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Who is to deny the possibility that after the cosmonauts prepare their bodies for a life above the clouds; after they break through the glass sky, shatter the atmosphere on their way into the cosmos; after they race through the universe, dance across Ursa Minor and Major; after they land back on earth smelling of burnt rocket fuel, with star dust still stuck to their hair like dandruff and dripping off their shoulders; after they experience the stuff of gods and heavens—after all that, they won’t eventually have to return to face off against a Siberian bear.