（外文电子版资料）William Tenn - Childs Play.pdfVIP

Childs Play William Tenn After the man from the express company had given the door an untipped slam, Sam Weber decided to move the huge crate under the one light bulb in his room. It was all very well for the messenger to drawl, I dunno. We dont send em; we just deliver em, mister—but there must be some sensible explanation. With a grunt that began as an anticipatory reflex and ended on a note of surprised annoyance, Sam shoved the box forward the few feet necessary. It was heavy enough; he wondered how the messenger had carried it up the three flights of stairs. He straightened and frowned down at the garish card which contained his name and address as well as the legend—Merry Christmas, 2353. A joke? He didnt know anyone whod think it funny to send a card dated over four hundred years in the future. Unless one of the comedians in his law school graduat-ing class meant to record his opinion as to when Weber would be trying his first case. Even so— The letters were shaped strangely, come to think of it, sort of green streaks instead of lines. And the card was a sheet of gold! Sam decided he was really interested. He ripped the card aside, tore off the flimsy wrapping material—and stopped. There was no top to the box, no slit in its side, no handle anywhere in sight. It seemed to be a solid, cubical mass of brown stuff. Yet he was positive something had rattled inside when it was moved. He seized the corners and strained and grunted till it lifted. The underside was as smooth and innocent of openings as the rest. He let it thump back to the floor. Ah, well, he said, philosophically, its not the gift; its the principle involved. Many of his gifts still required appreciative notes. Hed have to work up some-thing special for Aunt Maggie. Her neckties were things of cubistic horror, but he hadnt even sent her a lone handkerchief this Christmas. Every cent had gone into buying that brooch for Tina. No