew you had it
in you."
George looked pensive for a long moment, eyes staring past her out the
control room window. Finally he rose from his seat.
"I better go talk to Carmen and Shirley to see what we can put together
that the flouwen can use. The laser should be in a well-sheltered place on
land, with a reactor that will keep it going for a few decades until the
follow-up expedition gets here. But the operating console will have to be
underwater."
"Now just a minute there George," said Jinjur sternly. "Remember what
they told you in officer's training? 'The program isn't finished until the
documentation is done.' You just finished an important and exciting mission
and there are a few billion people back on Earth who are waiting to here all
about it. You've got a report to write!"
Back in the lab, Nels was working on an algae culture he had been
trying to develop that would properly imitate a steak. He had perfected the
tissue culture "Ferdinand" that produced slices of real veal, but it and the
other tissue cultures grew slowly and the crew was allowed only one small
real-meat ration a week. Nels had discovered that by adding the proper amounts
of complex carbohydrates to the algae's growing medium, he could manage to
duplicate the flavor of beef, but he had yet to manage the proper texture of
steak. He could make a good pat from it, but it made a mushy hamburger. The
work helped him relax from the noisy party. Cinnamon was singing as she worked
around the lab, but Nels didn't pay her any attention. He hardly even heard
her singing anymore.
"Rollin', rollin', rollin' ... keep those doggies rollin'..."
Cinnamon had grown up in the small Alaskan town of Chenik, living in a




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