"I don't see what's so interesting about that," Hacker snorted through his puggish nose. "I've seen left-handed people on Earth." "Good for you," the doctor answered drily. Hacker looked a little annoyed but for once managed to keep quiet. I explained to the receiving delegation how hyper-radio contact could be established with our system for information exchanges and then told them tomorrow's group from _Terra I_ would be much larger. It would be in a position to set out the technical arrangements in all the necessary detail. The dialogue crept along as translations were made, but finally an especially regal figure stepped forward and told us the rest of the proceedings would take place within the building. We followed the Newtaneans into a hall so vast that we still seemed to be outdoors. Subtle colors were playing free-form patterns on the walls and the synesthetic reaction was that of hearing a music too beautiful, too perfect, for the relative crudity of the human ear to grasp alone. "This," Hacker laughed, "is my idea of heaven!" * * * * * I wasn't about to unbend and openly agree with him on anything. But celestial it really was. And then the subtly rich smells of the food began to play on our nostrils. It was brought out on great automatic servers and robot arms set heaping, steaming plates before the fifty Newtaneans. We, of course, had to refuse, taking out our compacted rations and setting them before us. All the Newtaneans were still meat-eaters. The main course was a small fowl, thoroughly browned in gravy. For me the most interesting thing about it was that four drumstick legs stuck out of each torso rather than the regulation two found on all earth-based birds. For Hacker, though, a more practical matter was involved. "I'd sure like to try a helping of that bird," he said. The two of us, naturally, were shocked. "That must have been a living creature once," said Barnes. "So what?" "Well, our civilization is essentially vegetarian. They just haven't reached our level as yet in that respect." "Nuts loaf to you!" Hacker snapped. "And synthetic yeast pie too! I've eaten flesh." That _really_ upset me. I know there's still a little surreptitious meat-consumption on Earth--genetics shows we must get a few throwbacks in every generation--but I'd never before met anyone who openly boasted about it. Synthetic foods meet gourmet needs better than traditional ones do anyway. (Of course, I don't mean the dull compacted stuff we get on long space hops but the food served on Terran planets themselves.) Any Earthman eating flesh back home is deliberately trying to taste the atavistic sensations of savagery. "You know how immoral that is," I told him. "Hacker, let's forget the moral issue," Barnes said, considering him with disgust. "Let's just be sensible. We don't know enough about Newtane yet to eat _anything_."