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7298540Mr. Meek Plays Polohttps://www.gandhi.com.mx/mr--meek-plays-polo-9798347994212/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/6853979/image.jpg?v=6387490407141300005858MXNScott MillerInStock/Audiolibros/<p>Mr. Meek Plays Polo by Clifford D. Simak - <em><strong>Mr. Meek was having his troubles. First, the educated bugs worried him; then the welfare worker tried to stop the Ring Rats feud by enlisting his aid. And now, he was a drafted space-polo playera fortune bet on his ability at a game he had never played in his cloistered life.</strong></em></p><p>The sign read:</p><p><em>Atomic Motors Repaired. Busted Plates Patched Up. Rocket Tubes Relined. Wheeze In, Whiz Out!</em></p><p>It added, as an afterthought, in shaky, inexpert lettering:</p><p><em>We Fix Anything.</em></p><p>Mr. Oliver Meek stared owlishly at the sign, which hung from an arm attached to a metal standard sunk in solid rock. A second sign was wired to the standard just below the metal arm, but its legend was faint, almost illegible. Meek blinked at it through thick-lensed spectacles, finally deciphered its scrawl:</p><p>Ask About Educated Bugs.</p><p>A bit bewildered, but determined not to show it, Meek swung away from the sign-post and gravely regarded the settlement. On the chart it was indicated by a fairly sizeable dot, but that was merely a matter of comparison. Out Saturn-way even the tiniest outpost assumes importance far beyond its size.</p><p>The slab of rock was no more than five miles across, perhaps even less. Here in its approximate center, were two buildings, both of almost identical construction, semi-spherical and metal. Out here, Meek realized, shelter was the thing. Architecture merely for architectures sake was still a long way off.</p><p>One of the buildings was the repair shop which the sign advertised. The other, according to the crudely painted legend smeared above its entrance lock, was the <em>Saturn Inn</em>.</p><p>The rest of the rock was landing field, pure and simple. Blasters had leveled off the humps and irregularities so spaceships could sit down.</p>...6931474Mr. Meek Plays Polo5858https://www.gandhi.com.mx/mr--meek-plays-polo-9798347994212/phttps://gandhi.vtexassets.com/arquivos/ids/6853979/image.jpg?v=638749040714130000InStockMXN99999DIAudiolibro20259798347994212_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9798347994212_<p>Mr. Meek Plays Polo by Clifford D. Simak - <em><strong>Mr. Meek was having his troubles. First, the educated bugs worried him; then the welfare worker tried to stop the Ring Rats feud by enlisting his aid. And now, he was a drafted space-polo playera fortune bet on his ability at a game he had never played in his cloistered life.</strong></em></p><p>The sign read:</p><p><em>Atomic Motors Repaired. Busted Plates Patched Up. Rocket Tubes Relined. Wheeze In, Whiz Out!</em></p><p>It added, as an afterthought, in shaky, inexpert lettering:</p><p><em>We Fix Anything.</em></p><p>Mr. Oliver Meek stared owlishly at the sign, which hung from an arm attached to a metal standard sunk in solid rock. A second sign was wired to the standard just below the metal arm, but its legend was faint, almost illegible. Meek blinked at it through thick-lensed spectacles, finally deciphered its scrawl:</p><p>Ask About Educated Bugs.</p><p>A bit bewildered, but determined not to show it, Meek swung away from the sign-post and gravely regarded the settlement. On the chart it was indicated by a fairly sizeable dot, but that was merely a matter of comparison. Out Saturn-way even the tiniest outpost assumes importance far beyond its size.</p><p>The slab of rock was no more than five miles across, perhaps even less. Here in its approximate center, were two buildings, both of almost identical construction, semi-spherical and metal. Out here, Meek realized, shelter was the thing. Architecture merely for architectures sake was still a long way off.</p><p>One of the buildings was the repair shop which the sign advertised. The other, according to the crudely painted legend smeared above its entrance lock, was the <em>Saturn Inn</em>.</p><p>The rest of the rock was landing field, pure and simple. Blasters had leveled off the humps and irregularities so spaceships could sit down.</p>...9798347994212_Scott Milleraudiolibro_9798347994212_9798347994212Clifford D.InglésMéxicoNoMINUTE2025-02-05T00:00:00+00:00Scott Miller