"He's coming!"The person on the other end of the phone was anxious, breathing violently and restless," he's here, Pluto's threat came, I won't support......" for long

 At a short halt, the remaining buzzing voice reminded me that he had hung up the phone.

 Although I received such a puzzling phone call in the middle of the night, I still decided to visit the other party to see what went wrong!

 Please allow me to introduce myself, I am a writer, to put it bluntly is the code words.

 In this industry, the same writers, a far more disparity than the diameter of the galaxy. Popular writers are high in heaven, earning in millions, while the poor at the bottom are in hell, even a problem.

 Despite the harsh reality of the writer world, what people see is only the brilliant side, and countless young people still invest in it every year. Fortunately, I do not have to struggle so hard, I made my debut early, laid a half red not purple fame, every month carry thousands to support the family, and his wife live a medium family's happy life!

 Modern society has entered the era of fast food, and the same is true of literature. Writers no longer pay attention to quality, but win by speed, and it is not uncommon for them to update tens of thousands of words every day. But there is a miracle in the writer world, he is called Stevenson, famous for writing science fiction, once won the science fiction award "Hugo Award"!

 His novels are so popular that even the endless books are eagerly bought by readers. When even changed to a movie, royalties are almost a horror shock for some. And such a strange man, every day only write 400 words, not much, the day is so, make the publisher distressed!

 I was able to get acquainted with such famous writers, completely because we have a common hobby —— astronomy enthusiasts!

 Of course, the 500 times refraction telescope, which I only have for a few thousand dollars, is not comparable to Stevenson's large telescope made from the National Astronomical Observatory. But there were few people of astronomy, high and few, and Stevenwas withdrawn, I almost became his only friend! I would never lose out with such a friend, so I got dressed, kissed my unhappy wife goodbye, and drove the Chevrolet on the road.

 Stevenson lived on a summit in the suburbs. On the one hand, he had enough money to buy such a villa, and astronomical observations needed clean places, which the heavily polluted city could not provide.

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While driving, I thought just Stevenson called, although he is a strange man, but a rigorous eccentric, absolutely not boring to make late night phone harassment friends, must have his deep meaning! Pluto, the Roman god of meditation. What's Pluto mean? So what happened, whether it was related to the demotion of Pluto from the nine planets that just happened a few years ago? That's why I hurried over.

I can't guess, driving about half an hour, around the mountain road on the altitude of more than 600 meters of Stevenson villa —— Stevenson home. When I got off the car and rang the doorbell, there was no response. I was secretly worried and at a loss, and then came another car, Stevenson's personal doctor. I also asked him for my dental disease, and he was surprised at me and said, " Mr.Stevenson has asked for you, too?”

I nodded and said, " He said a big thing on the phone. I felt very strange and came to have a look.”

"The same is true with me!”

 I said, " Now the door is locked, don't we climb in and see what happened!”

 We are both of us are rock climbers and often compete against each other. Now he took off his suit, climbed up the pipe to the second floor of the villa, and jumped onto the balcony.

The French window of the balcony did not close at all, the green curtain called the mountain wind blowing into the ground fluttering, like wrapped in an invisible ghost. And the midnight blue moonlight peel off the curtain of the curtain into the villa, showing a unnatural human body on the ground, a "￥" type horizontal on the ground. Under the deep moonlight, it feels particularly strange!

"Oh!”

This man and we are the Stevenson, whom we all know!

 Macbeth and I hurried through the French window and opened the curtains. Macbeth bent half to his knees, rested on the pulse of Stevenson's neck, examined his pupils, shook his head in disappointment and said, " Dead! The cause of death is temporarily unknown! But he died in a very strange posture. This ￥ type, dead good strange......"

I stared at Stevenson, his hands open, his head in a semicircle, his legs tightly together, but across a broom with a broken head.

"No, this is not a ￥ -type......"

I slowly said, pointing to the only open electrical appliances —— computer in the room! At the moment, because there is no operation for a long time, the screen automatically enters the screen saver state, not flashing symbols.

"This is the symbol of Pluto!”