 A ship came out of the skies and headed for a landing on my own private island. It was an ancient Mickelson drive job, battered and scored, but bearing a proud legend painted on its nose. The Hutter people it read. When the ship landed on the beach, I ran out to meet it, forgetting that I must have looked more like a naked savage than a fellow Earthman. Hey, hey, hey, they're in the ship!