"Sr. Murphy de Nova York", uma breve história de Thomas McMorrow; publicado pela primeira vez na edição 22, 1930 de março da O Saturday Evening Post. Você pode ter lido em Groff Conklinantologia 1950 Grande livro de ficção científicaOu, em Damon Knightantologia 1968 Cem anos de ficção científica. Qualquer um estas capas Parece familiar?
Um comitê de homens se reuniu para discutir o recente colapso espontâneo de um arranha-céu (2 semanas atrás?). Um dos homens logo se torna um idiota obscuro da classe alta, sem nada para contribuir.
"Quite,' I said curtly, and readdressed myself to Cohen: "Were you in New York when the Americus Tower fell?"
"I had my residence on the roof of the Americus," interposed the futile Mr. Murphy, producing blue prints, "and the coziest home I ever lived in. If you'll give me your gracious attention now, Mr. Craig, I'll show you what I want you to build for me in the way of a residence atop your new Central Unit in Canabec, and I'll take a twenty-year lease at eighty thousand a year."
He was of just enough importance to us to be admitted to the fringes of our conference, but that wasn't Mr. Murphy's conception of his status. He had a great deal of inherited money.
Perto do final da história, o idiota revela que ele havia escapado por pouco, pois morava na suíte da cobertura (um andar inteiro) do prédio desabado e estava na Europa de férias quando ocorreu o colapso.
"You weren't at home, I take it, Mr. Murphy," said Cohen soberly, "when the Americus fell?"
"Oh, I would have been killed!" expostulated Mr. Murphy. "As a matter of fact, gentlemen, I was at my shore home in Maine."
E ele insiste em dizer aos outros que sua esposa o acusa de deixar o banho correndo quando ele saiu. Os outros percebem que, como o apartamento estava fechado, todo o piso teria se enchido de água e causado o colapso devido ao seu peso.
"If you were drawing your bath," I said sternly, "you must have stopped the water. And you think that, perhaps, you went away and left the water running."
"A mere surmise, Mr. Craig. But why are you so pressing? If you think that I should pay this bill even now—"
I drew a breath. "A hundred thousand cubic feet of water, gentlemen, weighs more than three thousand tons. In my opinion, though I'm no engineer, the steel frame designed by Hendricks would not have stood under a superimposed load of three thousand tons—not without buckling somewhere. If it would stand any such overloading, Hendricks didn't know his business. It's late in the day to reopen the investigation into the fall of the Americus Tower."
Nesta história, encontramos o que pode ser a primeira menção fictícia a um videofone de bolso:
"Now, gentlemen, please," breathed Mr. Bligh. "Do remember that I'm a thousand miles from home and haven't had any lunch yet. Well, I shall have to call up." He took out his pocketell. "Are you there? Billy calling . . . Hello, Molly! I just called you to say that I can't possibly get home— What's that, sweetheart? . . . Oh, no, no. . . . But I say that I am not! I am in New York in a conference. . . . Yes, business. . . . Why don't I— Now, Molly, how can you ask me to be so rude? . . . Oh, very well, my dear, in a moment." He turned to us, coloring, and said, "Will you permit?" We were married men ourselves; we smiled and got to our feet and bowed to his lady when she appeared; her eyes swept us vigilantly. "I'm sorry this had to happen, gentlemen," said Mr. Bligh, blanking her. "May we proceed now with our affair?"