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« Nouveau Modèle » (« Second Variety ») est une nouvelle de science-fiction écrite par Philip K. Dick, publiée pour la première fois en mai 1953 dans « Space Science Fiction magazine ».
Philip K. Dick (1928–1982) est un écrivain américain connu pour ses romans, essais et nouvelles de science-fiction. Ses œuvres explorent souvent la perception de la réalité, l’identité et les sociétés totalitaires. Il est l’auteur de classiques tels que Les androïdes rêvent-ils de moutons électriques ? (« Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep ? »), qui servira de base au film « Blade Runner », ou encore « Ubik » et « Le Maître du Haut Château » (« The Man in the High Castle »).
L’histoire de « Nouveau Modèle » se déroule dans un contexte post-apocalyptique, suite à une guerre nucléaire entre les Soviétiques et les Américains. Cette nouvelle explore les conséquences de la guerre et de l’autonomie des machines (appelées les « griffes » dans la nouvelle). Elle a été adaptée au cinéma en 1995 sous le titre « Planète hurlante » (« Screamers »).

« The Russian soldier made his way nervously up the ragged side of the hill, holding his gun ready. He glanced around him, licking his dry lips, his face set. From time to time he reached up a gloved hand and wiped perspiration from his neck, pushing down his coat collar.

Eric turned to Corporal Leone. "Want him? Or can I have him?" He adjusted the view sight so the Russian's features squarely filled the glass, the lines cutting across his hard, somber features.

Leone considered. The Russian was close, moving rapidly, almost running. "Don't fire. Wait." Leone tensed. "I don't think we're needed."

The Russian increased his pace, kicking ash and piles of debris out of his way. He reached the top of the hill and stopped, panting, staring around him. The sky was overcast, drifting clouds of gray particles. Bare trunks of trees jutted up occasionally; the ground was level and bare, rubble-strewn, with the ruins of buildings standing out here and there like yellowing skulls.

The Russian was uneasy. He knew something was wrong. He started down the hill. Now he was only a few paces from the bunker. Eric was getting fidgety. He played with his pistol, glancing at Leone.

"Don't worry," Leone said. "He won't get here. They'll take care of him."

"Are you sure? He's got damn far."

"They hang around close to the bunker. He's getting into the bad part. Get set!"

The Russian began to hurry, sliding down the hill, his boots sinking into the heaps of gray ash, trying to keep his gun up. He stopped for a moment, lifting his fieldglasses to his face.

"He's looking right at us," Eric said. »