We came around the edge of an outbuilding then to an unobstructed view of the bubble edge. Even through dark glasses he'd cautioned me to wear with a gesture, as he put on another pair for himself, the scene through the clear plastic was blinding white. Scattered here and there on the glistening salt were blobs of black.
"Why," I exclaimed. "Those are octopi. I suppose that's what the natives use for food? I've wondered."
"Those are the natives," he answered, drily.
By now we were up to the plastic barrier of our bubble and stood looking out at the scene.
"Well," I said after some long moments of staring. "It will be a challenge to the D.T.'s, won't it?"
He looked at me with disgust.
"What do they eat?" I asked. "Salt?"
"I don't know if they eat," he said. "Can't you get it through your thick skull, man, that these things are alien? Completely alien? How do I know?"
"Well you must know some things after five years of study. You must have observed them. They must get food somehow, they must sleep and wake, they must procreate. You must have observed something."
"I've observed the process of procreation," he answered cautiously.