"Nothing. Just mentioning it."
But a few moments later the newcomer, after looking about helplessly, approached and pointed to their beef stew, saying in a queer accent, "Food! Where? Please."
Granz looked up. "Food right here, bud. Just pull up a chair at any table you want and use the Foodomat... Foodomat! Don't you know what a Foodomat is?...Look at the poor jerk, Messter. He's looking at me as if he doesn't understand a word I say. Hey, fella-this thing, see. Just put a coin in and let me eat, will you?"
"Leave him alone," grunted Messter. "He's just a bum, looking for a handout."
"Hey, hold on." Granz seized Schwartz's sleeve as the latter turned to go. He added in an aside to Messter, "Space, let the guy eat. He's probably getting the Sixty soon. It's the least I can do to give him a break...Hey, bud, you got any money?...Well, I'll be damned, he still doesn't understand me. Money, pal, money! This-" And he drew a shining half-credit piece out of his pocket, flipping it so that it sparkled in the air.
"Got any?" he asked.
Slowly Schwartz shook his head.
"Well, then, have this on me!" He replaced the half-credit piece in his pocket and tossed over a considerably smaller coin.
Schwartz held it uncertainly.
"All right. Don't just stand there. Stick it in the Foodomat. This thing here."
Schwartz suddenly found himself understanding. The Foodomat had a series of slits for coins of different sizes and a series of knobs opposite little milky rectangles, the writing upon which he could not read. Schwartz pointed to the food on the table and ran a forefinger up and down the knobs, raising his eyebrows in question.
Messter said in annoyance, " A sandwich isn't good enough for him. We're getting classy bums in this burg nowadays. It doesn't pay to humor them, Granz."
"All right, so I lose point eight five credits. Tomorrow's payday, anyway...Here," he said to Schwartz. He placed coins of his own into the Foodomat and withdrew the wide metal container from the recess in the wall. "Now take it to another table...Nab, keep that tenth piece. Buy yourself a cup of coffee with it."
Schwartz carried the container gingerly to the next table. It had a spoon attached to the side by means of a transparent, filmy material, which broke with a slight pop under the pressure of a fingernail. As it did so, the top of the container parted at a seam and curled back upon itself.
The food, unlike that which he saw the others eating, was cold; but that was a detail. It was only after a minute or so that he realized the food was getting warmer and that the container had grown hot to the touch. He stopped, in alarm, and waited.
The gravy first steamed, then bubbled gently for a moment. It cooled again and Schwartz completed the meal.
Granz and Messter were still there when he left. So was the third man, to whom, throughout, Schwartz had paid no attention.
Nor had Schwartz noticed, at any time since he had left the Institute, the thin, little man who, without seeming to, had managed to remain always within eyeshot.
Bel Arvardan, having showered and changed his clothes, promptly followed his original intention of observing the human animal, subspecies Earth, in its native habitat. The weather was mild, the light breeze refreshing, the village itself-pardon, the city-bright, quiet, and clean.
Not so bad.
Chica first stop, he thought. Largest collection of Earth. men on the planet. Washenn next; local capital. Senloo! Senfran! Bonair!...He had plotted an itinerary all over the western continents (where most of the meager scattering of Earth's population lived) and, allowing two or three days at each, he would be back in Chica just about the time his expeditionary ship was due.
It would be educational.
As afternoon began to decline he stepped into a Foodomat and, as he ate, observed the small drama that played itself out between the two Earthmen who had entered shortly after himself and the plump, elderly man who came in last of all. But his observation was detached and casual, simply not. ing it as an item to set against his unpleasant experience on the jet transport. The two men at the table were obviously air-cab drivers and not wealthy, yet they could be charitable.
The beggar left, and two minutes later Arvardan left as well.
The streets were noticeably fuller, as the workday was approaching its end.
He stepped hastily aside to avoid colliding with a young girl.
"Pardon me," he said.
She was dressed in white, in clothing which bore the stereotyped lines of a uniform. She seemed quite oblivious of the near collision. The anxious look on her face, the sharp turning of her head from side to side, her utter preoccupation, made the situation quite obvious.
He laid a light finger on her shoulder. "May I help you, miss? Are you in trouble?"
She stopped and turned startled eyes upon him. Arvardan found himself judging her age at nineteen to twenty-one, observing carefully her brown hair and dark eyes, her high cheekbones and little chin, her slim waist and graceful carriage. He discovered, suddenly, that the thought of this little female creature being an Earthwoman lent a sort of perverse piquancy to her attractiveness.
But she was still staring, and almost at the moment of speaking she seemed to break down. "Oh, it's no use. Please don't bother about me. It's silly to expect to find someone when you don't have the slightest idea where he could have gone. " She was drooping in discouragement, her eyes wet. Then she straightened and breathed deeply. "Have you seen a plump man about five-four, dressed in green and white, no hat, rather bald?"
Arvardan looked at her in astonishment. "What? Green and white?...Oh, I don't believe this...Look, this man you're referring to-does he speak with difficulty?"