It was a bowl of soup, the first nutrient of this strange planet that he had eaten. The taste, as well as the quick ocular analysis he made, indicated that it was deficient in many of the chemicals that he needed for his own nutrition, but at least it had energy value, and he imbibed it slowly and thoughtfully. When he had finished, they asked him if he wanted more, but he said politely, “No, thank.”
The young woman who had offered it to him said, “Oh, you’re a refugee, I suppose. Driven out of your native country?”
He nodded.
“Don’t you have any friends here?”
He shook his head, and said, “No, thank.”
“That’s too bad. You look as if you hadn’t eaten for a long time. Your face is awfully thin.”
“Yes, thin.” He did not explain that for a member of his race he was not thin at all.
“What’s your name, please?”
“Name? What?”
“How do people call you?”