Schroedinger's mousetrap

摘要

Lister sat quietly, waiting for Jirong Feng's interview. He felt somewhat awed by what he had seen of the oriental; he looked to Lister's Western eyes about 22, but he was probably older. Everyone had said how bright he was, with the apparently erratic approach of the truly original thinker. Could he have set up this convoluted crime? Feng came quietly into the room and stood by the interview chair. He turned it around in a quick, graceful movement and sat with his arms on the chair-back, a definite twinkle in his eyes as they met Lister's. Lister smiled, too.