（外文电子版资料）Larry Niven- William Proxmire.pdf

Larry Niven - William Proxmire Through the peephole in Andrew’s front door the man made a startling sight. He looked to be in his eighties. He was breathing hard and streaming sweat. He seemed slightly more real than most men: photogenic as hell, tall and lean, with stringy muscles and no potbelly, running shoes and a day pack and a blue windbreaker, and an open smile. The face was familiar, but from where? Andrew opened the front door but left the screen door locked. “Hello?” “Dr. Andrew Minsky?” “Yes.” Memory clicked. “William Proxmire, big as life.” The ex-senator smiled acknowledgment. “I’ve only just finished reading about you in the Tribune, Dr. Minsky. May I come in?” It had never been Andrew Minsky’s ambition to invite William Proxmire into his home. Still—”Sure. Come in, sit down, have some coffee. Or do your stretches.” Andrew was a runner himself when he could find the time. “Thank you.” Andrew left him on the rug with one knee pulled against his chest. From the kitchen he called, “I never in my life expected to meet you face to face. You must have seen the article on me and Tipler and Penrose?” “Yes. I’m prepared to learn that the media got it all wrong.” “I bet you are. Any politician would. Well, the Tribune implied that what we’ ve got is a time machine. Of course we don’t. We’ve got a schematic based on a theory. Then again, it’s the new improved version. It doesn’t involve an infinitely long cylinder that you’d have to make out of neutronium—” “Good. What would it cost?” Andrew Minsky sighed. Had the politician even recognized the reference? He said, “Oh . . . hard to say.” He picked up two cups and the coffeepot and went back in. “Is that it? You came looking for a time machine?” The old man was sitting on the yellow rug with his legs spread wide apart and his fingers grasping his right foot. He released, folded his legs heel to heel, touched forehead to toes, held, then stood up with a sound like popcorn popping. He