The Search for Intelligent Signs of Life in the Universe

Just listen...amazing...in my head, I can still hear that violin concert. What *is* it in our brains that lets us recall the music after it's over? Why is it when we hear certain music we get a lump in our throat? My space chums wonder how come we don't get the lump in our ear. They're impressed with our ability to get lumps in the throat. Apparently, we're unique in that respect. They wanted to know if it felt anything like goose bumps. I said, "You never felt goose bumps, either?" They said, "No." They asked me to explain goose bumps - do they come from the heart? Do they come from the soul? Do they come from the brain? Or do they come from geese?

I decided maybe we should take in a play. I got goose bumps once that way. So we headed back toward Shubert Alley.

Next to my trances they love goin' through my shopping bags. Once they found this old box of Cream of Wheat. I told 'em, "A box of cereal." But they saw it as a picture of infinity. You know how on the front is a picture of that guy holding up a box of Cream of Wheat
and on *that* box is a picture of that guy holding up a box of Cream of Wheat
and on *that* box is a picture of that guy holding up a box of Cream of Wheat
and on *that* box is a picture of that guy holding up a box of Cream of Wheat...

We think so different.

They find it hard to grasp some things that come easy to us, because they simply don't have our frame of reference. I show 'em this can of Campbell's tomato soup. I say, "This is soup."
Then I show 'em a picture of Andy Warhol's painting of a can of Campbell's soup. I say, "This is art."

"This is soup."

"And this is art."

Then I shuffle the two behind my back.

Now what is this?

No, *this* is soup and *this is art*!

Did I tell you what happened at the play? We were at the back of the theater standing there in the dark, all of a sudden I feel one of 'em tug at my sleeve, whispers, "Trudy, look." I said, "Yeah, goose bumps. You
definitely
got goose bumps. You really like the play that much?" They said it wasn't the play gave 'em goose bumps, it was the audience.

I forgot to tell 'em to watch the play; they'd been watching the *audience*!

Yeah, to see a group of strangers sitting together in the dark, laughing and crying about the same things...that just knocked 'em out.
They said, "Trudy,
the play was soup...
the audience...
art."

So they're taking goose bumps home with 'em. Goose bumps! Quite a souvenir.

I like to think of them out there in the dark, watching us. Sometimes we'll do something and they'll laugh. Sometimes we'll do something and they'll cry. And maybe one day we'll do something so magnificent, everyone in the universe will get goose bumps.