Science fiction; Short stories; Trials (Divorce) -- Fiction
Dag stared at the amazing heads, then began rapidly reading the story
aloud to herself.
"Merl Wisson received a divorce from his first-wife, Sar, ten minutes
after the court had refused the divorce on the charge of incompetence.
In a sudden reversal of position, Sar Wisson agreed to the separation
for reasons of incompatibility immediately after she had won her
unprecedented contesting action. For the record, Justice Klyutch...."
The newstrip fluttered to the floor as Dag's lifeless toss missed the
disposall opening. She sat dazedly, watching the newsmachine disgorge
strip after strip onto the growing pile of paper at her feet. Too
stunned for the moment to get up and turn the machine off, she was
vaguely thankful that she had set it only for local news. If the whole
edition was allowed to accumulate on the floor, she'd have to dig
herself out!
The machine clicked off automatically after a last strip floated down
to the pile on the floor.
Aroused from her reverie as the newsmachine snapped itself off, Dag
stood up. She searched her pockets for a barkastem, found one in a
crumpled pack and slid it into her mouth. She nibbled thoughtfully.
Ignoring the mess of strips on the floor, she headed for the door,
determined to get to the bottom of the mystery of Sar's change of heart.
Half an hour later, she was pressing the call button of Sar's apartment.
The door was opened by a tall, distinguished-looking man. Dag brushed
by him abruptly and walked into the room. She saw her sister at the
bar, mixing a couple of drinks.
"Sar!" she exclaimed. "What happened? I thought you were going to fight
it."
Sar looked up and smiled a greeting. "Hello, Dag," she said.
"What happened?" Dag repeated anxiously.
"I changed my mind," Sar explained. "Woman's prerogative."
"But what about the pension, and the comforts and security?"
Sar laughed softly. "It turns out that that has nothing to do with
divorcing Merl."
"But you said...."
"I said, 'once a first-wife, always a first-wife'," Sar reminded her.
Sar turned to the distinguished-looking man, who had been watching
silently, listening to the exchange between the two women, a faint
smile on his lips. "Ken, this is my sister, Dag.
"Dag," she said, completing the introduction, "I'd like you to meet
Justice Klyutch."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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