By Isaac Asimov
6 hommes se réunissent une fois par mois, dans le même eating place. A journey de rôle ils invitent une personne qui a une énigme policière à leur proposer, sachant que cette tierce personne n'a pas los angeles answer. 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 los angeles 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)
When the arm has been dealt with, Jane becomes managerial. Feed the baby swallows. When that’s done, get the dogs out by lifting them through the window (Kaylee lifts, Jane directs, protecting her arm). Bring the boxes of supplies outside. The porch above the patio 54 WELCOME TO THE GREENHOUSE is gone, but they clear the pink insulation batts, tumbled firewood, broken branches, and nameless debris away, and have a firm, level surface to work on. It’s also enclosed by fencing which has survived the tornado, making it a good place for the dogs to sleep if it doesn’t rain tonight, and in fact the sky has cleared completely and the radio robot says it will stay clear.
Cans and PowerBars. Dishes. Spare clothes. Tools. Stuff to clean up with. ” Kaylee grins happily. “And speaking of birds, before it’s time to feed them again, would you mind helping me with this cut? I can’t see the darn thing, and I want to pour some peroxide in there to clean it out and bandage it with something less, ah, bulky. ” Kaylee does mind, quite a lot really, but she takes herself in hand and acts like she doesn’t. They climb back out the window—Jane’s set a little step stool just outside, to make it easier to come and go—and then Jane takes off the bloody shirt, and the tee shirt too this time, and holds the arm out from her side while Kaylee pours most of a bottle of peroxide into the jagged mouth of the wound, struggling to keep from gagging while pink bubbles froth and fizz there.
Or maybe just sit here on the mat next to them. ” Which, Kaylee sees, she’s brought down with her, and which she now switches back on. But the robot voice is only repeating what it said already. Jane turns down the volume. Kaylee sits cross-legged on the edge of the mat and consults her SmartBerry. When she first started working on the nesting project with Jane, she’d kept the SmartBerry in her jacket pocket or in her hand all the time; but when Jane noticed, she’d made her put it away. “You can’t do science like that, hon, texting seven of your friends while checking out a nest.