"Thirty cents, buddy," the driver said.
Still holding the cigar, Parr counted out two dimes and two nickles. He tried to hand the driver the coins, which were excellent imitations, as was his suit, his cigar, and all the rest of the Earth articles.
"Put it in the box, buddy."
Parr obeyed.
"Hey," the driver said as Parr turned. "Your check." The driver held out a strip of red paper.
Parr took it.
"No smokin' on the bus, buddy."
Parr dropped the cigar and mashed it out. He shuffled down the aisle, sank into a seat and half closed his eyes.
Furtively, then, he began to study the occupants—his first near-at-hand contact with the natives. At the same time he tried to form a mental liaison with some of the other advancemen.
For a moment he thought he had one to the east, but there was a hazy swirl of interdiction that erased all contact.