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painfully over some metal thing with wheels could it be a car? He knew what cars were, but did cars
draw things with rows of jagged metal spikes? The pain made him blink, but he limped on.
The door opened to a push.
Inside the building three of the same dimly glowing red disks, spaced along a low ceiling, showed him a
narrow aisle with stall doors opening off it. The animal reek, the faint shuffling sounds of movement, and
the sounds of breathing and munching told Sandy he was not alone in the building.
Even in the gloom, Sandy recognized what sort of living things he was sharing the building with. The
huge, patient eyes, the nubby little horns, the slow perpetual motion of the jaws he had seen them in the
old films often enough. They were cows.
One major worry went away. Cows, he was sure, did not eat human beings.
Soaked and exhausted, Sandy pulled off the parka and mukluks. The presence of a building implied the
presence of human beings not far away. What he should do, he knew, was find them, make contact, and
get on with his mission.
Sandy didn t do that. Weariness got in the way. He let himself sink into a stack of some sort of dried
vegetation. He thought he should at least stay awake so that he could greet whoever owned these cows
when he came by . . . but as he was thinking, exhaustion won out, and he was asleep.
He woke up suddenly, aware even as he woke of where he was and that he was not alone.
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He blinked his eyes open. Standing over him was a figure in cutoff shorts and long black hair. He grinned
placatingly up at the person, and then something very like an electric shock ran through him, taking away
the power of speech entirely, as he realized that the person wasfemale. Ahuman female.
He jumped up, holding his arms out with the palms open to show that he meant no harm. He proved it
by putting on the friendly, well-meaning smile he had practiced so often in front of a mirror. He brushed
bits of dried straw out of his hair and finally regained the use of his tongue.
The woman s lips were moving, and Sandy realized he hadn t replaced his hearing aid. He found it in the
pocket of the parka, pushed it in prayerfully . . . It worked! Hello? the woman s voice said inquiringly.
Hello, he said politely. I guess you re wondering who I am. I m Sandy I m John William
Washington, I mean, he said. I came in here to get out of the storm. I hope it s all right? You see, I was
hitchhiking and I lost my way
The woman didn t seem surprised. She didn t seem to show any expression at all. She was a lot darker
skinned than Sandy had expected, and her face seemed impassive. You might as well come up to the
house, she said. Turning, she led the way.
The rain had stopped. The skies had at least partly cleared Sandy gazed entranced at white, fluffy
clouds and blue sky, and the green of the land all around him. They were in a valley. The Hakh hli
landing ship was nowhere in sight, but Sandy could see the mountains that surrounded them though they
did not look as they were supposed to, no doubt because he was seeing them from the wrong angle.
Come on in, the woman said, holding the door for him.
Thank you, he said politely, and entered.
They were in the kitchen of a house. Sandy gazed around in fascination. The smells alone were
startling. A young male was standing at a stove, stirring a flat pan filled with something that sizzled and
popped over an open flame. (An open flame!) That was the source of at least one of the odors, both
provocative and repellent, but there were others Sandy could not identify.
The youth looked up at Sandy. He s a big one, Mom, he said. Does he want some bacon and eggs?
Oh, yes, said Sandy eagerly, linking the smells to the familiar words which, until then, had lacked a
referent in his experience. Yes, please. I can pay. He fumbled in his pocket for one of the little nuggets
and began his rehearsed explanation. I ve been placer mining, you see. I collect sand and rocks from the
stream beds. Then I wash them in running water. The lighter pieces are washed away, and I pick the gold
out.
The woman looked at him curiously but didn t comment. All she said was, Do you want some hash
browns with your eggs?
Oh, yes, I think so, Sandy said doubtfully. He wasn t sure exactly what hash browns were, and when
the human boy put a plate in front of him he was even less sure he wanted them. Or any of it. The eggs
were round, yellow blobs surrounded by a thin film of white substance, browned at the edges; that was
easy to identify. The bacon was the meat, and he had seen pictures of that before, too. What was left
had to be the hash browns, a doughy mess of starch, crisped and browned on top.
He picked up the fork expertly enough; all those hours of practice were paying off. But when he
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prodded the eggs the yolks broke and spilled oily, yellow fat over the other things on the plate.
He hesitated, aware of the woman watching him with interest. The boy had disappeared, but Sandy
heard his muffled voice coming from the other room, perhaps talking to someone. Sandy took a tiny bit
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