Greetings, Mars! I bring you gifts!
NEW SCIENTIST has a piece of Mars, but not for much longer. In May we offered readers the chance to win a genuine scrap of the Red Planet: 1.7 grams of meteorite NWA 2975, to be precise. All you had to do was tell us in 140 characters or fewer what you think the first person to set foot on Mars should say.
This meteorite doesn鈥檛 have quite as colourful a story as the pieces of the Dhofar 1180 Lunar meteorite that Michael Farmer collected in Oman, before spending two months in prison there for his troubles, accused of illegal mining (see page 28). It is thought that ours is part of a meteorite that crashed into the desert in Algeria 鈥� hence the North-West Africa designation.
Advertisement
NWA 2975 has been verified as a piece of Mars by Colin Pillinger and his team at the UK鈥檚 Open University, who detected pockets of gas matching the Martian atmosphere inside it and a signature excess of the isotope oxygen-17 (21 May, p 38).
We received 3592 entries for the competition. One frequent theme was expressed in 54 variations on 鈥淥ne small step for woman, one giant leap for humankind鈥�. Another six entries had the epoch-making phrase in Chinese. Veronica White from the UK had a female Chinese taikonaut (astronaut) combine the two themes. There were half a dozen variations on 鈥淓at your heart out, Neil Armstrong鈥� and as many grammatical corrections of Armstrong鈥檚 1969 lunar announcement.
We liked many of the more offbeat entries: Noelia Sanchez Gonzalez from Spain, one of our runners-up, suggests 鈥淭oto, I don鈥檛 think we鈥檙e in Kansas anymore.鈥� Ken McGowan from Canada, also a runner-up, had 鈥淣ow, for the first time in history, there is a face on Mars鈥� and runner-up Paul Leese from South Africa offered 鈥淭hat was a helluva simulation Houston. Where鈥檚 the exit door?鈥�
Then there were entries rather looking forward to changing the face of the planet, such as US resident Martin Bancroft鈥檚 earthy 鈥淎 small release of methane from a human, a giant step towards terraforming this planet for humankind.鈥�
After a huge judging effort, we declare Richard Robinson the winner, with 鈥淕reetings, Mars residents! I bring you gifts. One thousand million assorted bacteria! Enjoy!鈥�
Learning of his victory, Richard responds: 鈥淲ell, I鈥檓 over the moon. Possibly even farther afield than that. Is it possible to be 鈥榦ver鈥� Mars?鈥�
A director of the Brighton Science Festival in the UK (), Richard already has 鈥渁 collection of interesting bits of rock, including a lump I picked up on a walk in the Derbyshire Peak District which I thought was fossilised wood, but turned out to be stromatolite: my bacterial forebears.鈥�
A piece of Mars is on its way to Richard, and New 杏吧原创 mugs go to the nine runners-up, not all of whom we鈥檝e had space to mention here.
鈥淭he lift in Glynis Langley鈥檚 hotel in Havana, Cuba, displayed a sign insisting 鈥淐hildren Must Travel With An Accompanist鈥�. She would have preferred to hear their voices a capella鈥�
ON TO other matters, and another in our series about gestures and their meanings (28 May). Alan Russell says there鈥檚 one that he hasn鈥檛 seen or made for years. It means 鈥淗aven鈥檛 I done well!鈥�, or, in the US, 鈥淒idn鈥檛 I do well!鈥�. It consists of loosely closing the right fist, bringing the middle finger joints to the mouth and breathing on them, then using them to rub your left lapel.
Feedback, too, can remember this gesture and we join Alan in asking: 鈥淲hat exactly was it on one鈥檚 lapel that needed rubbing?鈥�
READERS Tom McCudden and Philip Hanser report seeing road signs in Connecticut saying 鈥淣o permitted loads allowed鈥� and 鈥淧ermitted loads NOT allowed鈥�. Neither was able to photograph these signs, but Tom sends us a photo of a similar sign that he found on the web. This one says 鈥淣o permitted trucks allowed鈥� (see ).
鈥淪o presumably trucks or loads that are not permitted are allowed,鈥� he speculates. He goes on to provide a possible explanation. 鈥溾�楶ermitted鈥�, in this case,鈥� he suggests, 鈥渕eans requiring a special permit because, for example, a hazardous cargo is being carried.鈥�
Ah. Of course.
MEANWHILE, a lovely photo arrives from Richard Bending showing a road sign declaring firmly 鈥淜eep right鈥� in green letters on a light green background and equally firmly pointing to the left.
But, our inner pedant objects, that design is in contravention of the , adopted into European Union law by on road infrastructure safety management. The sign should be white on blue.
Richard explains, disappointingly for theorists of quantum or otherwise confused signage, that the sign is at the exit to a campsite, near Saint-Quentin in northern France, used by many left-driving English.