（外文电子版资料）Spider Robinson - His Own Petard.pdf

HIS OWN PETARD Steven, can you come over right away? Anns uncharacteristically flat, hollow voice asked. Some people find it odd that a science fiction writer, in this day and age, should choose to live without a modem, a pager, or a fax machine. Im of the opinion that modern technology has made it too easy for people to get in touch with each other. I concentrate for a living, or rather, I try my damnedest. But you have to have a phone—at least, if you want to make a living. Damn it. Well, thats why God made answering machines. It was a cold night outside, and I had been hard at work when the phone rang. Ann was a friend: she knew I often turned off the speaker on the machine so I could concentrate on writing with-out interruption. She was a friend: she wouldnt be too disappointed if I didnt pick up the call. She was a good friend, and she sounded like she needed help badly ... I hesitated with my hand an inch from the phone, thinking that the definition of friend should be, someone you dont have to make excuses to. Rubins dead, her voice said. I was there. Well, that would have been more than enough to fetch me—at any time of day or night, in any weather. But then she clinched it ... by bursting into tears. I picked up the handset, said, Fifteen min-utes, and hung up. Well, I said to my wife as I pulled on my shoes, that was the most amazing call of the month. Who was it? Mariko asked obligingly. A good straight man is welcome when youre in a hurry. Ann. She says Rubin is down. Her jaw dropped. Billy Rubin? Dead? Brown bread, I agreed. She says she saw it happen. Wow. That is amazing. I shook my head. Thats not the amazing part. Get this: she didnt sound happy about it. I left Mariko looking as puzzled as I was, and