Only Human (Themis Files, #3)

by Sylvain Neuvel

—Do you mind if I tell you a story? I’ve heard many of yours, now I feel it’s my turn. It’s a true story. —Oh, I’d love to hear it. —There’s a homeless man. I met him before we went to Esat Ekt. I’d see him around here from time to time. I think he went to the men’s shelter down on Thirtieth. We talked…maybe twice. Nothing more. Anyway, I saw him again yesterday on my way here. He was sitting on the stairs in the little park across the street. I wouldn’t have recognized him, but he recognized me. He said he was looking for a friend. He was worried the aliens might have hurt her. He told me they met there every Tuesday around lunchtime. She bought him chai tea. You should have heard him describe the tea, as if it were the rarest thing on the planet. She lent him a new book each week, and they’d discuss it at the park over chai. He hadn’t seen her in a few weeks. I told him maybe I could help find her. Her name’s Sarah, he said. He didn’t know much more than that, but he mentioned she wore a scarf on her head. I told him I’d do what I could. I had a hunch she might have worked at the UN. Sure enough. Sarah Smith, born Sara Dhanial in Karachi, Pakistan. She is—she was—an interpreter at the UN. Diplomats and their staff weren’t rounded up like the rest of the population, but Sara lost her job and they sent her to a camp in Connecticut. I went back to the park and told him what I knew. He was sad, obviously. I offered to buy him some food. He said no, but he asked if I could sp...