"I think I see an island down there that will fill the bill perfectly," I said. "And if it doesn't, there are a million more to choose from." "You've changed, Legion," Foster said. "You sound like a man with a fair share of _joie de vivre_." "I used to think I was a guy who never got the breaks," I said. "There's something about standing here looking at the world that makes that kind of thinking sound pretty dumb. There's everything down there a man needs to make his own breaks--even without a stock of trade goods." "Every world has its rules of life," Foster said. "Some more complex than others. To face your own reality--that's the challenge." "Me against the universe," I said. "With those odds, even a loser can look good." I turned to Foster. "We're in a ten-hour orbit," I said. "We'd better get moving. I want to put the boat down in southern South America. I know a place there where I can off-load without answering too many questions." "You have several hours before the most favorable launch time," Foster said. "There's no hurry." "Maybe not," I said. "But I've got a lot to do--" I took a last look toward the majestic planet beyond the viewscreen, "--and I'm eager to get started." CHAPTER VIII I sat on the terrace watching the sun go down into the sea and thinking about Foster, somewhere out there beyond the purple palaces on the far horizon, in the ship that had waited for him for three thousand years, heading home at last. It was strange to reflect that for him, traveling near the speed of light, only a few days had passed, while three years went by for me--three fast years that I had made good use of. The toughest part had been the first few months, after I put the lifeboat down in a cañon in the desert country south of a little town called Itzenca, in Peru. I waited by the boat for a week, to be sure the vigilantes weren't going to show up, full of helpful suggestions and embarassing questions; then I hiked to town, carrying a pack with a few carefully selected items to start my new career. It took me two weeks to work, lie, barter, and plead my way to the seaport town of Callao and another week to line up passage home as a deck hand on a banana scow. I disappeared over the side at Tampa, and made it to Miami without attracting attention. As far as I could tell, the cops had already lost interest in me. My old friend, the heavyweight señorita, wasn't overjoyed to see me, but she put me up, and I started in on my plan to turn my souvenirs into money.