By Isaac Asimov
6 hommes se réunissent une fois par mois, dans le même eating place. A travel de rôle ils invitent une personne qui a une énigme policière à leur proposer, sachant que cette tierce personne n'a pas l. a. resolution. Il s'agit le plus souvent d'un problème qu'il a ecu dans leur vie.
Tout au lengthy du repas, les 6 veufs noirs discutent, établissent des hypothèses, pointent les faiblesses de ces dernières, échafaudent des théories.
Durant tout ce temps, Henri, le maître d'hotel, les sert, débarasse, suggest les liqueurs, mais surtout, écoute, en silence et en toute discrétion.
A l. a. fin, vous avez deviné qui trouve los angeles resolution. Elle est logique, argumentée, implacable.
Pas de grandes aventures, pas de robots, pas de area opéra, mais un Asimov tout en finesse à découvrir ou re-découvrir.
Originally titled "Banquets of the Black Widowers" (1984)
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Extra resources for A table avec les veufs noirs (Veufs noirs, Book 4)
Back on Earth, his kids could end anywhere, even Novia. Stubby Trevelyan had picked up that item early. Even before Reading Day, his conversation was based on the carelessly assumed fact that his ultimate home would be in Novia. George, oppressed by thoughts of the other's future greatness and his own small-time contrast, was driven to belligerent defense at once. "My father isn't worried either. He just wants to hear me read because he knows I'll be good. " "I will not be all wrong. Reading is nothing.
He knew it to be printing but how could anyone make words out of it? He couldn't imagine. He was told to strip; he and four other boys who were all that now remained together. All the new clothes came shucking off and four eight-year-olds stood naked and small, shivering more out of embarrassment than cold. Medical technicians came past, probing them, testing them with odd instruments, pricking them for blood. Each took the little cards and made additional marks on them with little black rods that produced the marks, all neatly lined up, with great speed.
S. Oh, yes, I must confess (With some distress) Your story is regretfully enclosed. Profession George Platen could not conceal the longing in his voice. It was too much to suppress. He said, "Tomorrow's the first of May. " He rolled over on his stomach and peered over the foot of his bed at his roommate. Didn't he feel it, too? Didn't this make some impression on him? George's face was thin and had grown a trifle thinner in the nearly year and a half that he had been at the House. His figure was slight but the look in his blue eyes was as intense as it had ever been, and right now there was a trapped look in the way his fingers curled against the bedspread.