Once again, the SETI Institute has returned to the world's largest telescope to continue its research. Follow the institute's progress in Puerto Rico here at SPACE.com with Project Phoenix astronomer Seth Shostak's reports from the front.

SETI@Arecibo Diaries

FIRST ENTRY - EVIDENCE FOR ALIENS: 'So, do you really, really think there are aliens out there?' It's a question astronomer Seth Shostak hears often. 'Yes, I do,' Shostak says, 'I wouldnt be on this plane otherwise.'READ MORE .

SECOND ENTRY - SCANNING FOR SIGNALS: I dont imagine that Columbus spent a lot of time at the bow of his ship, squinting at the horizon for a sign of land. He left that tedious job to some miserable hireling, sent into the rigging. Meet the modern day hireling: The System. READ MORE .

THIRD ENTRY - THE ART OF OBSERVING: Its 6:00 p.m., and alreadydark outside. Weve deliberately chosen to conduct our search at night to avoidthe problem caused by signals passing too near the Sun. Charged particles from Sol can turn a narrow-band signal from an easy-to-find pure tone to a difficult-to-uncover buzz. So our hunt for ET is nocturnal. READ MORE .

Thursday, October 19, 2000 1:47 a.m.

The guard smiled as he handed me the key: "Youll be in Jodie Fosters room."

Indeed, I am. During the filming of Contact in 1997, the observatory offered Foster the plushest digs available -- a commodious (by local standards) bedroom in Family Unit No. 1, the largest of a dozen billets provided to visiting scientists. Now its mine. For years Ive suffered the usual observatory accommodations: dorm rooms with Alcatraz-like architecture, or plywood bungalows of the type usually ransacked by bears. But apparently I have "arrived." Im sleeping in the best bed in the place. Jodie, I note, has moved on.

Arecibo observing runs normally last a few weeks. For the Project Phoenix team, its a reclusive existence. Working, eating, sleeping and socializing all take place on this island within an island. Our horizons end at the observatory gate.

The Jodie Foster bedroom

At the south end of the facility is the telescope, hunkered down in its mammoth limestone sink hole. The control room and most of the engineering facilities are in a nondescript, concrete structure that faces the telescope. Behind it looms a multi-story building thats home to the scientific and administrative staff. From these twin edifices, a long staircase descends to the cafeteria. I remark on the stairs as they are, in fact, remarkable.

Two-thirds of the way from the top, theres one step with a rise about two inches higher than all the others. A step with personality. A step out of step with its more regular step brothers. Every visitor can count on tripping over this irregularity at least two times a day, despite the fact that it is painted red, marked with signs and written up in all the guidebooks.

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The cafeteria, I am gratified to say, has improved. It has been enlarged, modernized and enriched with an imposing gazebo. The food, too, is no longer the butt of easy jokes. There was a time when menus were superfluous -- chicken and rice were as inevitable as hockey fights. However, when the last island bird was converted from avian to entrée, the cafeteria regrouped and diversified. Ungulates dominate the offerings, and although some of the meat has been cooked longer than the lifetime of the animal involved, its usually tasty and reliably filling.

The exterior of the Arecibo cafeteria

Its the rainy season here, and every afternoon. Regular as the backbeat in a rap track, thunderclouds huddle up from the south. For an hour, the view outside resembles an alien planet. The telescope disappears in dark blue sheets of rain, while bolts of lightning stab the hills. Occasionally, a discharge will strike an arrester on the control building. The overhead lamps flicker, theres a loud crack and strobe lights flash. Its as if a Cardassian phaser has hit the Enterprise.

A Hard Rain's Gonna Fall

But now its early evening, and the peace of observing has returned. The Phoenix team, splayed informally around the room, has laid in a hefty supply of candy. Dirty coffee mugs are scattered like abandoned cars on a side table. Theres a discussion underway about the failure to find Pioneer 10, the two-decade-old spacecraft that is now one and a half times farther from us than Pluto. In the past, a daily check of Pioneer 10s weak signal has served as a reassuring end-to-end test of the Phoenix system. But Pioneers 2-watt transmitter has not been heard. It seems that NASA gave the spacecraft a kick in July, redirecting the transmitting antenna so that it is now aligned with a far part of Earths orbit.

No one is demoralized by the absence of Pioneer 10s comforting squeal. Several times a night, The System lights up with a possible detection, and then proves it to be a terrestrial satellite or a local radar. The System works. Now all we need is a signal from another world. Jodie, come back.