The signal traveled at the speed of light. That was the cruelty of it--not that it was fast, but that it was fair. Every civilization in the universe received it at the same speed. No one had an advantage. No one could hide faster.
Clara Whitmore stood on the roof of her Manhattan townhouse in the autumn of 1924 and watched the stars through a brass telescope her father had bought at an estate sale. She was twenty-nine years old, which in the world of New York society made her an old maid. In the world of science, it made her a curiosity. In the world that was about to end, it made her exactly the right age. James Osgood...
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