Farkin the Ice Giant awoke and glanced at the thermostat in his cabin. It read 29 degrees Fahrenheit."Jesus Christ"he carped,"somebody open a goddam window in here! What'er we trying to do, grow frigging tomatoes!" He immediately jumped in the liquid nitrogen shower. Slowly, it began to work its magic, and when he emerged he felt firm again- solid and invigorated. He donned his Thermal Shield-suit and emerged from the cabin, stalking down the hallway like a moving tree. He liked to think of his actions as, if not agile and accurate, at least inevitable.

There was a great din of many languages in the cafeteria of the Enterprise as Farkin trundled into line and picked up a tray.The Red-hot Chambovian Gumbo sounded good, but he reconsidered. He knew it would go right through him. He eventually settled on fourteen Gerkel's Ice Pasties and two quarts of the Lustmelon Slushie, he found a wide railing by the window and stood there eating. Although several Googlians called him over to sit at their table, he had learned that attempting to sit only cause his legs to snap off. Besides, Googlians were usually so tripped out on Flabjian eels-blood that they spent most of their time either hallucinating or trying to talk each other down.

He glanced at his wrist-watch. He had forty five minutes before his shift shoveling Plutonium into the ship's reactor started. He had better get moving if he wanted to make it on time.