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There were sundry guests at the baby shower, celebrating the soon-to-be newness of their friend’s baby. Most of these people didn’t know each other. 

“What’s your name?” asked one to another. They were standing by the spread, and the asker was John.

“Zydok,” said Zydok.

“That’s an unusual name,” said John. John had eaten too much of the duck liver pâté, and wore a toothpick in his mouth, which gave what he said a calm, movie-like authority.

“It’s not unusual,” said Zydok, “It is also my father’s name, and his father before him. In fact, I am the fourth Zydok. If there is four of something, you cannot say it is unusual.”

“That obtains, Zydok,” said John urbanely, who just then remembered the fêted baby was herself to be named Zydok, or something approximate.