She looked at the small bundle, walked over and slipped off his respirator. "I should have told the truth," she murmured to him softly. "But you're so tiny and helpless. Poor little thing!"
He looked up at her, then around the lobby, his brown eyes resting on first one object, then another. His little chin began to quiver.
The girl picked him up and stroked his hair. "Don't cry," she soothed. "Everything's going to be all right."
She walked down a hall, fumbling inside her coveralls for a key. At the end of the hall she stopped, unlocked a door, and carried him inside. As an afterthought she locked the door, still holding the small bundle in her arms. Then she placed him on a bed, removed the jacket and threw it on a chair.
"I don't know why I should go to all this trouble," she said, removing her protective coveralls. "I'll probably get picked up by the Patrol. But somebody's got to look after you."
She sat down beside him. "Aren't you even a bit sleepy?"
He smiled a little.
"Maybe now you can tell me your name," she said. "Don't you know your name?"
His expression didn't change.
She pointed to herself. "Jane." Then she hesitated, looked downward for a moment. "Jana, I was called before I came here."