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Show 79 against his pantleg, then stood and gripped his broom handle and began sweeping furiously. "You know that lake out there?" the man said. Lorin looked to see where he was pointing. "Yes." "You know how it's too salty for anything to live in it except a tiny little bastard called a brine shrimp?" "Yes." The man got up from his crate and circled around to face Lorin, bending to look up and meet his eye. "What the hell do you think the brine shrimp eats?" "I don't know," Lorin mumbled, sweeping in another direction. The man followed him. "Never thought of that, did you? I'll tell you what it eats. It eats phyto plankton. Now you're going to ask me what the phyto plankton eats." There was dead silence except for the sound of trucks on the highway and crickets outside the loading dock and the busy whisper of Lorin's broom against the concrete. The man's voice dropped to a hoarse whisper. "It doesn't eat anything." He stepped back suddenly, his face lit with triumph. "That's right, don't believe me." He touched Lorin's shoulder with a cold finger. "It's the bottom of the damn food chain," he said. "It traps solar vibrations right there in the water and doesn't have to muck around with food at all. Now you tell me why you and I can't do that." His eyes were blazing. "I've got to make a phone call," Lorin said, looking at his watch and inventing frantically. "I'm supposed to call in every hour." But the man was already marching toward the stockroom, his fists clenched at his sides. Lorin considered seizing this moment to ask him if he was supposed |