"If food can't rot it can't digest either. Irradiate it--burn the last bit of life out of it--and then give us a whopping dose of antibiotics until there isn't one bug in our alimentary tracts from one end to the other. It's no wonder we were starving in the midst of plenty." "Wait a minute. How come you didn't get sick?" Hagstrom asked. Aréchaga flipped a switch and the recorder ground to a stop. "I reinfected myself with a swallow of _salsa picante_--good, old-fashioned, unsanitary chili sauce." A horrible suspicion was growing in van den Burg's mind. "What did you give us?" he asked. "You left me little choice when you threw out my _salsa_," Aréchaga said. "Why do you have to be so curious?" "What was it?" van den Burg demanded. "I scraped a little salsa scum from the inside of the disposal. It made a fine culture. What did you think I gave you?" "I'd rather not answer that," van den Burg said weakly.