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.He was headed back out of the cloud without having found anything in it.An odd sadness came over Beirut.I'll find my planet some day, he thought.I'll have alabaster buildings and sheltered waters for sailing and long stretches of prairie for game animals.The automatic log showed turn-around at ninety-four days.I stood it longer than Bingaling, he thought.He remembered the conversation with Bingaling then and the curious reference to a previous attempt at the cloud.Maybe I did, he thought.Maybe I forgot because the push got so tough.Presently, his mind turned to thoughts of Capella Base, of going home.Just the thought of it eased the pressures of the push which was still faintly with him.The push.the push - it had beaten him again.Next trip out, he decided, he'd head the opposite direction, see what was to be found out there.Almost idly then Beirut wondered about the push.Why do we call it the push? he wondered.Why, don't we call it the pull? The question interested him enough to put it to the computer.'Tut-tut,' the computer said
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