parents must have found him. If he was wandering we'd have picked him
up. There is a family that live around there who have a ten-year-old kid
who wanders off once in a while. Blond, stutters a little. Was it him?"

"Well, I--" she began. She paused, said firmly, "No."

"Well, we don't have any reports on lost children. Haven't had for some
time. If the boy was lost his parents must have found him. Thank you for
calling." He broke the connection.

Jane stood staring at the blank plate. No one had reported a little boy
missing. In all the maddening confusion that was New Reno, no one had
missed a little boy.

She looked at the small bundle, walked over and slipped off his
respirator. "I should have told the truth," she murmured to him softly.
"But you're so tiny and helpless. Poor little thing!"

He looked up at her, then around the lobby, his brown eyes resting on
first one object, then another. His little chin began to quiver.

The girl picked him up and stroked his hair. "Don't cry," she soothed.
"Everything's going to be all right."

She walked down a hall, fumbling inside her coveralls for a key. At the
end of the hall she stopped, unlocked a door, and carried him inside. As
an afterthought she locked the door, still holding the small bundle in
her arms. Then she placed him on a bed, removed the jacket and threw it
on a chair.

"I don't know why I should go to all this trouble," she said, removing
her protective coveralls. "I'll probably get picked up by the Patrol.
But _somebody's_ got to look after you."

She sat down beside him. "Aren't you even a bit sleepy?"

He smiled a little.

"Maybe now you can tell me your name," she said. "Don't you know your
name?"

His expression didn't change.

She pointed to herself. "Jane." Then she hesitated, looked downward for
a moment. "Jana, I was called before I came here."

The little face looked up at her. The small mouth opened. "Jana." It was
half whisper, half whistle.

"That's right," she replied, stroking his hair. "My, but your throat
must be sore. I hope you won't be sick from breathing too much of that
awful air."

She regarded him quizzically. "You know, I've never seen many little
boys. I don't quite know how to treat one. But I know you should get
some sleep."

She smiled and reached over to take off the rags. He pulled away
suddenly.

"Don't be afraid," she said reassuringly. "I wouldn't hurt you."

He clutched the little ragged shirt tigh