Song of Azathoth - 1

Two men sat on a long porch in the early evening, sipping beers and listening to the chirp of insects in the tall grass of the back lawn. The grass was tall because the owner of the house on the slope of Palomar Mountain, astronomer Daniel Foy, seldom bothered to cut it. Every so often, the bug zapper suspended above their heads announced the death of another mosquito or hapless moth. The night sky was clear, the temperature mild. The valley floor far below sparkled with the lights of San Diego County. From somewhere in the distance came the drawn-out howl of a coyote.

"What we're looking at hasn't been seen with the naked eye for over four centuries," Foy said.

"What's that?" Alberto Vincenzo murmured. He had been half-dreaming, listening to the melody that played inside his head.

 "The supernova." Foy pointed upward at a bright red spark high in the southern heavens. "The last visible supernova in our galaxy was the Kepler Nova in 1604."

 "It's certainly impressive," Vincenzo agreed. He sipped his beer, and realized it had gone flat in the open bottle. Idly, he thought about getting a fresh bottle from the fridge, but decided standing up to go into his friend's kitchen was too much trouble. 

 "It's the brightest object in the night sky, apart from the Moon." Foy said it like a proud parent. 

 "It puts all the other stars to shame."

 "Doesn't it, though. It's got us up at the observatory puzzled."

 "How's that?"

 "Well, for one thing, its increase in brightness is sustaining itself longer than is usual with supernovas. For another thing, it's a strange color."

 "You mean the crimson?"

 "Actually it's more of a scarlet. Supernovas are usually blue-white. To get such a big one near the center of our galaxy of this color is unheard of."

 "What do you think is causing it?"

 "I'm just a technician, remember? I don't do theory."

 "Maybe it's an evil omen," Vincenzo said with a smile. "I heard some religious nut on the television