"Don't let these strange things worry you, Orison," Dink said. "Think this: for everything in the universe, there's an explanation. If you understand it or not, the explanation's still there, curled up in the middle of the mystery like Pinocchio in the belly of his whale. Just have faith in the essential honesty of the universe, Orison, and you'll be all right." "A comforting philosophy," Orison said. "I can't imagine an explanation for my sudden distaste for lobster, though." "Such things happen," Dink assured her. "I have a friend, for instance, who holds life in such reverence that he eats only vegetables. Isn't that strange? And he worries, this very good friend of mine, that perhaps vegetables have souls, too; and that perhaps it is no more moral to destroy them for his food than it is to roast and ingest his fellow animals." "So what does this friend of yours eat?" Orison asked. "Vegetables," Dink said. "But he worries about it. He's now proposing to confine his diet to cakes made from algae. His argument is that if vegetables have souls, algae have very small souls indeed; and that they suffer less in being eaten than would, say, a cabbage or an apple. His guilt may be numerically greater, eating algae. But it will be qualitatively less." "Has this micro-vegetarian friend of yours thought of psychotherapy?" Orison asked. "Often," Dink said. "But he maintains that he's much too old to pour out his mind to a stranger; too set in his patterns to change. He fears most of all, he says, that he might be made uncomfortable in new ways." "We all do," mused Orison. "Do I make you uncomfortable in a new way?" Dink asked. "You're strange," Orison said. "Your Bank is fantastic. All in all, this is the most peculiar day I've ever lived." "I promise you, Orison, that someday you'll understand why the sight of lobster made you ill this evening, why so many of the people at the Bank wear earmuffs, why I seem foreign. You'll understand the work of the singing Microfabridae and you'll meet Elder Compassion; you'll know why Wanji was excited about the escudo green; and someday soon, this most of all I promise you, you'll love me, and be my wife. Hah! Here are the comestibles. Let's talk of topics less vital than love and earmuffs. Let's talk of the weather, and Mr. Kennedy, and the orchestra." V _Abstract of Transcript, Monitor J-12, to U.S. Treasury Department Intelligence:_ "Miss Orison McCall's report from Potawattomi, Indiana, was delayed by one hour. Contact was established at 00:10 hours. Details follow herewith: "J-12: CQ, CQ, CQ, CQ. "Miss McCall: If you'd been a minute later, I'd have been sound asleep, dreaming bad dreams. "J-12: Is the job wearing you down?